#this is gonna be outdated in like a month a know it

[teamarine777]

Act 2, electric boogaloo, bc I love this

Kree: Oh shoot!

Kree: Excuse my vulgarity.

Heta: I’ll let it slide.

Vul: What was that?

Heta: My shirt fell.

Vul: It sounded a lot heavier than that.

Rose: They were in it.

Rose: You know the sound a fork makes in the garbage disposal? That's the sound that my brain makes all the time.

Vul: What did you two do?

Kira:

Rose:

Vul: You’re not in trouble, I just need to know if I have to lie to the police again or not.

Kree: Happy Throwback Thursday! Here’s a throwback to when Heta ate an entire tube of lipstick.

Heta, whining: But why would it be cherry-flavored if you can’t eat it?!

Heta: So, what are we doing?

Rose: Wasting our lives.

Heta: I meant for lunch...

Rose: Why do you keep a diary?!

Heta: To keep secrets from my computer.

Rose: *clicks pen*

Vul: *clicks pen in response*

Kira: Stop that.

Rose: Stop what?

Kira: You’re talking about me in Morse code!

Rose: Yes, that’s what we doing. In our very limited time, we took a class on a very outdated, very unnecessary form of communication just so we could talk about you in front of you. Congrats, you figured us out!

*later*

Vul, to Heta: That’s actually exactly what we were doing.

Rose: Are you busy?

Heta: Yes.

Rose: Cool, listen to this.

Rose: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Kree: *crouches down*

Heta: *kneels down*

Vul: *sits on the floor*

Rose:

Rose: I hate all of you.

Rose: Vul.. I'm gonna cry!

Vul: Please don't.

Rose, crying: Request denied.

Kira: When did you become a hero?

Vul: Um… the moment I saved you from getting killed.

Kira: You’re the last person on earth I wanted to rescue me.

Vul: Well… sucks to be you, don’t it.

Vul: Coca Cola is a health potion, Pepsi is a mana potion.

Heta: What’s grape soda?

Vul: It’s fucking purple baby!!!

Kira: It’s Pride Month, you know what that means!

Rose: I get to eat as many Skittles as I want? Kira: What? No! What has Vul been telling you?

Vul, walking in, pouring Skittles into their mouth: Taste the rainbow, bitch.

Heta: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Kira: It was me...

Heta: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Rose: What, I can’t be in a bad mood? It’s like people think, “Oh, Rose is such a nice person, Rose is so happy-go-lucky! Rose can’t be in a bad mood!” Well, you know what? Rose CAN be in a bad mood. And right now, Rose IS be in a bad mood.

Kira to Rose: Turn that frown upside-down!

*a little while later*

Kira: What are you doing?

Rose, trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it’s not working.

Heta: Would you rather kill Vul, or—

Kira: Yes, kill them.

Heta: I didn’t say the other thing—

Kira: I don’t need to hear it.

Vul: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.

Kira: Vul, I screwed up, big time.

Vul: Kira, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

Rose: What are you guys playing?

Heta: Go Fish.

Rose: That’s a nice, safe game.

Rose: But don’t you need cards?

Heta: Where do you keep the spear gun?

Heta, getting dressed for a formal event: Hey, do you think I can hang myself with this tie?

Kira: Oh-ho-ho, no! You are NOT getting out of this the easy way!

*Kree is considering cancelling plans, and Rose and Heta are advising them on what to do*

Rose: Just don't go.

Heta: Say you’re ill! Rose:

Pretend to break your leg.

Heta: Really break your leg!

Rose: What are you writing?

Heta: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information.

Kree, looking over Heta's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy.

⚜ INCORRECT QUOTES ⚜

Bringing back an old tag game!!!

Rule: use this generator to create “incorrect quotes” for your wip

(I feel legally obligated to post something actually about Faerie's Dawn today and I want to meme these idiots lmao)

Cloud: Tell me a little about yourself. Nova: I'd rather not, I really like this group.

Nova: I hate when people ask me, 'What did you do today?' Buddy, listen, I woke up at noon and then it was five pm, okay? I don't KNOW!

Nova: I will be using so much pink you’ll be seeing green by the end from sensory deprivation.

Sky: You're violent. Nova: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Nova: Wanna get out of here and grab a bite to eat? Sky: I don’t usually eat with losers. Nova: Neither do I but I asked you, didn’t I?

Nova: Branch, you’re in charge! Sky: Branch, can we start a fire?

[while waiting outside the principal’s office] Nova: What are you in for? Cloud: Oh, they just want to know if it’s cool if I miss my classes tomorrow to run sound and lights for a presentation in the auditorium. What about you? Nova: I stabbed a kid with a screwdriver. Cloud: Cloud: Cloud: We live very different lives. Nova: Yes, we do.

Branch: Be careful about succumbing to these sorts of destructive... urges. Addiction can be a powerful thing. Nova: So am I. Bow down before your new supreme overlord, bitches.

Nova: When I get Doordash I order 20 Cheeseburgers at a time and heat them up throughout the week so that I don’t have to pay the delivery fee multiple times. Branch: I hope you understand how food poisoning works. Nova: I hope food poisoning understands how I work. I've never met a burger I couldn’t eat.

Nova: Branch's amazing at concentrating. Once he starts reading, the only way he’ll notice you is if you take his book away. Not even if you hit him or shake him! Sky: That was him ignoring you.

Sky, at Nova's funeral: I need a moment with them. Everyone else at the funeral: Of course. [leaves] Sky, leaning over Nova's coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead. Nova, sitting up in the coffin: Yeah, no shit.

Sky: I hope you have an explanation for this. Cloud: We have three, actually! Nova: Pick your favorite.

Cloud: I bet you’re wondering why I gathered you here today. It’s because we need to have a discussion about how some people in this room aren’t getting along with other people in this room. Sky: Why did you say that so vaguely? Nova and I are literally the only people you called in here.

Sky: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

Sky: [trying to buy a Father's Day card at Hallmark] Sky: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?" Associate: Well, I- Sky: How about "You banged my mom?" Associate: No... Sky: You know what, I'll just get a blank one. Sky: [writes] You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card.

Cloud: You gave me up, you let me down, you turned around, and deserted me. Sky: But did I make you cry? Cloud: [cries on the spot] Sky: ... shit.

Sky: We wouldn’t last two minutes without Nova. Sky: Sky: Don’t tell them I said that.

Cloud: What language do they speak at the center of the earth? Cloud: Core-ean! Sky: The center of the earth is around 5430 degrees Celsius! Nobody is going to live there, so they don’t need a language! Cloud: Core-ean.

Cloud: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong. Sky: [sipping his drink after accidentally adding salt] I just like the way it tastes.

Branch: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay, right?" and watch the look of terror on their face. Sky: Sky: I like you.

Shade: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry? Sky: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

Shade: We have a problem. Branch: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Shade: What the fuck. Shade: ESPN is showing 2003 national jump rope championship. Shade: Who the hell watches jump rope competiti- ooh bouncy!

Shade: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel. Cloud: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel! Branch: A realist sees a freight train. Sky: The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks.

Achilles: We’ll find another route, it’s not safe for amateur adventurers. Nova: That sounds like a challenge. Achilles: I have to stress, that is not a challenge. Nova: ... Is exactly what you say to dissuade the weak of heart from accepting the challenge. Well, challenge accepted! Achilles: There is no challenge!

Achilles: Okay, how do I look? Be honest. Cloud: There’s no critic more honest than Sky! Sky: Bad.

Achilles: We all have our demons. Achilles, grabbing Shade: This one’s mine.

Eve: Asa, don’t go picking a fight with Ailwyn. Don’t forget, they’re powerful, they could make life difficult for you. Asa: Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life.

Asa: Quitting! It's like trying, but easier!

Asa: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

Asa: [walks into the kitchen, ignoring everyone] Eve: Hey, Asa, how was your day? Asa: [picks up an onion and bites into it, staring at Nova] Hell. Eve, watching this unfold: (whispers) Who hurt you?

Eve: What's worse than a heartbreak? Shade: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging. Branch: Waking up in the morning. Asa: Waking up.

Shade: Which one of you was going to tell me that tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?? Cloud: Y-you were putting it in cold water?? Sky: Shade. Answer the question, Shade. Shade: Yeah??? I thought people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process. didn't realize there was an actual reason. Shade: Plus you think I have the patience to boil water? Cloud: You don't have the patience to microwave water for 3 minutes?? Sky: Why are you putting it in the microwave to boil it? Cloud: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove? Sky: It takes less than a minute. Cloud: Is your stovetop powered by the fucking sun??? Sky: How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove? Cloud: Like seven minutes?? Nova: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like 2 minutes... less than that if you use a saucepan! Sky: Why are you putting the whole mug on the stove?? On medium heat?? Nova? Your stove is enchanted! Shade: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic. Branch: Do none of you own a fucking kettle?!

[during a group project] Branch: [does 99% of the work] Cloud: [has no idea what’s going on] Nova: [says they’re gonna help but does not] Sky: [disappears at the very beginning and doesn’t show up again until the very end]

Just a silly thing I felt like I had to make lol.

Ik you guys don't know half of these characters lol. But it's fun foreshadowing for later... and still funny 😉

(Idk should I @ the whole Faerie's Dawn list? I'mma just @ my "everything" taglist and anyone I know who's really into FD lol)

@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @teamarine777 @caffeinated-starsailor @oliolioxenfreewrites

@corinneglass

[springcatalyst]

i have a disease that makes me start new projects i have 0 of the skills for and yeah. it's incurable

[roo-was-here-art]

Finally caved and made an Espen ref sheet

[anxiously-awaiting]

mmm getting that stupid figure i want would be so much easier if i had a reliable way to make that money backlfdsf

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

yeehaw

how spencer convinces reader to stay in rather than go out

MDNI | suggestive fluff!

word count: 1217

warnings & tags & stuff: fem!reader, def some nsfw descriptions of spence, all around suggestiveness, fade to black

author's note: second piece of writing yayy!!! this was originally gonna be smut but i got scared lol. anyway please lemme know your thoughts im DYING to improve. sooo yes i hope you have a wonderful day and here this is ig! 😚

Sitting alone in your room, you tugged on a pair of never-before worn cowboy boots. They were most definitely not broken in, and you knew you were in for an uncomfortable night of baby blisters on the bottoms of your feet. However, life is full of compromises, and these were too cute to pass on.

Especially for a night of line dancing with your boyfriend’s coworkers. Who knew that FBI agents got down like that?

You stand and plug in your earbuds, choosing to absolutely blast ‘Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’ by Taylor Swift. Also known as the only tolerable country music.

Dancing out to the kitchen, you wrap your arms around your lovely boyfriend who was preparing a cup of tea, absolutely not dressed for a night of country conviviality. Spencer looks you up and down, a teasing smile playing on his face.

“Hey cowgirl,” he says, gently removing your earbuds. “Penelope has been texting me on average every 10 minutes about how excited she is for tonight. I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh god,” you laugh. “I wish you were coming too.”

“I know. But that sounds awful,” he says in his matter-of-fact way. “Hey, I do have something for you,” he mentions. You look up at him, and he runs quickly upstairs to grab his bag. He comes down and brandishes his very own cowboy hat. “From the times Penelope didn’t have you to drag along with her and I was her chosen victim.”

“For me?” You ask excitedly. He puts it on you. Although it’s a little big, it 100% completes the look. You look up at him. “Think I would make a good cowgirl?” He peers down at you, trying to tell if you’re joking.

“No,” He goes the serious route and you furrow your brow at him. “You hate the dirt. And the heat,” he explains, emphatically defending himself.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t really do well with horses either,” you murmur.

“You do make a cute cowgirl for the night though, even if it’s not your true calling.” He ruffles your hat.

“Yeah?” You smile. “It’s not too much with both the boots and the hat?”

Spencer blinks.

“Have you met Penelope? She always has a lot going on. More than this.”

You giggle.

“They’ll all adore you, JJ, Emily,” he reassures, stroking the side of your waist.

You had known Penelope for a few months, ever since you started dating Spencer. But you had yet to meet the rest of the girls on his team. You were definitely excited, they seemed really cool. But you were definitely also nervous.

Spencer, jarring you from your thoughts, whips out his very outdated phone that he somehow still manages to operate, and opens the camera.

“Smile.” You do so, showing off all your teeth. You move to look at the picture, and Spencer tilts the screen toward you. “See? Adorable.”

You stand on your tippy toes for a kiss, and he complies quickly. A little too quickly to not have any meaning behind it. Your eyes flit down, and you notice a slight bulge in Spencer’s pants that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him. “Can I convince you to stay?” He whispers, half smiling. You tilt your head.

“Maybe” you say shyly.

“What if I told you that the chances are slim to none that you are actually going to line dance tonight? Penelope and JJ always end up sitting at the bar, and Emily always gives up half a song in and joins them. Without fail,” he says. You purse your lips, heart beating a little faster for whatever reason.

“That could still be fun,” you reason.

“Not in those shoes,” he says, rubbing your hip softly. “I know they must hurt; they’re brand new and you’re already shifting your weight between your feet much too frequently.”

You look down at your feet. He was not lying. “You’re too observant. This is why you basically always have your way with me.” You exhale.

“By caring about you? I could keep going. I know that you hate country music. And no, Taylor Swift does not count. She’s an outlier. And she was born in Pennsylvania. That’s barely real country music. You’d be miserable all night.”

“Yes, you would know about ‘real’ country music, Mr. Las Vegas,” you counter.

“That would be Dr. Vegas to you,” he quips, bending down once again and giving you a kiss. You reciprocate, kissing the corner of his mouth. “What if I told you I really wanted you to stay? Bad?”

“Bad? I guess I’ll stay, if it’s bad. But you have to be the one to text Penelope,” you say begrudgingly. As if you weren’t as releived as can be. And as if Spencer didn’t know that.

He smiles and allows his arms to wrap around your waist. Spencer’s kisses become slower, you could feel every aspect of them. His lips, of course, but also his stubble. The air being pushed out of his nose. The hand swiping it’s typical resting spot, your cheek. His tongue delicately tracing your mouth. It all feels so calculated for you, so measured.

And you, on the other hand, are a mess, trying to keep up. Your heart is pounding and you’re sure your face is noticeably hot. And by the time Spencer leads you to your room and sits you down on the bed, its temperature has only increased.

You kick off your boots. He sits next to you, his hands holding your waist, ever so firm. He brings them up, thumbing the inside hem of your tank top.

“All good?” He checks.

“Yeah,” you say, head spinning with all the good chemicals.

“Deep breaths for me, okay? Gotta keep your blood flowing appropriately,” he reminds you, leaning back and taking you in. “Pretty girl.” You blush and his hands move to your lower back over your tank top, delicately brushing over in a way that gives you goose bumps. You shiver.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You’re sensitive in your lower back. God, there’s still so much more to learn about you.” He breathes out.

“Good. I was scared you’d get bored, with your perfect memory and all,” you joke.

“Bored? The human brain is limitless. Your brain is limitless. I wanna know everything I possibly can that goes on up there. Everything that makes it feel good. It’s the least boring thing I can think of.” You blush and look down.

You lean in for another kiss, this time to his jawline and neck. Your hands slide up his stomach under his shirt a little and and you look up to him.

“Okay?” This time you ask.

Spencer nods. “Okay.” Your hands trace up under his own shirt, and you immediately lean in to kiss him, holding his chin.

All of a sudden he’s everywhere. Even sitting next to you, he manages to take over every ounce of your body. He’s kissing your mouth and forehead and cheeks, one hand is holding your face, and the other is mapping your stomach.

“Can we try something new then? If we wanna do and learn everything?” You whisper. One quick tête-à-tête later, you’re sitting on his lap, shifting your hips softly as he held your waist for you.

“I guess I was wrong. You’re gonna be an amazing cowgirl.”

[hanasnx]

WITHHOLDING SEX — logan howlett.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: unfinished wip that im never gonna finish. WARNINGS: unfinished wip ノ fem reader ノ stripper reader ノ age gap ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ logan gets smacked for saying some dumb shit ノ degradation ノ outdated and lame anti-sex work rhetoric ノ toxic behavior

“You’re such a jerk, Logan.” you used to say, a little giggle to your voice as you scoldingly pat LOGAN HOWLETT’s broad chest, letting him back you into a dark corner at your club and buy a personal dance. He’d wave that fat wad of cash in front of your nose with that knowing look you’d come to crave, and you’d flirtingly comply. You’d even let him get cheeky with it, copping a feel up your thigh while in the privacy of a backroom. Just so you’d bat his callused hand away with a toying, “Ah-ah!” And he’d tilt his big head at you and push out his hips while you finished up your dance.

Months of playing with one another, led to his impatience getting the better of him. Late at night, asking you—a stripper—what you were doing later. He’s got this way about him that you watch so carefully. All he had to do was stare at you through those furrowed brows and jut his chin when he popped the question, and you obediently blurted out, “Maybe if you’re lucky: you.”

Much to your surprise, it wasn’t some one night stand. Booty calls turned to dates, turned to moving in together, turned to partnership. Not that you believe yourself to be a challenge, but you’ve never met a guy that could seduce you at your job, and you certainly never expected to shack up with him. Logan made it easy at first, always forward with you, putting up with your “diva attitude” as he likes to call it, driving you to and from work because he doesn’t trust the clients that hang out around the building when girls are just trying to get home. You fell hard, and you fell fast.

But lately, things have been different. Logan’s always been bull-headed—and a bit of a pig—but it never seemed to be as big of a problem as it is now. As much as you can love those traits of his, they get in the way of communication, and your own spite and stubbornness doesn’t soothe anything. You fight more than ever, you argue more than you have actual conversations. If you’re not fighting, you’re not talking, and he’s sleeping on the couch. Butting heads is not new, but now they’re not as easily solved without the shade of rose-colored glasses.

“Nah, baby, ‘cause a stripper like you was easy.” The prideful and malicious words struck you right to your core, whirling around to face Logan who’d been hounding after you. It’s written all over his firm countenance, he said it to hurt you, and he knew it succeeded—from the very first petname spat so facetiously. Your hand flies before you realize what’s happening, whipping across his cheek so hard it resounds throughout the room. It was a stupid move, ache pulsing hot through your palm from the contact, and chances are it’s worse for you than him.

Your voice burns from this latest yelling match, and you exacerbate it. “You’re such a jerk, Logan!” The dumbfounded part in his lips close as he pivots his spun head to meet your gaze. You’re not gonna sit here and entertain this any longer, you’re gonna be late for work, so you round his wide frame to hurry to the door. “Let’s see how easy you think I am.” you challenge, throwing open the door, “Good luck getting off without me.” you spit at him before slamming the door after you.

“That’s it, I’m so done with him—for real this time.” you claim, yapping the ear off your coworker at the lockers while you two get dressed.

“Oh, yeah, right.” she replies with a roll of her eyes, zipping up her boot. “Next week y’all are gonna be back together, attached at the fuckin’ hip. Who’re you kidding?” She stamps her foot down, and gives herself last looks in the vanity mirror, teasing her hair with her hands.

You throw down your needle and floss, halting your sew of a hole in your costume. “Shut up, it’s not like that!” you whine, annoyed by her prediction—more or less accurate.

She snickers. “See you out there.” she tells you, effectively dismissing the conversation as she makes her way out onto the floor. Somehow, her reaction only fans the flames of your spiteful commitment…. but even though the hurt is still fresh, you miss him.

It’s frigid in the AM, hugging your jacket close as you watch your breath steam in front of your face. The bouncer didn’t think to watch your walk to the car this time, knowing that your boyfriend usually picks you up. You forgot to tell him otherwise, but it’s not a big deal—until you remember you took your car this time and the heater is broken. You’ve taken three steps out the door and you’re already shivering, what are you gonna do when your brittle fingers can’t grip the wheel?

“Hey.” a rough and familiar voice breaks you out of your internal debacle, facing the noise promptly. Logan wearing his usual scowl and puffy vest—somehow he looks good. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to reveal the cords of his forearms crossed across his chest, tailbone leaned against his truck. “C’mon.” He tilts his head in the direction of his vehicle. In one small second, you’re endeared by his gesture, he knew you were gonna be cold and a little unsafe—even through being angry he’d do this for you. In the next second, the warm feeling is quickly crushed under the weight of knowing Logan. This isn’t some knight-in-shining-armor moment. This is his apology.

You stick your frozen nose in the air, “No, thanks.” you respond. There’s no way you’re going to let him off the hook that easily. Back on your path to your car, you huddle into yourself to converse heat, but you still hear footsteps on gravel behind you.

“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you’re freezing.” he says. He only calls you that when you’re being especially prissy. “I know you didn’t mean what you said back there, so let’s just go home and I’ll hook and tow your car in the morning.” The impending presence of a palm against your upper arm alerts you and you flinch out of the way.

“I’m not getting into the truck with you, Logan, I’m mad at you.” you hiss. Your persistence is annoying, and if you were less wrathful Logan might’ve thrown you over his shoulder by this point. Something tells him this isn’t like other times.

His hand lingers in the air aside your sleeve, but draws back when he straightens to his full height behind you. “So you’d rather catch fuckin’ pneumonia than be within three feet of me?” his disbelief is deduced clearly in his tone, conveying how stupid he thinks you’re being.

So you double down, shrugging indifferently as you cross your arms over your chest. “If that’s what it comes down to.”

“Jesus, you’re a stubborn bitch.”

You round on him. “Logan!”

He inclines in your space, raising his voice as he gestures in front of him, organizing his verbal thoughts, “First, you tell me some bullshit about no pussy, and now you don’t even wanna be near me—“

You’re incredulous, matching his energy as you lift onto the tips of your toes to compete with him. “—Why would I wanna go anywhere with you when you’re being the biggest asshole—“

“—and it’s not like you can keep up with that shit. You’ll last a day- and that’s generous—!”

“—A day? You think I’ll last a day—?” You have the urge to laugh, a dry hollow sound.

“Face it, you can’t go a night without me.”

Obviously, you’re not getting anywhere and you’re tired. Defeated, you shake your head and turn on your heel. You’re beyond cold, and you say loud enough for him to hear, “Get outta here, Logan, I don’t wanna see you when I get home.”

He shift his weight to one hip, raising his arms out at his sides in a questioning pose. “Oh, and where am I supposed to go? Huh? Where am I supposed to go?” he interrogates after your retreating form, angry at your reaction, at the fact you’re walking away from him, the idea he’s not going to be in a warm bed with a warm body to comfort him to sleep tonight.

It’s his own fault. “I don’t care where you go! I’m not letting you in.” you reply with a shake of your head.

[mariclerc]

Student's secret | cl16

Summary: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas... or in a pole dance club.

Warnings: mental health issues, toxic work environment, mentions of drugs and sex, uni student reader, denigrating comments, angst and a little fluff at the end.

Living or spending a few days in the city of sin is a dream come true for many people, it is the place where everything is possible, where anything can happen: Luxuries and eccentricities are the order of the day throughout the year and rules and formalities are something banal and outdated for many.

For you it is like being in a cage, many people are forced to lead a double life, one where during the day they do their routine things but at night they try to do something to survive... Just like your case... Being a uni student, it is a bit difficult to bear the expenses of tutors, food, clothes, rent and other things, especially being exposed to the city of luxuries at such a young age, most of the time you find it difficult to make ends meet, so you decided to look for a job during the holidays to, at least, have enough money to make it to the end of the year without any problems... But you didn't think that what started as a temporary job would become a permanent job.

That's why you find yourself touching up your makeup backstage at a pole dance club, this has been your night life for 4 months straight, today is different because you have to work an extra day due to a special show.

Lila, your boss, enters backstage, drawing everyone's attention. “Listen up ladies, tonight we will have a special show because the F1 action in Las Vegas starts on Wednesday, so we will only be open today - Tuesday night, and tomorrow.” she said with a cocky smile on her face. “Plus we have some special people in the audience tonight, so get your shit together or else... You'll be dealing with me.” she said.

Most of the time when there is a big event that paralyzes the city you work only 3 days and the other days you use to rest, but this is enough because you assume from what Lila says, that the drivers will be making an appearance at the club tonight. Plus your shift is only supposed to be Thursday through Sunday, not Tuesday.

You sighed. “I don't want to do this Lila...” you say softly.

She stops and turns her gaze to you. “What do you mean? You know you have a contract, right?” she spats.

“But this is not my shift and I feel too uncomfortable and exposed.” you say. “This was supposed to be a summer-only job, and...” you were going to continue but she interrupted you.

“But anyway, you signed the contract and besides, you need money for your stupid shit, right?” she said and you blinked multiple times. “So you're gonna put on a good show tonight or else I'll make you spend the night with one of the patrons, was it clear to you?”

The patrons are the ones who keep the club afloat, they invest a lot of money in you and in drinks, drugs and so on. In the few months you've been there you've witnessed some pretty... nasty stuff, drugged up coworkers forced to have sex with one of these guys so they can give them some extra money. Luckily for you, you haven't been forced to do anything similar, you just dance and do the occasional VIP service, extra tip and that's it, but seeing the consequences of not wanting to work today, you have to put up with it.

“Okay miss...” you murmured shyly.

Lila smiled. “Everyone, be ready for our customers tonight.” she said and continued walking, you sighed.

You take a deep breath, wiping away a tear that came out of your eyes, smudging lightly your mascara, before stepping into the spotlight. You and your other companions go out on stage, you notice how the patrons are sitting up front with their drinks and cigarettes, as usual, but you notice new faces; most of the drivers are sitting in the VIP booth, each one sitting alone or with his colleagues. The music starts, and you begin your routine, trying to mask your emotions with your performance. As you dance, you catch glimpses of a driver who's watching you intently, his expression shifting from amusement to concern.

After finishing your routine, you watch as your boss motions for you to go the VIP booth number 16, you walk over there, your heart pounding in your chest. The driver is smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes.

He's smiles gently. “Hey there, that was an incredible performance up there.” he says softly.

“Thanks, I... I appreciate it.” you say while forcing a smile.

You notice the way he studies you, his gaze lingering on the redness in your eyes and the light smudge under it. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again... “Are you okay? You seem… a bit upset.” he asks you softly.

You sighed. “It’s just been a long night... Nothing to worry about.” you whispered as you lied.

He nodded. “I can imagine, this place looks so intense.”

You look around the club, feeling the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on you.

“It can be... Overwhelming at times.” you say quietly.

The music shifts to a slower tempo, creating a more intimate atmosphere around your conversation. You stand before Charles and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Charles watches you with a mix of excitement, care and curiosity, his coloured eyes sparkling under the dim lights.

He smiles gently. “So, what do you say, little star? Just a little private dance to lighten the mood?” he says softly while calling you by your stage name.

“I mean... If that's what you want...” you say a little hesitant.

He nods reassuringly. “Trust me, it’ll be fun... Just be yourself.”

You feel a rush of adrenaline at his words. You’ve performed many times before, you've even done private dances several times with not so nice customers, but this feels different—more personal and somewhat intimate. You nod slowly, trying to shake off your nerves.

“Okay... I'll do it.” you say softly.

Charles grins, and you can see the excitement in his eyes. You step back slightly to create some space, allowing yourself to get into the right headspace... The music shifts to a sultry tune, and you begin to move to the rhythm.

As you dance, you focus on Charles, letting the music guide your movements. You sway your hips and let your body flow with the beat, feeling the tension ease away with each step. Charles leans back against the plush booth, watching you intently.

“You're incredible...” he whispers.

His words send a thrill through you, and you find yourself getting lost in the moment... You let go of any lingering doubts and worries and you just embrace the performance. You glide closer to him, allowing your body to move in sync with his gaze.

You continue your dance, incorporating playful movements that make him laugh and smile. The connection between you feels electric, and you find yourself enjoying this more than you anticipated.

“How's this for a private dance?” you asked him playfully, using your confident facade.

He grins. “It's perfect... More than I expected...”

You lock eyes with him, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The laughter and chatter from other tables become a distant hum as you focus solely on him. As you move closer again, you notice how he leans forward, captivated by your performance. You playfully run your fingers along his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. You continue dancing, letting your body express what words cannot. You swirl around him, feeling free and alive as you lose yourself in the rhythm. The music pulses through your veins, and you can see the admiration in Charles' eyes as he watches you.

“You're amazing... This is better than I imagined.” he says with a low voice.

You smile at his compliment, feeling a rush of confidence surge through you, customers rarely compliment you or the girls. You step closer again, brushing against him as you dance, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

As the last notes of the song fade away, you take a deep breath and step back, allowing yourself to bask in the moment.

He clapped softly to you. “That was incredible! You really know how to put on a show.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. The energy between you is palpable as he leans forward slightly.

“I think that deserves a special tip...” he says while grinning. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crisp stack of bills, holding them up with a playful glint in his eye. “What do you think? Is this enough? Or do you need more than that?” he says softly.

Your heart races as he counts out a hefty amount of cash that was wrapped in a paper before handing it to you with an appreciative smile. You wouldn't believe it, it was a big tip.

“Wow! Are... Are you serious?” you said surprised. “I can't take it, I'm...” you were about to say but he gently stopped you.

He smiled. “Don't say that, you deserve it! You deserve every bit of it for that amazing performance.”

You take the money from him, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. It’s more than you expected for just one dance. “Tha... Thank you so much! This really means a lot to me.” you say softly.

“You earned it. And I hope this helps with whatever you're working towards.” He said sweetly and that made you stop.

“How... How do you know that...” you said in a low voice.

He looked around the club and then looked at you before slowly approaching you.

“There's no need to say anything, little star... Your gaze, those lost little eyes told me everything I need to know.” he said softly in a whisper. “Sometimes a look is enough to know a little bit about a person.” he said softly and you were shocked, you never thought that an F1 driver would be so empathetic and deeper.

“Wow, that was... Yeah...” you murmured. “Thank you again...” you say and pause, you still don't know his name.

“Oh, I'm Charles Leclerc.” he said formally. “But just call me Charles.” he smiled.

“Y/n” You answered him by giving him your name. You were going to tell him something else, but the bell indicating that you and the girls had to go backstage ruined the moment.

He smiled. “Well, I think they need you in there.” he said softly. “I really enjoyed this evening, the dancing was spectacular.” he said and you blushed.

“Y/n! Get your fucking slutty ass here!” your boss yelled harshly and you shook your head.

“I have to go, but thanks again Charles.” you said softly.

“It was nothing. Take care y/n, I hope to see you soon.” he said softly and you walked backstage.

As you entered your small dressing room you looked at the amount of money Charles had given you and a tear ran down your cheeks. You had never received such good treatment from a customer, the warmth and security of his person contrasting with the coldness and toxicity of the place. You sighed and put the money in your briefcase, thankful that someone had noticed your tearful gaze despite not saying anything about the anxiety and fear that constantly fill your life.

***

The weeks following your encounter with Charles unfold in a blur of routine and reflection. You find yourself back in the familiar rhythm of your daily life, but the vibrant energy of that night lingers in your mind like a bittersweet memory. The club’s atmosphere has shifted, and the pressures of your job weigh heavily on you.

You're sitting on your bed, surrounded by textbooks and notes from your psychology classes. The sunlight filters through the window, but it feels dimmer than usual, you flip through your notes absentmindedly, thoughts drifting back to that night.

“It was just one night… why can’t I stop thinking about it?” you say to yourself, while flipping through your notebook.

You recall Charles’s laughter, the way he looked at you with genuine interest and care, and the way he made you feel seen. But as days turn into weeks, that memory becomes a painful reminder of what you’re missing in your life.

You shake your head, trying to focus on your studies. But the thoughts keep creeping back in—what if you had exchanged numbers? What if you opened up to him and told him what you were going through at that very moment it didn't matter if he was a complete stranger? The “what ifs” swirl around like a storm in your mind... You couldn't fall in love with a stranger, much less an F1 driver, you're not supposed to let anyone into your life.

A few nights later, you’re back at work, but the energy feels different. The once vibrant atmosphere has turned toxic—patrons are more aggressive, and the laughter that used to fill the air is replaced with tension and judgment.

You stand behind the bar, pouring drinks for a group of rowdy customers who seem to take pleasure in belittling the staff. You try to brush off their nasty comments, but each jab feels like a weight added to your already heavy heart.

One of the customers spoke. “Hey you, why don’t you dance for us? We paid good money for this place! You little bratty bitch.” he said in a slurring way.

You force a smile, but inside, you feel a surge of anxiety, you want to disappear. The memory of Charles’s encouragement clashes with the reality of your current situation. You glance around, noticing how other staff members are also feeling the pressure from the patrons, they're demanding lately.

“May... Maybe later! Right now, let me get you another round of drinks.” you say while you attempt to light the mood.

As you turn away, you catch a glimpse of a co-worker, Sarah, who looks equally drained. She gives you a sympathetic nod, and you can tell she’s feeling the strain too. It is causing a lot of damage to all the girls, especially mentally, you have already seen several of them taking drugs in the bathrooms and backstage.

Sarah approaches you. “It’s getting worse here girl… I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” she says quietly while taking a cigarette out of her pocket.

You sigh, knowing exactly what she means. The club that once felt like an escape is now suffocating. Every night drags on, filled with rude customers and an overwhelming sense of dread. Your mental health begins to deteriorate as the pressure mounts.

Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself dealing with the weight of your job and studies because it feels unbearable. You spend more nights lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as thoughts spiral out of control. Obviously, in the midst of all the chaos, you became a bit of a F1 fan, especially keeping an eye on the green-eyed boy who had been so nice to you that night at the club, somehow, even though he was a complete stranger to you at the time, you felt so happy to see him shine in what he likes — something you wish would happen to you too.

One particularly rough night at work, a big fight breaks out between two patrons. The chaos erupts around you as glasses shatter and voices rise in anger, you feel frozen in place, overwhelmed by your anxiety and nerves.

Weeks pass, and the club continues to drain you. But you find solace in small moments—watching sunsets, reading books—but they’re fleeting against the backdrop of your reality. Your mental health spirals further as feelings of isolation creep in.

Tears well up in your eyes as frustration boils over. You wipe them away angrily, feeling trapped between the joy of the memory shared that night with Charles and the pain of your current life. And it shouldn't be affecting you so much, he was just a costumer...

***

The atmosphere is electric as the club transforms for the Christmas season, twinkling lights adorn the bar, and festive decorations create a warm ambiance amidst the usual chaos. You stand in the backstage, heart racing, preparing for one last performance before your well deserved break from the club and your classes. The familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filter through the curtains, but today, they feel different.

You are in the backstage, pacing nervously as you go over your routine in your mind. The stage is set, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

You take a deep breath. “Just one last performance… You can do this.” you say in a whisper to you.

As the music starts and the spotlight shines on you, you step onto the stage. The audience erupts in applause, but your eyes scan the crowd anxiously. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—some co-workers, and regular patrons, nothing new—but then your heart skips a beat. There he is—Charles, standing near the front, his smile bright against the dim lighting.

Your breath hitches in your throat as a flood of emotions washes over you. Memories of that night come rushing back—the laughter, the slight connection, the promise of something more. But doubt creeps in, and you feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach...

“Why is he here? Is this just a fleeting visit? Or is it for something else?” you think, you can't help but wonder that.

You force yourself to focus on the performance, pouring your heart into every movement. As you dance, you try to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind... But each time you glance at Charles, you feel an overwhelming mix of hope and fear.

The performance reaches its climax, and the crowd cheers enthusiastically. You finish with a flourish, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you take your final bow. The applause reverberates in your ears, but your gaze remains fixed on Charles.

As you step offstage, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you navigate through the backstage area toward the bar. You can feel Charles’s presence behind you, and a mix of excitement and dread builds within you.

“Whoa! That was incredible! I’ve missed seeing you perform, little star.” he says as he approaches you with a smile on his face.

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you’re speechless. You take a moment to absorb his presence—his familiar warmth, his genuine admiration.

“Tha... Thanks... It's been a while since I felt that good on stage.” you say shyly.

You glance around nervously as other staff members and Sarah pass by, some offering nods of recognition to Charles. You can’t help but feel exposed under their scrutiny.

“Do you want to talk somewhere quieter?” he says softly while noticing your discomfort.

You hesitate for a bit. “Yeah... I guess that would be nice.”

You lead him to a small break room at the back of the club—a space filled with mismatched furniture and remnants of holiday treats. The atmosphere feels intimate compared to the bustling club outside.

Once inside, the door closes behind you, muffling the noise from the main area. You lean against the counter, arms crossed defensively as you try to gauge his intentions.

“So, ehm... What brings you back to Vegas? I thought you were busy with racing and all that stuff...” you asked him cautiously.

“Yeah, well, I was busy... but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to see how you’re doing—like, really doing.” he sighed and smiled at you.

His sincerity strikes a chord within you, but doubt still lingers. You remember how hard it is to open up before and how vulnerable it made you feel.

“Well... Things have been tough lately… work has been overwhelming...” you say while biting your lip.

Suddenly everything you have experienced in the last few months comes to your head, the humiliation, the mockery, the objectification, anxiety, the sacrifices you make to make ends meet and have enough money for everything you need and, without expecting it, your eyes fill with tears. A part of you longs for validation and support, but another part fears being let down again.

“Oh, don't cry little star, it's okay...” he says while he holds you in his arms and caresses your hair. “It's so okay, let it out.”

You sniffled. “It’s just that… I don’t know if I can trust anyone right now... Everything feels so chaotic; my life feels so chaotic and messier.”

Charles looks down at you, his expression earnest and understanding. “I get that... Trust takes time, but I’m here for you if you want to talk about it, I want to help.” he wipes a tear form your cheek.

You feel a flicker of hope ignite within you at his words. The vulnerability in his voice reminds you of that connection you shared—the one that felt so real yet so distant now.

“It’s hard for me to open up…” you say in a whisper.

“You don’t have to share everything all at once with me. Just know that I’m here to listen whenever you're ready, okay?” he says softly.

His patience reassures you, but fear still grips your heart. You remember how easily things can change—how quickly trust can be broken.

“I’ve been feeling lost… like I’m stuck in this cycle that I can’t escape.” you say while looking down.

He nodded. “And it’s so okay to feel that way, we all go through rough patches. What matters is that we can still find a way out... together.” he smiles at you.

You meet his gaze again, searching for sincerity in his eyes. There’s no judgment there—only care, understanding and compassion... Something you've been needing to find for a long time and now a stranger is giving it to you.

***

As the days rolled on, the festive spirit of Las Vegas enveloped you both. The city transformed into a dazzling wonderland, with sparkling lights adorning every corner and the joyous sounds of holiday celebrations filling the air. You and Charles made the most of your time together, exploring the vibrant culture and indulging in the culinary delights that the city had to offer.

On Christmas Eve, you found yourselves in a cozy café nestled within one of the extravagant hotels. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of baked goods, creating an inviting atmosphere. You sat across from each other, warm mugs cradled in your hands, and the soft glow of fairy lights twinkling around you.

As you sipped your drink, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence... Charles had a way of making everything feel lighter, as if the burdens you carried were shared between you. But there was still a part of you that hesitated to delve deeper into your past, to reveal the struggles that lay beneath your cheerful façade.

“So, do you have any special traditions for Christmas?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You smiled softly, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Ehm... Not really, to be honest.” you admitted, looking down at your mug. “My family doesn’t celebrate much anymore... It’s just… complicated.”

He leaned in slightly, his expression encouraging. “Complicated how? If I may know.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, my family never really supported my choice to study psychology.” you began hesitantly. “They always thought it was a waste of time, they wanted me to pursue something more… practical.”

Charles nodded, his face reflecting understanding. “That must have been hard for you.” he said gently.

“It was.” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to help people, to understand their emotions and struggles. But when the people closest to you don’t believe in your dreams… it’s hard not to feel like you’re on the wrong path.” you say softly.

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a reassuring gesture. “You’re not on the wrong path, little star. You’re doing something incredibly important.”

You appreciated his support, but the doubt still lingered in your mind. “It’s just… I didn’t have their financial support either.” you confessed, feeling vulnerable. “I’ve had to work multiple jobs to pay for school, including the job at the pole dance club... It’s so exhausting.”

Charles listened intently, his brow furrowing slightly as he absorbed your words. “That sounds really tough, I can’t imagine how isolating that must feel.”

You nodded, grateful for his empathy. “It is isolating.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve lost touch with friends who didn’t understand my commitment to my studies. It’s like I’m in this bubble where no one else really gets what I’m going through.”

He squeezed your hand gently, grounding you in that moment. “You’re not alone now.” he reassured you. “I’m here for you, and I want to understand what you’re experiencing.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, encouraging you to share more.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of loneliness.” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes. “I want to connect with others, but it’s hard when I feel so different from everyone else.”

Charles leaned closer, his voice soft and steady. “You’re not different in a bad way; you’re pursuing something meaningful. And those who truly care about you will see that...”

You looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” he replied firmly. “You have so much passion and drive. That’s something to be proud of.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself opening up more than you had anticipated. You shared stories of late nights spent studying, the moments of self-doubt that crept in during exams, and the fleeting joy of helping others during your internships.

His belief in you sparked something deep within—a flicker of hope that perhaps you weren’t as alone as you had felt for so long... The more you talked, the more liberated you felt from the weight of isolation that had clung to you for years.

***

The week leading up to New Year’s was always a time of reflection, a time when the world seemed to pause and take stock of the year gone by. The air was crisp, and the city sparkled with festive lights, but inside your cozy apartment, it was just the two of you—Charles and you—wrapped in a bubble of warmth and anticipation.

You had decided to spend the week together, a decision that felt both thrilling and terrifying. You could feel the chemistry bubbling between you—an electric charge that seemed to hum in the air whenever he was near, but with that chemistry came the fear of what it would mean if you let yourself fall for him.

As the sun began to set on the last day of the year, you and Charles found yourselves sprawled on the couch, surrounded by snacks and half-watched Christmas movies. The soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that made your heart race, you glanced sideways at him, his profile illuminated by the flickering light from the TV. He looked so relaxed, his hair slightly tousled and a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he focused on the screen.

“Do you ever think about New Year’s resolutions?” Charles asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned your head to look at him fully. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “But I’m not very good at keeping them.” you giggled.

He chuckled softly. “Same here, I usually start strong, but by February, I’ve forgotten all about them.”

“What do you think this year’s should be?” you asked playfully, trying to keep the conversation light.

He pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing adorably. “Maybe something like… be more spontaneous? Or try to embrace change?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Embrace change? That sounds deep!”

“Yeah, well.” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s important to be open to new experiences, you never know what could happen.”

His words struck a chord within you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was hinting at something more—something between the two of you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“What about you?” he asked, turning the question back to you. “What do you want for this coming year?”

You hesitated, your heart racing as you considered your answer. Part of you wanted to say something lighthearted, but another part yearned for honesty.

“I guess… I want to be braver.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Braver?” he echoed, his gaze intense as he studied your face. “In what way?”

You swallowed hard, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. “In life… in love.” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve always been scared of getting hurt, so I hold back.”

He nodded slowly, understanding washing over his features. “That makes sense.” he said softly. “It’s hard to let someone in when you’re afraid of what might happen.”

You felt a connection deepen between you in that moment—a shared understanding of vulnerability that made your heart ache with longing.

“Exactly.” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But I think… maybe I want to try.”

Charles’s expression softened as he leaned closer to you, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken. “Try what?” he asked gently.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words hang in the air between you. “Try to let myself feel more… to let someone in.” Your heart raced as you said it, the truth spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He held your gaze steadily, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded away until it was just the two of you—two souls intertwined in a moment of raw honesty.

“I’d like that.” he said finally, his voice low and sincere. “I’d like to be that person for you.”

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his words, but with it came a wave of fear... What if this was too much? What if falling for him meant risking everything? You pulled back slightly, breaking eye contact as uncertainty clouded your mind.

“Charles…” you started, but he interrupted gently.

“Hey.” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent sparks through your skin, and you shivered involuntarily at his closeness. “We don’t have to rush into anything, I just want you to know that I’m here.”

His sincerity made your heart swell and ache all at once. You wanted so desperately to lean into him—to let yourself fall into this beautiful connection—but fear held you back like an anchor.

“Can we just… take it slow?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Of course we can do that.” he replied without hesitation. “I’d never want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

You smiled gratefully at him, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Maybe this was enough for now—just being here together, exploring this slow burn without any pressure or expectations.

As the evening wore on and the clock ticked closer to midnight, you found yourselves lost in conversation—sharing stories about childhood dreams and future aspirations, laughter punctuating each moment as the bond between you deepened.

At one point, Charles reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his touch sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and for a moment, all your fears faded away.

As midnight approached, the anticipation in the air grew thick with excitement. You settled back against the couch, feeling giddy as Charles pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Just a few minutes left!” he exclaimed with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him; his enthusiasm was infectious. He glanced at you then, his expression softening as he leaned closer again.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“For what?” you asked teasingly.

“For whatever comes next.” he replied earnestly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words—so simple yet so profound. In that moment, everything felt possible. You nodded slowly, feeling a rush of courage wash over you.

“Yes...” you whispered.

As the countdown began on TV, excitement bubbled between you like champagne ready to overflow. With each passing second, your heart raced faster until finally…

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted in cheers from the television as confetti fell on-screen and fireworks lit up the sky outside your window. But all that mattered was Charles—his eyes sparkling with joy as he turned to face you.

And then it happened: he leaned in closer and pressed his lips against yours—a soft yet electrifying kiss that sent shivers down your spine. It was tentative yet filled with promise; a beautiful beginning wrapped in hope and possibility.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him back, savoring the sweet taste of new beginnings and uncharted territory. In that moment, all your fears melted away as if they had never existed at all.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Charles smiled at you—a smile that lit up his entire face and made your heart soar.

“Happy New Year, petite étoile.” he murmured softly. (little star)

“Happy New Year charlie.” you echoed, feeling lighter than air as hope blossomed within you—a hope for what this year might bring and for the journey ahead with him by your side.

And as fireworks exploded outside your window, illuminating the night sky with vibrant colors, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to embrace whatever came next together.

***

The days turned into weeks, and your bond with Charles deepened in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Each moment spent together felt like a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and the warmth of companionship.

One evening, after a delightful dinner at a cozy restaurant, you found yourselves walking along the waterfront, the moonlight shimmering on the water's surface. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine, you felt a sense of peace wash over you as you strolled side by side, your fingers intertwined.

As you walked, Charles suddenly stopped, turning to face you with a serious expression that caught you off guard. “Can we talk about something?” he asked, his voice low and earnest.

Your heart raced slightly as you nodded. “Of course babe! What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us—about how much I care for you. You mean more to me than I can express.” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I want to take care of you in every way possible.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, unsure where this conversation was leading but intrigued nonetheless. “What do you mean?” you asked softly.

Charles stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I want to be your sugar daddy.” he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “And I know it sounds weird, but it's not in a bad way, I mean, I want to support you while you study psychology, to help you leave behind all the stress and worries that weigh you down.”

Your mind raced as you processed his words. The idea of having someone like Charles in your life—someone who wanted to provide for you, who believed in your dreams and aspirations—was both exhilarating and daunting.

“Are you serious?” you managed to ask, your heart pounding.

“Absolutely!” he replied without hesitation. “I want us to build a life together. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I believe we could be so much more than what we are now.” He paused, gauging your reaction before continuing. “I want you to move out of Las Vegas and come with me to Monaco.”

The mention of Monaco sent a thrill through you. The thought of leaving behind the familiar chaos of city life for a place known for its beauty and luxury was intoxicating, but it also brought a wave of uncertainty.

“Monaco? That’s such a big step, Charles.” you said, trying to process everything. “But... What about my studies?” you asked softly.

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course you can continue your studies there! They have excellent universities, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need to succeed.” he said softly at you.

His words resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of hope and excitement that had long been dormant. The idea of pursuing your passion for psychology without the burden of financial stress felt like a dream come true.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, vulnerability creeping into your voice. “What if I can’t adjust?”

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Life is about taking risks, isn't it? And I believe in us—more than anything else in this world! I promise to be there every step of the way, you won’t be alone; we’ll figure it out together.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, and for the first time, you felt the weight of your worries begin to lift. The thought of embarking on this journey with him filled you with a sense of possibility.

“Okay.” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try.”

A radiant smile broke across Charles’s face as he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. “You won’t regret this, mon amour.” he whispered against your hair. (my love)

In that moment, everything felt so right to you... The world around you faded away as he held you close, and all that mattered was the connection between the two of you—a bond that had grown from two strangers into something deeper and more profound...

As the stars twinkled above like diamonds scattered across the night sky, you knew that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey together—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of a brighter future.

***

The soft hum of the city outside your window filled the room as the moonlight spilled in, casting a silvery glow over your study room. You had been immersed in your psychology textbooks, determined to master the material before your upcoming class. However, fatigue had crept in, and before you knew it, you had succumbed to sleep, your head resting on your notes, surrounded by the comforting chaos of your studies.

Charles had just returned from a long day of meetings with sponsors, his mind still buzzing with the events of the day. He was looking forward to spending time with you, but as he stepped into your study room, he was met with a scene that made his heart swell... There you were, curled up on the desk, your little stuffed bear nestled beside you, as if it were standing guard while you slept.

A soft smile spread across his face at the sight. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little Sleepy Scholar.” he whispered affectionately, approaching you with quiet steps. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he began to pick up the scattered books, papers and highlighters on the table. “You really should consider changing your name to ‘Overworked Wonder.'” he teased gently, glancing down at your peaceful expression.

As he organized your notes, he found himself admiring how well you had adapted to life in Monaco. You had embraced the city with open arms, exploring its beauty and charm while pursuing your studies with unwavering determination. It filled him with pride and love to see you thriving after everything you had faced back in Vegas.

His fingers brushed against the plush bear, and he couldn’t resist giving it a gentle squeeze. “And look who’s here to protect my precious girl, hm?” he said with a playful grin. “You’re doing a fantastic job, Mr. Bear!”

With everything neatly arranged, he turned his attention back to you. The sight of you sleeping so soundly tugged at his heartstrings. He knew how hard you had been working and how much this new chapter meant to you, he wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to ensure that you felt safe and loved in this new place.

Gently, he slipped his arms under your body, lifting you effortlessly from the desk. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake as he cradled you against him. “Time for bed, my little scholar.” he murmured softly, the warmth of your body against his bringing him a sense of peace. “You need a deserved rest in a comfy bed.”

He carried you to the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the gentle lapping of waves outside. As he laid you down on the bed, he carefully tucked the covers around you, ensuring that you were warm and comfortable. The plush bear found its place beside you once more, as if it were keeping watch over you in your dreams.

Charles took a moment to admire you—your features relaxed in sleep, a serene expression gracing your face. The love he felt for you swelled within him as he brushed a stray hair away from your forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.” he whispered softly before slipping into bed beside you.

As he settled in next to you, the day’s exhaustion caught up with him. He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand and watching you sleep for a moment longer. The way you breathed peacefully filled him with an overwhelming sense of contentment, It felt like everything was right in the world.

But soon enough, the weight of fatigue pulled at him too. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your presence. As sleep enveloped him, dreams began to weave their way into his mind—visions of laughter-filled days exploring Monaco’s stunning coastline together, quiet evenings spent sharing stories under starlit skies, and a future filled with love and promise.

In that shared moment of tranquility, two hearts beat as one—connected by love and trust, embracing the beauty of their journey together. The world outside faded away as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, knowing that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead side by side.

As the night wore on, Charles found himself wrapped in dreams filled with laughter and light—a reflection of the joy you brought into his life. And in that serene space, both of you slept soundly, cocooned in warmth and love in your new home in Monaco.

[squinch-depraved]

priest schlatt I beg

we're not gonna talk about how long this took me to get to

happy national clergy appreciation day (in the u.s.) !! sorry if this sucks i was raised southern baptist and even then i sucked at christianity there's a reason i practice witchcraft now lol

hanging your head low as you ducked into the confessional wouldn't save you. sure, there was no one around to see you, but knowing that god had witnessed what you had done was reason enough to try and hide from the world as much as you could. but still you tucked yourself away into the corner of the booth, clutching your purse in your trembling hands.

religion was a something of a sore spot for you; growing up in a hyper-christian family was one way to ensure you didn't feel comfortable in a house of worship. you had always viewed god as an inevitable outcome, a fact that awaited you whenever you happened to reach the end of your journey here on earth. once you graduated high school and locked yourself into a four year program at a catholic college one state over, you came to realize that the reason you couldn't stand your religion wasn't because of overbearing relatives. no, it was the very idea of god himself. you found him sadistic, an egotistical prick who had nothing better to do than let horrible things happen to his creations. maybe it was true that most of the teachings you had heard were lost on you, that you didn't even make an effort to understand the lessons passed down for thousands of years. but so what? nobody had ever made an effort to understand you or what you were going through, why should you waste your energy extending that courtesy to a church that obviously didn't care about you?

but you know who did make you feel understood? the guys you had dated in the three years since you arrived at this prison. at least, for a few weeks, in the beginning. the first one was fine. he was the one who convinced you virginity was an outdated concept- which you still agreed with to this day, you decided. he was surprisingly "woke" about the whole religion thing, which was what drew you to him in the first place.

"my parents made me study here too," he sympathized. "i totally wish i could've gone on a mission trip instead of getting a degree. like, college will be here in a few years! those impoverished people might not, y'know? i just feel like god is totally calling me to go serve. like, 'troy, man, go feed those guys! tell them how cool i am!'" he stopped tossing a miniature foam basketball against your bedroom wall for a moment to look at you.

you smiled weakly at his sentiments and glanced up from your laptop to nod. "totally, troy."

turns out, (unsurprisingly) troy was a fucking douche. he stayed around just long enough to get into your pants a couple times, but then you caught him with the girl who lived in the dorm across from you, so he had to go. nobody ever found out who stole his clothes from the men's showers, but the videos of him streaking down the hallways while he ran to his room were sent around campus for months after that.

guys two and three were more painful than troy; you had actually grown attached to them. guy two lasted almost a year, and three was only a few months, but he felt special. and the half dozen guys you slept with while trying to get over them just added to the tally of sins you were keeping subconsciously.

so when your grades started to slip from depression in the winter of your junior year, and your counselor called you to her office for an appointment, it was no surprise that her words got under your skin as easily as they did. how could they not? getting students to go to church was part of her job. she was concerned that your grades were slipping because she hadn't seen you at mass in a long time, and the absence of the lord will do that to a young girl, you know.

so later that night, after drinking by yourself at a bar a few miles from the school, you stumbled into the church on campus and slunk into the confessional. realizing that the wooden box was incredibly uncomfortable, you winced and pulled off your heels, rubbing your feet gently as you waited to be listened to.

you shrieked quietly when a small lattice window on the wall next to you slid open. "oh, fuck... sorry! um, it's my turn, right?... yeah, i think so. okay, so, um. bless me father for i have... sinned? it's been, like," you paused as you counted back the time on your fingers. "almost two years since my last confession. oh, jeez, that makes me sound awful." you were hiccupping as you rambled, and you could have sworn you heard the faintest exhale of amusement if you weren't plastered.

"whatever, it's too late to stop now," you sighed, crossing your legs. "i let some guys sleep with me and now i'm all unpure and like. i'm supposed to show up here a couple times every week now but i don't wanna, i don't care enough about this whole god thing to waste the rest of my college life becoming a nun. i'm already worried i wasted three years coming here instead of a school where i could have felt like myself," you trailed off.

it was quiet for a moment before a gruff voice with a new york accent asked, "how many guys?"

you snorted. "9, i think," you said with a smirk, rolling your eyes.

the man on the other side of the panel felt his face heat up as he mumbled, "jesus." you couldn't hold in your laugh at how absurd this was. this was what you deserved for coming to confess at 2 in the morning.

"i know it's been a while since i've been here and all, but i'm pretty sure that's not what you're supposed to say," you giggled.

a chuckle was heard before he answered, "sorry. you're right, it's not. tell me more, what led you to sleeping with them?" at least now he was trying.

the two of you talked for about an hour, until it no longer felt like a confession and you were sure you had fallen for this priest you couldn't even see. eventually, he tried to dismiss you without giving you your penance, but something in your gut drove you to bring it up yourself.

he stepped out of the booth first, and you hesitated for a second before following him, freezing when you saw what he looked like. tall, scary, with gorgeous brown eyes framed by aviator glasses and fluffy chops adorning his cheeks. by some miracle, he also felt immobilized by his view of you hopping out of the wooden compartment- dress disheveled, fishnets ripped, heels in one hand and your purse slung over one shoulder. you were his worst nightmare, a temptation he simply could not resist. god had just placed a vulnerable young lamb like you in his midst; who was he to deny himself of the simple pleasures his lord had provided for him?

"father? father, my penance," you waved your hand in front of his face (after a bit of trying to get his attention), which had just gone dark. his eyes now looked hungry and cold.

"hmm?" he blinked and tilted his head towards you slightly. "oh. uhm," he let out a deep exhale, as if contemplating something. "y-y'know what? just come with me," he spoke gently, taking your hand and leading you to a back room with some spare furniture scattered about.

a part of you knew what was coming, and a different part of you never could have guessed the situation you were about to find yourself in. once you were alone in the room together, he pulled you close and pressed you against a wall, letting his hot breath waft over your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"god's telling me we should make it 10 men you've been with," he murmured, voice velvet smooth as it coated your eardrums. "so you can say at least one of them was a real man of the lord, hmm, doll?"

your breath, caught in your throat, sped up as he slowly, gently, tenderly took your wrists in one of his hands, bringing them to rest above your head. "father..."

"schlatt. my name's schlatt. but that's just a courtesy, hm? stick to callin' me father." you felt him smirk against your skin as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your neck, drawing out a frantic moan from you.

"careful with your noises, angel, there's two other guys here tonight, and if we get caught, i'm gonna have to share you," schlatt warned. he used his other free hand to pull down the top of your dress, smiling greedily at the sight of your exposed breasts. "no bra?"

"i-it didn't go with the outfit," you tried to defend yourself, but he just shushed you and fondled your chest lovingly, like he really was just appreciating one of god's creations. pathetic noises spilled from your lips as you watched him admire you, a hypnotized look on your face.

"you're so beautiful, doll. wha's your name?" he asked, glancing up at your face to meet your gaze.

you stammered out your response and he repeated it, running over the name in his mind.

"pretty," he said simply. "i'm gonna make you feel good now, okay?" it was more of a statement than a question, and you nodded with a gulp as he knelt down and slid his head under your dress. you felt your pupils dilate as you leaned your head back against the wall and let your eyes fall closed. schlatt ripped a bigger hole into your fishnets and pulled your skimpy panties to the side, licking a long stripe up your folds and tracing circles with his tongue on your clit. it was hard to keep your whorish noises contained, but clamping your hand over your mouth did a good enough job.

he ate you until you were frantically scratching at his head through the fabric of your dress as you came all over his face, sobbing from how good you felt. you didn't even know it was possible to feel this euphoric, but here this priest was to show you how. once he was satisfied, he pulled away from your cunt and rose to tower over you again. he reached into his robes and opened them enough so that his crotch was visible. you watched as he pulled out his length, stunned at the size of it, and let him pick you up and position you around his waist.

"father, i'm scared, i don't know if it's gonna fit," you admitted guiltily. schlatt locked eyes with you while he replied.

"it's okay to be scared. but you have to do it anyways." with that, he slid into you, stretching you out more than you ever had been before. you bit onto him in an effort to keep quiet; his robes did a good job of muffling the sound. after a generous amount of time to let you get used to him, he started moving.

he was gentle at first, but gradually got rougher and rougher. there wasn't a moment where he wasn't focused on making you feel good. his eyes pierced through you as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, and the attention he was giving you didn't make you feel objectified like it did when the other guys fucked you. it made you feel divine, ethereal almost.

grunts and pants, along with the occasional squeal, were all that could be heard as he rolled his hips into you time and time again. he coaxed another orgasm out of you just with his cock, and once he felt like he had pleasured you enough, he sped up, now thrusting at a frenzied pace.

"when i tell you, you're gonna get on your knees and take me in your mouth, okay angel?" he instructed, out of breath. you nodded, eager to please.

"yes, father," you gasped as he reached deeper and deeper inside you with every thrust. schlatt's eyes rolled back slightly at the title and he went impossibly faster for a few seconds before speaking.

"n-now! now!" he ordered desperately. he set you down hurriedly and you slammed down onto your knees to take him in your mouth, letting him burrow deep into your throat before he finished with a loud groan and grabbed your hair roughly.

he remained in your throat for a moment while he caught his breath, sliding out once his chest had stopped heaving.

"there's your penance, doll. i better see you here for a 2 a.m. confession next monday as well, yeah? i think that's what the lord's callin' me to do," schlatt said as he buttoned his robes. you straightened your clothes as much as you could and looked up at him sheepishly.

"looking forward to it. but, uh, is there a back door i could leave through? because i do not want to walk through the church like this." you gestured to your outfit, tattered and wrinkled, and winced.

he chuckled and nodded. "yeah, i'll show you to it. maybe it could be our secret entrance," he joked.

"oh, of course. i'll knock three times whenever i need to be let in," you retort with a grin.

maybe coming to church wouldn't be so bad, after all.

[misfitgirlwrites]

Modern!Reader x Alastor Headcanons | Third Place Giveaway Winner

This is very funny to me. Alastor dating or befriending someone who's more similar to Vox to say the least than him when it comes to...technological advancements

CW: none, just some bickering between what could be seen as an old married couple

It's a little hard for almost everyone to tell, but you and Alastor are close

I say it's hard to tell because you two are constantly throwing jabs at each other and honestly, it couldn't be helped

He was just so...old

Everything about his habits and interests were outdated and Alastor wasn't the type to do his own thing quietly 

There's always a comment, a sideways glance, a light scoff which leads to,

"Don't be upset because you don't know how to use a cellphone."

"Me? Upset over such a device? You confuse me with someone else, dear."

"I don't think I am. What'd you have again? Messenger birds?"

"Very funny."

You would simply chuckle at Alastor for the most part. You've heard it all before, your love and talent did lead to you VoxTech for a bit of your afterlife, but you didn't stay.

You found it more enjoy using what you know to help Charlie with her cause.

You were a helpful person in your own way. It was the only reason you kept trying to introduce Alastor to some form of modern tech. 

"I can make you the simplest most basic cellphone Hell has ever seen. Only phone calls and texting--"

"You lost me."

"--Only phone calls and we'll get to the rest eventually?"

"No."

You'd groan out, "even Lucifer has a cellphone! He's older than you!"

"Was that supposed to help you convince me?"

"...You're such a loser."

You have special nicknames for Alastor when you feel like picking with him. 

Old Allie

Old Man Red

Ye Old Alastor

Arthritis Strawberry

Alastor: Great Gatsby Edition

He hates all of them, of course, and that's why you love them

Alastor is completely uninterested in what you do. His focus is just more on your talent and passion than what you're making

You argue that what you're making is your passion so he should show a little interest

This would lead to a breakthrough!

"Only for phone calls."

"Right."

"Don't add anything else."

"Mhm."

"______. I mean it."

"Don't go using that scary tone with me, mister. I'm your friend, so trust me!"

It took all your willpower to not add anything extreme to the, in your opinion, useless cellphone. Phone calls only, just as promised. You knew Alastor agreed to shut you up, but you were still satisfied with your win

That's why you were very surprised when you got a call from him and you knew he wasn't in the hotel. You of course told everyone who would listen (AKA everyone in the hotel)

You yourself were always on the move and it made you happy that the chance to hear Alastor while you were both away was significantly higher (he lowkey hates the thing, so he doesn't always answer)

After a while, like a lot of elderly, Alastor would just straight up not take the phone with him.

"Al."

"Yes, my dear?"

"The point of a cellphone. You get it, yeah?"

A roll of the eyes

"Al."

"I still use the thing."

"You leave it in the hotel!"

"I forget it here and there."

"You can't tell me you're not someone's fuckin' grandfather with that lame excuse. At this rate, I'm gonna glue the phone to you."

Honestly, he kept it on him for almost two months. You expected to be having this conversation sooner.

After nagging him for a few days, Alastor made sure not to "forget" the cellphone anymore, much to his annoyance. He, of course, couldn't be seen with the thing, so it was just easier to leave it at the hotel

Two more weeks in, and Alastor would definitely be thinking of ways for this device to get in an unfortunate accident, if you will

While fiddling with the damned thing one night, Alastor finally found the one extra feature you decided to add. After a small click sounded, the small phone extended in his hands, making him let it go. The small screen was now larger; touchscreen.

Alastor's eye twitched. He could almost hear you cackling. 

He was going to end you.

@theblueslytherin Here as promised! I really hope you like it!

Alastor Taglist: @alastorssimp @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @dasimp777

[pansy-picnics]

Americans who are worried about bird flu and/or are struggling to afford eggs the next few months- find someone in your local community who has chickens.

It is winter right now, so most backyard hens won’t be laying, but come spring, they’ll be laying so many eggs a lot of chicken owners don’t even know what to do with them all. They’ll often sell you a whole carton for like, 2-3 dollars. a backyard flock owner might even give them away for free if they’re desperate.

frankly, if you start buying fresh eggs, you probably won’t want to ever go back. farm fresh eggs taste better, last longer (sometimes without even being refrigerated), and have tougher, denser shells. not to mention they’re beautiful considering they come in all different shapes, sizes and colors!

in general though, farmers markets are HUGE. the cororate meat and dairy industries are breeding grounds for disease right now, and grocery prices are skyrocketing. local farmers markets and community owned grocery stores can get you better prices on better food, from things like eggs to produce, meat, and dairy.

i see a lot of people talking about community but i think a lot of people still don’t know where to start….since food is a big one, i want to share some resources. its important to remember that we don’t need these corporations to survive. they need us. even if you don’t make a lot of income, there are ways you can support your community and get better deals than at corporate owned grocery stores.

Most states have a farmers market network/association, or you can find local markets through your state’s department of agriculture website. heres a list of resources by state on the farmers market coalition. some of these links might be broken or outdated, but just looking up the name should bring you to the right page.

here’s also a list of food pantries and grocery co-ops per state. keep in mind these might not encapsulate every resource available, they’re just jumping off points in case you aren’t sure where to start, since i know things are really overwhelming right now. but even just looking up “farmers market/food pantry” and your county or city will come up with plenty of results.

I know that not everyone can afford farmers markets, there are cases where they’re more expensive than regular grocery stores. it 100% depends on the situation. but most areas usually have at least one local food bank or community group where you can get some assistance if you’re struggling. start to get to know your neighbors, too. you know how older folks will say that back in the day, you could go ask the neighbors for a cup of sugar and they’d give it to you? That kind of basic community is exactly what we have to go back to in these next few years. That is what is gonna keep us alive.

[thehereticdiaries]

Into the Wonderland: Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: You suck at using the subway. You have an eventful afternoon with the pack, then a jarring phone call with your mom. After a month, you and Hongjoong have an important discussion. This is a LONG one

Warnings: Nightmares, some symptoms of ptsd, anxiety, insomia

Series Masterlist

The rest of your classes went by without incident. You stood in front of the map of the subway lines, attempting to decipher what the jumble of colored lines meant. Even though you’ve lived in Korea for nearly half your life, the subway never got easier for you to understand. You avoided it like the plague, only ever going when absolutely necessary and usually with another person. But you had to get from Seoul National University to Mapo-gu, and the bus fares would have been too expensive. 

Your classes finished nearly an hour ago. You should have gotten to the dorms by now. And yet here you were, hopelessly lost in the subway. Your shoulders ached from the weight of your textbooks. You wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the pack’s couch, but you had absolutely no idea where you were. So you swallowed your pride and called Hongjoong.

“Y/N? Are you alright? You should’ve gotten here by now,” the alpha’s voice was laced with concern. 

“I’m fine. It’s just, uh,” you sighed heavily. “I’m lost.” 

“Lost?”

“Yeah, I don’t usually take the subway. It’s too confusing. I have no idea where I am,” you admitted, leaning against a wall to ease the pressure on your shoulders.

“What station are you at?” You groaned and trudged over to the map. Whoever invented the “you are here” arrows was a genius in your mind.

“I’m at Ganseok.”

“Ganseok?! How the hell did you end up over there?” Hongjoong exclaimed. You were certain that he was pacing whatever room he was in.

“I don’t know!” You whined. “Can you maybe give me directions over the phone?”

“No need, just sit tight for a few minutes. Mingi is over that way, he’ll come grab you.” You sighed in relief, exchanging a quick goodbye then flopping onto a nearby bench. You hunched in on yourself, rubbing your temples in an attempt to stave off your growing headache. 

“Hey there, pretty girl.” You look up to Mingi smiling at you from behind his mask. “Heard you got lost?” 

“Mhm.” You stood and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. He laughed and pulled you along by your hand, getting on the correct train. You basked in the sunlight after you emerged from the subway. “God, it felt like I was down there for-fucking-ever.”

“Come on, we only have to walk a little further,” Mingi urged you forward. You walked side-by-side, occasionally glancing up at the tall alpha. Even with his mask on, you could see the worry in his face, evident by the twitch of his neck and furrowed eyebrows.

“Mingi, are you okay?” He hummed and looked down at you, briefly, but you caught the guilt in his eyes. You pulled him to the side so you faced each other without blocking the sidewalk. “What’s going on?”

“Honestly, I’m having some really conflicting emotions right now.” You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. He held your hand, running his thumb across your knuckles. 

“I’m incredibly proud to have such a smart and driven person as my mate. But there’s a part of me, my more primal side, that doesn’t want you to work. It’s outdated, but I want to be the one providing for you,” he explained. “Obviously I’m not gonna try to stop you, but–”

“Mingi,” you interrupted. “I understand what you’re saying. It’s part of your nature, but the fact that you’re acknowledging it and working past it is really reassuring.” The tension slowly melted from his shoulders. 

“Do you have a job now?” Mingi asked as you continued toward the dorms. 

“A part-time job. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s good for pocket change.”

“How are you paying for your apartment?” He cringed. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s fine. The apartment was my grandmother’s. She managed to buy it when she was in her 50s, and she left it to me when she passed.” You swung your joined hands back and forth. “My mom travels a lot for work. She was happy that my grandmom gave me a way to focus on school rather than worrying about rent.”

“That’s really sweet,” Mingi cooed at you, causing you to roll your eyes. You continued an easy conversation for the rest of the short walk. After entering the dorms, he pressed a quick kiss to the crown of your head then moved down a hallway, presumably to his room or an office. You were greeted by San and Wooyoung in the living room, dropping your backpack next to the coffee table with a heavy thud.

“Jesus, what do you have in there?” Wooyoung’s eyes widened. 

“Four textbooks and my laptop.” You rolled your shoulders, feeling much lighter without your backpack weighing you down. When you were close enough, Wooyoung pulled you down to sit on San’s lap, maneuvering your legs onto his own. San wrapped his arms around your waist as you relaxed into his chest.

“Gross, why not use e-books?” The shorter beta rubbed circles on your knees. 

“Too expensive. These are used rentals. It’s a lot heavier but a lot more budget-friendly,” you shrugged. 

“We can help, if you want,” San offered. You shook your head.

“This semester’s almost over. I’ll be returning them soon. Maybe next semester as long as they aren’t crazy pricey.” Wooyoung snorted.

“Honey, I don’t mean to brag, but I don’t think a couple of textbooks are gonna break the bank for us.” You scrunched your brows at him. “We’re idols, we can handle buying a few books.”

“Oh, that must be what Mingi was talking about earlier,” realization dawned on you. Wooyoung tilted his head, but you waved him off. “I don’t really know a lot about k-pop, to be honest. I’ve mostly been listening to classical and video game soundtracks. They help me focus.”

“Luckily we’re on a break right now,” San spoke up. “But we are going to have to figure out what we’re going to do when we start touring again.”

“I’m fairly certain I can get a remote position, but I’ll have to do some digging.” You added a note to your to-do list on your phone. 

“So,” Wooyoung started. “Our super smart omega can’t figure out the subway system?” You glared at his shit-eating grin.

“I’m good with science, not geography,” you retorted. He cackled at your annoyed pout. 

“Oh, you poor thing.” Wooyoung pinched your thigh. You jolted in San’s lap.

“Ow!” You yelped, kicking his hand away. San tightened his grip on you, moving his hands to keep your hips still.

“Stop wiggling, or we’re going to have some issues,” San warned, looking pointedly at his fellow beta. You froze, feeling your face grow slightly warmer at the implication. Wooyoung smirked deviously, pinching your other thigh. You jumped instinctively and San had to take a deep breath to keep his composure.

“Something wrong, San?” Wooyoung prodded, stifling his giggles.

“Wooyoung,” San borderline growled. “Keep it up, and it’ll be your mouth I fuck.” There was a beat of tense silence. The betas stared each other down, each daring the other to make a move. Wooyoung tugged on your leg, dragging you across San’s lap. Not even a second later, you were placed on the cushion and San was chasing Wooyoung down the same hallway Mingi disappeared through earlier. 

“What’s that look for?” Seonghwa chuckled at your bewildered expression as he walked into the living room. 

“San and Wooyoung…” You trailed off. Seonghwa shook his head, he could only imagine what kind of trouble those two got into.

“Come on.” The elder omega gestured for you to follow him. “Yeosang and I wanted to talk with you for a bit.” You followed him down the hall and into the first door on the left. Yeosang and Jongho sat on their respective beds. One look from Seonghwa had Jongho up and leaving, muttering something about getting a snack. 

“Did you have to kick him out? It’s his room, I feel bad,” you faltered by the now-closed bedroom door.

“He’ll be fine. I wanted to have a chat between just the omegas.” Seonghwa patted the bed next to him. You laid on your stomach, propped up by your elbows, with Seonghwa on his side to your left and Yeosang sitting criss-cross against the headboard.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you want to talk about my heat.” You looked between them and Yeosang nodded. “Before we do, I wanted to ask if there are any other mated pairs in the pack.” 

“Seonghwa and San, San and Wooyoung, and Wooyoung and me,” Yeosang summed up very concisely. You raised your eyebrows.

“Wow, only beta and omega mates? I’m surprised none of the alphas are mated yet,” you commented. That at least explains what happened with San and Wooyoung. 

“When is your next heat?” Seonghwa was back to business. You checked your phone calendar. 

“Should be in a month and a half.” 

“What?!” Seonghwa sat up straight. “Y/N, that’s way too long.” They exchanged a look before returning their attention to you.

“No, it’s okay. I’m on a combination suppressant and birth control,” you explained. “My heats used to be so painful that I could hardly get out of bed, and I would throw up anything I tried to eat. I have three months between heats now.” 

“Is that safe, though?” Yeosang questioned. You felt fuzzy from their attentiveness, but it made sense with you being the youngest omega. Actually, the only member you were older than was Jongho.

“It is,” you reassured. “My doctor is also an omega, and she was on the team that developed this medication. It went through rigorous testing. There’s no lasting impact on reproductive health.”

“Are there side effects?” Seonghwa sank back down into the comforter. 

“Nothing too terrible. I was nauseous when I first started it, but that’s gone now. There’s really only one major side effect. Since my heats are further apart now, I get much more, uhhh, needy during them.” You hid your blushing cheeks behind your hands. 

“Okay, and how do you normally handle your heats?” 

“Same as anyone else, I guess. I load up my apartment with plenty of food and water, then lock myself inside and get myself off a fuck ton until it’s over,” you cringed at yourself, you could’ve been less crass in your explanation. 

“You’ve never had an alpha help?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows raised. You pursed your lips.

“I’ve never had anyone help. I haven’t gone past second base, I’ve been too focused on school,” you admit, now a little nervous under their intense stare. “Is, uh, is that an issue?”

“No, no of course not. Hongjoong’s gonna have a field day when he finds out, though,” Yeosang giggled even as Seonghwa swatted his knee. 

“That actually does lead into my next question,” Seonghwa sighed and turned his attention back to you. “Do you want help?” You nearly choke on your own spit.

“Are you offering?” 

“Yes and no. The only one that’s going to help in your first heat with our pack is Hongjoong. I can be there to make sure you’re comfortable, hydrated, and fed, but he’ll be the only one that touches you.” You gaped at your elder. 

“Why?”

“Pack alphas always go first,” Yeosang chimed in. “Wooyoung and San definitely weren’t happy about it, but that’s how the hierarchy works.”

“Seems barbaric.” You scrunched up your nose. 

“I think it’s a respect thing,” Yeosang reckoned.

“Anyway,” Seonghwa interjected. “You don’t have to decide now, since we have a while before your heat, but you are going to have to talk to Hongjoong about that and about your claim mark.” You nodded slowly.

“Alright, I’ll have to think on it.” You spent the next couple of hours chatting and relaxing with your fellow omegas. After eating dinner, everyone gathered in the living room so you could continue getting to know your new packmates. Eventually, you had to go back to your apartment to sleep and prep for classes tomorrow. In the quiet of your bedroom, it dawned on you that you haven’t told your mom about what happened. It was getting late for you, but in London your mom should be in the middle of her work day. You sent her a quick text asking her to call, and seconds later her contact popped up.

“Hi mom!”

“Hi, honey, is everything okay? You don’t normally call this late,” your mom fretted over the line.

“I’m okay, but I’ve had a lot happen the past couple days.” You launched into a detailed retelling of everything that happened with Marcus and your new pack. Thankfully, your mom was used to your long-winded stories and tangents. 

“Well, I’m very happy that you found both your pack and your mates,” your mom started once you were finished. “But, darling, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Y/N.” You bristled at the use of your name. She only did that when she was serious. “You were assaulted. A classmate almost took your independence from you. Are you really okay?” Your face fell. The wave of emotions you didn’t even know you were suppressing crashed into you all at once. 

“I don’t know,” you choked on a sob. 

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry I can’t be there for you right now,” your mom apologized. Your body shook in your effort to smother your cries. “I don’t think you should be alone right now. Maybe you should call Hongjoong?”

“No,” you took a deep, shuddering breath. “No, I'll be fine. I just need some sleep.”

“Alright.” You heard the hesitation in her voice. “If you’re sure. But don’t be afraid to go to them. I’m trusting that they’ll take care of you when I can’t.” You sniffled, exchanging quick goodbyes and descending into a stifling silence. You swiped at the tears running down your face. You just need sleep. You were fine. You turned off your lamp and burrowed into your pillows. 

“It would be best for you to listen when an alpha is speaking.

I see the way you look at me in class.

You want me just as bad as I want you.

Your scent is always sweeter when you look at me.”

Fingers dig into the back of your neck. Teeth scrape against your skin. You hesitated too long. Teeth sink into your scent gland. You went limp against his hold. He grins against your neck.

“You’re mine, Y/N.”

You shot upright in bed, screaming in the darkness of your bedroom. You grabbed at your neck in a panic, relaxing slightly at the unbroken skin. The brightness of your phone blinded you for a moment. 3am. You buried your face in your hands, feeling the headache building beneath your temples. Reluctantly, you got out of bed and opened your laptop. You definitely weren’t going to get any more sleep tonight, so you might as well get some schoolwork done.

Over the next month, you spent less and less time at your own apartment, really only leaving the dorm to sleep or if you needed the quiet to study. Most nights, when you were alone in the dark, you were plagued by nightmares of Marcus. You hated that he was having such an impact on your psyche. Sometimes you could fall back asleep for a few hours, but you usually ended up on your laptop. It was great for your classes, since you were getting assignments done fairly quickly, but the dark circles under your eyes gave away just how exhausted you were. 

You hoped that your pack didn’t notice the sudden increase in concealer, but nothing escaped the keen eyes of Hongjoong. Especially when it came to the health of his omegas. He tried to wait for you to come to him, however as the days passed by he knew you weren’t going to ask for help. So tonight he asked to come back to your apartment with the excuse of wanting to focus on a new mix. Thankfully, you agreed. About an hour had passed with the two of you silently tapping away on your laptops. He kept glancing at you, noticing the way you had to shake yourself awake every few minutes. 

“Y/N,” Hongjoong spoke up after the fifth time you dozed off sitting up. You jumped at the broken silence. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You refused to meet the alpha’s eyes.

“Please don’t do that. Don’t pretend you aren’t exhausted.” He gently closed your laptop, setting it on the coffee table next to his. 

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not, though. I can see it, you’ve been tired and jumpy. Please tell me what’s going on,” he pleaded, cupping your cheek and smiling when you nuzzled closer. 

“I’ve been having nightmares,” you admitted after a brief pause. Hongjoong tensed at the tears shining in your eyes. He pulled you onto his lap, chest-to-chest and knees on either side of his hips. Your resolve broke down. Your body shook with sobs as you buried your face in his neck and clung to his shirt. He cradled the back of your head with one hand, the other running along your back. 

“Baby, what are the nightmares about?” Hongjoong asked when your breathing evened out a bit. 

“Marcus,” you mumbled into his shirt. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I keep hearing what he said to me, how his teeth felt on my neck. I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I had hesitated even a second longer.”

“Mingi went too easy on that bastard. I swear to god, if he touches you again I’ll fucking kill him.” Hongjoong was seething. He hated the fear permeating your scent. He never wanted to smell it again.

“Don’t. You can’t go to prison, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Hongjoong pulled you tighter against his chest. “Will you stay the night?”

“Of course,” he answered without hesitation. You stayed like that for a while, letting his scent ease your nerves. Something else gnawed at the back of your mind.

“Hongjoong?” He hummed for you to continue. “I talked with Seonghwa and Yeosang a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to ask you if you’d be okay being there for my next heat.” Hongjoong pulled you to sit up, holding your face with both hands.

“Are you sure? I can be… intense,” he asked, scanning your eyes for any sign of hesitation.

“I’m sure.” You took a deep breath. “I also want to ask for my bond marks. Both of them.” A wide grin spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed and pulled you into a searing kiss. One of his hands trailed down to your hip as he slid his tongue across yours. You pulled back, panting slightly. 

“Can I have the pack bond now? Please?” You looked at him with big, doe eyes, still shining with unshed tears. Hongjoong groaned, digging his fingers into your hip and crashing his lips back into yours. 

“You want it?” His breath tickled your neck. He pressed feather-light kisses down to your scent gland.

“Please,” you whined at his teasing. He smirked against your skin, tongue darting out to lick the sensitive skin of your gland.

“You’re pretty when you beg.” His teeth sank into your skin and you gasped, face red from his words and the onslaught of emotions coming from the new bond. He leaned back to admire the fresh wound on your neck. Hongjoong pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, exposing the multiple marks on his pack scent gland.

“Can I…” 

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” You immediately bit down to add your own mark, not interested in teasing him the way he did to you. His eyes rolled back. “Damn, not even a warning, huh?” 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, but refused to lift your forehead from his collarbone. He chuckled lightly.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Hongjoong stood with you in his arms, moving to your bedroom. You both were already in comfortable clothes, so you settled down under your comforter. With your nose pressed against the new bite on his neck, you slept through the night for the first time in weeks.

Author's note: Yea, yea I know the heat discussion was very similar to the one in Pack Mentality. It's important to set boundaries!! Consent is everything!

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here

Series Taglist: @popcatx0 @m00njinnie @awkward-fucking-thing @fr34k4c1dr41n

[theynlife]

#2: Drunk Nights

Summary: College!Y/n gets a little too wasted and gets an offer to stay with c/n for the night

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, that’s about as bad as it gets

B/n - boy’s name

N/n - nickname

E/c - eye color

Of all the papers I had to write in the coming weeks, exams to study for, and packing to do before heading back home from college, I somehow found myself tonight crammed into a dorm room packed like a can of sardines, trying to soak up the last ounce of the semester.

F/n and I loved to sit together and share a drink occasionally, but tonight was special—we wanted to have a good time before parting ways for the next couple of months. What started as a small gathering of close friends on a Saturday night quickly spiraled into something much larger. Word got out, and soon friends of friends began pouring through the door. Before long, the room was out of seats, out of standing room, and buzzing with chatter and laughter.

Despite the spatial discomfort, I couldn’t help but smile when a few familiar faces from my English class—B/n/1, B/n/2, and c/n—managed to slip in just before the room hit capacity. I was mid-laugh when I felt a hand land gently on my shoulder.

“Hey, n/n, is it cool if I sit next to you?” c/n asked, his tone easy and warm.

I grinned, already several shots in and feeling a bit bubbly. “Absolutely! What’ve you been up to tonight, c/n?”

He settled on the floor near my chair, leaning in slightly. “We were just hanging out in my room but figured we’d check out the commotion. B/n/1 seemed especially eager to get here,” he added, gesturing toward the duo sitting shoulder to shoulder on F/n’s bed, grins plastered on their faces.

I let out a laugh, my gaze following his. “Well, he’ll be happy to know the feeling’s mutual. F/n’s been hoping he’d show up since people started piling in about an hour ago.”

C/n raised an eyebrow at me, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Is that so?”

Feigning shock, I placed a hand dramatically on my chest. “Would I lie about something like that?”

We both burst into laughter, barely able to catch our breaths before the room’s noise swept us back into the atmosphere.

As the night went on, c/n and I found ourselves grabbing drinks and keeping tabs on the budding connection between B/n/1 and F/n. They seemed more comfortable with each passing minute, but before long, I realized I was feeling the effects of the evening. My gaze had drifted to the outdated popcorn ceiling, and I caught myself staring at it for what must have been minutes before c/n waved a hand in front of my face.

“You in there, y/n?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

I blinked a few times, trying to snap back to reality. “Never better,” I slurred, forcing a grin to mask how far gone I really was.

He stood and extended a hand toward me. “Why don’t we get you back? It’s getting late, and I’m starting to think these lovebirds might just be here forever.” He nodded toward B/n/1 and F/n, now sitting with an arm around her shoulders.

I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet, only for the room to tilt and spin. My balance faltered, and I instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders to steady myself. He caught me easily, his grip firm but gentle.

Once I steadied, we made our way out of the room, but I barely managed two steps down the staircase before stumbling forward again. C/n’s arm wrapped around my torso, catching me before I fell. Without a word, he shifted my arm across his shoulders, supporting me as we descended the stairs.

“C/n?” I murmured, my voice weak.

“Yeah, y/n?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it back to my dorm.”

I kept my head down, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. He paused, scanning me carefully before speaking. “Do you need a place to crash? My roommate’s gone for the weekend—you’re welcome to stay in my room.”

My brows lifted at the offer. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

He frowned slightly, his voice soft but firm. “Y/n, you’re never a bother to me.”

Slowly, he guided me down the final flight of stairs and into his dorm. I noticed the neatly arranged door decorations as he opened the door and led me inside, sitting me gently on his bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, rummaging through his desk.

I gave a faint smile. “Right now? Great. Tomorrow morning? Probably not so much.”

He chuckled at my response, pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen and filling a glass of water. Handing them to me, he said, “Here—this might help a little.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, touched by the small gesture. While I might have thought to drink some water on my own, the ibuprofen was a stroke of genius. As I sipped the water, he grabbed his own bottle and sat down across from me.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the noise of the party far behind us.

“You don’t have to stay here with me,” I said softly. “If you want to go back to the party, I’d understand.”

He shook his head. “I’d rather be here with you.”

I turned to meet his gaze, my heart skipping at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, I was speechless, the weight of his words hanging between us.

Before I could respond, he stood and began tidying up. He set up a blanket on the futon, flattening it out.

“What are you doing?” I asked, confused.

“You can take the bed,” he said simply. “I’ll sleep here.”

As he reached to turn off the lamp, I caught his wrist, stopping him.

“You don’t have to stay on the futon.”

“I’m not making you sleep there.”

“I know.” My voice dropped to a whisper.

His gaze darkened, studying me for a long moment before he nodded and slid under the covers beside me. We lay face-to-face, the room dim and quiet.

“What’s holding you back?” I asked softly.

He hesitated, his voice barely audible. “I want you so badly, but I don’t want to violate your trust. You’re drunk, and I—”

Before he could finish, I closed the gap between us, pressing my lips to his. His initial shock melted away as he brought a hand to my jaw, his touch gentle but firm. Our movements were slow, deliberate, and full of unspoken emotion. When I pulled back, I searched his face, my voice barely above a whisper.

“We don’t need to do anything. I just want you here with me.”

[meli-writes]

payload

"nah, this is too good to be true," the merc-rebel-something mutters. she turns, twiddling the combat knife in her hand and stopping only to point it at you. "you wanna tell me what trap i've walked into, sweetheart?"

you eye the databox, stuffed with weeks and months of upcoming junta plans. and more besides. enough intel to butcher hundreds of their bootlickers, least until they figure out they're compromised.

"i have it -- for my own reasons," you taunt like the bellow of rotten, felled tree. "making my mark, if you have to know."

"is daddy-dictator's special girl staging a rebellious phase in her twenties?" the merc mocks. "smuggle a bunch of data to what sell for tattoo money?"

you didn't plan an answer for a question like this, and it's hard not to just gawk and fumble at your cuffs.

"maybe -- if it's not a trap -- the intel lasts a week," she continues. and besides that, you urge in your own head. "that's the only part with access dates in years. rest is outdated crap."

"w-what do you--"

you shut up when she stalks up, lifts chin with the little blade's point with just enough force to dip it in red.

"you living out some little fantasy right now?" she asks, as much curious as annoyed. "because i really think that'd be a mistake."

it takes a lot not squeal. "i-i'm a valuable hostage, my family will pay well."

"they will," the merc muses, "and i think you knew that." in a glance she's seen right through, smiles at the confirmation you haven't realised you just gave away. "you leaked your convoy's route didn't you? playing hero, thinking you're gonna make us a pretty penny and then waddle back to your parties and soirées."

you buck up above the point of the knife, "you think i like being around them? they're monsters. and i have to pretend to be one, and you have no idea what that does to you."

her brow raised, she stays quiet, listens.

"but i stood up, just like you did. i'm doing what i can."

and she laughs.

"ah-hahaha! oh saints, how many years you been saving up that little speech, sweetheart? or bleeding heart i should say."

"too many," you spit.

"hmm. good answer," she smirks, putting a hand on your shoulder and hoisting you towards her own vehicle. "you're staying restrained."

"b-but i'm helping you!" you gasp.

"your round ass for ransom helps me -- you don't," she makes clear, makes sure to enunciate it with a squeeze that presses into your collarbone. "and i don't trust you, so i'm not interested in giving you the chance to try anything. don't think i haven't killed prettier things than you.

don't think i regretted it either."

[thetomorrowshow]

Whumptober 21 - Secrets Revealed (alt prompt)

title: movies

fandom: empires smp

part of esh au :)

cw: discussion of past suicide attempts

~

Maybe Scott shouldn't have chosen Heathers.

But somehow, in his long life of being queer, Jimmy hadn't ever seen it.

"You're literally bisexual and you haven't seen it?" Scott had asked, astonished. At Jimmy's nod, he added, "It's the most bi movie ever. And I could sing the musical all day, too, but musicals based on movies are always better than the movies based on musicals—"

"What's so important about it?" Jimmy had interjected, one brow raised, and Scott couldn't help but feel a flurry of pride at how much Jimmy had opened up over the past months.

"You'll just have to watch it and see," Scott told him, so here they are, three days later, Scott on his end of the sofa and Jimmy on the other, a bowl of popcorn (that Jimmy rarely takes from) between them.

It's not a date, Scott reminds himself repeatedly. It's just a movie night between him and his ward. No, a movie night between him and his friend. Jimmy holds no romantic feelings for him. And he doesn't have any for Jimmy.

Lies.

But they're watching, volume lower than what Scott would normally watch a movie with (loud noises make Jimmy jump, and subtitles are readily available), and Jimmy seems to be enjoying it. He lets out a little laugh at all the right places, and rolls his eyes at the outdated references, and loosens up a bit as the movie goes on.

Until the one scene.

The part that Scott didn't even think about, more worried about the other dark tones of the movie.

Where Veronica fakes her own suicide.

Before Scott even registers that he got up, Jimmy is out of the room, in the kitchen, turning on the lights and starting the sink running.

Scott pauses the movie, something sinking in his stomach. "Jimmy?" he calls tentatively. "Are you all right?"

No response.

What was that about Jimmy being his ward?

It's getting easier and easier to forget that Jimmy isn't just his roommate, but someone he is charged by the state to take care of.

Scott uncurls his legs from the couch and gets up to head into the kitchen, letting his feet fall harder than normal to let Jimmy know that he's coming.

Jimmy's standing over the sink, scrubbing hard at a bowl, head down. After a quick, splashing rinse, he sets it in the dish drainer and reaches for a plate.

"Not that I mind that you're doing dishes," Scott says drily, "but why? What happened?"

Jimmy doesn't say anything, his scrubbing motions becoming jerkier.

"Was it the movie?" Scott tries. "I honestly didn't think—"

"Can you leave?" Jimmy asks suddenly, before cringing. "No, sorry, I didn't mean that, sorry."

The panicked apologies send Scott into caretaker mode, whether he likes it or not. "Are you having a flashback? It's okay, you're not there—"

"No, I'm—Scott, I'm fine," Jimmy insists, hunching further over the sink. "Please—please don't worry. You can—you can go finish the movie, okay? I'll just wash up here and go to bed early."

Scott almost agrees. He doesn't want to make Jimmy upset. He wants everything to be right for him.

And then he remembers that he isn't just Jimmy's friend. He's his caretaker, and he has to make sure that Jimmy is safe and mentally well.

"Okay," he says carefully. "But I'm scheduling you a therapy appointment for tomorrow."

"What? No, I'm already seeing Nora on Thursday—"

"The trigger was bad enough that you're having to clean to distract yourself," Scott points out. "I know what it looks like when you're trying to fight a flashback, Jimmy. If you really want me to leave, I will, as long as you go to therapy tomorrow. "

Jimmy doesn't answer for a long time, washing another bowl with even more aggressive scrubbing. He rinses it, sets it aside, and turns off the sink, squeezing out the dishrag.

"I tried to kill myself," he says bluntly, turning around and leaning on the counter. "While I was . . . there. I was gonna hang myself on my own leash, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"I—" Scott feels himself blanch, as hard as he tries to keep a straight face.

"And I tried to kill myself a bunch of times after you got me out, just so you know. If it wasn't for people messing around, I would've succeeded. Does that make you happy?"

"Jimmy—"

"Because it sure didn't make the crazy doctors happy!" Jimmy's crying, now, just a little bit, eyes wet and red, even as he laughs. "I have to be on drugs to be normal! Just because I was a stupid, suicidal pet!"

Jimmy isn't looking at him anymore. His eyes are fixed on a spot slightly to the left of Scott, as if looking him in the eyes will make all the precarious emotions spill over in a tidal wave.

"It was—what do you call it, premeditated?" Jimmy says. "I decided—when I woke up—I was gonna twist my leash around the doorknob of my cell and the hook, and I was gonna hang myself. But they took away the leash—and they strapped me to the hospital bed so I couldn't get any scalpels—and they drugged me up real bad—"

"Jimmy—"

"What kind of person needs drugs to not kill themself—?"

"Me," Scott says loudly, and Jimmy cuts off mid-sentence, eyes focusing on his face.

"What?"

Scott leans against the wall, crosses his arms. "Me," he says again. "I'm on antidepressants, too. When I was eighteen, I . . . made an attempt on my own life. Aeor saved me. I've been on medication and going to therapy ever since."

"I'm sorry," Jimmy mumbles after a pause, the frenetic energy seeming to drain out of him with the two words.

"It's okay," Scott says, and he feels like he's about to cry, like those few sentences have rubbed his soul raw, but he's going to stay strong for Jimmy. "It was a while ago, I don't mind talking about it. But I have depression, due to some . . . stuff, and I didn't see a future that I wanted to be a part of. So, I'm sorry that you went through that, Jimmy. But I don't want you to think that needing medication means you're somehow less of a person."

"Sorry," Jimmy says again. "I—I didn't know."

Scott shrugs. "You didn't. It's not really something that comes up naturally in conversation, you know. But medication isn't a bad thing, okay? If it helps you to survive . . . well, that's good."

Jimmy chews on his lip, turns his gaze to the tiled kitchen floor. "I'm just . . . I'm tired of being messed up in the head."

There's not really a cure for that, though.

As infuriating as it is, mental illness isn't like a cut to be stitched up and bandaged. It isn't a pulled muscle that can be healed with an ice pack and a little rest. Mental illness is a cancerous tumor writhing inside the brain, and the excising is painful and exhausting and almost certainly doesn't get all of it out.

"I know it's hard," says Scott. "I don't know how hard, but I know it is. And you've still made an incredible amount of progress."

Jimmy shrugs. "Maybe. I . . . I wish I didn't have to."

Scott doesn't know what to say.

So he just offers a sympathetic smile and waits.

It's cruel. It's cruel that Jimmy was ever pushed to such lengths, that he ever felt so hopeless.

Scott knows it's cruel.

He knows that it hurts to look back, to remember oneself in such a dark place, swallowed up in the pain.

At least he has a few years' difference. Jimmy's still at the place Scott was when he was nineteen.

What would Aeor do when nineteen-year-old Scott would lash out, angry and tired?

The answer comes quicker than Scott expects.

Aeor would send him to bed.

"Well, I'm ready to go to sleep," Scott says, not quite having to fake a yawn. “We can take care of these dishes tomorrow, yeah? Let’s take the rest of the evening off.”

“But—”

“Nah, leave ‘em.”

“The movie?”

Scott shrugs. “I’ve seen it before,” he says nonchalantly. “And we can watch something else next time. Maybe Lord of the Rings.”

Jimmy makes a face.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like them.”

“I—they’re just so long,” Jimmy protests. “I don’t have time for a three hour movie.”

“That’s not the important part, what matters is that they’re a classic.”

“They’re boring.” “Clearly, you haven’t been watching them right.”

“I’ll lock myself in my room again. Don’t think I won’t.”

“You would never.”

“I would! And I will!”

[postmail]

hey guys i love you. its my birthday in three days have some queeshmael (and other assorted stand-alone ishmaels and queequegs) moby dick fanarts that ive drawn over the course of like... several months that i never posted because i thought they looked like shit. and tbh i still do. but also theres beauty in everything and also also i need to lead by example of fearlessness in posting shitty ass fanart just for funsises. just because it makes me happy. some of these are outdated but idgaf. enjoy inconsistent character designs lol

its under the cut cause uh wow thats actually a lot more than i expected? whoops?

okay funny story i actually lied up there a little bit i drew this several months ago and was so madly in love with how it turned out that i never posted it because i didnt want the inevitable lack of attention to sour it for me. its a little outdated now but i still love it, i just want to put here so i never lose it. ishmael please go to therapy

newer art yet somehow even more outdated designs? i think i was trying to be a bit more experimental and didnt like how they came out. i still dont like the designs very much but looking back now i dont think the art itself is actually that bad.

never posted because i just couldnt get the anatomy quite right. i actually kind of miss when i colored grays like this idk how i forgot that actually wait i should start doing that again-

this one was for mermay, just pure silliness and cringe for the soul. more of that awesome gray shading line stuff that i need to start doing again, but i didnt like how queequeg's face looked. and also i think i felt a bit silly about this? like i thought it was too cringe or something? idk why tho its kinda cute to me now. best of wishes to ishmael in his goal to fuck that fish man

more inconsistent queequeg designs! i really liked this one when i first drew it, but i thought it was too small to post on its own, being just a itsy little doodle for shading practice. now i can post it :). wonder who it is thats talking to him?

another little drawing! this one i never posted because 1) i fucked up when drawing it and accidentally drew it way too small and 2) i accidentally made it waayy too similar to another moby dick fanart by another more popular user and i didnt want other ppl accusing me of copying or smthin... i jusr didnt think this piece was particularly worth the risk of that. i think its fine now tho.

incredibly shitty doodle i really only made for myself ft. incredibly innacurate drawing of a sperm whale. ngl i still think the joke is funny tho.

shhh dont tell the cringe police about this one but this is a queeshmael fankid i made. her name is rachael and she cannot make normal facial expressions to save her life. she loves listening to her dad infodump its interesting to her. she knows so many incorrect facts about whales! whoopie!

this might have been a valentines special? idk. i was gonna redraw it but then i forgor. let this be a lesson to you: finish your drawings, or else you'll only have the older version to show to people (its okay i still like this a little bit)

oh shit i ran out ok bye guys hope you liked your gay whalers peace and love on planet earth

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

summertime sadness

pairing: steve harrington x fem byers!reader

summary: a quiet night only a few weeks in the aftermath of starcourt mall.

A/N: y'all i'll be honest, these in-betweens are gonna be short and below average. was thinking about not posting them, but you know it's the small moments that count the most.

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August 14, 1985

The room is quiet. The whole house is quiet, the only sounds being the refrigerator humming as it made ice and the crickets chirping outside with Steve’s windows pushed open. The late summer moving into fall breeze toyed with his heavy curtains, the bright light from the pool spilling into the small space.

Both of you lay on his bed. You are on your back with a pillow under your head, your left leg bent with your knee in the air. Steve laid on your front, his head tucked under your chin. His puffs of breath ticking the exposed skin of your collarbone as you mindlessly carded a hand through his hair. His arms were wrapped tight along your stomach, his palms pressed into your spine, his fingers spread out.

Your eyes stared blankly into his plaid wallpaper, probably something his mother picked out when he was just a kid that she loved dearly. Now it felt outdated and you wished to peel it from the structure.

You rolled your head on the pillow to the right to peek at Steve’s alarm clock, the giant digital numbers of 3:33 stared mockingly at you. Dry eyes stinging with each slow blink you did, not being able to keep them closed for more than five minutes before they snap open. You didn’t want to bring your nightmares into Steve’s room as he finally got his bits of sleep.

It’s been a rough two months for everyone. El moved into the house and she would either sleep in Joyce’s room or yours when Steve wasn’t around. But it felt like he moved in as well, and you knew why. He was always alone in the giant two-story house and he didn’t want to be alone after everything. And you didn’t want to be separated from him.

You heard the deep inhale from Steve and felt his arms tighten. Eyes moved away from the empty walls and down to see him leaning back so his eyes were able to meet yours.

“Hi.” A gentle whisper in the silent room. Your hand continues to card through his soft tendrils.

He kissed your collarbone followed by, “Hi.” His eyes squinted just a bit while observing your face. “Can’t sleep?” Knowing he noticed the darkness making a home under your eyes.

A simple quirk to the right corner of your mouth, “Nothing new. What ‘bout you? You were doin’ okay.” Noting he slept for about four hours.

Steve tickled his nose against your skin as he readjusted his head, tucking himself into your neck. “I’m better when I’m in your arms. Keep the darkness at bay.” His voice was rough from nonuse.

Nails scratched at his scalp, “Same with you.” A simple white lie. He usually did help at keeping the nightmares and horrid memories at bay, but this time…

This time they couldn’t leave you alone for just an hour of sleep.

Steve deeply inhaled, “You’re lying, but also not. I understand though.” He held you tighter, “We’ll work through this, together.”

You didn’t bother saying anything back in response, only leaning forward to place a heart-heavy kiss on the crown of his head. You heard Steve as his breathing evened out and his limbs grew heavier. Your eyes just moved back to staring at his plaid wallpaper with your hands mindlessly touching him, wanting to keep him sleeping through the night.

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