#this is: probably really bad because i rushed it because i had so many ideas okay anyway

[moonstruckme]

vampire!james is such a fun concept!

what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him

like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?

because blood sharing is intimate :P

Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)

vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words

James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human. 

He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.

“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”

“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.” 

James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving. 

“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.” 

It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit. 

You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now. 

“Can we do that?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.” 

It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.” 

James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?” 

You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap. 

“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.” 

Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared. 

“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.” 

James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly. 

It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you. 

One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can. 

He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral. 

He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.” 

One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.” 

“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.” 

Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.” 

He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting. 

You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.” 

“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.” 

There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.” 

“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.” 

“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.” 

[theliteraryarchitect]

A Word of Advice About Critique Groups, Beta Readers, and Other Peer-Based Feedback on Your Writing

In my time as a professional editor, I've had many writers come to me with stories they've been trying to improve based on suggestions from critique groups, beta readers, or other non-professional feedback sources (friends, family, etc.). The writers are often frustrated because they don't agree with the feedback, they can't make sense of the comments they've gotten, or they've tried their best to implement the suggestions but now they've made a big mess of things and don't know where to go from here.

If this happens to you, you're not alone. Here's the deal.

Readers and beginning writers are great at sniffing out problems, but they can be terrible at recommending solutions. For that reason, critique groups can be a disastrous place for beginning writers to get advice.

Here's a good metaphor. Imagine you don’t know the first thing about cars. Someone tells you, “There’s oil leaking onto the driveway. You should cover the car with a giant garbage bag.” Alarmed, you oblige, only to be told the next day that “now the car smells like burning plastic and I can’t see out the windows.”

A mechanic would’ve listened to the critic’s complaint and come up with their own solution to the leaking oil, ignoring the amateur’s ridiculous idea, because they know how to fix cars and can use their skills to investigate symptoms and find the correct solution.

Critique groups actually aren’t bad places for experienced writers, because they can listen to the criticism, interpret it, and come up with their own remedies to the problems readers are complaining about. Beginning writers, on the other hand, can end up digging themselves into a deeper hole.

There's a great Neil Gaiman quote about this very conundrum:

Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.

So what to do?

First, try to investigate the reader's complaint and come up with your own solution, instead of taking their solution to the problem. Sometimes, in the end, the reader's solution was exactly right, which is lovely, but don't count on it. Do your own detective work.

Second, take everything you hear with a huge grain of salt, and run the numbers. Are 9 out of 10 readers complaining about your rushed ending? It's probably worth investigating. Does nobody have an issue with your abrasive antagonist except your cozy mystery-loving uncle? Then you might not need to worry about it.

Third, give everything you hear a gut check. Does the criticism, while painful, ring true? Or does it seem really off-base to you? Let the feedback sit for a week or so while you chill out. You might find you're less sensitive and open to what's been said after a little more time has passed.

Lastly, consider getting professional feedback on your writing. Part of my job as an editor is to listen to previous feedback the writer has gotten, figure out whether the readers were tracking the scent of legitimate problems, and offer the writer more coherent solutions. Of course, some professional editors aren't very good at this, just like some non-professional readers are amazing at it, so hiring someone isn't a guarantee. But editors usually have more experience taking a look under the hood and giving writers sound mechanical advice about their work, rather than spouting ideas off the top of their head that only add to the writer's confusion.

Hope this helps!

[lxvsiick]

ICED COFFEE | JAKE SIM X READER

PAIRING: down bad! jake sim x nonchalant! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Jake visits the cafe every day to study but to only order drinks and watch his crush work.

GENRE: cafe, crushing, down bad jake, fluff

WORDCOUNT: 1.3k

A/N: I thought of the idea yesterday but wrote it today while thinking about coffee -- i really want some coffee right now but idk if im willing to walk through my campus for that ... um anyways, enjoy!

‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆

The hum of conversation and the clatter of mugs filled the cozy coffee shop, sunlight filtering through the windows as customers quietly worked or chatted. Jake sat at a table near the counter, his textbooks sprawled open in front of him, but his eyes were far from the pages. Instead, they were glued to Y/n as she moved behind the counter, efficiently taking orders and preparing drinks.

He pretended to scribble something down in his notebook, glancing up every few seconds just to watch her pour a latte or chat with a customer. He’d been here for hours, supposedly to study, but all he’d done was order drinks he didn’t even want and admire the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she concentrated.

“Dude, you haven’t touched your notebook in over an hour,” Heeseung suddenly said, sliding into the seat next to him.

Jake jumped, startled out of his trance, as his six friends filed into the coffee shop, smirking knowingly.

“What are you guys doing here?” he muttered, trying to sound casual as he shut his notebook.

Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “We’re here to witness this trainwreck.”

The others snickered, pulling up chairs around his table. They were grinning, fully aware of why he was there in the first place. Sunghoon across from him leaned in, smirking. “How many drinks have you ordered so far just to keep watching her?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I’m just...you know, getting some studying done. That’s all.”

“Right,” Ni-ki drawled, glancing over at the counter where Y/n was working. “And totally not here because you’re down bad for her.”

The group broke into quiet laughter, and Jake shot them a warning look. “Shut up, she’ll hear you.”

“She probably already knows,” Sunoo teased. “How could she not? You’ve been sitting here like a lovesick puppy for hours.”

Before he could respond, Y/n came out from behind the counter, walking over to their table with a no-nonsense expression. She glanced at them, her hands on her hips, looking every bit the part of a no-nonsense employee.

“I just got a complaint about a group being too loud,” she said coolly, her eyes flicking to Jake and then back to the rest of them. “Keep it down, or you’re getting kicked out.”

His friends stifled their laughter, shooting each other amused glances, but Jake just sat there, trying—and failing—to look casual.

“Yeah, yeah,” Heeseung said, grinning up at her. “We’ll behave. Promise.”

Y/n nodded, giving them one last look before turning and walking back to the counter. Jake couldn’t help but watch her, and his friends caught him staring—again.

“You’ve got it bad, man,” Jungwon said, shaking his head. “Like, embarrassingly bad.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, cheeks flushing slightly. He couldn’t help it. She was right there, and every time she looked his way, it felt like his heart was trying to jump out of his chest.

Jay leaned in, still chuckling. “How long are you gonna pretend to ‘study’ before you finally ask her out?”

“I’m not pretending,” Jake protested, though even he didn’t believe it.

“You’ve been pretending since you walked in,” Ni-ki quipped. “And now we’re here to enjoy the show.”

As his friends continued to tease him, Jake let out a defeated sigh. They weren’t wrong—he was hopelessly in love with her. But for now, all he could do was watch her from across the room, his heart pounding every time she looked his way.

‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆

The café had quieted down after the rush, leaving only a few customers scattered at tables, sipping their drinks or working on laptops. Jake remained at his table, idly tapping his pen against his notebook. He hadn’t been doing much studying since his friends left, but he wasn’t about to go home either—not when Y/n was still working behind the counter.

The bell above the door jingled, and an older male customer stepped in, glancing around before heading straight for the counter where Y/n stood. Jake watched as she greeted the man with her usual professionalism, her voice calm and polite as she took his order.

But something about the man’s demeanor put Jake on edge. He leaned forward, watching the exchange more closely.

“So, do you work here every day?” the man asked, leaning over the counter with a sly grin.

Y/n offered a polite smile, staying professional. “Only on some days. What can I get for you?”

“Maybe your number?” the man said, not-so-subtly ignoring the menu. “A girl like you probably has a long line of guys waiting, huh?”

Jake felt his stomach twist, a flash of annoyance flickering across his face. Y/n, however, remained calm.

“Just here to work,” she replied, her tone firm but still courteous. “Would you like to order something?”

The man chuckled, unfazed. “Come on, don’t be like that. How about after your shift? We could grab a drink.”

Jake clenched his jaw. He could tell Y/n was handling it professionally, but the guy wasn’t taking no for an answer. Standing up, Jake crossed the room before he even realized what he was doing.

Approaching the counter, he slipped into a role that he hoped would help.

“Hey,” he said, pretending to be irritated. “What’s taking so long? I’ve been waiting to order forever.”

The older man turned to look at him, clearly not pleased by the interruption.

Jake shot him an impatient glare. “I mean, you’ve been standing here for ages. Some of us are thirsty, you know?”

The customer frowned, clearly annoyed. “I’m ordering, kid. Relax.”

“Well, if you could hurry it up,” Jake said, folding his arms and acting like an impatient customer. “Some of us have places to be.”

The man huffed, grumbling under his breath before finally turning back to the counter. “Just a black coffee.”

Y/n rang him up, her face as neutral as ever, though her eyes flicked briefly to Jake, a hint of amusement there.

The older man paid for his coffee, still muttering, before walking away to wait for his order. Once he was out of earshot, Y/n let out a small breath, glancing at Jake with a faint smile.

“Thanks for that,” she said, her voice light but genuine. “He wasn’t getting the hint.”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck, flustered now that the moment had passed. “Yeah, no problem. I just...didn’t want to see him keep bothering you.”

She smiled at him, then, in her usual nonchalant way, asked, “So, what do you want to order this time?”

He stared at her for a moment, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and resignation. He hadn’t planned on ordering anything, but now that he was at the counter...

With a sigh of defeat, he glanced at the menu. “I’ll take... another iced coffee. Thanks.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she started preparing the drink. He watched her, feeling both proud of stepping in and a little awkward for having to order yet another drink just to cover his tracks.

As she handed him the cup, she gave him a knowing look. “You should really start studying instead of ordering all these drinks.”

He couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get right on that.”

She laughed softly before turning back to her work, leaving him to return to his table with his heart racing, though he tried to play it cool. At least, for now, he had an excuse to stay a little longer.

‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[markscherz]

Can I ask how you feel about your Tumblr fame?

I get the impression you just made this account for normal casual funsies reasons, but it kinda blew up by happenstance. If that's right, I'm curious if now you feel like it's kind of a more serious thing, where you have an opportunity to sorta act as a science communicator with a reach you otherwise might not?

Or maybe something else? You gonna see if you can somehow leverage your Tumblr fame to get research funding? Deputize us to harass polluters and developers destroying habitats? Crowdsource name ideas for new species?

It's a bit bizarre, in that it has very little real-world-ness to it. I showed my mother the ongoing tumblr celebrity poll, and she was like 'how many people could possibly be interested in frogs?', to which I replied 'well as of today about 46,000 and counting'.

I have always had an unhealthy relationship with fame. I spent most of my teen and young adult life fawning after it, as is I suppose very often the case.

More after the cut…

I always really wanted to be famous, but I was never really interested in changing who I was or what I represented in that pursuit. That is to say, I wanted to be known for what I was already doing, or for things that were already interesting for me, rather than things that might have much higher chances of success but require more effort or be less in line with the things that I am interested in.

I had my first brush with virality in 2012, when a poem I wrote went a little viral (largely thanks to StumbleUpon). I remember the rush of seeing how much attention it was getting, and staying up late to keep refreshing the page as the visitor numbers went up and up and up.

But not long after that, I had some closer encounters with fame and people becoming famous. That was extremely eye-opening. I witnessed first hand how strongly that can affect someone's life, for good and for bad. That experience also made me realise, quite jarringly, that famous people are still just people; that celebrity is something extrinsic to them; that they also wipe their own butts (if they are able); and that in many cases, it is a substantial inconvenience if not downright pain in the ass for them. I think this is why we see so many of the big celebrities having mental health crises or trying to live as much of their lives out of the public eye as possible.

That experience pretty much stifled my desire to achieve fame, and really changed my relationship with it. I should add that I could say much more on this topic, but nothing so coherent or insightful as John and Hank Green, who have given me so much clarity on this topic over the years through their thoughtful commentary on youtube and their podcasts.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that fame itself doesn't really appeal to me anymore, I do still have a problem wherein I quickly became addicted to the microdosing of euphoria associated with every reblog and like and follow. So I put huge efforts into social media in order to try to gain traction in the space that I felt I could really compete in—Very Niche SciComm™—and build up a following.

Tumblr was the first platform where I felt that really succeed; I managed to fight my way to a few thousand followers with a thick queue of regular posts about herpetology and other science. At that time, there was a great community building up in the rudimentary private messaging system—I am still friends with several other tumblr bloggers from that era (none of whom I have ever met in person). From that early time (2013), I think my most successful post was probably this one about germination of 32,000 year old seeds—a post that, as of today, has 836 notes, but at the time felt huge and exhilarating.

As I went through gradschool, I got more and more active on twitter, and less and less active on tumblr (by the time I wound down, I had about 8,000 followers on tumblr). This was partly because of the pornbot takeover on tumblr, which meant I basically could not go on the platform in public or at work, but also because the audience and interactions are just fundamentally different. Twitter had a different kind of vibe and energy than tumblr, and there were real SciComm experts there, who were doing it just completely differently. More importantly, I became more focussed on doing outreach aimed at colleagues, rather than non-experts.

Then, in 2017, I hit headlines for the first time. The description of Geckolepis megalepis made it big on social and traditional media, and I had my first experience with real media attention. I had a flurry of late-night phone-calls with journalists in the US. This was a different animal altogether than the few viral posts I had had until that point. It was extremely stressful, but exhilarating. Then in 2018, our chameleon fluorescence story made similar headlines, and in 2019 the Mini frogs, and in 2021 with gecko fluorescence and the smallest chameleon.

Seeing my name on the BBC News website and in the New York Times and National Geographic—those things have been the most surreal moments of near-fame I have experienced so far. The number of followers on social media is quite difficult to conceptualise, but seeing your own name in a media outlet that you consume regularly, or have grown up with, is more palpable.

In any case, I continued to run with twitter as my main platform for years, because I found the interaction with colleagues and other academics highly stimulating. In 2021, I even posted a twitter thread about a different species of frog from Madagascar every day for the full year. All this work was ultimately greeted with mediocre success; I just crested over 10,000 followers a few months before the Musth takeover. But then the platform became basically unusable. And in the fallout, I came back to tumblr, where, just by chance, I happened to find a post about the Mini frogs and reply to it and it went properly viral and now here we are. In the space of a year, I went from having 8000 followers to having >46,000.

How do I feel about that? It's bonkers. I think it is great that so many people are interested in hearing the Good News about frogs and other creatures. But I also feel like I am not really on the same playing field as most of the others in that poll mentioned above, in that I do not have any of the celebrity that several others have. And I know for a fact that there are fanblogs with far, far larger followings than I have. But perhaps that is the great thing about tumblr; that the playing field is somehow levelled…

What's the point of this ramble? Well, first I guess it is to outline that I have given fame a lot of thought over the years, and I have a long-standing and complicated relationship with it, and take it quite seriously. Second, to illustrate that I have been working on as a science communicator or person in outreach for many years—it has kind of been my social media brand since I started gradschool in 2013. And third, to kind of outline how we got here, because I often feel like you have to know where an arrow has come from in order to figure out which direction it will continue to fly.

You asked if I would somehow try to leverage my tumblr fame to get research funding—I already do that. In fact, my social media activity had a signfiicant role in landing me my current job, and will continue to help me achieve tenure. Outreach is an important part of my job, and funders like it too.

I would love to have the community-building power and tenacity of the brothers Green; Nerdfighteria has achieved some incredible things over the years, and the power of that community is now being seen at an unprecedented scale in their battle for equitable access for tuberculosis diagnosis and treatment. But I do not have that in me; this platform is the wrong one for community activation, and my community is still too small for that. Moreover, it is not organised or structured, in the way that I think effective deputisation would require.

As for the crowdsourcing of name ideas, that is currently off the table. I like to try to name things on my own or with my colleauges; it is a very good part of the process. And I have yet to hear a suggestion for a Mini species epithet that I had not already come up with myself, so I am not convinced that this would really augment the experience.

So for now, I hope that the main way I use the platform, and the power that comes with a few thousand followers, will be to spread the Good News about frogs and other wonderful animals, and the other kinds of science happening around us (and occasional other off-topic content). I hope that you are encouraged to explore the world around you, and to do your own reading to find out more about the subjects that interest you. And also I will continue to try to make meme-worthy content, because it does nice, if addictive, things in my brain when I get the clicks.

Thanks for asking, anon, and sorry for the Wall of Text.

[formulawolff]

xi. larger than life - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 3.6k

warnings: cursing, banter, teasing, flirting, mentions of sex, a teeny bit of angst, THIS IS PROBABLY THE MOST DOWN BAD TOTO HAS EVER BEEN, lewis being a little shit, alcohol use, marijuana use, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“hey, there’s someone here to meet you. i think you’ll shit your pants once you see him.”

alex stands beside you, beaming as you wave goodbye to ben. it was early friday morning, around nine-thirty in the morning. since it was a more relaxed day, with the practice session the only obligation in your schedule, you had your parents stationed at the lounge area.

they were seated with lily, who was very eager to spend some time with them. after all, since alex was busy, she had no one to talk to. so, you figured it would be nice if they all had one another for company. 

however, tomorrow was qualifying, where it would determine your place on the grid. 

which, to you, that lap tomorrow was everything. 

the defining moment of the weekend. 

“who?” you raise a brow, “who could it–”

as you glance over your shoulder, your heart skips a beat as you see james engaged in deep conversation with him, the team principal chuckling, pointing to you. the visitor is dressed in a cream suit, a white button-up underneath, jet-black sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. swallowing the lump in your throat, you stroll towards him, running an absentminded hair through your hand. 

“good morning!”

the words are almost a squeak, and you internally kick yourself. 

the visitor’s lips curl upward, flashing a pearly white grin, “¡buenos dias! ¡bienvenida a miami!” 

standing before you was none other than pitbull, mr. worldwide, mr. three-oh-five. rather than shaking your hand, he opens his arms, pulling you in for a warm embrace. you were probably sweating from the nerves and the humidity, but you didn’t care. 

while you had met celebrities in your brief time as a formula one driver, most of them were european. so, you weren’t really quite familiar with their fame or starpower through football, rugby, television, and well, business. there were so many wealthy moguls who came through the paddock at the races, james and alex recognizing them in an instant. 

on the other hand, you felt awkward, as you usually had no idea who that person was or what exactly they did. 

so, to finally meet someone you were familiar with and recognized, in your home country, was a moment to cherish. 

and well, you were a little starstruck. 

“i’m going to admit, i don’t know much about formula one,” the singer shrugs, “but i figured i would come through and say hello.”

“well i’m honored,” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “have you met with any of the other teams?”

“not yet,” he shakes his head, shooting you a wink, “this is my first stop. mostly because there is a very beautiful woman who drives for this team. do you know her, by chance?”

your eyes widen as you realize he’s referring to you. heat rushes into your cheeks, your palms clamming up, “oh my gosh – um, –”

“my apologies señorita,” he places a tender hand on your shoulder, “i know you have much bigger things to worry about. i wish you the best of luck today! make miami proud!” 

“i will,” relief ripples as he leans in, pecking your cheek before waving goodbye, strolling away from the entrance of the paddock, security team in tow. 

“jesus christ,” alex’s voice sounds from behind you, “he would fuck anyone, wouldn’t he?”

“stop it,” you hiss, swiveling on your heel, “he was just being nice.”

“yeah, yeah,” alex scoffs, rolling his eyes, “anyways, i noticed the other day you posted another set of photos on instagram. one of them had that mystery man in it. who is he? why hasn’t he come to the paddock yet?”

“because he’s been busy,” that wasn’t a lie by any means. the team principal was quite busy this morning, merely a few paddocks over, “i will see if he come to the next race. i doubt it, though.”

“what does he do again?” alex inquires, sitting on top of some equipment, “i think you told me but i forgot.”

“he’s in management,” well, that was half the truth, “he manages a sports team.”

“what team?” 

“the new soccer team in st. louis,” firing back, you shrink a little under alex’s intense gaze, his lips pursed, brows furrowed, “since it’s only their second year, he’s been busy with promotional stuff. events, traveling, you know.”

“right,” alex sucks in a breath, “also, i know it wasn’t anything serious, but i was a little nervous when you posted those photos of the mercedes campus. i know there have been some rumors, but i would hope that you would talk to me if you were ever thinking about leaving williams–”

“oh, she’s never leaving us!” james’ voice chips in, the team principal coming up from behind you, “she’s stuck with us till 2026!”

at the sureness in james’ tone, your heart sinks. 

fuck, this was getting complicated. 

as you stood with james and alex, the topic shifting to the newest modifications on the cars, your heart thumped, pounding against your rib-cage. inside your mind, it was a tumultuous, chaotic mess. 

your heart yearned to be with toto, yet you were so comfortable with williams. you were happy here, really. you had an amazing relationship with james, alex was like an older brother, and you couldn’t be any more grateful for the support your team had given you. since the beginning, they had made it very clear that they were one hundred percent confident in your capabilities, often reassuring you that were a talented driver with a very successful future ahead. 

how could you just abandon williams like that? leaving them high and dry like that? with no warning either? 

you could only picture the disappointment, the confusion, and the bitterness that would plague james’ features as you inform him of your decision. 

god, that thought alone was enough to tear your heart into two. 

sure, there were rumors. since that post with the mercedes headquarters, fans were buzzing with suspicions that there were contract talks. that you were going to announce your departure from williams any day now. that you were going to join toto wolff at mercedes. 

since it was friday, there were only a couple of days before toto would ask about your decision. in that time frame, you needed to speak with james regarding the subject, fill alex in, focus on the practice sessions, make the most out of your qualifying lap, spend time with your parents, and most of all, focus on driving. 

with less than forty-eight hours until then, time was of the essence. 

and fuck, were you running out of that precious time. 

a few paddocks over, a team principal raises an arm, waving to fans as they shout, a driver on his left, the other on his right. 

“are you going to see her tonight?” 

lewis’ question is innocent as they enter the garage, members of the pit crew swarming and flurrying about. they chirp greetings as the three gather around the cars, examining them. 

toto exhales, inspecting the right wing, “you two are worse than the wags. i have never met people more invested in someone’s love life the way you two are.”

“well now that the cat’s out of the bag,” george crouches by a tire, “we get to pester you about it.”

the casualness of the conversation as the entire team was in earshot sent the team principal spiraling, his jaw clenching as bono approached them clipboard in hand, “you two also need to learn the importance of time and place.”

“we’ll just talk more about it later then,” toto curses as he notices lewis bearing a smug smirk, “after the practice session, we’re going to do a deep dive addressing your feelings–”

“good morning,” bono clears his throat, “did i walk into something important?”

“no, not at all,” toto shoots lewis an icy glare as george bites on his lip, stifling a chuckle, “let’s get to business. how are the cars?”

as peter began his report, toto couldn’t help but let his mind wander. 

besides, it was not like he could focus these days anyway. 

the team principal absolutely despised the hectic schedules of the race weekend. how he was constantly rotating between briefings, meetings with the engineers and mechanics, promotional events, sponsorship talks, and well, managing the two juveniles otherwise known as lewis hamilton and george russell.

then, there was the reason why they were all here. the race itself. 

now, he had another pressing matter weighing on his mind. 

three people were aware of his developing relationship with a certain williams driver. while he knew that two of the three would protect his secret, he was extremely cautious about the third. after all, the girl was only nineteen years old. she was young and impressionable. lewis’ little stunt with the cash proved that the girl was easily influenced. 

however, as much as he wanted to fire the girl, he knew that he couldn’t. 

at least, not during race weekend. that would be downright cruel. 

monday would probably be a different story. 

yet, if he fired her, would she just blackmail him? would she threaten to release the information involving him and his golden girl?

just the thought of her leaking that information to the press was panic-inducing enough. 

he could offer her a hefty sum to stay quiet. but he couldn’t do that either. down the road, she could end up exposing him for paying hush money. 

being romantically involved with a woman thirty years younger than him and offering his former assistant hush money to keep quiet on the matter? 

that would send his entire world crashing down, bursting into flames in the process.

he would lose everything. 

for the time-being, toto would just have to hold onto shreds of hope that his assistant would remain silent on the matter. maybe if he didn’t mention it, she wouldn’t either. 

he would be okay with that.

on the other hand, his drivers were adamant that they wouldn’t say anything, swearing up and down that if preserving this little secret was this important to him, then they would abide by his wishes. at first, george was hurt that he was excluded from the conversation. he was angry that out of anyone toto could have chosen, he chose her. 

yet, as toto recalled every little detail of his relationship with the williams driver, george’s bitterness dissolved, transitioning to some sort of understanding. toto thought he kept things brief as he explained his feelings, but the three were cooped up in his office for nearly three hours discussing the matter. 

besides, it wasn’t like he chose the williams driver.

it just sort of happened. 

now, here he was, pacing back and forth in the paddock, aching for even a glimpse of her. the rift between the two was driving him utterly insane, the team principal resisting the urge to take an impromptu visit, popping in for just a moment. just hearing the sound of her voice would be enough.  

yet, he knew he couldn’t. it would raise too many eyebrows. it would stir up too much gossip. 

“look at him,” lewis elbows george, “looking quite pitiful once again.”

“i feel bad for him,” george exhales, “i can’t be away from carmen for too long before going absolutely mad. i can’t imagine how he feels.”

“being so close to someone yet so far?” 

“exactly,” george nods, “do you think he’s in love? he wouldn’t say it directly, but whenever he was talking about her, i could just tell. i saw the way his eyes lit up, the way he was giggling like a schoolgirl, and the way he couldn’t help but fight a smile. and not just any old smile.”

“oh he’s totally in love,” lewis remarks, “do you hear how he talks about her? he speaks with this softness. it’s cute, really. it makes me want to throw up but it’s cute.”

“do you think he’ll tell her?”

as the driver shifts his attention back to the team principal, he tuts, “not now, but soon.”

“how soon?” george presses, “because he looks quite pathetic over there, like a little lovesick puppy.” 

“i’m willing to bet by the time we’re in monaco, he won’t be able to hold it in any longer.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“i feel the need, the need for speed!”

letting out a shaky breath, your fingers grip the steering wheel, so tightly you were sure your knuckles were white underneath the fabric of your gloves. 

this was it. 

the miami grand prix. 

as you sail through the track, surprisingly, you feel nothing but peace, james’ voice over the radio barely audible. you felt like you were enduring an out-of-body experience the way your mind raced yet your body remained still, acting on pure instinct. your foot on the gas, tapping on the brakes every so often. 

this was lap fifty-six out of fifty-seven. 

the final stretch. 

you were almost there. so close now. so close you could taste it. 

behind you was lando norris of mclaren, max verstappen closing in quickly. charles leclerc tails max, desperate for the thrill of a podium. 

the anticipation was growing as you near the finish line, the checkered flag waving in the distance. 

was this a dream? were you really here?

squeezing your eyes shut, you blink, in a desperate attempt to distinguish reality from fantasy. yet, there’s a moment of silence as you make out the stands in your field of vision, as if everyone was holding their breath at once. 

then, it all comes bursting in your ears. the roar of the crowd. the thundering of the engines. the booming of fireworks. it was almost deafening as your car slows, foot easing on the brakes.  

“and she’s done it again! we just witnessed a moment in history!”

oh god.��

you did it. 

you won. 

euphoria fills you to the brim as you scramble out of the car, climbing on top of it. pumping your fists in the air, tears flood your visor, blurring anything and everything all around. members of the williams team come sprinting towards the car, hollering and shouting. adrenaline courses through your veins, a tingling sensation buzzing from your fingers to your toes. 

cameras flash as you raise your index fingers, members of the team following in suit. 

you were one-of-one. 

and by god, were you going to show the world that you were just that. 

the world was going to know your name, whether they watched formula one or not. your name was going to be broadcasted all over sports channels for weeks to come. your name was going to printed on merchandise, jerseys, on everything and anything related to williams racing. 

you made history today as the first american driver to win the miami grand prix. not only that, but you were the first american female driver to win two grand prixes consecutively. 

and god, did that taste so sweet on your tongue. 

jumping down, you’re greeted by james’ arms, the team principal rattling your helmet. 

“great fucking job! great fucking job! you are fucking insane!”

ripping off your helmet, you catch your breath, taking in the moment. this felt larger than life. like a dream come true. 

this was one of the best days of your life. 

if not, the best day of your life. 

and god, were you going to savor every moment of it. 

each and every second. 

the hours following the race were a blur. although you typically shied away from the press, you lost count of the number of journalists who approached you, answering each one of their questions with genuine, thoughtful answers. fans of all ages snapped photos with you, congratulating you with nothing but sincerity in their words. you signed some jerseys, some caps, and one woman even asked you to sign across her chest.

how could you refuse a photo worthy moment like that? 

your parents were immensely proud, tears streaming down their cheeks as they wrapped their arms around you. although you wanted to spend the rest of the evening with them, they urged you to go out and celebrate. there was always time tomorrow, as they were flying out early in the morning tuesday.

so, when the boys offered to take you out to a few clubs across miami, you accepted it. 

now, the bass pounded as you sway back and forth, screaming along with lando, oscar, carlos, charles, and alex as the music plays. lily tagged along, hovering alex, giggling as you chug another drink, the taste of alcohol lingering on your tongue.

“how does it feel to be a winner-winner?”

“pretty fucking good,” a few drops trickle down your chin, and you quickly wipe them away, “do you think i could win the next one?”

“ummm, let me think,” lily brings a hand to her chin, pausing momentarily, “yes!”

“you’re absolutely unfuckingbelievable,” lando nods enthusiastically, “you will probably win the world championship if we don’t up the pace!””

all of you were extremely tipsy, cheeks burning from the buzz of the alcohol and packed space. lewis and george came too, but they kept their distance, remaining at the bar while the rest of you were on the dance floor. 

not only were you tipsy, but someone had offered you a few puffs of a joint while you were in line outside of the club. actually, they offered you the entire joint because the second they saw you, they immediately recognized you.

at that point, you had already pregamed at the hotel with the boys beforehand. so, how could you refuse a few hits of a joint? that would have been downright rude. 

across the dance floor, lewis hamilton sits, perched at the bar, drink in hand. 

it’s not like he came along to purposefully watch the williams driver. he just wanted to ensure that you would make it back to your motorhome by the end of the night. 

cause god knew how fucked up the others were. they weren’t in any state to help you get home, safe and sound. fuck, none of you were in any coherent state to even call an uber. 

plus, god only knew if you would run into anyone from the press or media. and who knows what you would possibly say if you were asked about a certain team principal. 

“should i call toto?” george leans over, his voice slightly raised, “she looks gone.”

“hmmm,” lewis hums, his eyes following your every move as you stumble a couple of steps, “i don’t think a call would hurt.”

“now?” 

“now,” lewis’ jaw clenches as he sets his drink on the bar, “call toto and get my card, would you? i’m going to wrangle our newfound friend.”

“should we have toto come get her or what should we do?”

rising to his feet, lewis surveys the crowd. it was packed beyond belief, inches between bodies as they moved to the rhythm. toto meeting them here would be far too risky. too many eyes and ears. 

“call him and tell him that we’re going to help get her to the motorhome. or we can take her directly to his hotel room. i imagine she would prefer to sleep in her own bed. you know what? just have him meet us at her motorhome.”

“will do,” george nods, “i’m going to step outside to make the call. meet me out there once you find her?” 

“sounds like a plan,” lewis suppresses a groan as the lights in the club are dimmed, more so than they previously were. everyone blended together, forming one giant mass. 

this was going to be fun. 

in his hotel room, toto wolff lays in bed, laptop resting on his nightstand. although he was oh so happy for you and your accomplishments today, there was this aching feeling gnawing away at him, nearly consuming him whole. 

out his window, the lights of miami glitter, casting a soft glow over the city. the view from his room was oh so beautiful, especially at this time of night. however, it wasn’t nearly as stunning as you were. 

fuck, he missed you. 

more than anything. 

he longed to hold you against his chest. he yearned to pepper your forehead with kisses. he wanted you, desperately. 

actually, he needed you. 

but he wouldn’t admit that. 

suddenly, his phone buzzes, startling him slightly. plucking it off the mattress, the screen is illuminated with a photo of george. 

hmph. that’s odd. 

tapping on the green icon, the team principal brings the phone to his ear, “hallo?”

in the background, he hears a voice. not any old voice. your voice, barely audible, but enough that he knows it's yours. 

“hey it’s george. she’s absolutely obliterated right now. we’re going to call for an uber, and bring her to her place. can you meet us there? i think she really needs you.”

“is she okay?” almost instantly, he sits up, “how long will you be?”

“are you calling toto?” his heart flutters as she giggles, the sound oh so angelic, “oh my gosh! is he on the phone right now? can i talk to him? pleaseee george? can i? please?”

“put her on the phone, george,” toto brings a hand to his temple, momentarily embarrassed at the desperation dripping in his tone, “please.”

there’s a shuffling noise as the phone is transferred, her voice, so delicate and sweet, pours into his ear. 

“can you come over? i miss you so much. please, daddy. come over.” 

“oh shit,” toto squeezes his eyes shut as he hears lewis’ chuckle in the background, “i’m not letting that one go.”

“i’ll be on my way soon, schatzi. do you need anything? it sounds like you need some water and some rest.”

“ummm yeah,” god, she was going to be the death of him, “i do need one thing.”

“and that is?” he’s on his feet now, shoving clothes into an overnight bag, “what do you need, schatzi?”

“your dick.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010  @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @statuewoman @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @m-1234 @whoisss @msbyjackal

as always, if you would like to be added, or forgot to be added, please let me know! thank you for all of the support on this series! i love y'all so much! <3

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Supercorptober Day 28: Book

ao3 fic link. ao3 series link. - Thanks to @itistakingover for this idea!

Kara knows she’s in trouble. She can see it as soon as she walks into their apartment and sees her sister sitting at the dining table, book closed in front of her.

“We need to talk.”

There’s no preamble, Alex getting straight to the point, which means Kara’s in even more trouble than she thought.

It also means there’s no getting out of this.

“I can explain,” Kara starts, even though she can’t. Or, well, she can, but Kara knows Alex won’t be taking any of her excuses, not this time.

“Kara, this has to stop,” Alex continues, ignoring her. “We can barely afford rent and food and all the bills that are piling up and you brought another book. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Kara swallows. She thought she’d hid the book better, but Alex must have found it as it’s sitting on the table between them.

Kara’s glad she took a bag to the bookstore today, Alex would be extra upset if she knew that in Kara’s bag is a new book she bought less than half an hour ago.

Kara opens her mouth but Alex cuts her off. “And don’t you dare tell me you had to buy it.”

“But Alex, I did!” It’s really not her fault, she wishes Alex could see that. “I was at the bookstore and Lena was there and I had to buy it or else she’ll wonder why I was in the store again.”

“Oh my God, Kara,” Alex groans, head falling forward, knocking against the table.

Kara, alarmed for a moment, rushes to her sister’s side. “Are you okay?”

Alex sits up, levels Kara with a glare. “You have to stop spending all our money on books. We all know you have a crush on Lena, we all know that’s the only reason you go to her store so often. So please, for the love of God, just ask her out so you’ll stop buying so many books.”

“No, that’s not-“

“Kara, please, just don’t. Yes, I know she’s pretty and I know she’s smart and funny and whatever else you have to say about her. That’s no reason to spend all our money. All you need to do is ask her out and then you’ll get to see her whenever you like and we won’t get kicked out of our apartment because we can’t pay the rent.”

“I...” Kara bites her lip. “What if she says no?”

Alex looks surprised because yes, maybe it is rather obvious that Kara has a crush on Lena, but this is the first time she’s admitted it. Or is close to admitting it anyway.

“Trust me,” Alex says. “She won’t. You’ve both got it as bad as each other.”

Alex has said this before too but Kara has never listened, because there’s no way it’s true. Kara is in way too deep with a girl she only knows because she visits her bookstore so often. To Lena, Kara is probably just another customer who spends a lot of money, which means being nice to her is good for business.

“So,” Alex says, pulling Kara from her thoughts. “You promise you won’t buy any more books? And this time actually mean it?”

“But what if she-“

“No.” Alex cuts her off. “That’s it, come with me.”

Kara is alarmed as Alex abruptly stands and grabs onto her arm. Kara stumbles a little as she follows her sister.

“Where are we going?” Kara asks as Alex drags her out of the apartment.

“We’re going to the bookstore so you can ask Lena out.”

Kara stops on the spot, pulling Alex to a stop too. “No.”

Alex turns and tugs on her sisters arm again. “Yes. It’s either this or we’re going to starve because I know the next time you see her you’ll want to buy another book and we just can’t afford that.”

Considering that that’s exactly what happened this morning, Alex might be right.

“But,” Kara starts, except that only excuse she can think of not to do this is because she’s terrified. Which is a pretty good excuse in Kara’s opinion.

“No buts. Please, we need that money.”

Kara sighs, Alex is right.

“What do I even say?” Kara asks, starting to walk again on her own, surprising Alex again.

“Hi Lena, I’ve been in love with you forever and I want to have your babies.”

This time, Kara glares at Alex.

Alex laughs. “Ok fine. You just say, ‘Hi, I really like you, do you want to go out for coffee sometime?’”

“That sounds too easy.”

“It is that easy,” Alex agrees, though Kara still doesn’t believe her.

Kara stops again once they arrive at the store, standing outside, too scared to go in knowing what Alex wants her to do. And she wants to do it too, has dreamed of this, of actually telling Lena how she feels, or Lena asking her out, any version that it goes well and she gets to be with Lena.

Kara sees Lena through the window and despite the fact that Lena is talking to a customer, she happens to look up and catches Kara’s eye through the window. Lena gives her a small smile and wave and something in Kara’s chest loosens.

This is Lena, who always makes time to chat with her in store, who is always nice and friendly and is kind to everyone she meets. Lena, who is always willing to help Kara with any book request, no matter how silly it is and always makes her feel so warm and welcome.

Lena, who she is in love with and maybe does want to have her babies, but she’ll never admit that out loud.

“Go on,” Alex urges and Kara takes a deep breath before she steps through the door. The bell jingles above her head and even that is comforting in its familiarity.

Alex follows her in and Kara is glad her sister is here, even if she’s probably just going to embarrass herself.

Alex wanders off, making herself look busy looking at books but Kara stands awkwardly in the middle of the store, unsure what to do.

It’s a few minutes before Lena is finished with the customer and then she immediately makes her way towards Kara.

“Kara, what a nice surprise. Was one book not enough for you today?”

Kara shoots a quick look at her sister and finds Alex glaring at her, so obviously she’d heard and hadn’t figured out Kara had already bought a book today.

Lena catches the look, glancing between them. “Is everything okay?”

Kara shakes her head, and then just goes for it. Honestly is good, right? “No, Alex is upset I keep buying books.”

Lena looks confused. “Is that a bad thing?”

Kara bites her lip. “Yes, when I’m spending all our rent money on books.”

Lena still looks confused. “Oh I-“

Kara cuts her off. “Let me explain?”

Lena pauses and nods.

“It’s not the buying books part that is bad, it’s that I’m buying books I don’t need because I come in here just to see you but use the books as an excuse.”

Lena’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

“And I have genuinely enjoyed all the books I’ve brought from you, but the main reason I come in here most days is just to see you.”

Lena smiles. “I know.”

“What?”

“I mean, I did think you wanted the books and I wouldn’t have let you buy them if I’d known you were spending your rent money. But I did know you were coming in here just to see me.”

“Oh.” It’s now Kara’s turn to not know what to say. “Is that okay?” Kara finally asks when the silence stretches too long.

“Is what okay?”

“Is it okay that I come here just to see you?”

Lena nods. “I look forward to your visits. Every time the bell jingles, I hope it’s you.”

Kara bites her lip, her heart skipping in her chest. This isn’t how she saw today going at all. “Does that mean if I ask you out for coffee, you’ll say yes?”

Lena presses her lips together, her cheeks pink as she nods. “I’d really like that.”

“I really like you,” Kara replies, the words tumbling from her mouth without much thought but as soon as she’s said them, she regrets it immediately. What if that’s not what Lena meant, what if she-

Kara’s thought process is derailed when Lena reaches out and takes her hand, warm fingers slipping between her own.

“I really like you too,” Lena says, voice soft and eyes bright.

Kara could spend forever looking into Lena’s eyes, trying to figure out exactly what colour they are.

“Thank God.” 

Both Kara and Lena startle at the interruption, Alex suddenly beside them.

“Sorry to break this up but Lena, you have a customer.”

Lena’s cheeks go properly red this time as she turns and sees a customer at the counter.

Lena turns back to Kara. She takes her hand, pulls a pen out of her pocket and scribbles something on Kara’s hand. 

“I have to go, but text me?” Lena asks, shy again like they didn’t just both admit they like each other. Of course, Kara isn’t going to say no.

Kara nods as she watches Lena go and help the customer. She looks down at her hand and sees Lena’s number written in blue ink, a little heart beside it.

Alex bumps her side. “Told you.”

Kara grins. “Thank you.”

“It was entirely selfish, I just wanted you to stop spending money,” Alex says but Kara knows that’s not true. It’s definitely partly true but by the way Alex is smiling at her, Kara knows her sister is happy for her too.

Kara links her arm with Alex’s. “Donuts to celebrate?”

Alex laughs. “At least now you can go back to spending all your money on food.”

Kara waves at Lena as she leaves, Lena sending her another small smile that makes Kara warm from the inside. She can’t wait for their first date.

[sstrwbrryccke]

I SAW UR SUGAR BABY!SOOBIN FIC AND IT'S SO FUCKING HELLO ?!? could u possibly write something similar for hoon :00 (n could it be male reader :00)

HIIII thank you im glad you enjoyed it ahhsagds !!! and i have so many thoughts for sunghoon <3 i think he would be a bit more smug compared to soobin, not as obedient but playful and cute in his own way!

the ending is a little rushed because i wrote this on the airplane to shanghai 💀😭 (also not proofread so its probably really bad)

— sponsor | sub park sunghoon

tags: aspiring skater!sugarbaby!sunghoon x rich!reader, amab reader, power dynamics, praise kink, unconventional settings to have sex, soft sex, shower sex, frottage, thigh fucking, body worship

you were old money, the kind that people call 'disgustingly rich'. the type of rich family that throw galas instead of family gatherings, and that's where you met him in the first place. it was one of your many cousins' birthday, excessively wealthy and extravagant, a golden gilded hall decorated with a specially laid ice skating rink for performers. you heard your cousin had been an avid ice skating fan and wanted a live performance for his birthday.

the night had been smooth, dull as you would expect out of a bunch of old-money conservatives whose idea of humour is joking about tax evasion. but you notice just by the off-chance, a lean man clad in all black, bumping into a column, a word slips from his mouth; which you can only guess was a swear word. it was strange, he was clearly out of place. but this wasn't some wattpad story about you sweeping a mysterious man off his feet, so you shrugged and continued sipping on your champagne glass.

you only really notice him during the performance, the mass was seated in the grand hall, lights dimming as the spotlight shone; and it was seriously strange. because he wasn't even the main lead, in fact, he was one of the many backup dancers. yet you just couldn't take your eyes off him. there was something so enchanting about his elegance, you could feel his genuine dedication and passion from where he skated. when the show finished, you find yourself clapping, eyes still mesmerized as the boy leaves for the backstage.

a crowd gathers around the main leads, interested sponsorships and words of praise exchanged. while your eyes drift to the man walking off, taking a scone from the buffet stands before disappearing into the balcony. naturally, you follow after him— which in hindsight was slightly creepy because you've been practically eyeing him down. but you really wanted to spark up a conversation with this pretty boy.

when you reach the balcony, you find the backside of the man leaning on the railing. you lean next to him and he was visibly startled— so much so he dropped the scone in his hand. he does attempt to catch it— horribly, and the dessert tumbles into the void, his mouth agape. "aish..."

"ah, sorry."

"no, it's no problem! really! sir!" he quickly rectifies, aheming into his fist and waving his other hand around before looking directly in front of him. occasionally glancing at you with his eyes only. he was visibly nervous, definitely embarrassed too. he straightens his back and raises his chin, probably trying to seem professional in front of you; but you could tell with the way he clenched his jaw that he was tense. and you don't blame him, it looks like this was his first time coming to such a luxurious gala, surrounded by tons of powerful men and women who could either make or break his career.

"well, what's your name?" you offer a conversation starter, since it didn't seem like he was budging.

"i'm park sunghoon, sir!"

"nice to meet you park sunghoon, how old are you?" you ask smoothly, stretching a hand out for him to shake. he couldn't even look you in the eyes, what a shy and polite man.

he wipes his sweaty hands on his pants, before taking your hand with both of his, bowing. "nice, nice to meet you too! i'm 21 turning 22, sir."

"we're the same age, that means you don't need to call me sir."

"yes sir." he replies without much thought.

you give him a pointed look and he quickly shuts up. he was endearing in his own way though, the interaction made you smile. this man who had previously been so elegant and precise on stage was actually very timid.

"you caught my eye in the performance."

he lights up at this, turning his head to you with a small bashful smile on his lips. "thank you so much, i'm surprised you remember me."

"of course i do, couldn't keep my eyes off you in fact." you advance, tilting your head as you subtly flirt. you were into him and you wanted him to understand that. "oh." he mouthed, and it seems like he was starting to recognize the connotations of the conversation. he was still smiling, but you could see a pink tint on his pale skin.

"no, seriously. you're super talented, i want to sponsor you."

his smile drops, a shocked expression on his face instead, soon he's ecstatic. "really?"

you chuckle, "yes, really."

☆★☆

perhaps, your definition of sponsor was just sugar baby with extra steps. because soon, the two of you fall into that type of relationship. it started with a bouquet of flowers after his practice (which you went to weekly), then it became a dinner invitation, and eventually you were lavishing him with gifts and luxury items. okay, perhaps you were just courting this man in the form of presents.

you watch on the sidelines as sunghoon does his usual practice on the ice (a private ice rink you hired for him), he glances towards you with a mischievous grin before doing a silly spin. you just chuckle, shaking your head. when it was over you sling a towel over his neck like usual, handing him a water bottle. he stares at you, rather proud of himself.

"did you see the spin?"

"nah, i was looking at the wall." you joke, there was literally no one else but sunghoon to look at. "issh" he shakes his head, lightly punching your arm.

after, you treat him to a nice dinner in this expensive restaurant, he’s used to your dinner invitations, but he still can't settle his nerves coming to such a high-end restaurant. chatting with you soothed his anxiety though, and shortly he was joking and laughing like usual.

the first course was served, and you took this opportunity to slide over the blue container with the tiffany and co logo. sunghoon takes it shyly, glancing at you, you give him an encouraging look. at the beginning of this dynamic; he did try to refuse the expensive gifts, but you were insistent and sunghoon secretly enjoyed receiving the presents too.

he feels his heart thumping with excitement as he unwraps the case, a genuine surprise in his eyes when he pulls out the silver wire tiffany t bracelet. he’s been wanting it for a while now, mentioning it once casually. and you remembered! he tries it on for you; because he knows you like seeing him with your gifts. the bracelet glints in the light and he looks at you with a reserved smile.

"thank you so much... i don't know to repay you—"

"by being mine." you interrupt him, the words come out before you can even comprehend it, baffled by your impulsivity. "i'm sorry it just came out— if it makes you uncomfortable i apo—"

"yes."

you blink slowly, while he looks at you with full seriousness. and that's how sugar baby sunghoon came to be.

☆★☆

navigating the dynamic was like navigating any other romantic relationship, though sunghoon treated it like a contract at the start. unusual, but usual for sunghoon. it made you chuckle about his seriousness of the entire situation. the whole circumstance was bizarre but silly. what an endearing man. he would sit you down one day, hands clasped together.

"what are your expectations for me?"

and you snicker. he said it like it was a full-time job, which maybe it could be.

"recieve my gifts, and enjoy your best life."

he looked determined, continuing on. "is sex on the table?" he was surprisingly straightforward. it's always the quiet ones who were unexpectantly bold huh...

"if you're comfortable with that, yes." you give him a firm nod.

"i see." he pulls back, shy again.

"so, are you?" you tease, because he didn't outwardly give an answer.

he pauses, and you spot a glint in his eyes. his tongue darts out to wet his lips and his mind runs rampant. how cute.

"i am."

☆★☆

and wow was that quite literally the best decision in your entire life. everything remained the same, except now you have an extremely hot and sexy ice skater whose libido was as high as his talent. life was good. life was great.

training went as you expect, sunghoon absolutely smashed through his routine. running back to you with a proud smile, hands on his hips.

"i did pretty good, didn't i?" he always asked similar questions, pridefully, wanting to be praised.

"did you? didn't see." you would always tease him, and he would respond by playfully hitting your shoulder. the sass doesn't last long though, because the moment you two are alone in the locker room that's when you go down on him, embracing him as his lovely quiet moans seep out from your kiss.

it should be classified as an addiction at this point, the amount of unconventional places you guys had done it in. collecting locations like pokemon cards. it was tame at first, or tame for your standards anyway. the first time was in the hotel, of course, but after that, you went straight for the ice rink. its not exactly public, as you had rented the entire private rink for your beautiful ice prince, but the setting itself was scandalous. just imagining the sanction that housed many hours of his talent, being dirtied by his sweat in another sense was downright sinful. sunghoon never complained however, because as long as you praise him, he was satisfied. boy was he a sucker for praise, he keens when you whisper in his ear, almost over the moon when you compliment him on his skating. he would moan unashamedly, (normally he would block his moans or whimper) and you respond by spreading his legs in clear view of the ice rink. slam him down and feel his back arch prettily against your chest.

sunghoon was contradictorily both shy and straightforward when it came to his words and actions during sex. he's quiet and sometimes downright refuses to moan or beg. yet when he's close he would straight-up demand things from you. when you fold his flexible body in half and ram into his sensitive hole, he would spread wider for you (which you thought was physically impossible but he proves you wrong), yet bashfully hides himself when you praise him. he was a man full of contradictions, but it really drove you wild.

but it wasn't all about sex anyway, sex made up barely half of it, because it was really all about him. sunghoon just had a soul that was born to attract you. he's introverted and reserved with others, which explains why he doesn't attract sponsors or gain lead roles, but underneath it all was such a uniquely endearing man with a strong ambition for his passions.

you absolutely loved spoiling this boy and watching his reactions; him wearing the items you brought for him just gave you that extra dose of serotonin. when the two of you made it official, he was just so much more ecstatic with each gift he received from you. it wasn't even the gifts themselves that pleased him so much, it was the care you gave that really hit the mark for him. that burberry scarf he eyed for a few minutes? woke up to it on his lap. the prada bag he briefly mentioned he thought was fashionable? on the kitchen counter. you just paid so much attention to him, and he felt so loved.

you supported him in his ice skating career too, attending every competition he's been in and always making sure to watch over at least one of his daily practices a week. he had big ambitions and eventually wanted to compete in the olympics, which you had no doubts he would achieve.

gradually, you wanted to integrate him into your life too, though it was hard to explain to your parents the logistics behind taking a 'common ice skater' with you everywhere. you two managed to keep a low profile.

and by everywhere, you meant everywhere. you brought him to tennis and golf practices, he struggled with golf but had fun with tennis. and you brought him to basically every single gala and ball your family tree hosted. it was enjoyable at first, but introverts do what introverts do and he gradually voiced how he preferred quieter, more intimate meetings with you. in which you decided to only bring him to the important galas. (maybe every single one was a bit overkill) but he was so right because intimate stay-ins with him were so much better and more peaceful compared to your hectic everyday life. he was a very mindful and health-conscious person, so you often find yourself doing stretches and going to the gym with him. it was absolute zen. plus, there was the bonus of you slowly snaking your arms behind him, kissing his neck and lips as much as you want without worrying about public perception.

☆★☆

you can tell something was bothering him, with the way he fidgeted and dazed off in your shared hotel room. anyone in his position would he nervous, after all, he was competing for the olympics! through much hard-work from his side and endless support from yours, he qualified for the olympic team after winning nationals with flying colours. you knew he had it in him, you knew since the first day you met.

“hoon, you nervous?” you ask, coming up behind him to rub at his shoulders. he gives you a small smile before sighing. “a little.”

you pull him into a hug, your chest pressed towards his back. he relaxes slightly. “want to talk about it baby?” you stroke his stomach, trying to soothe him.

“it’s silly,” he gives you a half smile. you slap his thigh lightly “issh!”

“it’s not silly, tell me.” you pout, kissing his neck. he laughs as you lavish his neck with lovebites.

“i’m just worried that i’m going to lose.” he says in-between giggles. you temporarily stop your assault in his neck, lifting your head to look at him.

“you won’t lose baby, and even if you do, just being in the team is already an amazing feat. most people go their whole lives without even touching olympic level.”

he seemed a little reassured by this, but you could tell his mind was still swirling with other thoughts. you kiss his cheeks, waiting for him to open up about it himself.

“it’s just, if i lose, im wasting all your effort and money.”

you finally pause at this, giving him a look. “what? how am i wasting effort and money on you?”

he seemed a little nervous, gulping down his saliva. “i mean, you invested so much into me, the least i could do is win.” you were shocked, was he dense or stupid? maybe a little bit of both. you roll your eyes as you lift him in your arms. he lets out a startled gasp as you bring him to the bathroom. you face him towards the mirror, grasping at his chin so he looks directly into his eyes.

“do you see this? what a gorgeous, beautiful, godly man.” you whisper in his ear and you watch his cheeks blossom a scarlet red. your hands trail down to his chest, unbuttoning the top.

“wow, look at that. so pretty, so soft and perfect.” you knead his chest, flicking at his pink nipples before moving down, massaging his toned stomach. he was staring at the parts your hand were drifting to as you fondle him. you kiss the shell of his ear, making him shiver “hngh…”

your fingers trail down, you lick your lips at his delicious reactions. palming at his erection. “every part of you is so pretty. such nimble arms and thighs, no wonder you’re so good at ice skating. everything about you is just so lovable.”

he was trembling, glancing into your eyes in the mirror and you could tell he wanted you to continue. “don’t you get it already? you really think i brought all those gifts, paid all those lessons and sponsored you because it was an investment?” you whisper, he turns his face to meet with yours, taking your lips desperately.

“i love you.” he whispers breathily into the kiss, that was the first time any of you said that sentence. he freezes, anxiety filling his face.

“i love you too, hoon.” you french kiss him, your tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip, he reciprocates gladly.

“i love you i love you i love you so so much.” he stammers, grinding his ass against your hardening cock. “i love you too baby, you have no idea how much i love you.” you grunt into his ear, sliding your dick out from your underwear. the both of you were barely clothed in the first place.

“hngh put it in already please,” he’s never been this vocal before, you felt your cock twitch just at the desperation in his voice. but you controlled yourself, he had a skating competition tomorrow after all.

“hoonie the olympics is tomorrow.” he whines and you chuckle fondly. spoiled brat.

“put your thighs together.” you give his ass a light slap, he listens and puts his thighs closely. you could see his dripping cock through the small gap. “good boy.” you praise and he rubs his thighs together.

not waiting any longer, you slip your hard cock between his thighs, groaning lowly at the sensation. god it felt so good, he clearly thinks so too because he immediately whimpers, pushing back at your dick. you let him adjust to the sensation before slowly thrusting against his thigh.

“angh... ugh… so good… love you… love you…” he whimpered, panting softly. you pull his head to the side to kiss him again, hand grasping at both of your cocks and he cries into your mouth. you thrust harder and faster, he reciprocates happily by clenching his thighs tighter. soon his stomach was squeezing and his pants became breathier.

“gonna come, can i come? please? please?” and who were you to resist your prince?

“come for me hoonie, come for me.”

his thighs stutter and he clenches his teeth as a strangled voice comes out. he came in spurts, long and thin. you wish you could taste his pretty semen as well but thats for another time. you slip your cock out from his thighs, jerking yourself off and coming all over his ass and back.

it was arousing and you could almost go again, but he needed rest so you tenderly kissed his back, cleaning him up.

“i’m going to win for you.” he says breathily while you were wiping him down, you look at him amused, chuckling.

“don’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”

“no, this seriously motivated me to win. i’m going to win the olympics and then we’re going to have the most mind-blowing sex ever.”

you guys share a look before laughing.

☆★☆

everyone could hear the thumping of their own hearts as they waited for the results to unveil. sunghoon grasps your hand and you give him a squeeze.

before you could process it, you were ecstatically cheering, turning to sunghoon. the man beside you was in genuine shock, staring at his high score as if it was an alien on earth. holy shit, he got the highest score and he’s in first place!!!

snghoon lunges for you, tumbling you out of your chair as he tightly hugs you. not like you cared about the people staring, because you shared the excitement. you hug him back just as tightly, stroking his back. you feel the crook of your neck and shoulder wet.

after a few seconds, you help him stand and he wipes his eyes with an embarrassed smile. you couldn’t stop grinning as he received his medal.

☆★☆

sunghoon was able to keep both of his promises that day. the moment you two arrived in the hotel, you had a very needy sunghoon clinging around you neck, drawing you into a deep kiss as you navigate around the room.

you manage to peel him off for a second, to undress him and yourself, stumbling into the shower. you adjust the water while sunghoon unrelentlessly grinds against your cock.

“hn, god please! ive been wanting this since yesterday, ive been so good, so good, please reward me” he whimpers quietly and you melt. you grasp his hips tightly, pulling his back flush against your chest and you grind down his ass. he groans, hands propped on the shower wall for support.

your finger plays with his rim and he whines, prodding the hole before inserting. you were careful, treating his body like porcelain as you coo into his ear. he was so desperate, willingly giving up his sweet voice for you to hear. you add another finger and he was now fully rutting against you, eyes closed as he fucked himself on your fingers. it was an endearing sight, but you pull out, slapping your cock on his ass.

“what do you want again?” you play innocent, chuckling at his offended expression. he groans, frustratedly pushing back at your cock.

“you know what i want! i want you inside me please!” he whines out and you laugh. you give him what he wants, slipping your cock into his tight hole, groaning as you feel his gummy walls enclose around you.

“you feel so good sunghoon, such a pretty boy.” you coo into his ear and he clenches his thighs tighter. you thrust into him, each one faster and harder than the previous one and he was in actual heaven. tongue lolling out as he groans with each motion, it didn’t take long until he was crying out a strangled coming.

you weren’t done with him yet though, you prop his flexible legs up, making him sink deeper into your cock as he chokes. before he could protest you start nailing into him, hitting his prostate so well and on point that he visibly crumbles, hands desperately grabbing at anything as his cock sputters out another load.

his eyes were wide as he watches his dick cry uncontrollably, while you adjust behind him, ready to piston into him all over again. oh boy was he in for a wild ride…

that’s how the night progressed, you plummeting his ass in the shower, and then at the bathroom counter, then you moved him to the hotel bed, forcing him to ride you until he couldn’t prop himself up anymore.

his body slumps over yours, exhausted and overstimulated, thighs trembling and nerves sputtering. but you still moved beneath him and he cries “can’t! can’t, hurts please it feels too good.”

you grin into his skin, jerking his cock a few times and he comes again. body limp. you pull out and the warm semen in his hole dribble out. just as you try to move to clean him up, his arms tightly wind around your waist.

“stay here.” it was a demand from your ice prince and you snicker.

“anything for the olympic winner.”

[corroded-hellfire]

I saw a video on Instagram of a girl who had a rough day at school because she got in a fight with her friend. And her little sister says I'm your best friend and wipes the girl's tears and then hugs her. I couldn't help but think of Ryan or Luke having a bad day at school and Eliza comes to hug them telling them that she loves them and not to be sad.

I immediately fell in love with this idea. Little Eliza has such sass and attitude, but she also has the biggest heart 💕

Words: 2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The front door opens and a quick glance at the clock visible in the hallway, just outside of where you are in the laundry room, tells you that it’s Luke coming home from school. The familiar sounds of him kicking his shoes off and walking into the kitchen reach you as you transfer the wet clothes into the dryer. But instead of hearing him rummage around the pantry or cabinets like normal, the noise is surprisingly civilized as he pulls something out of the refrigerator and lets that door swing closed behind him.

The fourteen-year-old’s footsteps start coming down the hall, thumping louder the closer he gets to you. In your peripheral vision, you see Luke walk past the laundry room, a bottle of water in his hands as he heads towards the stairs.

“Hey, troublemaker,” you say. 

There’s no response. The sound of him climbing the stairs reverberates through the walls and you frown as you snatch up the box of dryer sheets on the shelf above the washing machine. 

Even if Luke didn’t hear you, it’s unusual for him to come home and be so quiet. It’s not uncommon for the boy to track you down as soon as he’s grabbed a snack so he can tell you about something he did in class or something funny that happened at lunch. Your Mom Sense starts to tingle. 

Freshly washed clothes all now in the dryer, you close the lid and press the familiar buttons to get your last chore of the day finished. Before you can even take a step towards the door though, a loud thump thump thump thump thump careens down the hallway. There’s a flash of two curly pigtails and purple overalls rushing past the laundry room before the surprisingly heavy tread for a four-year-old follows in her brother’s wake up the stairs. 

As much as you know Luke loves his little sister, if something is going on with him, he probably won’t want to deal with the preschooler. You wipe your hands off on the side of your jeans and follow your kids up the stairs, ready to wrangle in your precocious daughter if need be. 

The murmur of voices floats down the hall once you’re upstairs. It’s hard to tell what they’re saying, but you can make out the distinct pitches between the teenage boy and pipsqueak little girl. 

“You’re not okay,” you hear Eliza say as you silently approach Luke’s room. 

The door is open, but you don’t want to barge in on whatever they have going on, so you wait just on the other side of the door frame until they’re finished. 

“Eliza,” Luke says with a sigh. But his sister is right. The slight wobble of his usually strong and steady voice is a dead giveaway. 

Mattress springs creak and between Eliza’s little huffs of effort and Luke’s sharp inhale at a wince, you wager she’s climbing into his lap. One of the many things your daughter inherited from Eddie was her grace, which is to say, she doesn’t really have any. 

Careful not to make a sound, you lean into the doorway of Luke’s room to take a peek. The way the bed is situated your son isn’t able to see you from where he sits on it, socked feet planted on the sage carpet. Eliza is indeed on his lap, her legs draped across her brother’s thighs and her back to you. 

Luke’s arm is around her small frame so she won’t fall and Eliza rests her head against his chest, tilting her head up to look at him. 

“What’s wrong, Lukie?” she asks softly.

Your second oldest son doesn’t typically like that nickname and will always tell people to stop calling him that—except for Eliza. She’s the soft spot of the entire family. 

Luke lets out a sigh and you don’t think he’s going to answer his sister. You expect him to deny it again and tell her to go play with her toys. But instead, you watch his shoulders slump, and he lowers his head, starting to pick at a loose thread on the cuff of Eliza’s overalls. 

“I was supposed to hang out with one of my friends,” Luke starts, but is interrupted. 

“Who?”

“You don’t know—oh, yeah, you do. It’s Sean.”

“The one who looks like a chocolate chip cookie?” she asks. 

Luke snorts, failing at containing his laughter, and you cover your mouth to suppress your urge to giggle. 

“Those are called freckles, Lize,” Luke explains. Your son has lovingly referred to one of his best friends as “chocolate chip face” when his freckles become darker and more pronounced in the summer. It’s nice to know Eliza hears everything, though. 

“Anyway,” Luke continues, “he and I were supposed to go to the movies tonight. But he blew me off—uh, canceled on me.”

“Maybe his mommy is sick,” Eliza offers, unable to turn off her empathetic instincts. 

“No,” Luke says with a head shake. “He’s going bowling with someone else.”

Eliza sits up straight in her brother’s lap at this. You don’t have to see her face to know her eyebrows are pinching together.

“That’s not nice. Why can’t you go with them?”

Another sigh from Luke as he shakes his head.

“He’s going with a girl. A date.” The word sounds bitter as it rolls off your son’s tongue. 

“Date?” Eliza sounds confused.

“Sean likes the girl. He wants her to be his girlfriend. So, he picked her over me tonight,” Luke says. 

Your heart splinters as you listen to him. Memories of when you were fourteen are still vivid in your mind and when friends bail on you it hurts—especially when it’s to spend time with another person. It comes with the age and hormones though, you know that. Luke’s friend Sean is a good kid, and you know their friendship will be fine. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting right now in this moment. 

“I’ll go to the movies with you,” Eliza offers, your heart melting at her words. 

A small smile grows on Luke’s face, and he shakes his head.

“You’re too young for this one.”

Eliza huffs but nuzzles her face against her brother’s blue Indiana Colts t-shirt. 

“We watch a movie here?” Eliza asks. Before waiting for an answer, she pushes herself out of Luke’s lap and crawls over his legs until she’s able to stand on the mattress next to him. This angle gives you a better vantage point of the little girl’s face and Luke adjusts himself on the bed so he’s facing her as well. “‘Cause I’m your friend too, right?”

“Of course you are.” You don’t have to be able to see Luke’s face to know he’s smiling. 

“Luke and Liza movie night,” she declares, giving a definitive nod of her head, curls bouncing everywhere in the confines of the two pigtails. “I don’t want you to be sad.” Gently, she cups Luke’s face in her two small hands. “It’s okay, Lukie. I’m your friend an’ I love you.”

Your son isn’t even given the chance to respond before Eliza moves her hands from his face to wrap her arms around his neck and launch herself into him. She hugs him with all her tiny might and Luke wraps his arms right back around her. 

“Thanks, kid,” he says. “I love you too.”

Tears cloud your vision as you quietly take a step back from the door. You’ve always known all your kids have kind hearts and would do anything for one another. But seeing this display of affection from your four-year-old when she sensed her brother was upset has your heart bursting with pride. 

Using the backs of your hands, you wipe your eyes and the few rogue tears that have traitorously slid down your cheeks. On tiptoe, you make your way back to the stairs and go down with as little noise as possible.

Once you’re on the first floor, you feel you can let out a loud exhale and sniffle a few times as you take care of the remaining tears. One thing you’ve learned as a mom is that some of the most rewarding moments are also the most emotional. This was definitely one of them. 

The moment Eddie comes home, you’re buzzing around him like a dog who knows they’re about to get a treat. He doesn’t even have his boots off yet when you’re linking your arm with his and leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Hello to you, too,” Eddie teases. “What’s up?”

The last time you were this eager to get a hold of him as soon as he walked through the door you were in your second trimester with Eliza and practically dragged Eddie to the bedroom before he even had the front door closed behind him. But this wasn’t that, you weren’t trying to get into his coveralls—yet, anyway.

“The sweetest thing happened today,” you gush, taking care to keep your voice low. 

“What was it?”

“When Luke came home—”

“What’s for dinner?” Ryan interrupts, popping his head into the room from the kitchen.

“Spaghetti,” you tell him.

“Come on,” Eddie says, slipping his hand into yours. “Tell me while I get cleaned up from work.”

And so you do. Happily watching your husband undress and wash his body off as you sit on the bathroom counter, your legs lazily swinging over the edge. 

You relay the whole story to him and there’s a grin on his pretty face the entire time. Pride beams in his eyes as he slips into an old t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. 

“She's such a good kid,” he says. 

“I know.”

As the two of you exit the bathroom, you’re forced to step out of the way as Eliza carries the comforter from her bed towards the stairs. 

“Uh, whatcha doing, Sweet Pea?” Eddie asks her.

“Gettin’ stuff ready,” she says, adjusting the quilt in her arms. 

“For what?” you ask.

“Me and Luke are having movie night. Gonna put blankets and pillows on the floor so we’re comfy.”

“Want me to carry that for you?” Eddie offers.

“Yes, please.”

Once Eliza is empty-handed, she heads down the stairs, you on her tail, and Eddie bringing up the rear. As you enter the living room you see Luke’s comforter already spread out on the floor, pillows strewn about. It brings you back to the days when you were a kid and would have sleepovers with your friends in your parents’ living room.

Eliza makes grabby hands for her blanket and Eddie gladly gives it back to her. She unceremoniously plops it down on the floor and spreads the pink princess comforter out next to Luke’s camouflage one. 

“Here we go,” Luke says as he slips into the room behind you and Eddie. He’s got four pillows in his arms, and he dumps them in the middle of the makeshift nest. 

“Quite the set up you’ve got,” Eddie remarks. 

“Well yeah,” Luke says as he plunks himself down on the couch before sliding onto the floor. “It’s Luke and Liza movie night. We gotta!”

Ryan steps into the living room from the kitchen and his eyes roam over everything laid out on the floor in front of him—including his siblings.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Luke and Liza movie night,” Eliza and Luke say in unison.

Ryan frowns and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Can I join?”

“No,” they once again answer in sync. 

“Wow,” Ryan says with a shake of his head. “And to think, I bought ice cream today and would’ve shared it with you guys. But oh well.” The oldest sibling shrugs and makes his way back into the kitchen.

“Maybe we can reconsider!” Luke calls after him.

“Nope!” Ryan shouts back. “Too late.”

You and Eddie share an amused look, neither of you able to contain your smiles. It’s moments like these when I know I’m ready for another kid, you think to yourself. The love and craziness in this house will only get bigger—but why would I want it any other way? 

[fr33time]

Hiii (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶), can I request for a hurt/comfort reader x Jin or Romeo fic?

✦❘༻Self care to forget༺❘✦

Divider credits: @thecutestgrotto

Pairing: Romeo Lucci x GN!reader

Synopsis: MC was cursed by an anomaly, which caused them to have one of the worst days of their life. After breaking their arm after an investigation with Vagastrom, Romeo calls MC to his private room on business, but MC is more than over with the day.

A/N: Yesss of course!! I chose Romeo this time, so I hope you’ll enjoy the idea I have for him!!! I don’t find many Romeo fics so I felt like I should fill the space with one. He’s still a tad difficult to write but I made sure to go through his in game chats, and check through the wikis to see how he spoke. I had fun writing this, and it’s interesting to try something new. Enjoy! Also sorry this took so long to release, I’ve been busy again and I have work to do so I’ll probably only get to writing on weekends. I wrote most of this late at night so I apologize for any mistakes, feel free to let me know! I’ve been waiting for episode 9 to release and I can’t wait since it looks like a Halloween special chapter. Until my next work!

Genre: Hurt/comfort, oneshot

Find my requesting rules here!

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Life did not particularly favour you at the moment. You ended up being taken to an emergency room for breaking your arm, if it had been a sort of sprain then a couple anomalous medicine packs could have fixed it, but the world loves to beat you when you’re down.

About 4 days ago you were sent to be the inspector of a mission with the Vagastrom house. They were investigating a mass wave of kidnappings that they believed to have been caused by an anomaly. This morning was supposed to be the final day of the investigation, where you and the ghouls were planning to capture the anomaly and complete the mission. The day was doomed from the start with an air of bad luck following you throughout. You fell through the floor of the Clementia house, you kept stepping in pot holes and almost spraining your ankle, when the world was seemingly trying to kill you, it also made everything very inconvenient. You were losing everything you placed on furniture the previous night, stepped on a pregnant spider, the power went out, etc.

The final straw was when the investigation was reaching its final stages. Some plans flew off the rails and you ended up being chased by the anomaly. Once it grabbed you, you managed to maneuver yourself out of its grasp, but in turn you ended up falling from the second floor of a building onto the first floor because of a giant hole in the floor. It would not have been this bad if you fell in a different position, but you fell head first and it triggered the instinct to break the fall with your arms.

You were rushed to the emergency room after the anomaly was unfortunately destroyed. Apparently, the anomaly put a mini curse on you that gave you dreadful bad luck. On the bright side, darkwick had come across a curse like this before and was able to lift it almost immediately. Your arm was patched up, and was told that it would heal in up to 12 weeks on account of the clean break, and sent you home.

You felt shitty, all you wanted was to rest and you were stuck having to deal with the ghouls in Vagastrom on the way back. Alan and Sho seemed really concerned for you, but decided to stay silent for now in fear that you weren’t into conversation. Leo on the other hand had a bitter face plastered on, it will always be perplexing how he manages to say the worst things at the worst times.

“Y’know, we could’ve captured that anomaly if honour roll hadn’t screwed up.” Alan immediately threw him a nasty look and signalled him to shut up. Honestly, you weren’t in the mood, if you didn’t feel so drained then you could’ve responded back to him but you didn’t have the heart. Soon, you were back at your dorm, once the Vagastrom ghouls dropped you off and said they would check on you later, you sat in silence for a while. You laid down on the bed and started to drift to sleep until you heard a buzzing on your phone. You could’ve ignored it but clearly someone was spam texting you to get your attention. Out of obligation, you peeked at your phone and checked the messages.

New girl!

Report to the VIP room this instant!

Are you ignoring me?!?!

This won’t be tolerated, if you’re not here in 5 minutes there will be serious consequences!

You groaned out of frustration seeing Romeo’s spammed messages on your screen. You immediately went to pick up your phone and text back, trying to explain what happened today,

Romeo I can’t come right now, can you let me off the hook this time? I’ve had a really bad day and I just want to lay down…

I don’t want your excuses, I’ll add 2 extra minutes on your clock, you better be grateful because you’re wasting my precious time!

And it’s Fico, get it right!

You guessed that there was no saying no to him. You rushed to Sinostra as best you could, but there was no way that you were going to attempt to run there. As you walked inside, the guards that were standing outside of the VIP room were greeting you,

“MC, Fico’s expecting you, head inside.” Most of the staff knew who you were by now. You had been working around Sinostra more recently due to Romeo making you do “Eyes in the Sky” surveillance for him. He was a teensy bit more lenient on you lately, you weren’t sure why but you liked to think that he was getting used to you, bit by bit. It was already later than usual, so you wondered why Romeo wanted you to come to the VIP room at 9PM. The guards opened up the VIP room for you, and stepped inside. Romeo was sitting down on the luxurious couch, sifting through paper work that surrounded his desk. The door behind you closed, and you realized that Romeo didn’t bother to have bodyguards with him. You stood in front of the table, barely keeping it together. It felt like you could snap the tiny bit of composure that you had at any time.

“I thought I told you to rush over here!” Romeo finally decided to look at you and noticed your horrendous physique. Your arm was in a cast, clothes were dirty, eyes drooped down to hell, and your posture was so unacceptable that it felt violating to his eyes.

“What the hell happened to you?”

In that moment, everything inside of your head spilled out onto the floor. You couldn’t hold it any longer. Before you realized what happened, you were on the floor, breaking down. Your chest tightened and tears streamed out on your face and onto the floor. It felt humiliating, crying in front of Romeo like this but you’ve never felt so down on your luck before. It was crushing that it felt like the whole world was against you today, it wasn’t always like that but a pile of stress was building up over the course of the mission, especially today.

“I just- I just wanted to be left alone! My arm hurts so bad- everything is so fucking- shitty!” Your brain couldn’t keep up with your words, your line of consciousness was being interrupted by your hyperventilating. Your throat hurt, it hurt so much from wanting to cry out and having to swallow everything down.

“Just leave me- the fuck alone! I want to sleep— so fucking bad- why won’t any- one just let me rest for once today!” Romeo was stunned, he sat there looking at you while your cries were the only noise echoing in the room. Your eyes were red, and puffy, you looked pitiful while sitting on the floor of his expensive private room. He got up from his couch and kneeled down in front of you, hovering his finger over your mouth.

“Shut up for a moment!” You stopped speaking but there was nothing you could do about your hyperventilation. You tried to breathe deeply, but didn’t help your uncontrollable gasps for air. You looked away from his eyes and tried to look down at the floor, it felt less shameful. Romeo sighed heavily, and got up onto his feet.

“Stand up” you followed what he said and tried to get off of your knees.

“Just looking at the state you’re in is giving me wrinkles. Don’t say anything and follow me” Romeo started walking and signalled you to come along. You followed him and ended up in his bathroom, one of the most spotless bathrooms you’ve ever seen with countless beauty products on the counters and in cupboards. Your breathing was starting to calm down but you were still in rough shape. Now you were confused, why would Romeo take you in here? He started filing through his cabinets and grabbing a few things.

“I’m going to fix you up because you look horrendous, but for now go and monitor my EITS and wait till I’m done. This just means you’re gonna work twice as hard tomorrow as payment for this.” You started to realize that he was going to take care of you when you looked at all of the products in his arms. You listened to what he said and sat down on his couch to look at the cameras in the casino. You didn’t mind staying any longer anymore, it would be nice to rest but you felt like Romeo wanted to help you in his own weird way. That’s what you wanted to believe, and in reality it wasn’t that far from the truth. It made you smile a bit, but you knew that if Romeo caught you then he would probably throw you out in an instant, so you kept it down. You were done with everything, this was the best you were gonna get out of everything. Not much time passed before Romeo set up, he called you over before you knew it.

“New girl! Get over here!” You got up and met Romeo in the bathroom, finding a chair in front of the sink, with a whole line of facial items set up.

“Sit down and straighten your back. I won’t accept sloppiness.” As you sat down, Romeo cleared space and put his laptop on the counter in front of you. It looked like he still wanted you to work, but he interrupted your thought as he spoke.

“I’ll watch it, but tell me if you see something wrong or there’ll be consequences.” Romeo turned your chair so that it was parallel to the counter. Facing it towards him, it helped him see your face better and it was easier to apply things on you. He stayed organized and started to put things on your face, first a cold compress eye mask, then a cold towel to reduce overall swelling in your face, applied a couple moisturizers, gently massaging your eyelids, it felt like pure bliss. You weren’t sure why he was doing this, and even Romeo was questioning why he did this all for you. He wanted to make you stop crying by giving you a mini facial, and registered it as wanting to get rid of your scrunched up face and out of his sight to use it against you later.

You looked in the mirror after he was done and barely recognized yourself. You were glowing, and it looked like you never even cried in the first place. When you checked the time, it was almost 11PM. There were many missed messages from Alan, asking where you were and if you were alright.

“Oh wow, it’s getting really late. I’m so sorry for taking up your time, I should be going soon!” When you were getting back up, you felt a pair of hands push down gently on your shoulders to make you sit.

“You’re sleeping here tonight, I’m not listening to complaints. You’re getting up in the morning and working all day for me tomorrow as payment. I spent my precious time on you, so you should feel indebted to me.” He folded his arms and looked at you, expecting an answer.

“Um… where would I even sleep?” You didn’t have the strength to fight, it’s not like you wanted to walk all the way back to your dorm late at night anyways. You were tired and needed to rest, it didn’t matter where it was anymore.

“On the couch, it’s high quality so it should be better than the shabby one you have. Any BFB would be able to tell the quality difference as soon as they sat down.” You were a bit perplexed by his out of place acronyms, but you had no clue what he was talking about.

“…BFB?”

“Bumbling Fucking Buffoons, it should be obvious.” All you could do was smile slightly and nodding your head to appease him. Romeo got up to set up the couch comfortably, you still had a broken arm so you needed a cozy space to be in to put your mind at ease.

“Thank you Romeo, I feel much better now. You helped me alot, and I appreciate it.” He was turned away from you, so you couldn’t see the look on his face, but a slight blush came across his face. He shouldn’t be feeling embarrassed but he did, he didn’t understand his own feelings.

“It’s Fico, you BB. I’m making sure you wake up early to get started in an organized fashion, so enjoy comfort while it lasts.” You were surprised that Romeo did all of this for you, but it was sweet in his standards. He made you feel better by giving you some self care, and offered you to stay here so you wouldn’t walk back. He did want you to work all day tomorrow, but you could make it through, he didn’t assign hard tasks to you so you weren’t worried. You hoped that you and him could have a better relationship someday, it was going to take a while, he had multiple walls in front of him that were made out of brick. But it felt like you climbed over that first hurdle.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

[ramblingautisticman]

Here is part 1 of my new series 'And They Were Gamers!', a series in which Logan and Wade play video games and be cute and gay- enjoy!

I'll be posting it here and on A03! I've got about three-ish chapter ideas/things I'm writing, any suggestions or idea please comment!!

(Based on this post!)

(Tagging @ineffable-monster-romancer because you gave me the idea for the tiny house and flowers!!)

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

It had started simply. Wade scrolling through YouTube at 3am due to insomnia, and wasn’t that how most things started?

He was used to staying up late, his body refusing to give in to the tiredness running through him. Logan had tried to get Wade to sleep easier- tried to find a way to get him relaxed enough to pass out- but nothing had seemed to work, so he did continued to do what he always had, didteacting himself with his phone until he either fell asleep or it was morning.

Eventually, he moved from tiktok to Youtube, and after awhile he found a video that seemed interesting. Something about a game called Minecraft. He had heard of it- the kids at the mansion had talked about it briefly when he was there a few months ago- but he had never actually seen it. So he pressed play and lay in bed watching it, finding himself quickly enamored in the video.

Before he knew it, he had spent the next 5 hours watching videos and looking up the different versions, and quickly it had become something he needed to play.

It seemed like a fun little time waster for when he couldn't sleep, plus, it seemed very relaxing compared to the other games he enjoyed.

So when Logan finally stirred, Wade had quickly started rambling about it, telling him anything and everything he could about the game- coming up with 100 and 1 reason as to why he should buy it- and even if Logan had no clue what was happening, when he left to go shopping and left Wade to watch even more videos about this game, he threw in the copy of Minecraft Wade had wanted (and yes, he had to message Laura to ask what one Wade needed for the switch thingy he played on, and spent a good hour being annoyed at how many different versions of it there seemed too be).

When he came home, Wade had helped bring the groceries to the kitchen, spending the whole time talking about a video he had watched about someone making a castle in the game- and by the end of his ramble- the only thing left in the bag had been the game.

Wade had nearly exploded with excitement when he saw it, quickly wrapping his arms around Logan in a bone crushing hug and thanking him about 50 times, before grabbing Minecraft and rushing over to his Switch.

And that was Wade for the next 3 days solid. It was all he did, and thank god they had no missions, cause honestly? Wade would've probably just taken the thing with him.

Luckily, Logan found his excitement over it cute so he was allowed to get away with not doing much else. And it seemed to be helping Wade when he couldn't sleep which was a bonus.

After about a week, Wade had greeted him at the door after walking Mary Puppins, tears in his eyes as he held the screen up for Logan to see.

"My dog died!! I had him since the first night! And now he's dead and I didn't even get to finish the dog house! Stupid fucking skeleton shot him!! I'm such a bad dog owner! Don't let Mary near me!!" He cried, tears now rushing down his cheeks, a frown on his face.

And Logan really didn't know what any of that meant, but he didn't like Wade being this upset. And he didn't like hearing him think he was a bad dog owner. "Hey, it-s okay- you are a real good papa to Mary." He said softly, gently holding the dog closer to Wade, watching as she licked his face.

It seemed to help alittle, Wade gently holding her with one arm, kissing her forehead before looking back to the screen of his Switch. "I wanted to make him a house...I was so close to getting a nametag for him.." He muttered, looking back up at Logan with those big sad eyes that made his heart ache.

"I'm sorry baby, why don't we cuddle up on the couch? You can show me the monster farm thingy you were making, yeah? Maybe you can get another dog?" He suggested, gently guiding Wade to the couch and gently sitting down, listening as Wade slowly explained that the monster farm was called a 'Mob Spawner', and that he didn't know if he could find another dog because of where he lived.

Logan thought that maybe it would pass in a few days, but Wade was still heart broken about his Minecraft dog, and Logan needed to fix it. So, he devised a plan. Well- him and Laura.

It seemed that Wade had messaged her about it, because she knew exactly what Logan was on about when he had sent her a text for help. Initially, he just thought that Wade could find another dog, and even though that was technically true- Wade didn't seem very happy at the idea of going and getting another one. Something about not wanting to go exploring and loosing all his XP if he died.

So Laura suggested something else. She had suggested that Logan learn to play it so that he could go and find Wade a dog himself. Which made him very very confused. He wasn't good with technology- had only just figured out smartphones- but he wanted too. Wade deserved to have his dog back, and here he was, sneakily using Wade's switch to try and learn the game.

It took a few days to get the controls down, but Logan quickly got used to them- and honestly? He began to understand why Wade loved it so much. The relaxing music, the cute animals, the addition he was gaining to mining.

Now, playing it himself, Logan understood why Wade had gotten so upset when his dog died. It was easy to get sucked into the game- to shut your brain off while collecting wood or getting attached to a chicken you managed to hatch from a random egg- and it made him want to get Wade his dog even more. That, and play it with Wade himself.

It took another few days to get a dog. He had to wait for Wade to go on a mission, but as soon as he left the apartment, Logan booted up Wade's world and got to work. He still wasn't good- he had to Google a few things- but eventually he found and tamed a dog.

Logan spent about an hour getting it back to Wade's house, and then proceed to spend another hour figuring out how to fish for a name tag. As soon as he started fishing, he realized that maybe he was enjoying Minecraft more than he had expected. It surprised him to enjoy a video game- he had only ever really played a few in the 80s with the kids at the mansion- but here he was, 4 hours later still playing.

He hd originally just wanted to get a dog for Wade, name it Mary Puppins and be done, but he couldn't help but get more and more into it as he contuined to play.

At first he realized Wade didn't have an anvil, so he went mining for iron. Then he needed some more levels for the name tag to make sure he didn't used Wade's, so he went and killed some mobs. Then he decided to make the dog alittle house, even if it was just a square of wood, then he found some flowers and decided he wanted to decorate with them.

Before he knew it, Wade was opening the door and loudly announcing he was home. Logan tried to save and exit the game quickly- but as usual- Wade was faster than he was, quickly looking at Logan with a confused expression.

"What is this??? Your using technology beyond an old android? Am I dreaming?" Wade said dramatically, taking his mask off and plonking down next to Logan on the couch. "Wait...why are you on Minecraft?.."

Logan looked up from the Switch and over to the man sat next to him, blushing slightly, as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Oh well- you seemed so sad about your dog- ya know? And I wanted to cheer you up, so I messaged Laura and she said about me finding you a dog so you didn't die with your XP, so I tried to join on a different profile thing but I couldn't, so I logged in on your one- I promise I didn't lose any of your XP or use any of it- and look! I found you a dog- and I called her Mary Puppins, and I even made her a house! Also, I found some red and yellow flowers, so I thought that would look nice....." He rambled, suddenly worried he had upset Wade. Should he of asked before he played? Did he mess the world up?

He held the screen infront of Wade- the same way Wade had done to him a week and a few days ago- and glanced at it, pointing at the little dog. "It's a grey dog, so I thought she kinda looked like Mary, ya know?.." Logan added, looking back at Wade, who seemed to be crying? Shit.

"Sorry- did I ruin it? I just wanted to help- I can get rid of the dog hou-" like usual, Wade interrupted him.

"Oh my god! Peanut! That is the most amazingly romantic thing that someone has ever done for me! You learned how to play it- and then got me a new dog?? And you got yellow and red flowers to decorate? Our colours!? You are the most amazing boyfriend ever!! I'm going to keep her so safe in her adorable little house and-and I'm buying you a Switch and we are going to play together and make a house together and we can put our beds together!" Wade rambled, somehow with on breath, and Logan couldn't help but smile widely at his excitement.

He kissed Wade's cheek softly before handing over the console. "Yeah, that sounds good...I've already been looking at one actually- Minecraft is really fun. And I'm glad your happy." Logan said softly, laughing alittle at how stupid it was he was nervous about this. It was a video game, why did he need to be anxious?

"Oh, I am buying you whichever Switch you want, I'm buying you Minecraft, and we are going to spend the weekend making the best house ever." And honestly? Logan wasn't going to argue.

[sunnyskiesscareme]

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: Jack and Y/n meet in French class, and Y/n quickly finds out how fond she is of her annoying classmate

Warnings: a bit of angst, mostly fluff

Notes: this is my first fic! Please be nice lol. This was poorly and quickly proofread

“You are asking to leave, again? You got back to class 2 minutes ago!” Her teacher scolded.

Usually, Y/n’d roll her eyes at one of Jack’s many interruptions. She didn’t want to be in French class any longer than the rest of their classmates, and Mrs. David had started to keep the class in during break for one minute each time she was interrupted. At least this time she’d have a few extra seconds to scribble down the rest of her notes.

“But Mrs. D!” Jack started, a sudden urgency in his eyes, “Water is a basic human need! I’ll be back in 3 minutes, tops.”

“And somehow, Mr. Hughes, I don’t believe you.”

“Why? You can trust me, Mrs. D.” He wrapped his arm around his friend Trevor, who sat beside him, clearly amused. “You can have Trevor escort me!”

The teacher hummed, tapping her index pointer against her lip, as if she were considering it. “Y’know, that isn’t such a bad idea!”

Both Jack and Trevor’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But I won’t send Trevor.” Jacks smile fell just as fast as it rose. “I think… Y/n would be good for that job.”

Y/n’s eyes snapped up and away from her paper at her name, glancing behind her at the boy who stared right back. She sent her teacher a pleading look, her eyes wide and head slightly shaking.

“Uh, are you sure? She seems to like this class. She should stay.” Jack said, and Y/n shot him an annoyed glare.

“Just the reason to rush you right back! Go on.” Mrs. David ordered, and Y/n stood from her seat with a sigh. She stood at the door, watching as Jack smacked Trevor across the back of his head for something he’d whispered in his ear. Y/n didnt know they knew how to whisper.

She let Jack lead her, not believing that he’d actually left to get water from the fountain, but not a snitch. She was almost surprised when he did end up walking to the fountain, and she leaned against the wall and checked the time. She furrowed her eyes when he immediately started to walk back to class.

“Where are you going?”

He stared at her. “Narnia.”

She hummed, scrunching her nose at him in annoyance. “You said three minutes. We still have two.”

Jack looked at the clock she pointed at, and then back to her. “You don’t wanna get back to class and finish the love note your writing to Mrs. D?” He mocked.

“What?” She scoffed. “You really think I want to spend my lunch hour in French class because two idiots think they’re funny? I want to be there less than you do, I bet. At least you have your friend.”

“Please! You are Mrs. D’s friend. You’re probably the only one in that class who actually does the work.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry that the teacher likes me more than you.” She crossed her arms. “Plus, won’t you get kicked off of your hockey team if you don’t do the work?”

He paused, squinting his eyes at her. “How do you know I play hockey?”

Y/n stared at him, checking his pupils in case he were concussed. Who didn’t know Jack Hughes played hockey? “Look at yourself.” She said, and almost apologized for it sounding so mean.

Jack actually did look at himself, looking down at his clothes and his hands. He immediately whipped his head back up, as if he hadn’t meant to actually look in the first place. “What?”

“I mean,” she waved her hand up and down at him, “look, listen.”

“Are you trying to be mean right now?”

“No!” She insisted, genuinely. “Really! Put your hat on your head. Talk like a normal person!”

“You are being mean!” He stressed. “What’s wrong with my hat?”

She sighed. “Nothings wrong with your hat. I’m sorry. Just… actually wear it. All you hockey boys just, just put it on your hair. Put it on your head.” She reached out and tapped the top of his hat so it hugged his head comfortably, wiping away a stray lock of brown hair that poked out of it. “Now it won’t fall off every time you move, and you don’t look like a douchebag.”

Y/n finally began to walk back to class as Jack looked at his reflection in the window of an empty classroom. He caught up to her, quickly. “What’s wrong with how I talk?”

“Listen, stop calling girls ‘smoke-shows’ and ‘puck bunnies’ and I promise you’ll get more of them.”

“Hey! I get plenty.”

“Okay.” She put her hands up. “None of my business anyways. Be a douchebag whenever you want, just not in this class. I don’t really want walking you to the water fountain to become a daily thing.” She sighed.

—

Jack was quieter for the rest of class, even hissing a ‘shut up!’ to Trevor sometime during it. All he could think about was the girl who put his hat on his head properly and pushed the hair out of his face. He hoped she didn’t see the blush that burned on his cheeks. He hoped she didn’t really hate him, either.

Jack wouldn’t have been able to count every time his older brother, Quinn, made fun of the way he wore his baseball cap even if he tried. Still, he never listened until now.

Jack had bragged to Quinn that despite being younger, he was the stud of the family. He’d relish in the attention he got and in the pretty giggles he’d receive if he smiled at a girl in the hall. He told a girl once that he preferred it when she wore her hair down, and to this day, he hadn’t seen her put it back up.

Y/n was different. Some days he wished she sat the other way, so he could see her much-too-pretty face during class instead of just the back of her head. Still, he assumed it was for the best, for if he could see her, his ego would probably be blown by the many eye rolls and head shakes she preformed because of him.

He had never called Y/n a ‘smoke-show’, even though he probably would have if she didn’t seem so unimpressed with his very existence. Why would she mention that? He had never called her a puck-bunny. In fact, he had never once seen her at a hockey game. Why?

Jack tried to fool himself into thinking she had just been jealous that he never called her any of those names, but he was kidding himself. He took out his phone and texted a girl who had asked for his number a while ago. Maybe she’d pet his ego. That’s what girls usually did.

It was proven true. Pretty compliments filled his screen and to each one he sent a heart emoji back. He went to bed feeling worse than he did before.

—

Her knee was starting to hurt from holding it up so it wouldn’t touch his. The table was too small for two people to sit at, yet here they were, half of the tables empty as Mrs. David put each student into a pair. Y/n had gotten a warning that she’d be with Jack beforehand, and a peppermint candy as a thank you, for Jack had been far less disruptive since their walk. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t listen to the instructions her teacher was spouting when Jack was beside her, looking at her. Why was he looking at her?

He fiddled with his chain necklace as he did so, completely oblivious to the fact that she could see him out of the corner of her eye. How could she act so normal around him? How could she look so pretty? How could she be so smart and do so well in a class she hated?

God, she hated French class.

She fiddled with the corner of her paper, pinching and curling the corner and immediately scolding herself afterwards for ruining what was once so pristine. She tapped her fingers on the table, distracting thuds coming from underneath them. Quickly, she ripped that corner off, and put her pencil to work.

She didn’t need to pass him the note, for she knew he was peeking over her shoulder anyways.

Sorry for being mean. I like your hat better this way but coulda been nicer

Jack grinned.

-

Jack didn’t need to invite her to his house. He knew that. All that was required from the pair was a performance of them talking to each other in French, pretending to meet each other for the first time. He invited her over anyway, and she accepted.

If he asked, she’d tell him that she’d only accepted because he said she could stay over for dinner, or so she could see his hot older brother. She’d never tell him she accepted because she wanted to spend time with him. See where the jack Hughes slept, where he got dressed, where he ate breakfast.

That would be embarrassing.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Death of Me

It was official. You were going to murder your husband. How many times had you told him to be careful. To not put himself in harms way anymore than absolutely necessary. He’d always tell you not to worry while giving you that damn smile that had you believing every word he said. And now you were rushing to the hospital for the second time in the month because of a phone call letting you know that Jethro had been hurt.

Tim met you in the hospital lobby, bypassing the check in and you both entered the elevators.

“How bad is it Tim?”

“Well he’s recovered from worse but you’ll definitely need to keep him from overdoing it for a few days.”

You gave him a look before speaking. “Yeah. And I’ll teach him to speak Mandarin while I’m at it.”

Tim led you out of the elevators and down the hall to his room but stopped you before you headed in.

“Just a heads up. Since he came out of surgery, he’s been a little out of it. I think the Morphine is really kicking his ass.”

“Hm. Well better that than me. Thanks Tim.”

You gave him a grateful hug and walked into the dim hospital room. As soon as your eyes fell on him, all anger dissipated. He was asleep, shirtless and left shoulder bandaged up. His face was relaxed and breaths steady, letting you know he was genuinely getting some good rest.

Not wanting to wake him up, you quietly brought a chair over and settled in it before gently taking his hand in yours. Of course even a morphine induced nap couldn’t keep him from his hypersensitive senses as he stirred, eyes fluttered open. He looked around the room before his sapphire blue eyes fell on you and stared a second before chucking to himself.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, amused.

“My wife is gonna kill me.”

He might not have recognized you in his state of delirium but at least he knew he had a wife. You decided to play along, not seeing the hurt.

“Oh yeah? Because you’re in the hospital for the 2nd time this month due to your over brazen behavior?” you tried hinting, wondering if it would bring back some lucidity.

“Nope. Because you’re holding my hand. And she haaates when other women touch me.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle. “Well she probably just loves you too much to share you with anyone else.”

He nodded and let go of your hand, placing it on his chest while taking a deep breath.

“Yeah. She loves me. Even when I don’t deserve it..She’s great..I wish she was here..”

Your heart broke at his melancholy words, not wanting him to think you wouldn’t show up to visit and couldn’t help but reach out to touch his arm.

“Jethro. I’m your wife.”

“Right. And I’m the king of Shri Lanka,” he joked.

There wasn’t much you could do if he wasn’t coherent enough so you settled for just sitting there next to him. After a couple of minutes he fell back asleep and you took the opportunity to take his hand in yours again.

————

“Y/N?” someone spoke, waking you out of your nap. You picked your head up from the side of Jethro’s bed and saw him looking at you in slight confusion.

“Hey Gunny,” you greeted lovingly, sitting up and grimacing at the stiffness.

“Have you been here the whole time? What time is it?”

“It’s around 6pm. You’ve been asleep since about this afternoon. Surgery went really well, I’m sure you’ll be up and chasing more bad guys again in the next couple weeks.”

You got up to pour him a cup of water as he went to try and lift his bad arm, wincing immediately, making you roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“I don’t care if I have to lock you in your basement for the next week Jethro but you’re going to let your shoulder heal properly,” you threatened, handing him the water.

“A week isn’t necessary-

You shut him down with a look that rivaled his own and he sighed in defeat.

“Oh by the way, do you remember talking with me earlier?” you asked curiously.

“No. What did I say?”

You laughed at the apprehension in his voice and took his empty cup to set it on the table.

“Well you had no idea who I was. And chastised me for touching you, saying your wife wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“Mm. I’d say that gets me a point in the honorable husband category,” he stated proudly.

You laughed and nodded. “You’re absolutely right. How about I make my famous Chicken Parm for us tonight?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do,” he responded with a small smile.

“Damn right you don’t.”

You gave him a well waited kiss and thanked the universe for the moment. You don’t know what you would do without him and you hope to never find out.

[aireia]

Oh universe! — What happens when you fall in love with the vice president of the student council?

tw/cw: gn! reader, fluff + crack(?). gojo's an idiot. not proofread + rushed. author is stupidly sick, fic makes zero sense.

note: don't expect too much from this fic D: —masterlist

The universe has a love-hate relationship with Satoru. No, screw that, it’s against Satoru Gojo. It’s against his relationship between him and the person standing beside him in the student council room, because he can no longer count how many times he’s tried to confess to you, and gotten interrupted by another student pulling you or him away. 

Now, he knows both of you are busy as leaders in the student council, and he’s fairly popular too, but that doesn’t have any business to meddle with his love life! Especially because he’s also lost track of how much money he’s spent on these failed confessions – excluding the tubs of ice cream he buys after each one to comfort himself. (Suguru and Shoko have to take some away from him to prevent him from eating that much sugar.)

“How many is that?” Suguru asked his brunette friend as they both stared out the window at the scene of you being dragged away by students while Satoru sighed in defeat. “I dunno, sixth? Maybe seventh? We just need to make sure he doesn’t eat enough desserts to get himself sick. Y/n told me something about a meeting they would be having tomorrow about our graduation trip.” “Just bribe him with the fact that they’re going to be there. He’ll be sure to return back to whatever he’s on before all the confessions.”

-

“Really?!” Satoru’s eyes lit up right before he managed to grab the 2nd tub of strawberry ice cream. “...Are you really the president of the student council? How do you not know about this?” “I was only focusing on y/n when they said the news.” 

That caused both his friends’ faces to contort into disgust. Maybe they shouldn’t have told him and let him miss the meeting instead, but you’d probably be kind enough to find him before the meeting and drag him there.

-

“A trip to the mountains…” you mumbled to yourself as you scanned through the papers that were handed out during the meeting. You had been assigned to take care of accommodations. Satoru, on the other hand, was devastated . He had been assigned to take care of the food. No doubt all of you would be getting kikufuku for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for three days straight.

That would’ve been the case, if he didn’t drag you to multiple cafes to plan the trip. Granted, he did treat you to a lot of your favourite snacks and drinks, so going out with him wasn’t that bad. 

The both of you sat in silence most of the time, surprisingly. Sometimes the snowy haired male would sneak in some small talk, but the only time you spoke half the time would be for each other’s opinions. Satoru tried to get you to agree to the worst diets you’ve seen in your entire life. You rejected. 

You tried to propose a few spots to stay in. and Satoru agreed to most of them, though you scrapped your own ideas just moments after he agreed. 

-

You breathed out through your mouth, watching as puffs of smoke escaped your lips. You were standing on the balcony of your room. Staring at the city you call home from the mountains. 

“There you are.” Someone draped a blanket over your trembling body. It’s Satoru, you noted. You could recognise his voice even in a room full of people. “You made a good choice choosing this place. The view is pretty.” Satoru sang words of praise to you, joining you on the balcony. 

“Thank you,” you responded, not bothering to look at him. A long period of silence ensued between the both of you, and Satoru found it to be torture. You’re alone, right? That means he can confess. But how? He looks at your lips. They’re trembling from the cold. 

“Your lips look cold. Do you think I could warm them up for you?” his words spilled out before he processed it. You looked at him weirdly before laughing.

“Is that… How you confess to people?” you continued to laugh, and it reminded him of the first breeze of spring. Playful, calm, refreshing from the cold from winter. Once he realised what he had said, he choked on air and stuttered out, “It’s not! I swear it’s just–” Satoru tried to find the words to explain himself, his head now working overtime to search for the vocabulary that left his mind when these types of situations happened. 

You grinned and cupped his cheeks before pulling him down to gently kiss him, only pulling away once the both of you had relaxed. You couldn’t help but smile at the dust of pink on his face. You were sure there were some on your cheeks too.

“Yea, it is warmer now.”

Maybe the universe isn’t all that against him after all.

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

[ariseur]

hey again 👀 soooo you said i should send another ask if i had an idea and diva you said that to the wrong person. i have too many lmao

im stressing that u should write this at your own time! no rush :)

but yeah im actually writing a longform seph/reader fic where the reader is from a southern/appalachian coded town near gongaga. my idea id love to have your spin on is a scene where sephiroth (someone raised on protein powder and spinach probably) gets to try some real southern comfort food that the reader makes for him :). im talking biscuits, fried chicken, some kind of creamy noodle dish, just all the unhealthy savory goodness

he deserves it 🥺

ty for the last request again btw✨💕

“ spread kisses like honey. ”

sephiroth (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

omg this has been sitting in my drafts sooo long!! this was really cute and i loved writing it, it reminded me of lucy gray and coriolanus snow from hg hence why i put the title as a lyric from her ballad 💕 always look forward to your requests!! thank you againnn!!

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

you and seph being sickly sweet towards each other, sephiroth being utterly in love with you in his inner monologue, kind of not canon because there are moments where i mention how sephiroth talks to genesis and angeal despite knowing zack and interacting with zack ( which like clashes with the entire point of cc .. but shhh i wanted domesticity ), intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!! 💕

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1088 words, 5905 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“you’ve never had this?” you gasped dramatically, your shocked face only to be met with sephiroth’s stoic one. he hesitantly nodded— was that.. a bad thing? did he somehow offend you in some way? the steam that had emitted from the plates below you set on the

“don’t you like pasta?” you asked, still utterly baffled.

he nodded slowly, “is something wrong?” he didn’t understand the confusion. there were a lot of foods he hasn’t tried, isn’t that normal for everyone? you blinked owlishly, lifting up the fork with the pasta noodles stabbed against the metal, the creamy sauce departing from the food in small, slow drips.

“what have you been eating if you’ve never had something as delicious as this?” you muttered, your lips reverting back into a tight ‘o’ as you blew on the fork— before finally slipping it into your mouth. “i’m shocked.” words muffled as you still chewed on your food, at least covering your mouth while you spoke.

sephiroth chuckled amusedly, “we’ve grown up in deeply contrasting places.” he crossed his arms against his chest, watching as you slurped up the pasta with stars in your eyes— occasionally opening your mouth to let the heat escape, soft steam pouring out from the small gap you’ve left while chewing. “still,” said you, “‘s so good.” he could barely make out your voice from how full your mouth was but he still shook his head as he leaned further back in his chair.

closing his eyes, he tilted his head down while he let the strands of snowy hair fell and covered bits of his face, blocking the bright sun even to the darkness beneath his eyelids. sephiroth didn’t pay much mind to the fact that your loud chewing of garlic bread and slurping of buttered food had come to a halt until he felt a strong aroma slip in from under his nostrils, it was only then did he open his eyes to see you holding the fork to his lips.

you held an expectant gaze and he quirked a brow before ultimately leaning forward while he let his eyes rake over the food. it looked a little messy, the sauce dripping over the place as you had ripped a piece of garlic bread off along with it and placed a chunk on the metal twinges of the utensil. he looked up again at you, waiting as you nodded your head and tried to keep your excitement contained. he blew on the fork a little bit before opening his mouth and letting it settle upon the steel. what could one bite do, he asked himself.

but once he had finally tried it, he could’ve dropped dead right then and there. the combination of the salty and savory flavors was perfect, and the way the bread had soaked some of it up too was incredible. sephiroth closed his eyes, letting his jaw work as he let his taste buds be blessed with what was known as your cooking. he had always seen you working your way through the kitchen, using various pots and pans and oils while you zipped around — and when sephiroth had offered help, you simply put a hand up and looked up at him for a split second, trying to simultaneously get the perfect roast as you smiled at him sweetly. that was enough for him.

despite watching you cook a lot ( and the only times he did get to help, he ended up being ordered by you to stand in the corner or measure occasional ingredients ), he had never actually savored something as good as this. being a first class prevented him from doing any good when it came to dinner time, either the timing being too late and you had already gone to bed or you were too tired and he decided not to bother you and he ate something small.

but this, he thought, this was perfection. when it came to you, sephiroth never let his appreciation go silent as he would always thank you or give you sayings of endearment and encouragement. he didn’t have words for this dish, he had never tried anything like it. so in awe, he merely said, “you’ve truly outdone yourself,” as he handed you back the fork. you didn’t mind the simple compliment. it never sounded generic to you when sephiroth would express his gratitude, even when they were mumbled in passing with dragged feet when he had come home from an exasperatingly tiring job, he always made sure to tell you how much he was grateful for you and what you do when he’s away.

he couldn’t wait until he was back at hq to boast to genesis and angeal about how delectable your cooking was. maybe zack, too — although sepiroth had a feeling that the energetic SOLDIER might just end up begging you for food even more. not that you minded, though. you were always so kind, sephiroth didn’t know how you were always able to do it.

“thanks.” you chimed, your voice ever so warm that it made his heart flutter. sephiroth wasn’t exactly what you’d call — expressive. he always held a smooth, cool tone of voice and occasionally threw a sassy remark towards you or genesis, or even that kid zack fair he introduced you to. but you understood his inflection of which he spoke in, you could tell his emotion even when he had entered a room ( and vice versa ). you were one of the most cherished things in sephiroth’s life and it could not go unnoticed.

with his tongue peeking out from between his bottom lip to gather some of the residual flavor that was left behind, his eyes roamed across the table further to more so further treasure your sacrifices ( of both time and food ).

“what’s that over there?” he lifted a finger, almost perfectly manicured despite using his hands excessively in battle, to point over at a small white dish filled with elbow macaroni and a homemade cheese sauce. you turned your head and grinned, reaching over the wooden dining table to grab it and lower the bowl on its side to reveal the contents. “mac ‘n’ cheese,” you replied, “want some?” your eyes seemed to glimmer with more amusement. sephiroth had now developed a new interest in your food and he couldn’t wait to indulge in it.

with the smile and those eyes of yours, how could he say no to one more bite?

𐙚 taglist ; @snoopicle

𐙚 requests are closed — june tenth, 2024

[beenbaanbuun]

Hi hi! I hope life is treating you well and you’re drinking lots of water and resting well!

I would love to hear your thoughts on dragon!San the brainrot for him has been real lately 😭💖

so this actually changed the chemical infrastructure of my brain and i couldn’t decide how to write it so i hope this is okay 😭😭

——————————————————————————

so ask anyone who i speak to on a regular basis and this is all i’ve been able to talk about for days because i have so many ideas for it

arguably too many for me to even begin to think about structuring them in a way that makes sense…

but hey, we can try right?

so initially my first thought was ‘omg, i’m going to make this little guy so sad…’ and i will! but i promise it will make sense

so san is a people person—or dragon, i guess—right? sure, he’s a little shy but at the end of the day, you can tell he loves being around people

all throughout his childhood he wanted nothing more than to work with kids, maybe be a teacher or something! he’s good at helping people, right?

it just sucks for the poor guy that as he got older, he started to get bigger, his nails started to grow into something akin to talons, and his canine teeth became sharp and menacing

there’s a reason you never really see any dragon-hybrid teachers…

the day san got kicked off of his teacher-training course was probably the saddest day of his life, but at least he had you at home! the most precious jewel in all of his hoard…

honestly, san would love nothing more than to keep you bundled up in his den, wrapped in all six of his limbs—are wings limbs?—to keep you protected from the outside world

realistically, though, he’s all too aware of a humans needs to keep you indoors

you’re like a houseplant with the way you need sun to survive

he also knows that you need to work, since it’s borderline impossible for him to get a job

he’s too scary to work with people, too drawn to shiny things to work with money and too underqualified to work a 9-5

he always feels guilty that you’re the main breadwinner for the household, but he doesn’t mind being a house-husband all that much

he’s more than content taking care of his hoard, after all, and since you are his most prized possession…

speaking of his hoard, it’s kind of littered about the apartment, although most of it is in your bedroom

necklaces and jewels hang from the living room’s light, making it look closer to a chandelier than a regular lampshade

gold and silver appliances are his favourite making the kitchen look somewhat gaudy in comparison to what it originally looked like

as for your bedroom, it looks rather similar to howl’s…

in fact san was almost giddy when you first showed him howl’s moving castle, pointing at the screen with a wicked grin on his face

“see! its not just me who likes to decorate like this!”

you don’t have the heart to tell him that howls moving castle is just make believe and no one decorates like him…

but you suppose it’s not so bad; san dusts it from time to time and the things that dangle from the ceiling are perfect for you to zone out and stare at whenever san is rushing around looking for something to clean you up with after fucking you dumb :)

because let’s be real, dragon!san definitely has a huge cock to match the rest of his body

and despite his sweet demeanour outside of the bedroom, he’s an absolute demon inside of it

he’s possessive, more than anything, so if you ever come home smelling of anything other than him, then you best believe you’re being whisked away to the bedroom the second you step food through the front door

hands will be on you before you even know it, talons tearing at clothes and stripping you naked before you even get chance to tell him that this shirt is far too expensive to tear

you don’t even get much chance to protest after he’s torn it from you either because his lips will be on yours and his forked tongue will already be lapping at the inside of your mouth like his life depends on it

everything happens so quick because he’s just so desperate to make sure you know that you’re his again

he needs each one of your senses to be filled by him, he needs your mind to only think of him, he needs your pussy to be dripping with him

he knows he doesn’t own you but he needs to feel like he does

when he’s like this, it’s always quick. he needs to fuck you hard and fast before that strange smell that doesn’t belong to him sinks into your skin and stays there forever!

it’s purely instinct driven, really…

and maybe later he’ll take you for round two, only this time he wants to actually savour you

now you smell like him again, he can relax as he forces his cock inside of you

he can take his time kissing you and making you feel like the most beautiful person alive

he can let his hands trace every inch of your body, appreciating every dip and curve you have

and once it’s over, he can sit there with his cock still plugging you up and appreciate your blissed out face as you recover from what can only be described as a heavenly experience

[nomoreusername]

The Past

Pairing:Gally x female reader

Summary:When you want to find the truth, you inject yourself with a stinger.

It was a bad idea. Maybe. Probably.

Yeah. It was a really dumb idea.

Nevertheless, I barely hesitated to do said idea.

I don't trust many people. I don't think any of this makes sense. I don't think Teresa and I have any correlation to the Maze.

I had to know for sure though.

That's why I stabbed myself with the Griever stinger before anybody could actually register it. I grabbed the stinger and jammed it into my leg, immediately sending me to the ground. The world around me blurred as my eyes shut.

I seemed to be floating outside of my body, watching years and years ago. I mean I’m assuming so, judging by the way that I seemed to be watching a smaller me interacting with somebody familiar.

“I don't want them to take me,”I whispered, clinging to someone who was so close to my memory yet I couldn't put my finger on it.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon,”the boy promised.

I know that face and voice. I swear I do, but everything's a mess. Everything is blurry.

“Alby, I don't trust them,”I pleaded.

“But-”

“I know you don't, but you have to go with them. Just for now,”He pushed.

“Y/N, it's-”

“Y/N, look at me,”He pushed, his voice firm and urgent. I stood straight up as I did as he said, wiping my eyes a little. “Listen to them for now. It's the only way we’re safe. Okay?”

“Okay,”I nodded.

“We just-”

“Don't touch her,”Alby interrupted, pulling me behind him.

“It's just-”

“She doesn't like being touched,”Alby said firmly.

“So do not touch her. Ever,”He warned.

“Fine. Y/N, come on.”

The words were slurred again despite people’s lips moving. I looked closely, almost squinting as I attempted to read them.

I didn't get that done before that feeling came back. The feeling of the world being one dimension. The feeling of everything being a rush.

Until it wasn't.

Until I was watching younger but slightly older me, standing in a room with what seemed to be Teresa.

“I don't know anyone. Not really. Only Thomas and Ava,”She admitted, her voice quiet.

“You can know me? If you’d like?”I offered.

“You wouldn't mind?”

“Why would I mind?”

“Because . . . you know?”

Know what?

“I do, but I’ll still be your friend?”I smiled.

“Really?”

“Yeah. What's your name?”

“I’m Teresa,”She introduced, slowly holding out her hand to give me the option to shake her hand. Not demanding. Truly offering.

“I’m Y/N,”I introduced, accepting it.

The moment was sweet and genuine. It also explained why I had felt so drawn to Teresa, so determined to trust her.

Because some part of me knows her.

That was ruined by that blurry feeling though, as I was forced into some other time, some other memory that was barely a blur.

“We can trust her, Gally. She's my friend.”

First Alby, then Teresa, now Gally? What the hell? Do I just know everyone in the Glade?

“Well, I don't trust her. Not one bit,”He argued.

“Well, I trust her. Isn't that enough?”

“It usually is, but not for something like this.”

“For something like WC-”

“For something like what? Just stop dancing around it, and spit it out already.”

“Y/N,”a firm yet almost soft, enthusiastic voice greeted. I snapped my head at the same time as younger me to see younger Alby.

“Alby,”I greeted back, running up and swiftly throwing my arms around him. He hugged me back, relief written all over his face.

“Have you been okay lately?”

“As good as it gets in here,”I shrugged, pulling away.

“And you’ve been behaving in front of them, right?”

“Ehh. I’m working on that part.”

I turned around at the sound of footsteps to see that Gally was leaving, hands in his pockets as he thought about whatever that conversation was.

What was it though? I don't quite get it. Everything is so vague, and it's like something is almost clicking but not quite ready.

I didn't get to find out though, before I was in front of a new scene. One with a slightly older but still younger Teresa.

“It's just odd sometimes, you know? Being in this one space with one person almost all day, every day. It's isolating,”She ranted.

“It’d be weird if it didn't seem like that sometimes,”I shrugged.

“It's supposed to be the right thing though, and I want to do the right thing. I have to do the right thing.”

“You don't have to do anything. You want to do the right thing. It’s different,”I argued.

“Not with them, it's not,”She mumbled.

“There's always a choice. Granted, it might have consequences, but there are choices nevertheless.”

“I don't even know what the consequences would be. That means I have to keep doing this, for everyone.”

“For the world you mean?”

“Yeah. For the world,”She nodded.

What is Teresa doing for the world though? What am I missing?

As the world blurred, it was clear I wouldn't find out here.

“Just trust her, okay? We can trust her,”I almost pleaded, back to standing in front of Gally.

“No. I can't trust her. I won't.”

“Gall, just for a little? Just give her a chance? She deserves that,”I said firmer.

“I can't just give her a chance. If it was different, fine, but it isn't. Her side is different.”

Side? What side? What am I missing?! What exactly am I missing?!

“She's conflicted, but she isn't bad. I have trust in her. I always have.”

“And it's great. It's great that you can see the good, but I don't. I just can't.”

Why is she bad? How could she be? She's one of the only people here I’ve actually liked. She's been nothing but kind, and having another girl there has been a lifesaver.

I didn't get to think about that either as the world did the obnoxious blur thing that made me want to rip my hair off yet again.

“Would you have done it any differently? If you knew it would end like this?”

Gally’s voice was much softer this time and far more kind. It was sympathetic even. Even though the words could have been described as gotcha, it was clear they weren't meant to be like that.

“No. Not really,”I answered.

The memories were strange. They were in order, but I can't tell what it means. There's surely supposed to be another message, but said message is unclear.

“You’ll miss me though, right?”He whispered.

My expression dropped as I looked at him. Without a word, I grabbed his hand, lacing our fingers together.

“I’ll miss you every day,”I whispered, placing my free hand on his cheek.

Every part of me burned as it felt like I was intruding on a moment I wasn't supposed to see. Even though they're my own memories, the closeness seemed private, like I had to cover my eyes.

What was even more surprising is that he kissed back. He put his free hand behind my head and accepted the kiss with a kind of gentleness I didn't know he had.

Without a word, I pressed my lips against his for just a moment. Even though I kind of expected it, I was still caught off guard. I mean me kissing someone isn't something I could predict, much less me kissing someone I currently know.

I didn't get to see that side for long before the blur came back even worse. Nobody was talking, but there were voices that were far too loud and blending together. Everything was turning dark as well, like my eyes were being forced shut.

“Think she’ll wake up soon?”

Wake up? Why do I need to wake up?

“I think so. She has to, right?”

As I had this hell of a headache, I found myself staring at light. Squinting, I covered my eyes as I very slowly sat up.

“Hey, are you okay?”

I uncovered my face to see Gally. Immediately, my face burned at the memory from who knows how long ago. And he doesn't even know.

Speaking of not knowing, what about Teresa? I have to talk to her, right? See if I can find out what happened?

“I’m fine. Teresa though, where is she?”

“Why?”He asked quickly.

“Why what?”

“If we can sacrifice them to-”

“Why does it matter where she is? All of this is because of her and Thomas.”

“Where is Teresa?”I repeated.

Not needing to hear anything else, I stood up, rushing past him and out the door. The second I stepped out, I saw chaos all around me, fire having burned the Glade to the ground and destruction everywhere. Absolutely nothing was saved. Nothing.

It can't be her fault though.

“Do you see? Our home is gone,”He justified, walking out and standing beside me.

“She doesn't have anything to do with it,”I restated.

“Y/N, her and Thomas are trouble. They have been from the start.”

“So Teresa is trouble, but I wasn't?”

“It's just different, okay?”

“Why? Because we kiss?”

“What?”He asked quickly, the confusion at my words becoming clear as day. I internally cringed at my hotheaded words as I remembered that he doesn't know.

And right now my instincts are telling me to look for them.

It doesn't matter though. I have to get Teresa and Thomas. Even if I seem like the worst person ever for this, even if I’m wrong, I have to follow my instincts.