#who knows I might even remember to update this along with my writing

[echoes-of-a-dream]

blind instinct 0.3 | matt murdock

blind instinct masterlist | matt murdock masterlist

synopsis: when you find matt unconscious and bleeding out, your instinct is to take him to the e.r.: good instinct. when they won’t release information on his condition to anyone outside of kin, you lie and say you’re his wife: bad instinct. when matt wakes up from surgery with amnesia, believing when the doctors say you’re married, you play along to keep him safe: you don’t even know how to categorize that one.

amnesia | childhood best friends to lovers | marriage of convenience/fake marriage | slow burn | mutual pining | wc 1.7k

<- previous chapter

You follow the nurse through the corridors, listening to her explanations. Or, trying to; it pretty much goes in on ear and out the other. You lost all capacity for thought between the words husband and awake, torn between fear of Matt accidentally ruining the ruse, gratitude he’s awake, and fear for the shape you'll find him in. Thankfully, Foggy and Karen are with you, meaning they get all the medical information you missed. 

“Just through here,” the nurse directs. “He’s still a little loopy coming out of surgery.”

“Oh!” You suddenly remember. “Did you give him a lower dosage than normal? He’s really sensitive to alcohol and doesn’t really have a tolerance, I assume that extends to drugs.”

Foggy elbows you—you’re already breaking the agreement of letting him do the job of medical proxy—but the nurse doesn’t appear to catch it. “Yes. Claire Temple, one of the other nurses here, warned us, so we’ve adjusted his treatment plan, although we did have to sedate him.” 

“He tried fighting?” Karen asks, concern thick in her voice.

Foggy huffs out a sardonic thing that some might consider a laugh. “You’re surprised?” 

“I’m- gonna go in,” you awkwardly excuse yourself.

The nurse—you didn’t catch her name—puts out a hand to stop you. “Just a little warning, ma’am. He’s… a lot better than he looks.”

Your stomach sinks. “What do you mean?”

“It was pretty touch-and-go there for a little while, but he’s recovering,” the nurse explains with a sympathetic smile.

“Right.” You inhale, smooth out invisible wrinkles in your shirt, and exhale, turning to walk into the room. Foggy catches your arm, walking with you and leaving Karen chatting with the nurse. 

“Dr. Bahl?” Foggy greets when you both walk in. 

The doctor turns towards you two. “Mrs. Murdock?”

“Yes,” you answer, this time confident in your response. In the bed, Matt’s brows furrow. You try your best to ignore it. “And this is Franklin Nelson, my husband’s attorney and medical proxy, in case anything happens.” Dr. Bahl gives you a discreet side eye and writes something down. You flush. “Our marriage is very recent, Matty hasn’t had the opportunity to update it to me yet.” 

“What all is going on with Matt?” Foggy interrupts before it can spiral further. You take the opportunity to walk toward the bed, letting out a small gasp as you take in the state of your best friend and current fake husband. He’s pale, probably from the bloodloss—there was probably more on you than in him by the time he made it to surgery.

You tune out the doctor’s explanation, instead focusing on the man before you. Possibly stupid, but then again, Foggy can explain it all later to you. “Hey, Matty,” you greet, voice quiet so as not to overstimulate him. He groans in response but nevertheless gropes at the air for you. You catch his hand, intertwining your fingers and covering it with your free hand. You lean forward and lower your head to rest on your three hands, elbows on the hospital bed to support you, and close your eyes. Under your breath, you begin whispering a prayer. You never really took to the teachings at the orphanage, but they left a large enough impact that in the moments you truly have no other peace, praying calms you down, slows your brain. That, and it relaxes Matt, who shifts slightly towards you to focus on your words.

“Mrs. Murdock?”

Your eyes open, turning to Dr. Bahl. “Ma’am?”

Before she can respond, Matt grunts out a “Mrs. Murd’ck? We’re m’rried?” His voice is low and raspy.

You squeeze his hand as if that can communicate a please don’t blow this. “Mm. What, you think I’d take your last name for fun?”

Matt chuckles and winces again. He’s silent for a moment, brow furrowed, before he slowly answers, “No, j’st… can’t remember.” His voice gets clearer with each sentence.

Dr. Bahl’s expression grows more serious. “Mr. Murdock, what is the last thing you remember?”

“I don’t- know.” Matt grows more agitated. “I don’t know. I don’t know!”

“Hey.” You move one hand to run soothingly through his hair. “Hey, I’m here, okay? You’re okay, you’re okay, we’ll figure this out. Okay?”

“What year do you think it is?” Dr. Bahl asks gently, once Matt has calmed down. 

“...2012,” Matt answers slowly. “But I have a feeling, since somehow in the time since then I’ve apparently gotten married and don’t remember it, that that answer’s wrong.”

“Matty…” You try to find a way to soften the blow, but quickly realize there isn’t one. “It’s not. You’ve—it’s been eight years since then.”

His grip tightens on your hand as he swallows hard. “No.”

“Matt.” You turn your head to glare at the doctor, who probably doesn’t deserve your ire, but you can’t help it. “Did you all not do anything to assess his faculties?”

Dr. Bahl doesn’t take the bait. Very calmly, very gently, she explains, “We did a routine concussion test—name, date of birth, had him repeat back a list of words, quizzed him on the alphabet and elementary school trivia. He appeared to be in adequate condition.”

“Save the fact he can’t remember eight years of his life,” you shoot back dryly.

Matt says your name, a quiet censure. “The doctor is trying her best.”

“You’re taking this very well,” Dr. Bahl observes.

Matt grimaces. “No point in yelling about it.”

You hiss out an apology, not having realized you raised your voice in your anger until now. To the doctor, you add another apology.

“It’s fine, I’ve heard worse,” she waves off. “We’re going to schedule an MRI and a PET scan for as soon as possible.”

You share a look with Foggy, who steps in for you. “His insurance won’t cover that.”

Dr. Bahl looks shocked. “He’s got amnesia; insurance doesn’t matter, we need to-”

“No,” Matt pipes up. “He’s right. We can’t afford it.” He tilts his head towards you, eyes flickering around sightlessly. “We can’t, can we?”

“No,” you lie through your teeth. Matt can afford it. Foggy can afford it. But risk revealing Matt’s senses? Absolutely not. Plus, the process and sounds of having it taken would have to be tantamount to torture for him with his senses.

Dr. Bahl pauses. “You’re really going to refuse the scans?”

“Yes,” Matt responds. “I can sign to that effect.”

“Or I can,” Foggy chastises. “Considering my brain is functioning properly.”

“Low blow,” Matt shoots back with a laugh, but stops with a groan of pain. “Remind me not to make any more jokes,” he tells you.

“Well, Mr. Murdock, if you are sure you want to refuse additional brain trauma treatment, then I have some other patients to attend to. Mrs. Murdock, Mr. Nelson, please do not hesitate to page me if anything happens or if you should have any questions or concerns.”

You nod. “Thank you, Dr. Bahl.”

“Yeah, thank you so much,” Foggy seconds as he shakes her hand.

You both turn back to Matt, Foggy walking over and pulling up a chair by his bedside. “How ya feeling, buddy?”

“Like I got stabbed repeatedly,” Matt responds with a grimace. “Which, apparently, I did.”

“What’s the diagnosis?” You ask.

“Outside of the recently discovered amnesia? Severe blunt force trauma and a severe concussion. Multiple blood transfusions, he died twice on the operating table. Multiple cracked ribs, hopefully no internal bleeding. Multiple contusions, a few fractures, a fair amount of cuts and bruising and two bullets, one in his thigh, one in his shoulder, barely missing his heart. Matt, you’re a lucky bastard.”

Matt huffs out a laugh. “I try.”

“Not good enough,” you butt in. “According to New York penal law, Title X, Article 470.20, you have to succeed at being a lucky bastard. Do or do not, there is no try.”

That gains a full laugh. “You know that’s money laundering in the first degree, right?”

“Of course.” No, you did not.

“Knock, knock.” You three glance over—well, Matt inclines his head over—towards the door, while Karen enters, apparently having finished her conversation with the nurse. “I brought visitors.” Jessica and Luke file in behind her, followed by Claire, who closes the door. “Danny and Colleen are stopping by in the morning.”

“Who are you?” Matt asks, confused.

You and Foggy share a look. “You wanna explain, or should I?” He asks. “Nevermind, I’ll do it. These are your friends, Matt. Yes, you eventually figured out how to make more than two.”

You stand to leave Foggy to explain while you explain the amnesia thing to the others, in the hallway, but Matt’s hand stops you, gripping you tightly. “Stay, please.”

Quickly, you nod, giving Foggy a look, and the two of you switch roles. You sit back down while Foggy heads out into the hall with the rest, one hand in Matt’s and the other beginning to run through his matted hair. “Okay. We’ve got… a lot of things to catch you up on. We’ll start out slow. First, the voice you heard at the beginning? That’s Karen, she’s a journalist. There’s also Jessica, a private investigator, and Claire, one of the nurses here. Luke is Claire’s boyfriend.”

“And how do I know them?”

“Oversimplified, Karen—you defended her in court when she was framed for murder. Claire is basically the de-facto nurse you get along with if you ever get hurt, Luke is a package deal. Jess helped you with a case.”

“Get hurt?” Matt repeats. “Doing what?”

“That’s another long story. Long story short, fighting.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Matt’s quiet for a long moment, before, “How are you holding up?”

You jolt. “Hmm?”

“I mean, we’re married, aren’t we? It’s understandable for you to be struggling.”

You scoff. “You’re the one in the hospital bed.”

“I know.” His voice slows as the repetitive movement through his hair lulls him to sleep. “Still worried.”

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Murdock.”

There’s a small smirk in his voice as he parrots back “Goodnight, Murdock.” 

And then Matthew Murdock falls asleep once more.

next chapter ->

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[imagine-darksiders]

On the Ropes - ch. 27

Reunions.

Montgomery Gator x Reader

Freddy Fazbear x Reader?

This one has been a long time coming. Half the problem with updating a fic is remembering what the hell you wrote in the last chapters lol. Anyway, please let me know what you think. When I don't write for a while, I get anxious that my skills have deteriorated. :')

You can read the whole fic here on AO3

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It’s a resounding, metallic 'SLAM!' that jumpstarts the heart of every staff member present in the locker room, wrenching them from their early-morning conversations. Someone even lets out an undignified yelp as each person turns their wide, startled eyes over to the origin of the explosive sound.

The eldest among them, Andy Flowers, with his arm held rigidly out in front of him, has his palm pressed flat to the door of his own locker, the same door that’s still quivering in the wake of being hurled shut so viciously.

Through narrowed eyes, the old mechanic glares at the cold, silvery surface, trying very hard not to pivot his vitriol to the left.

Because standing at the mechanic’s side, making a valiant attempt to sink into the floor, is that jittery kid from the day-care, Hughie, casting nervous glances between Andy’s thunderous profile and the previously slammed locker door.

“Um,” he gulps – audible enough in the deafening silence that even those at the back of the room are privy to it, “I just… thought you’d want to know… S-Sir.”

And without another word, he ducks his head down into the collar of his shirt and spins clumsily about on a heel, scurrying from the room with as much dignity as a scolded dog.

Precisely three seconds pass after he vanishes, punctuated by the ‘ticks’ of a dusty analogue clock that hangs in its spot above the entrance.

Then, slowly, somebody lets loose a long, drawn-out whistle.

“Jesus, Andy,” Devon is the first – and bravest – to pipe up, continuing with his half-finished task of tugging a pair of overalls on over his clothes and grinning curiously at the back of Andy’s head, “The Hell’d that poor bastard say to you?”

Gradually, people begin making an effort to at least pretend to resume getting ready for the day, though nobody dares murmur a word, far too nosy to let themselves talk over whatever the mechanic’s response might be.

When it comes, it’s disappointingly lacklustre for those who’d been hoping for a little excitement to spice up their tedious morning.

Wearily, Andy just heaves an almighty sigh as his hand slides from the locker, thwacking noisily against his thigh.

“Nothin’ I ain’t already heard about a thousand times in the last couple’a weeks,” he grumbles, “Damn gator’s on the prowl.”

Should he apologise to Hughie….?

Yeah… Yeah, he probably ought to. Not the kid’s fault he was picked to be Montgomery’s messenger of the day.

“Ah,” Devon’s expression opens up, comprehension dawning in the form of a knowing smirk, “He’s after you again, is he?”

Muttering something uncouth, Andy turns and tugs the brim of his hat down, hiding from the looks his colleagues shoot him as he stalks from the locker room and tries to ignore the murmurs that follow him into the hall.

It isn’t just words that trail after him.

“Can’t be bothered to find me himself, so he sends some kid to do it for ‘im,” he complains to the tapping of sneakered shoes that trot lightly up to his side.

“I think it’s sweet.”

Andy blinks, cocking a brow and swivelling his head around to eye the little blonde traipsing along beside him.

Ah, Chelsea. Sweet, candid Chelsea. Dumb as a box of rocks who can’t tell a sprocket from a spur, but a damn hard worker all the same, and likeable enough that Andy finds he’s not put out by her company. At least now she knows which end of a hammer to hit the nail with. There was a time when she first started at the Plex that nobody was really sure she did.

As her words finally break through the haze of Andy’s early-morning ruminations, he gives a start and pulls his lips into a wrinkled grimace. “S’not sweet,” he sputters on the word like it has a foul taste, “It’s weird.”

And that’s putting it mildly.

The six-week mark since your little workplace ‘accident’ is fast approaching, and the poor mechanic hasn’t known a moment of peace since it began. 

It’s bad enough having the gator pester him all over the building for updates on your condition like there isn’t a patient wire in that big, blundering frame of his, but on top of that very persistent thorn in Andy’s side, he’s also been running around after the other animatronics, most of whom seem to have unanimously decided to make this the month they let their firewalls go kaput. That it’s the same month you just so happen to be out of commission is a bitch of a coincidence.

Screwing up his face to crinkle it even further, Andy lets out a huff, glowering at the dim, red lights lining the wall as he marches past and absently grunts to himself, “All the bots have been actin’ weird.”

Still trailing along at his side, Chelsea’s lips purse and she shoots him a peculiar frown. “Like, weird how?”

How indeed.

Steering around a sharp bend, Andy throws his arms up in a half shrug, half gesture of sheer exasperation. “I don’t know! It-! It’s like they’ve all been sulkin’!” he declares gruffly, failing to note a bemused Chelsea stepping slightly out of his circumference, “Roxanne spends more and more time in her green room in front’a that mirror. The day care attendants haven’t even mentioned Y/n, which is weird, and just yesterday, I had to tell Chica to get outta the kitchen trash. Twice!”

“Chica’s always looking for leftovers,” she shrugs, trying to remember the last time she heard the mechanic talk this much. He probably just needs a holiday.

“Yeah,” he stresses, “But usually I only catch her once a week. I tell her to knock it off, and she does… Least till she ‘forgets’ what I said.”

Heaving out his tension through a brusque sigh, Andy raises his head again and sniffs, “Least Freddy’s not on the fritz.”

“Golden boy,” Chelsea hums with a sage nod.

Almost as soon as his expression relaxes however, it springs right back into a tight, puckered scowl. “But that gator, jeezus…” he hisses, scrubbing a weathered palm harshly down his face, “He’s been drivin’ me to drink. It’s like he’s… he’s-“

“Pining,” she finishes for him.

And god, he wishes there was another word for it, really he does, but she’s hit the nail on the head.

That damn gator, an animatronic with the term ‘miscreant’ written directly into his coding, is pining after his favourite cleaning lady like a schoolboy with a crush.

Lifting his hands once more, Andy buries his face into the calloused skin on his palms for a moment, pressing them against his eyes in a vain effort to try and squeeze some of the weariness out of them. “M’getting too old for this shit,” he groans.

“For what? Your job?” Chelsea asks innocently, and it’s almost enough to startle a bark of laughter out of him.

Yeah. Sure, his job. Why not?

Before he can respond, she’s already carrying on. “You know, my grandpa retired a few months ago, and he says it’s the best thing he ever did.” Pausing, she flashes Andy a sunny grin. “Maybe you could retire!”

… Charming.

Well, he did say he’s getting old…

“Thanks, Chels,” the mechanic huffs, squeezing out a thin smile of his own, eyes narrowed, “I’ll uh… keep that in mind.”

“No sweat,” she chirps, slowing to a halt at the tunnel’s junction and tossing her thumb at an adjoining stairwell, “Well, this is my stop. I’m on stage duty. See you later Mister Flowers!”

Lazily, Andy raises a hand to wave her off as she bounds up the metal stairs with far too much pep in her step for such an ungodly hour.

Alone once more, the old mechanic shakes his head and turns another corner, making for his first duty of the day – Babysitting their newest techie, Chase.

Polite enough kid, Andy supposes, kind of nosy but, hell, he’s trained up worse.

At least the new guy doesn’t ask half as many questions as that impertinent, pushy Gator…

Five weeks… It’s been five and a half, arduous weeks since your accident, and to your credit, you seem to have actually listened to medical advice and opted to stay home, letting Andy run groceries up to your apartment every week and belligerently refusing to let him pay for any of it.

Stubborn kid.

Still, at least he can take some solace in the fact that you’ve been spending some much-needed time away from the Plex and all her hazards. And while he’s certainly glad of that, he can’t deny that the unexpected side-effects of your absence have been… wearing.

Seems somebody gave Montgomery the bright idea that if he wants information on you, his best port-of-call is good ol’ Andy Flowers, apparent font of all knowledge and mechanic-turned-messenger.

Every. Single. Day. It’s been a relentless slog of questions piled up on questions, all pertaining to you.

‘How is she?’

‘She’s okay, right?’

‘You seein’ her today?’

‘You think she’s comin’ back soon?’

Andy’s running low on hair to tear out.

Well, if that gator wants to find him again and cycle through his usual rota of queries with all the tact of a fawning teenager, he’s going to have to damn well track Andy down himself instead of pestering the other staff members to do it for him.

‘Besides,’ the mechanic muses, hitching up his belt and trying not to let the fond quirk of his lips overtake his scowl, ‘there’s a particularly good reason to avoid Montgomery Gator today.’

He’d hate to spoil the surprise.

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

There are a great many things that Freddy Fazbear enjoys about his role in the Megaplex.

Among the majority; hosting birthday parties, signing the remarkable pieces of artwork children bring him, performing on stage alongside his very dear friends… But one of the rarer duties, one he doesn’t often get called up for, is perhaps his favourite due in part to its infrequence.

It isn’t every day he’s allowed to be a greeter.

“Good morning, Sir!” Freddy chimes pleasantly, no less chipper to say it now than he was an hour ago, “I hope you have a wonderful time here at Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex!”

A frazzled man with a five-o-clock shadow pauses at the edge of the lobby's turnstiles, glancing up at Freddy as though he’s only just clocked the bear’s presence. Just ahead of him, charging ahead with their tickets clutched in possessive fists, are a gaggle of children who careen past Freddy without sparing him so much as a passing glance. racing each other for the escalator that will take them first to the atrium, and then on towards the arcade.

Freddy’s speakers buzz with a chuckle.

Their enthusiasm is nice to see. Besides, they’re older, a few years senior of the pre-teens and tots who are typically drawn to his teddy-bear appeal.

Their father and sole guardian, one Doctor Colin Timpson, staggers after them in a daze, far less equipped to face the school holidays than his children are. He, at least, manages to offer Freddy a polite tip of his head in acknowledgement, eyes heavy lidded behind his glasses.

And, well, what kind of a frontman would he be if the face of Fazbear Inc. couldn’t lend a helping paw every once in a while?

“Sir?” he calls, popping open a small compartment hidden underneath his forearm, “Here, I insist.”

As Doctor Timpson watches curiously, Freddy reaches in with two claws and carefully pulls out a small slip of paper, no thicker than a receipt.

“Please, enjoy a complimentary caffeinated beverage from any of our fine eating establishments,” he rattles off his well-practiced spiel, holding the coveted voucher out and noticing how the man’s eyes light up at the mere sight of it.

“Oh!” he blinks, gingerly taking the paper from Freddy’s paw and peering down at it like he’s been handed a bar of gold bullion. Then, tilting his head up, he offers a real, genuine smile and nods, “Much obliged, Freddy.”

Who of course replies, “Think nothing of it,” his optics squinted happily shut.

Waving after the man’s retreating back, he resumes his usual post, turning to see who else might walk through those turnstiles today.

When Mick announced that the usual S.T.A.F.F greeter bot had experienced an unfortune and unforeseen malfunction, Freddy almost leapt at the chance to offer his assistance.

There’s nothing that quite compares to the surprise and delight he’s met with when guests enter to find The Freddy Fazbear standing there to meet them.

“Hi, Freddy,” a well-dressed lady drawls as she floats past him.

“Welcome back, Ma’am,” he returns in kind, rocking idly on his struts and sweeping an arm out towards the lobby behind him, “Have a pleasant day.”

It’s nice to have this distraction, a constant flow of familiar and unfamiliar faces keeping his processor occupied and away from… other matters.

It has been a… challenging few weeks, convincing himself to stop fretting about you.

You’re an esteemed colleague, after all, and a very capable one at that.

But every now and again, in the downtime between shows or after the metal doors to the Plex rattle shut at the end of a long, noisy day and Freddy is left alone in his recharge station, he can’t quite refrain from pulling up your employee profile in the corner of his HUD and gazing fondly at it for… perhaps a little longer than would be deemed appropriate.

Freddy likes all of the staff. He likes all of the guests too. He’d be a pretty poor face-man for the company if he didn’t endeavour to get along with everybody, after all.

And yet, for the first time in recent memory, Freddy has found himself increasingly dedicating more and more of his CPU power to one particular individual.

He’ll admit, he first came to like you by proxy, through Monty’s gruff but undeniably favourable narrative surrounding you, way back when he joined Freddy, Chica and Roxy for Jazzercise all those weeks ago.

You were good to his bandmate from the get-go.

Freddy’s programming has always left him with a predisposition to ensure the well-being of any human he’s in contact with, and he likes to think he’d be much the same even if it wasn’t hardwired into his every node - that it isn’t just simulated but natural that he’s inclined to care.

He certainly cares about you, that’s for sure.

“Hey! It’s Freddy!”

The bear is tugged once more from his musings by a gaggle of children – all of whom bound over to him with varying squeals of excitement.

He, of course, is only too happy to return their eagerness, bending down on one knee to offer high-fives, a few exceptionally gentle hugs and cheerful greetings to each tiny guest.

They, like the others before them, are quick to move on once they’ve been ushered along by their accompanying adults, unable to resist the lure of those bright, neon lights and the promise of prizes waiting for them deeper inside the Plex.

Again, Freddy doesn’t mind in the least.

Straightening back up to his full height, the bear’s ears perk forwards and his optics slip shut, content to let his processor slip into thoughts of you once more.

He has to wonder – has been wondering more and more of late – how you’re faring on your own, with your leg.

It would be remiss of him to deny the concern that’s sunk its tendrils into his chassis and refuses to budge. Mr Flowers has repeatedly reminded the bear not to fuss so much but…

Is it such a bad thing?

You, after all, demonstrated an alarming lack of self-preservation, both in climbing that ladder without the proper safety equipment and again when you came into work the day after suffering a major workplace accident.

Thousands of little scripts run rapid-fire across Freddy’s processor.

‘Are you behaving responsibly?’

‘Are you in pain? Taking care of yourself?’

And then, more latterly… ‘Do you miss the Plex?’

Well ‘the Plex’ is certainly missing you…

“Good morning, Mister Fazbear.”

Almost automatically at this point, Freddy raises a big, careful paw up to his top hat and catches the brim between his thumb and forefinger, politely lifting it from his head.

“Good morning Miss L/n!” he says with a pleasant hum before swivelling back to the turnstiles.

Yes, he concludes, things just aren’t quite the same around here in your absence. It seems… dimmer, somehow, like the walls themselves don’t hold the same lustre without you in them. He’s only sorry it had taken him as long as it did to finally introduce himself to-…

… Every single thought flitting through the animatronic’s processor comes screeching to a glitched, static halt.

Then, fast enough to send the gears in his neck spinning violently in an effort to match the speed of his motors, the bear wrenches his head towards the lobby, optics flying open to their fullest extent when they land on the back of a familiar figure.

“Y/n!?” he blurts out far too loudly, forgetting to control the output of his speakers.

All at once, his chronometer falls off-kilter, the Plex around him blurs into a mess of colour and abstract shapes, and suddenly, all Freddy can see is you, turning to face him with that stretch to your lips that he’s missed so much - friendly and amused and crooked higher on one side.

"Freddy," you return, politely holding back a laugh.

Of their own accord, the pistons in his legs thrust him into an unsteady march just before the elation and sheer, palpable relief have a chance to short-circuit his systems.

He barely notices that he’s begun to grin, not even when a small warning light tries to alert him that his jaws are under increasing strain as his smile turns into a cheek-bursting beam.

“You’re back!?” he exclaims giddily through a laugh, stampeding towards you at such a rate that your expression begins to falter.

 “Freddy?” you call, then a little more urgently, “Freddy! Woah, hey! Fre-!”

The Glamrock is on top of you before you can get the last word out.

Colossal paws – gentle but effortlessly strong – slip around your waist, and without even slowing his stride, Freddy Fazbear sweeps you clean off your feet.

“Freddy!” you protest shrilly, bracing your hands on his forearms as he belts out a hearty laugh and spins you in a wide, graceful circle, the ears atop his head springing forwards with unabashed delight.

Anyone watching the display would be hard pressed to say which of the two is giddier; Fazbear’s own mascot, or the poor cleaning lady he’s twirling around like an over-enthused child with their doll.

Colours and shapes blear past you in a haze as the animatronic continues swinging you around to complete a second circle, all the while gushing out a veritable slew of words that barely register through your shock.

“It is so wonderful to see you!” he’s announcing to the whole, damn building, “We’ve missed you terribly! Are you well!?” Blessedly for your head, the spinning slows down by a degree and he adds, “You look well. Your leg must be just – Oh! Your leg!”

No sooner does your impromptu flight begin than it comes crashing to a halt, though the room continues to tilt a little as your brain catches up with itself. Only once your vision steadies do you catch your first, proper glimpse of Freddy’s face.

If ever there was a time when an animatronic looked like it might actually be sick, this is it.

Beyond mortified, the bear sets you gently onto safe, solid ground once more, his plastic brows twisted up at the centre of his forehead.

“I am so, so very sorry, my Dear,” he rushes out, his palms still pressed securely around your waist, “I don’t know what came over me! I should have considered -! Are you alright!?”

Dizzy, but no worse for wear, you give your head a quick shake to resettle it, blinking the bear into proper focus and offering him a patient smile.

“No harm done,” you tell him kindly, easing the frantic bot back from the edge of a system reboot, “It’s nice to know I’ve been missed.”

Freddy stares at you, eyebrows still furrowed even as he opens his mouth and a startled laugh bursts from his speakers. In disbelief, he pulls the sides of his jaws up, raising the shiny, plastic apples of his cheeks until his optics are almost squeezed shut. “More than you could possibly know,” he utters softly, and it’s so, damnably genuine that you have to duck your head to break eye contact, your own smile widening to mimic his, try as you might to keep it under control.

“High praise coming from The Freddy Fazbear,” you shoot back, squirming inside your own skin at the unexpected sincerity.

Falling silent, Freddy’s lenses spin quietly as he drinks you in from the top of your head to the hem of your shirt, only stopping once his optics have reached your leg.

The cast is gone, he registers first. And that’s a good sign, he’s sure, a sign of progress, of healing.

Ears waggling eagerly, Freddy opens his mouth, prepared to bombast you with a long tirade of queries when –

“Ahem!”

Suddenly, the rest of the world comes crashing back in on you, and the pair of you recall that you’re not the only two people in the Plex.

Freddy straightens up like a shot as you both spring away from each other like a couple of teenagers caught doing something untoward in the school hallway.

There’s a lady standing at the turnstiles, her lips drawn thinly and a young girl balanced on her hip.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she begins, flicking a glance between you and the animatronic, one of her slender brows cocked. “I was hoping to get a picture of Freddy with Madison?” Knocking her head sideways towards the girl, she adds, “She’s a big fan.”

As your eyes and Freddy’s optics glance at her, the poor kid immediately blanches and buries her face in her mother’s neck.

With a mere whir of his motors, Freddy glides seamlessly back into the very model of congeniality that he’s so famous for.

It’s endearing to witness the Glamrock in his element.

Bowing slightly to be closer to the woman’s height – and by extent her charge’s – he sweeps an enormous paw out in invitation, humming, “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

The woman eyes him carefully for a moment, and you almost think she’s going to reconsider before her shoulders drop and she gives a quick, satisfied nod, then busies herself with coaxing the child out of her arms.

While she’s preoccupied, Freddy tilts his head towards you and catches your eye, his azure optics glimmering prettily under the bright overheads.

“I shall catch up with you later,” he promises, one ear swivelling about to point at you, “Ah, presuming you plan to stay for a while, that is.”

Throwing your thumb up at him, you reply, “I’m not on shift until next week, but I was going stir-crazy at home so, I think I’m gonna stick around for a bit. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

The animatronic’s grin seems to stretch his plastic casing to its limit until you nearly start to worry that he’ll pull a gear loose if he keeps it up.

“Okay,” he confirms with a hearty wave of his arm, beaming from ear to rounded ear.

Returning the gesture, you begin to pivot away from him towards the escalators when he calls after you again, stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh, and Miss L/n, if I may…”

Shooting a curious glance over your shoulder, you catch him peering back at you with a tilt to his head and hooded optics, one eyebrow slanted a little higher than the other up his forehead. It’s a knowing look, almost smug, though you don’t immediately parse its meaning, not until Freddy bobs his chin towards the upper floor and rumbles, “He’s supposed to be down in Parts and Service having some routine maintenance done. I would check there first.”

That’s enough to give you pause, and you raise an incredulous brow at the bear. “Willingly?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d be tempted to say the look he sends you in return is borderline sly. But that’s impossible.

‘Sly’ and ‘Freddy’ are about as far apart as a shout is from a whisper.

Even so, the animatronic gives one optic a lazy wink and hums, “Voluntarily.”

You’re not an idiot, and neither, apparently, is Freddy.

You both know exactly who he’s talking about.

For all his simulated cluelessness and boy-next-door integrity, Freddy would attest that there are the odd occasions where he can surprise with how much he actually notices. But then, he’d have to actually be in recharge to miss the way you and Montgomery behave when you’re together, like twin moons in the same orbit, constantly circling each other, both just as hesitant to catch up, though one seems far more desperate for the bond to take than its counterpart.

As you send him a faux glower, softened by the lopsided smile pushing at your cheeks, Freddy chuckles warmly and makes a note to track you down again after the last stragglers arrive for the mid-morning show.

If you thought he was happy to see you, just you wait.

You have no idea what’s in store for you down in Parts and Service...

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

There’s a well-established principle in the Plex, one held by both the staff and by the animatronic himself, that Montgomery Gator is not a bot who’s easy to trust. And he, in turn, trusts so rarely that he could count on one hand the number of people he’s willing to rely upon. Hell, he could count on one finger and that number would be the same.

If there was ever anybody he’d want poking around inside his mechanisms, it certainly wouldn’t be any of the engineers or mechanics. It wouldn’t be Flowers, or Devon or even the new hire, Chase, who at this very moment, is bent over Monty’s forearm with a flathead screwdriver clutched inside a thick, rubber glove, face balled up tight as he works to loosen a stubborn screw.

Monty’s expression, by contrast, is as blank as an untouched sheet of paper, and he gazes up at the blindingly bright overheads set into the ceiling of the protective cylinder, his optics dim and bleak behind his glasses.

He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like that the new hire has been left alone with him inside a sealed tube. Doesn’t like that there’s a boiling-hot mug of coffee perched on the workbench nearby. Doesn’t like how Chase’s palms are sweaty against his plastic casing. 

The gator is keeping his jaws locked together so tightly that his systems have begun to ping at him, warning of the sustained pressure.

He should probably ease it…

What happened with Matthews isn’t going to happen again, he reminds himself starkly. He’s not the same gator as he was when Mick was the one doing repairs. And Chase is just some poor rookie that management have saddled with the task of running diagnostics on the Plex’s most volatile animatronic…

How quickly they forget, he nearly scoffs.

He reckons he ought to be grateful that his CPU is online, at the very least, even if he is starting to feel more ghost than animatronic as the rookie blithely works around him, oblivious to his clenching hands and gritted teeth.

Still, he can only think of one person he’d willingly allow close enough to perform a routine maintenance check, but sadly, said person is on the other side of the city whilst he remains stuck on the inside of a glorified, glass jar, strapped down tight to a gurney and anxious for Chase to hurry up and remove the panel on his plastic arm.

In an attempt to take his processor off the procedure, Monty turns it instead to the birthday party he’ll be hosting in just a couple of hours.

He’s been booked in for a lot of them lately, almost as many as Chica has this month alone….

Monty might be an arrogant bot by his own admission, but he’s not about to do the disservice of pretending that you didn’t have a hand in his much-improved public image.

Blinking his optics up at the wires and hoses dangling from the ceiling, he belatedly wonders if you’d be proud.

Unnoticed by the new hire, Monty’s shoulder struts begin to droop, though it isn’t the prospect of your pride that causes him to wilt. It’s the thought of you at all.

For the umpteenth time, he’s fallen into a trap of his own making. He’s allowed his processor, however briefly, to drift towards thoughts of you.

‘Bad idea,’ a surly voice grunts in his audials, suspiciously reminiscent of a grumpy mechanic he’s acquainted with.

Grumbling to himself, Monty turns his focus outwards once more, thumping his tail absently against the side of the gurney beneath him for no other reason than to keep the appendage busy.

Damn thing has a mind of its own whenever he gets to thinking about you.

“Uhhh.. Is that meant to be happening?”

The hoarse voice of the rookie pulls his swimming CPU to the surface, and he spares a quick glance over to his pre-assigned technician to find him leaning back cautiously, his eyes staring down at Monty’s tail.

With a grimace, the gator diverts power from the motors inside it, and it falls obediently still.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grunts, “Happens sometimes.”

Without missing a beat, Chase draws his brows together and mumbles, more to himself than to the gator, “I’d better take a look at the mechanisms. Reckon I can stop it from moving around so much.”

A sudden snap of leather nearly sends him reeling over backwards as Monty lurches upright on the gurney with a snarl, his wrists snagged by the straps that keep him from lunging too far. “I'd like to see you try,” he growls venomously, straining against his binds.

Almost at once, the engineer’s hands fly up in acquiescence. “Woah, woah! Okay! Sorry, Pal!” he laughs disjointedly, “Just trying to be helpful. If you say ‘no,’ it’s no. I hear you.”

Circuits screaming in alarm, Monty glares hard at the human beside him for a moment before his optics venture down to eyeball the screwdriver still clutched between Chase’s oil-slicked fingers.

Following his stare, the man gives a thoughtful hum, then slowly turns and places the screwdriver very deliberately down on the workbench beside his mug, a move the gator watches with rapt attention.

With his back to the gurney, Chase heaves a quiet sigh, reaching up to rub a hand over the nape of his neck, smoothing down the shaved bristles of hair that have begun a gradient from mousy-brown to grey. “Pushed some kind of boundary there, huh big fella’?” he murmurs, an apology wedged between his words.

Monty blinks, surprised he’d noticed. Little by little, the animatronic eases back down onto the hard, unforgiving surface below him, drawing his lips down over his teeth. “Yeah,” he huffs uncertainly, “Somethin’ like that…”

A curious frown twitches at the man's expression and he aims it into the dark, brown liquid sitting inside his coffee mug, eyes trailing after the steam that rises from it. “You can make decisions for yourself.... Huh.” Turning around, he leans his spine against the table and, to his credit, manages to look the gator in his optic, mouth pulled back in an apologetic wince. “ They told me how advanced your AI is, but…I guess I forgot.”

“Well don’t.” Monty’s voice drips sharp and cold, ringing through the tinny room like a warning. And it is just that. A warning. But it’s also only a warning. If this idiot had any idea that only a month ago, the gator might have done something far worse in response to a threat to what little autonomy he has left, he’d likely put in his two weeks then and there.

Suddenly, Monty pauses, taken aback by his own revelation.

He’d have done something worse…

He didn’t this time though, did he? In fact, there have been a lot of times over these past few weeks where his rage has been difficult to summon. Freddy stealing the spotlight in the shows, Roxy's constant taunts and jabs that all serve to remind him that she has yet to forgive him entirely for lashing out at Chica in his unconscious rage. Even Matthews hasn't been able to get under his casing as much as he usually would, though the gator has been going out of his way to avoid the man altogether, half afraid that he'll give away how perilously close he came to being discovered in your flat.

He's been reminding himself consistently that if he slips up again, he really does have something to lose. And so, he's been making damned sure to keep his snout out of trouble.

Softly, the bot lets out a resigned chuff and sinks his head back onto the gurney.

Your influence, no doubt.

“I-I’ll try to get better,” Chase is stammering over his words, only a little, but enough that the gator’s chest cavity twinges guiltily, “I promise, I only want to do good here.”

Montgomery, however, is too busy staring into space to pay much attention.

Absently, he lowers his optics until they’re pointed right at the place on the end of his nose where, not so long ago, he’d been lucky enough to feel the press of something warmer and more delicate than anything he’s experienced since the day he was brought online.

Before every show and party, Monty has taken to sprucing himself up using the wipes and cloths he borrowed from your cleaning closet down in the maintenance tunnels. For hours, he’s content to sit in his room and polish his casing until he’s gleaming, every tooth, every claw, every inch.

Every inch… save for one.

Rumbling out a resonant hum, the gator fights against the twitch of his lips and simply sighs, releasing a hot blast of air through the vents under his nostrils. He can almost hear your voice in his audials now.

“Cut Chase some slack, Monty,” you’d probably say, “He’s new. Give him a chance.”

Yeah, that sounds like you.

Hell, didn't you give a chance to the Monster of the Plex...?

Peeling his jaws apart to let out another sigh, the gator looks to Chase and catches the nervous indent where he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek, the twist of his brows and the flash of his throat when he swallows audibly.

And then he recalls what Andy had said to him in his green room, just before he sat the gator down and introduced him to the new guy.

“She trusts you,” he’d uttered sternly, looking Monty square in the optics. Neither of them needed clarification on who ‘she’ might have been. “So I’m gonna trust you to behave yourself while you're in that cylinder with Chase.” Which had been such a shock to hear that he’d immediately run a test to check his audio input was in working order.

“Don’t let us down, Gator.”

Montgomery isn’t easy to trust.

But Andy Flowers… the man who has put more volts through Monty’s frame than any other employee at the Plex, had just handed him an olive branch.

What the Hell was Monty supposed to do other than nod his head dumbly and utter a feeble, ‘I won’t…’

With the memory fresh in his storage banks, he bites his pride on the neck and forces it down to the ground, flicking his optics back over to Chase.

“You’re doin’ fine,” he grunts, watching the human perk up at his words, “Just… stick to regular maintenance today. A’right?”

“Yeah? Yeah!” Chase’s eyes light up as he flashes a lopsided grin, showing off his gap-toothed smile that reminds Monty of those kids who get into scraps in their schoolyard.

“I’ll get right back to it. But, uh…” Hesitantly, the engineer gestures down at Monty’s arm with the end of his screwdriver, “I’m not getting into that hatch with this thing… Dunno how you jammed it so badly, but I’m gonna need a tool kit if I wanna take a look under the hood.”

Figures. It’s never an easy fix…

The pocket of space below the panel in Monty’s arm is usually reserved for vouchers and coupons that he’ll hand out to those who impress him in his golfing challenge. As for how it got dented enough that the panel was wedged immovably shut…

Well… The next time Roxy feels like poking fun at him for ‘daydreaming about his girlfriend’, he’ll have to settle for a verbal rebuttal. Slamming his forearm into her neck and pinning her to the wall wasn’t one of his better ideas. 

Not least because Freddy hadn’t shut up about it for a week…

“Beats me how it happened,” he grumbles evasively, flapping what little he can of his hand at the cylinder door, “G’on. Go ahead. Ain’t like I got any place to be.”

Soft, brown eyes widen gratefully as Chase backs out of the protective chamber, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Thanks, Pal. Won’t be long, just sit tight, okay.”

“… I’ll do my best,” Monty retorts flatly, giving his wrists a gentle tug and rattling the straps indicatively. He doesn't bother reminding the man that he's about as far from a 'pal' as he could get.

Chase’s sheepish chuckle echoes around an empty Parts and Services as he dashes out through the red, double doors at the end of the room and disappears from view.

Squeaking on their hinges, the doors swing shut in his wake, and at last, Monty is left alone on a gurney with nobody but himself for company…

“Hmph. Better not take too long,” he gripes to the deserted room.

Left to stew inside his own head, it’s almost inevitable that after just a couple of minutes his thoughts would return to one subject in particular.

He wishes he’d remembered to ask Flowers how your recovery is coming along. But earlier, Andy had caught him off guard with the ‘trust’ comment, and every coherent question he’d meant to posit had promptly fled his processor.

Five weeks… How has it only been five weeks since he last saw you?

Five weeks, three days, eleven hours, twenty-five minutes, and thirty-two seconds…

Thirty-three seconds…

Thirty-

The gator bares his teeth with a snarl of vexation, wrenching his focus from the time ticking away on his HUD.

He’d been naïve in the beginning, convinced himself he’d make it through your absence without much trouble at all. He had, after all, managed to get along just fine before you stepped foot inside his green room.

He was fine. It was all fine.

.. Just fine…

But then you had to come along and spoil him, didn’t you. Yet the thing of it is, there isn’t any part of him that’s willing to resent you for it.

There’s a dopey grin tugging at the silicone of his lips, but by the time he even realises it’s there, his audials are picking up the sound of a mechanical rumble and the shrill, musical ‘ding!’ of an elevator door sliding open behind him.

Great. Someone else come to witness him in this undignified position.

Monty slumps, scowling hard at the ceiling through the purple tint of his sunglasses as a pair of shoes taps closer and closer to the protective cylinder.

Perhaps it’s only Chase, he muses. Stupid human must have gotten turned around in the maintenance tunnels and resorted to using one of the service elevators to find his way back down here.

“What’d’you get lost?” he huffs, hardly bothering to lift his head as a shadow passes by in the corner of his eye, “Took your damn time by the way.”

He’s met with silence, and the padding footsteps draw to a halt right at the door to the cylinder.

Then…

“Sorry, Big Guy. You know I’d have come sooner if I could.”

No... No way.

The gear-wheel in his neck spins frantically as Monty’s head shoots straight off the gurney. He’s almost certain that he’s hearing things, that there’s a feedback loop in his CPU playing an echo of that oh-so familiar voice in his audials.

He has to blink his shutters a few times to be sure, but when they open again, he knows there’s no mistaking his visual feed. Not even a perfect recording could adequately mirror the real thing.

Standing in the entrance to his temporary prison, haloed by the lights of Parts and Service, is a sight more heavenly than any seraphim or celestial body.

Several primary motors kick loudly into gear and the binds holding him down go taut with a ‘twang!’ as he hoists himself further up on the gurney, the corners of his jagged mouth inching higher and higher with every moment that passes him by. “Lady!?” he rasps.

You struggle not to let out an audible sigh of relief at finding him in one piece after all this time.

With a knowing smile, you fold your arms and lean a hip against the side of the entrance, one eyebrow playfully cocked. “You were expecting someone else?”

In that moment, he forgets everything he’d planned to say upon your return. He forgets that he’d meant to remain a cool, collected alligator who would greet you with a wink and a disarming smile, maybe even brandish a gift that would welcome you back without having to say the words he keeps locked safely behind his teeth.

He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much.

The tether that’s been keeping him inextricably bound to you across the vast distance of the city suddenly seems so much shorter, and without taking his sparkling optics off your face, Montgomery begins to pull at his restraints, those designed to keep a three-tonne animatronic tied down without a fuss.

He pays them no mind. They’re nothing. Not obstacles. Not even deterrents. Not when the very person he’s been waiting for for so long is standing right in front of him, just out of reach, and the only thing ricocheting around inside his processor is that he has to get to you. Now.

He’s grinning too widely, and his motors are purring too loudly for him to hear you as your face falls and you push yourself away from the open cylinder door, blurting out, “Wait, wait! Monty just a second, let me get the straps-!”

The reinforced leather squeaks for just a moment against the plastic of his wrists, then with a loud ‘Snap!’ the pieces fly apart, and Monty is suddenly lunging up from the gurney, swinging his legs down and landing on the floor with such a force that the glass windows surrounding him quiver in their frames.

He doesn’t even register that you’ve taken an instinctive step backwards as he barrels towards you like a runaway train. There’s no time for you to get far, of course.

“Lady!” he bellows again through a laugh, his speakers straining at the volume. And in the next instant, the gator is upon you.

You half expect to be hauled off your feet once more, as you had been twenty minutes ago with Freddy.

Instead, you let out a yelp as the gator throws one arm around your back and curls the other up to cup a hand over the back of your head, wrenching you into his rigid torso and trapping you in the space between his arms and his chest.

The air is knocked soundly from your lungs whilst he folds himself over you, a quaking, thundering cage of metal and plastic that clings possessively to its favourite inmate.

“You came back!” he declares unsteadily as he curves his head down to pin his lower jaw against your spine, optics squeezed shut, “You came back.”

Twisting your face sideways to get in a gulp of air, you let out a muffled laugh and pat the seam of his hatch. “Course I came back. I told you, six weeks.”

“S’only been five,” he recounts, not that he’s complaining. Not in the slightest.

“Yeah, well… They let me out early for good behaviour.”

There’s that warmth in your tone, indicative of – fondness – friendship – familiarity – that he’s been craving to hear again, not just from the recordings he’s saved of your voice.

‘Don’t stop.’ He has to choke on the words for fear of speaking them aloud, ‘Keep talking.’

After a few seconds, he notices the brush of your comparatively tiny arms sliding around his broad chest, not quite long enough to meet at the centre of his back, yet more than adequate to let him know that this moment isn’t solely for him.

“So, didn’t miss me too badly then?” you ask from somewhere within the safety of his embrace.

‘No,’ his stubborn pride grumbles, whereas everything else in him seems to howl out a resounding, ‘like you wouldn’t believe.’

“Eh,” he settles on instead, a safe enough middle-ground. At least it makes you laugh. Besides, he’s pretty sure you can read between the lines. After all, he’s still draped around you like a big, green cloak. That much is a little harder to disregard.

It’s with immense reluctance that he eventually loosens the pistons in his brutish arms and allows you to lean back so he can get a good look at you. 

He should probably say something… Something witty, something smart that’ll smooth over the blunder of being caught off guard.

Monty’s jaws part slightly as he gazes down at you, his optics raking over your face and committing this latest instance of you firmly in his memory banks.

“… Hey,” he murmurs lamely.

A flash of teeth, and you’re beaming. At him. And he realises right then and there that every second he’s spent waiting to see you again was entirely worth it.

“Hi,” you retort.

He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but the abrupt thrum of a bellow kicks out of his speakers too quickly for him to mute the feedback.

In turn, you jump under his arms, quirking a brow at the gator’s chest.

It’s all he can do to turn the sound into a gruff cough, ducking under the guise of redundantly clearing his throat as if that alone might cover the mortifying noise he’d just emitted.

It’s only then that his gaze roves southward and his brows scrunch together above his glasses, carelessly showcasing concern as openly as that damnable bear. But he resolves to reprimand himself for that later.

Right now…

“Where’s your crutch?” he demands, darting his optics about to try and find the familiar, grey stick of metal.

“Gave it back to the hospital,” you explain with a shrug, “Physio said I don’t need it anymore, so long as I take it easy.”

Of its own apparent accord, one of Monty’s protocols raises its sleepy head. You’re meant to be ‘taking it easy’ and yet you’re down here in Parts looking for him… The gator’s teeth clench unhappily.

“C’mon,” he promptly decides, placing one of his colossal paws on the small of your back and giving you a gentle nudge, guiding you around the side of the cylinder.

Letting out a bewildered hum, you have little choice except to allow yourself to be steered towards the service elevators at the back of the room. “Um, Monty?” you begin, “Aren’t you supposed to be having maintenance?”

“Forget the maintenance,” he scoffs, shooting you an uncharacteristically warm look, “I just got you back. You’n me have a lot to catch up on. And you’re gonna sit yourself down on my sofa, in my green room, and we’re just gonna talk.” As it ought to be, somewhere safe and quiet, a place he can keep an optic on you. 

“Talk?” you ask dubiously.

“Talk.” Catching the rich hum building in his chest cavity, the gator drags his optics away from you and uses his other arm to scratch at the underside of his neck. “If, uh… F’that’s cool with you, I mean…”

“Honestly?” you sigh.

Monty’s tail stiffens behind him, heavy with apprehension.

His frame nearly collapses out from underneath his weight when your expression brightens and you flash him an easy smile. “That sounds ideal.” Later, you'll broach the topic about going to see your other friends. You've waited a long time to see Music Man, Sunnydrop and Moon after all. But Monty? You owe him this much, at least.

At the base of his frame, he feels the back-and-forth movement of his tail sway in its hinges when the gears unlock, only this time, he doesn’t plan to do a damn thing to stop it. Finally, finally his existence at the Plex is getting back to the way it should be. He can show you how far he’s come, how good he’s been, how many children have drawn pictures of him since you left. His green room isn’t even a mess today, save for a few old scratches on the walls that have since been covered up with crayon colourings of his face. You’ll be pleased.

You’ll be proud.

And nothing, no endos, no unruly customers, no… no ornery alligators… will ever cause you any trouble again. That, he’ll make certain of. A private promise, one he’ll reaffirm with actions, not words. Because you're his friend and he's going to be the best one you could ever possibly need. He’s never been very good at words anyway.

The dull, muted fall of shoes on the concrete floor has Monty snapping his head around over a shoulder strut to aim a heated glare towards the doors at the rear of Parts and Services.

“Great timing,” he grouses, curling his lips, displeased.

The entrance is shoved open without much preamble, and someone muscles their way through, hauling a metal toolbox along under one arm.

Turning to follow Monty’s gaze, you catch a glimpse of the newcomer.

And just like that, the air in your lungs goes stale and dies, and all the moisture in your mouth evaporates like rain off a sun-scorched pavement.

“Alright, Montgomery. Sorry about the wait,” Chase calls, “Let’s get you -…”

Between his first spoken word and the last, the man lifts his eyes from the toolbox to find you and the gator standing side by side near the elevators, though the animatronic is disregarded entirely when he locks you in his sights and jerks to an abrupt and violent stop.

The toolbox slips from his grasp, tumbling to the floor where it lands with a deafening cacophony of noise, spilling hammers, spanners, and various screws across the room like wave of metal crashing against a concrete shore.

Later, you’ll wonder if this is what it feels like to die, with a jolt of fear so vicious that it punches the strength right out of your limbs and steals the sound from the world around you as your head swells with a faint ringing, growing louder and louder with every thump of your jack-hammer heart.

At your side, you barely register Monty’s gruff and muffled voice barking something into your ear, but you can’t bear to look at him, can’t bring yourself to tear your gaze off the nightmare unfolding right in front of you in the form of a man with mild, brown eyes and an expression of horror that mirrors your own.

Numb lips peel apart until there’s just enough space to utter a single, damning word.

“You?”

And just a microsecond later comes his echo, spoken with a hushed reverence that’s still somehow so terribly, awfully potent that it shakes the foundations of your safe little life and brings it all crumbling down on your head.

“You…”

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Wow! As the header says, my blog just went past 5k followers - I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who hopped on for this journey; I'm having the time of my life sharing my writing with you all.

In celebration and as a way to have a little fun - I'll be opening my inbox for a day and letting those who want to send in something fill it up!

Now, I know you're probably asking yourself 'Hal, I thought you said requests are going to be closed so you can finish the ones you have and work on the AUs?' And you'd be correct - I did say that. I'm not going to be writing full-length works for this event.

To anyone who sends something in (and follows the rules I have in place on my Request Form (be sure to check it even if you've already read it, I added some more characters and other stuff)) I'll be writing one-to-two page drabbles!

All this being said, after this post is uploaded I'll be opening my inbox up to anyone who would want to participate and closing it exactly one day after!

Thank you again for being the best community ever - I'm incredibly lucky to be surrounded by kind and respectful individuals as well as mutuals who are mind-numbingly sweet. I could not have achieved all of this without you; I think that's beautiful.

This post will also serve as the Masterlist for all of the expected drabbles, so if you'd like to keep updated on what's going to be happening/being written soon, this would be a good place to hang out!

ALL COMPLETED AS OF 11/5/2023

IMAGES USED: A black retriever in an extensive mountainous landscape by Maud Earl & L'angelo, la morte e il diavolo by Roberto Ferri || TOTAL: 5

➣The Perfect One

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

➣Get In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Coming home with bruises and stitched wounds, you drag him into the bathroom to wash away the memories.] ❞

➣Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

➣Here Now

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

➣Burst Veins

╰┈➤ ❝ [He never noticed you weren't behind him.] ❞

IMAGES USED:  Fallen Angel by Roberto Ferri & Nature of Fear by Nicola Samori || TOTAL: 5

➣Nervous Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

➣Blood Like Obsidian

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

➣Supposed To Happen

╰┈➤ ❝ [You died and left him a child he had no idea existed. How can he even begin to try and understand?] ❞

➣Digging Gaze

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

➣Sole Survivor

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

IMAGES USED: White and Black by Vadim Gorbatov & Saint Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne || TOTAL: 7

➣Didn't Mean It

╰┈➤ ❝ [Arguments are rare, certainly ones that leave you in tears.] ❞

➣Him, Her, and the Dog

╰┈➤ ❝ [The woes of pining after a woman whose deadly K9 looks like it hates his guts.] ❞

➣Drunken Sappiness

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can't say you've ever had a boyfriend as perfect as Kyle.] ❞

➣How Do You Listen To That?

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

➣Finally Broken

╰┈➤ ❝ [Childhood friends turned lovers. The realization was far more violent and instantaneous than you'd like to admit.] ❞

➣Don't Look At Her

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

➣In His Head

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of his SFW and NSFW quirks.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Scene from the Great Flood by Joseph-Désiré Court & Saint Jerome in Prayer by Carlo Dolci || TOTAL: 7

➣Life Snaps By In Flashes

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

➣Heart-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

➣From Ten To Twenty & Beyond

╰┈➤ ❝ [You've known him ever since the incident on the playground, and now you can't help but imagine that same boy as you watch him make supper with flour in his hair.] ❞

➣Find Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're finally back in One-Four-One's hands, but that doesn't mean you're saved. Johnny tracks you down after a violent episode.] ❞

➣Still The Same Fools

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was always a rivalry between you two - that hasn't changed even if both of you have. Years later, the boiling point is finally met.] ❞

➣Is This Why?

╰┈➤ ❝ [He finally sees why you never introduced him to your parents.] ❞

➣Oblivious Pining

╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞

IMAGES USED: King Gustav III of Sweden and His Brothers by Alexander Roslin & Geography lesson by Eduard Karl Gustav Lebrecht Pistorius || TOTAL: 6

KEEGAN P. RUSS:

➣Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

➣Hold Her Close

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

➣When The Fighting Stops & The Silence Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continuation of (Don't) Go To War: the aftermath of recovery and a budding relationship.] ❞

➣Movies and Stale Popcorn

╰┈➤ ❝ [Oak and Keegan finally get to watch that movie.] ❞

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER:

➣To The Boy of My Childhood

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

➣Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Saint Catherine of Alexandria by Caravaggio & Amor Vincit Omnia by Caravaggio || TOTAL: 17

CAPTAIN JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH:

➣New Paint

╰┈➤ ❝ [Fighting to forget you, MacTavish finds comfort in whoever he can. Yet, like the layers of paint on the walls, it always peels back to you.] ❞

➣A Song of Gnashing Teeth

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

➣Listen To My Voice

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

➣Look At The Stars; Look At Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

➣Alive and Breathing

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞

➣I Can See It In Your Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

➣A Green-Eyed Monster

╰┈➤ ❝ [You'd slept together, sure. No strings attached. Then why are you trying to make him jealous? Who cares, the point is that it's working.] ❞

SERGEANT GARY 'ROACH' SANDERSON:

➣Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

➣Raining Cats and Dogs

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KELLER:

➣Bright-Eyed History Lesson

╰┈➤ ❝ [A librarian with a fascination for war history and a soldier who loves how her eyes light up. Like a dog, he can't stop himself from coming back; smiling like a fool.] ❞

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS:

➣Hold Me Longer

╰┈➤ ❝ [Mornings spent in the sanctity of warm sunlight and bare skin.] ❞

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO 'RUDY' PARRA:

➣A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES:

➣Sleeping On The Porch

╰┈➤ ❝ [As it turns out, your husband never really died. It's safe to say you're not overjoyed.] ❞

➣Love Echoes In Silence

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

SEBASTIAN JOSEF KRUEGER:

➣Ain't Giving Up My Pride

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

ALL 141 INCLUDED (SEPARATE):

➣Count The Hours

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

➣Wide-Eyed Panic

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

[kruxton]

ok so ive gone through with the touchstarved demo (i forgot what backstory i chose 💔 not sure if this matters to what i'll be yapping about) and leander's route was the last one i did - went crazy about the other 4 too but i need to talk about HIM

this guy is FASCINATING. objectively fascinating. out of all the 5 characters this guy baffles me the most. token nice guy that is a bit... TOO nice, right? and so as ive done with the rest i take notes about interesting dialogues or scenes cause i like fleshing out the characters in my head completely, and this guy???? i wrote about him 10x more than the others. and i dont even like him as a romance option yet. he truly is just such a compelling character

warning for spoilers (?) of the demo

im just going to preface this with the fact that i have maybe only played a visual novel like once before this and that was YEARS ago. i dont know if im reading too much into it all and that everything's just a 'that's how it works in these games' thing or not so!!! there's that. AND i only just discovered this game a few days ago (on the same day they updated actually) so the fandom discussions r very new to me

so by the end of the demo you're given the option to follow one of the characters after the drink at the bar, and no matter who you choose you're going to end up talking about the other 4 as well. something different I noticed for leander's dialogue was that for every person you'd ask about, he would always ask what you thought about them first. every single one. none of the others did this, they would just speak their mind, but leander ALWAYS ASKED FIRST. and the two options you had were to say something positive or something negative about them

and depending on how you answered those questions, leander's response was STAGGERINGLY different. whenever you would choose a positive answer (eg: saying Ais was 'honest' instead of 'a jerk'), leander would go "yadda yadda sure but that guy's dangerous and not to be trusted" - essentially. im generalising to make my point but this was the vibes he let off. and his character would be all pissed and frowning, worried for the MC's safety, acting all protective and shit.

but then u turn around and redo the dialogue option, choosing the negative one instead, and without fail leander's reply would be 'haha yeah but he's not all that bad.' (again, generalising). even so far as to say he's seen mhin's 'soft spot' before, and saying the senobium was cruel for imprisoning vere (which, by the way is completely contradictory to what he would say if we chose 'I feel bad for him.' (positive option) - he literally says VERBATIM that vere 'should be caged'). and i can't help but feel like this must be on purpose. the devs HAD to have done this on purpose its too good of a character trait to just be some sort of writing flaw

and by character trait i mean his whole nice guy shtick. i think its all an act and he's a lying two faced bitch. yup.

a line i remember distinctly was him lightheartedly saying he was jealous and wanted to keep the MC all to himself, which im going back to now after playing through all the options in this scene and like. oh i GET him now.

this man gets jealous whenever the MC shows affection for literally any other character and bites back with something to incriminate said character in MC's eyes. but if the MC says something bad about anyone, he has to keep up his shtick and be the mediator again. the nice guy that gets along with everyone.

now that ive written this i realise that this might literally just be a Very Common Archetype that i just rarely indulge in, but I wanna finish this off with the fact that I still think his story and personality is easily my favourite, and being able to sort of decipher this part of his story through the mechanics of a visual novel with multiple routes is SO Fun. its like damn i wish i could do this in real life to see if people are lying to me or not

anyways the touchstarved demo is peak i cant wait for when the game releases YAYYYYY

[star-5truck]

Asymptote

Pairing: Sae I. x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: I physically cannot write anything happy about this man.

I think I've seen this film before, and I didnt like the ending. Your not my homeland anymore. So what am I defending now?

--

Its normal.

You always told yourself that. Watching as your boyfriend always left you alone. You knew what you were getting into dating Sae. He warned you of his busy schedule, that you might not be his first priority when it came down to things. You gave him your heart either way.

It was fine at first, even with all his trainings, interviews, matches, Sae still made time for you. You felt special being labeled as his lover. To know that the Sae Itoshi would work around his schedule just for you? That was all the reassurance you needed. Everything was great.

Until it wasn’t.

You don’t remember when the only times you’d see Sae was on the field. You expected all this, of course. You knew it wasn’t always going to be just you and him forever. It still stung.

You and Sae always had a rule, to have a date at least once a month. He was the one who suggested it, and he would put so much effort into it, too. From fancy restaurants, amusement parks, walks along the beach, you name it. Sae Itoshi gave you only the best.

“I’ll have to cancel again tonight, Amor. Something came up and its mandatory.” Sae’s voice rung through the phone call and straight to your heart. Right, his schedule isn’t fixed, it’s okay. You understand.

“It’s alright, love… We can always reschedule. Don’t overwork yourself okay? I love you- “The phone call was cut.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. All dolled up, wearing the dress he’d bought you months prior. You looked great, you knew that, yet you still felt lower than ever. You seldom found yourself crying over boys, more so over Sae. So why were hot tears sliding down your face now?

You couldn’t even recognize yourself anymore, couldn’t recognize him. You know Sae is capable of a lot of things, you’ve seen it yourself. Were you just not worth the time? You couldn’t read him anymore. You swore you knew him better than anyone, yet now… You weren’t so sure anymore.

If someone told you months ago that Sae Itoshi was the reason you were sobbing alone in the dark of your room, you’d have laughed in their face. Your friends would tell you how lucky you were to have someone like him. Of course, you were, dating a soccer superstar wasn’t an ordinary thing, after all. But now… when people talk about their happy relationships, you can’t help but compare it to your own.

A relationship is not built on love alone. But what is it without any? You trusted Sae, but there were times you’d question whether he still loved you or not. You used to be an ordinary occurrence in his life, he’d reply to your messages, make sure there were good mornings and good nights, now it’s rare for you to even get a simple update from him.

You keep telling yourself that if Sae didn’t love you, he’d have broken up with you by now. How long until you can’t convince yourself anymore?

Months went on like that. You never brought it up with Sae, because you knew what you signed up for. It was wrong for you to complain about it now, right? You put up with it. Give him your love, your affection, your everything. You can handle this.

--

“What?”

Sae looked at you in disbelief, the words that had come out of your mouth making his heart stop. He had just returned from an overseas match and came to see you. He didn’t expect to be greeted with heartbreak.

“I said we should breakup.” You left no room for argument. Most of your bags were already packed, your parents already expecting your arrival later on. You were kneeling at the dresser, picking out your clothes. You almost got one of Sae’s shirts, having worn it too much as your own when he was away.

“You don’t just get to decide that on your own.” Sae furrowed his brows, walking over to you. “Let’s talk about this, Amor.”

“What is there to talk about, Sae?” You cut him off, glaring daggers at him. Eyes once so full of love had now turned to resentment. “The fact that I barely see you anymore? Or maybe you spend more time with a ball than your own girlfriend?”

Your tone made Sae stop in his tracks. You sounded so tired, done with everything, done with him. Sae knew he crossed a line when he was seeing his team mates more than you in months, he thought you could deal with it, you were strong after all. Yet as he looked at you now, Eyes all glossy and fighting the urge to cry, he realized how far he’d gone.

“Amor…” Sae started, getting on the ground with you as he held you in his arms. He felt you your body stiffen and it pained him more than he’d care to admit. His embrace was meant to give you peace, solace, now it felt more foreign than ever. “My sorry won’t suffice. I left you in the dark for months, I know it might not mean anything but let me apologize to you, please?”

You wanted to forgive him right then and there. To hug him back and never let him go. But how long until this Sae would disappear again? Your sweet and loving boyfriend would turn into someone who hurt you in a matter of weeks. “I’m so tired, Sae.” You whispered, clutching his shirt.

Sae stared down at you in this state, so vulnerable. You’ve been miserable for so long because of him. He wouldn’t blame you if you decided he wasn’t worth forgiving, he wasn’t sure if he could even forgive himself. “I know you are.” He whispered into your hair, holding you tighter against him. He feared if he let go, you would get up and leave him.

He was being selfish. He didn’t deserve your love. Yet he still held onto you like you were the only thing keeping him afloat. The worst part of it all? You weren’t mad at him. Sae knew you too well. The way you spoke, your eyes, they held not an ounce of malice towards him. You were simply hurt beyond words. Your patience running thin with his actions.

“Can we talk, please?” Sae held his breathe, knowing this could either fix your relationship, or be the last conversation you’d both have.

Sae nodded, “Of course… anything you want.” Silence fell over the both of you, only the sounds of your silent crying filling the room. “You know I love you, right, [Name?]”

You didn’t respond. Because really, no, you did not know that. You didn’t even know if what he was saying was true.

You both stayed like that for hours, talking things out, explaining each other’s sides. Sae was smart enough to know that his actions weren’t justified with guilt. He apologized countless times, and the fact he was sorry was enough to give you peace of mind.

--

You left the next morning.

Leaving Sae behind in his lonely apartment. It didn’t feel like his anymore. You’d spent more time in here than he had, every corner of the house felt like you and he hated it. Maybe if he wasn’t so stupid you’d still be here.

[mosquego359]

𖤐One Kiss and A Quidditch Match — Chapter 7: Apologies𖤐

Prologue (recommended to read)

Chapter 6 (previous)

Pair: Cedric Diggory x Male Slytherin Reader

Word count: 2.7K words

Summary of the book: You and Cedric Diggory hate each other. It has always been this way. But everything changes one night when you kiss each other at a party. Now, it seems you can’t escape each other — from being partnered up in Herbology for an important project to having to help Cedric during the Triwizard Tournament.

Summary of the chapter: You and Cedric make up in the hospital wing and the headmaster, Dumbledore pays you an unpleasant visit.

Notes: Please comment on anything I should change to improve this. Also, I am not British so I am not 100% sure how to correctly write people from the UK. (I'm very sorry for the late ass update but motivation hates me)

Content warning: None

!PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE WITHOUT PERMISSION OR CREDIT TO ME!

...

You wake up in a dark and silent room. Every candle was snuffed out, and not a sound could be perceived. You weren’t sure when you were; you couldn’t even move your body, but when you did, you felt a sharp pain in your temple and let out a yelp.

Suddenly, you heard something, a shuffling noise from somewhere on the right side of the room. Someone rushed to your side and lay your head back down on what you assumed was a pillow.

“Don’t push yourself, (Name). Go back to sleep,” said the person. His voice was deep and soft, and despite not knowing who it was, you felt a sense of familiarity and generally liked the man’s voice.

When he stopped talking, you were slightly disappointed but followed his orders.

After a few minutes, you drifted back to sleep.

When you awoke once more, sunlight streamed through the window, and you could see that it was perhaps dawn or dusk. Since the light illuminated your vision, you could see the room you lay in, which was the infirmary.

You felt a weight on your legs and looked down to see Winnie’s head and arms resting on them. She was snoring lightly, a book sprawled next to her. 

The noise of shuffling caught your attention and looking up, you noticed your old rival, Cedric Diggory, sitting in the corner to the right, flipping the pages of a novel with a faded red cover. He seemed lost in thought, his chin posed onto his palm until he looked up and caught your gaze.

“(Name) (Surname). You’re awake,” he noted, placing his book down on the windowsill and walking up to your bedside. He placed a warm hand on your temple, “Are you feeling all right? Dizzy? Tired?”

“I’m okay,” You croaked, your voice dry. How long were you out? 

“Here,” Diggory grabbed a glass from your nightstand and brought it to your lips. Since you still felt a little weak and your arms were numb, you acquiesced, gulping down the water. A few drops dribbled down your chin, but Diggory wiped them away.

“Be careful.”

“What happened?” you questioned after finishing the glass.

You didn’t miss the way Diggory averted his eyes at the question, he was embarrassed by his brash actions, and you could tell, “Well, a Bludger hit your broom, breaking it, so it was rather unstable. You ended up losing control over it and the wind knocked you into a tree.” You flinched at the memory, but he wasn’t done. “You hit your head and I flew down to get you. I used my wand to bring the Bludgers back into the case and brought you to the infirmary.”

“How long was I out for?” You wondered out loud.

“Well, I’d say around a day and a half. I’m sure it was over 24 hours since you were unconscious at six on a Friday, and we’re Sunday morning. But, I think you were somewhat conscious last night.”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“I heard you yelp and, although it might have just been a dream, I swore you raised your head. Your eyes were closed, though.”

You nod along, faintly remembering waking up in a dark room and hearing a soft, deep voice. Your cheeks flushed at the memory of thinking that it was nice, and you hoped that Diggory didn’t notice.

Unfortunately for you, he did.

A frown spread across his handsome face, “Are you feeling alright?” he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead.

When he pulled away, you just had to ask, “Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, ever since I woke up, you’ve been treating me like your best mate. What changed? Me hitting my head. Doubtful.”

Diggory looked away. Then, careful not to put too much weight on the bed, sat down. 

Winnie — who was on the other side — stirred in her sleep. She shuffled a bit, then settled down and started snoring once more.

“I realised something, (Surname),” Diggory mumbled, trying not to wake Winnie, “We can keep going on like this. After you fell, Professor Sprout told me the houses were at each other’s throats. She said you already knew. I-I was so blinded by our rivalry that I just never noticed how it was hurting the people around me. I was stubborn. You were ready to change, I saw it in your eyes. But I acted so stupid and you got hurt by my actions.” He looked straight into your eyes, “I don’t want to be the reason someone is injured.”

A long silence passes between the two of you. Your mind was racing, and you were shocked. Was he really apologising? You waited for a moment, expecting him to laugh or say, “just kidding”, but he was dead serious.

You looked down at your hands, “Truth be told, I haven’t been the best, and getting hurt was partially my fault.” Diggory was about to say something to shift the blame back to him, but you quickly interrupted, “Sometimes…you make me stupid things just to prove a point. I was scared up there, but I didn’t say anything so you didn’t think any less of me.”

“I like being your rival,” you admitted, hands playing with the sheets, “You push me to do things I would never do otherwise — like get me back on my broom — but right now, it’s so toxic. ”

Diggory nodded in agreement, “I agree. You’re honestly someone I look up to. You’re skilled both academically and in the air. Ever since second year, I considered you as someone I wanted to be like.”

You laughed, peering at him through your eyelashes, “I didn’t realise our rivalry lasted that long.”

You saw Diggory smile nervously at the comment, “Yeah, it’s a bit stupid that we’ve never managed to have a civil conversation since then. Do you remember why I hated you?”

You dug through your memories of Year 2 but found nothing. It had been a long time since then, and one of the only memorable moments was your first Quidditch Match, and even that was a rather faded memory. 

You did recall the rivalry starting when he bragged about scoring higher on a Potions assessment and getting mad — back then and even now, you regarded your academic performances very highly.

You decided to shoot your shot with the second memory, “Was it when you scored higher during a Potions test?” Then, you realised it didn’t make any sense that he was the one who purposefully started your rivalry by bragging — he had never been that type of person — and back-tracked, “Wait, no, did you play in Quidditch back in Year 2? Although, I don’t recall you being the Seeker.”

“Yeah, that was when. Back then, I was the extra Keeper, not the Seeker, so when my teammate was hurt, I’d step in,” Diggory explained, “I still have the memory of your win. If I had stopped the Quaffle, then maybe…” he trailed off.

You tilted your head, trying to wrap your thoughts around the situation, “So you hated me because I scored the last goal in the Hogwarts’ Quidditch Tournament four years ago?”

“Well, not quite, it’s more complex than that,” he said, but then added, “Actually, come to think of it, that sound rather stupid, doesn’t it?” He chuckled.

Diggory hummed, resting his palm on his hand, “It was more like…I wasn’t just mad at you. You made me hate myself for not being able to catch a stupid Quaffle. I felt that I let Hufflepuff down, and seeing you, a kid in the same bloody year as me, get all the Slytherins’ attention for winning a tournament I was so passionate about just messed me up a bit.” He took a deep breath and lowered his voice, “I blamed you for something that wasn’t your fault. And I blamed myself because I couldn’t blame another Hufflepuff. I’m sorry, (Name).”

You were both silent for a moment but for different reasons. You — still having woken up from a concussion mere minutes ago — were trying to comprehend the entire situation while Diggory felt like he had no words left, nothing more to say. He awaited your reaction.

Then, it finally clicked for you, and you sighed, “I’m…I’m sorry too, Diggory. We should have talked about this sooner instead of being at each others’ throats all these years. Who knows, we could have been friends if not for that.”

His hand covered his mouth but you saw him smile through the crack in between his fingers, “What a duo we could have made.”

Then, the silence reigned the room again, although this time, it was a comfortable silence, one where your thoughts would drift across your mind, and you could hear the birds chirping outside. A silence so calm and peaceful that you needn’t say a word.

An unexpected sound stirred the quiet; a shuffling coming from the right side of your bed where Winnie lay. She was so still before, that you hardly noticed her. Now, your legs felt numb from being laid on by your friend.

“Izzit morning already?” Winnie mumbled and yawned. She cracked her eyes open just a little. It wasn’t until she noticed your (eye colour) eyes that she awoke fully and bounced off of your lower body. It was like a jolt of electricity had been sent through her entire being and she practically jumped onto you. You felt the air leave your lungs.

“(Name)! You’re alive! Oh, how we missed you.” She pulled back to check your face, “Are you alright? Does your head hurt? Are you sleepy? How are you feeling? Thirsty? Hungry? Confused??” 

“I think you should lay off the poor boy, Campbell,” Diggory suggested.

Unlike the majority of your friend group, Winnie never had a grudge towards him. In fact, neither of them realised they were on opposite sides until you and Winnie started hanging out more frequently in public and you got into an argument with Diggory. Of course, that didn’t affect their relationship — they weren’t particularly close anyway — mainly since Winnie wouldn’t partake in the fights.

“Oh, sorry!” She jumped off of you in a blink, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head calmly, feeling a wave of sleepiness wash over you; all that talking finally caught up to you, “I’m all right Winnie, just feeling a bit tired. I think I’m going to go back to sleep soon.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that right now, Mr. (Surname).” A wise voice spoke from near the entrance of the infirmary. 

The three of you turned to see Madame Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore standing in the doorway. Oh, Merlin, not him. The old man continued one more, “Ms. Campbell, do you mind leaving us for a moment? I need to have a private chat with these two young men.”

Winnie looked at you, a bit hurt and confused, and you motioned her to leave with a nod. Madame Pomfrey ushered her out and followed, closing the door behind herself.

With that, you were left alone with your ex-rival and probably the only person in the school that you’ve never liked throughout your education at Hogwarts. Of course, you could comprehend why the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs liked him and even why some Ravenclaws did as well. He was generally a well-regarded wizard: powerful and capable of protecting the school if anything happened.

But, like most Slytherins — and most of Hogwarts, in fact — you saw how much better he treated the Gryffindors compared to the others and his dislike towards your own house. You knew if he could, he’d automatically fail all the Slytherins. You never understood why he hated your house. Perhaps because it was the same as many dark wixes, including He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, yet you found it odd that he would let those prejudices affect his view on all Slytherins.

“Now, Mr. Diggory, Mr. (Surname), I’d like to discuss on what happened on Friday.” The headmaster said, “From what I understand, you both tought it to be a good idea to play a Quidditch match, just the two of you, outside in the tempest. Am I correct.”

You nodded, “Kind of, although there’s more to the story than that.”

Dumbledore sighed, “You know we cannot accept such impudence in Hogwarts, especially with guests around. You are lucky barely anyone has been informed of the incident. I was expecting more from students such as yourself.”

“For such immature behaviour, I’m going to have to remove points from your Houses. Such a dangerous situation cannot be overlooked, and the punishment will be harsh. I will be taking away 100 points from Slytherin.”

Both you and Diggory paused, awaiting him to continue.

It was you who broke the silence, a bit pissed off, “What about Diggory?”

Dumbledore tsked, “The involvement of Mr. Diggory, the Hogwarts Champion would be problematic for our reputation, thus I must unfortunately appoint the punishment to you, Mr. (Surname). Besides, you were the one to hurt yourself while flying, it’s only just.”

You looked at him with your mouth agape and a wall of rage building up in your heart, but before you could utter a word, Diggory spoke, “Headmaster, if I may. It wasn’t (Surname)’s fault.”

“Come again, Mr. Diggory?”

“Well, first of all, the fight was my idea. I pressured (Surname) to do it, although he clearly just wanted to have a civilized conversation with me. Not only that, but it was also my fault for his injuries. I wanted to prove myself to be better than him, so I added the Bludgers as an extra challenge, and (Surname) got hurt because of my stupid actions. If there’s anyone to punish, it’s me.”

Dumbledore considered this for a moment, “Again, we can’t have you involved, Mr. Diggory; it would make Hogwarts seem like a school who choses irresponsible people as our Champion and we cannot have that-”

“Then don’t afflict any punishment,” Diggory retorted, “We’re making up already. Arguing was the source of this incident, and now that we’ve communicated, it will not happen anymore.”

Dumbledore paused, rather taken aback at how much Diggory was defending you, and truth be told, so were you. Was this perhaps his way of redeeming himself in your eyes? 

“Mr. Diggory, I assure you, it is not that simple. What would the people think?”

“They don’t need to know.” Diggory responded, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Headmaster, but it’s clearly antagonizing (Surname), despite him doing no wrong. I don’t know what grudge you have against him, but you should push it aside when assigning punishments.”

That surely stunned Dumbledore into silence. “Very well. No points shall be removed, but I expect you to be on your best behaviour.” He said curtly, although you swore it was directed mainly towards you.

The old man tipped his hat and bid both of you a good day as he left the infirmary.

When the door closed fully, you turned to Diggory, “Why did you do that for me? We’re not friends and I didn’t think that a simple chat about our feelings would flip your whole personality and opinion on me.”

“Well, I can’t say I consider you as someone close, either. But I’m trying to improve on myself for the good of our school and our peers.” He told you calmly, “But for now, I have to get breakfast and study I don’t think being the Hogwarts champion excuses me from my duties as a student.” He smirked briefly at you. “If you’d like, I can come over again.”

You smiled back, your eyelids feeling heavy at every word he said, “If you want to, but you don’t got to Diggory.”

As he neared the doorway, his book — which you had completely forgotten about — tucked under his arm, he turned back towards you, “Please, call me Cedric.”

...

Chapter 8

If you'd like to request fanfiction, please check out my Masterlist (which has all the fandoms I write for) and my Request Page (which has the rules about what I write).

[soleilpinto]

Changing Lanes (Pepe Martí) ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

“I thought I’d never be okay, but now I know that I’m okay.” (Niki, La La Lost You) ⋆˙⟡ —

Synopsis: After a crush on driver Paul Aron leaves you heartbroken, you unexpectedly find yourself pursued by Campos Driver, Pepe Martí. As he gently shows you kindness and patience, you start to realize that love isn’t as hopeless as it once seemed.

Genre: Angst, Slowburn + Fluff !!

Pairing: Pepe Martí x Fem!Reader

Warnings: This entire fic in itself, because it was a random idea I had at 12 am after finding out the guy I started gaining feelings for had a girlfriend (PLEASE 2025 be good to me, I can’t keep going through these things even if it is for the plot)

Note: Honestly, I just wanted an outlet to vent out my feelings because I haven��t felt the pain of heartbreak in over a year and this one felt extra bittersweet because I couldn’t even form a connection with the guy. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! Love lots, and don’t forget to like + reblog as always.

Chasing the Apex (Paul’s Version) !!

For as long as you could remember, you had noticed that love wasn’t always the kindest towards you. From one-sided crushes to having your heart crushed entirely by your ex, you honestly don't understand why the universe could be so cruel. That was until you met Paul.

As one of the social media managers for the Formula 2 grid, you handled posts and updates throughout race weekends. Being around the same age as most of the younger drivers, you got along with them pretty easily.

But none of them caught your attention quite like Paul Aron.

You’ve always noticed Paul. It’s hard not to, really. He’s the kind of person who effortlessly draws attention with his charm, his smile, and the way he carries himself—like he’s not just a talented racer, but someone who genuinely enjoys life, which made him one of the highlights of your first season on the grid as well.

His presence lights up a room, and though you’ve crossed paths a few times during FIA events or networking opportunities, you’ve never had the chance to talk to him. But every time you see him, something about him draws you in, leaving you with a flutter in your chest that you can’t quite explain.

It happens again one evening, at a Porsche networking event. You’re standing near the refreshment table, trying to stay calm as you check your phone, making sure everything’s ok for your blog post the next day. Then you hear a voice, smooth and warm, cutting through the chatter.

“Is the Wi-Fi in this place always this spotty, or is it just tonight?” Paul says, his tone light and friendly.

You glance up, slightly startled. His smile catches you off guard, as if he’s genuinely amused by the moment, not just making small talk. He’s standing a few feet away, holding a drink in one hand, his other hand casually resting on the edge of the table.

You laugh softly, trying to steady your nerves. “Honestly, it might just be this place. I’ve had worse reception at airports.”

He chuckles, a sound that’s easygoing and somehow puts you at ease. “I swear, Wi-Fi is the real race here. Always competing with my connection.”

You can’t help but smile at the way he talks, as though you’re both sharing a private joke. The conversation stays light, but it’s easy. There’s no awkwardness. He listens as much as he speaks, and you feel like, for a few moments, the world narrows down to just the two of you. But then, just as quickly as the moment began, it’s over. 

Paul nods, excusing himself to chat with someone else, leaving you standing there, feeling a strange mix of giddy and disappointed.

Over the next few days, you find yourself replaying that brief encounter in your mind, analyzing every word, every glance. Each time you pass him at the track or at another event, you catch yourself lingering, watching him from the corner of your eye, fascinated by the way he interacts with everyone around him.

He’s effortlessly kind, almost too charismatic for his own good, and you can’t help but be drawn to him even more, though you keep your feelings to yourself.

It’s all so easy for him, and you can’t shake the thought that he’s the kind of person who could make anyone feel special. Even if he doesn’t notice you, you find yourself quietly admiring him from afar.

One evening, you’re idly scrolling through social media, distracted by the usual updates and posts, when something catches your eye. It’s a tag in one of Paul’s photos, leading you to a girl’s account. You hesitate for a moment, but curiosity wins out, and you click on it.

You had seen this girl around and recognized her as the new Hi-Tech GP social media intern.

At first, it’s easy to tell yourself that you’re just browsing. After all, it’s just another account, right? But soon, you find yourself diving deeper—scrolling through the posts, the captions, the shared moments between them.

Each photo feels like a glimpse into a world you’ll never be a part of: the vacations, the inside jokes, the smiles exchanged in private moments.

At first, you brushed it off as nothing more than a friendship, but the more you saw, the more it seemed like there was something more. It’s all perfectly curated, as if everything about their relationship is designed to be seen, to be admired.

Before you even knew it, you find it. A highlight that’s pinned at the top of her profile—a video of Paul looking at her with such tenderness in his eyes.

The way he smiles, so genuine, so in love, sends a sharp pang through your chest. You swallow hard, the weight of the moment settling in. He’s taken. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

As you sat there, staring at more photos of them smiling, traveling, and sharing intimate moments (there were even photos of her with his family and you almost felt like throwing up), the weight of it settled on you.

It hit you all at once—the reality that Paul wasn’t just out of reach, but he was with someone else. And in that moment, the pain was sharper than you expected. You’d been holding onto a hope that was never yours to have, and suddenly you’re reminded of why you never pursued a connection, until now.

Another rush of emotions hit you like a bus—jealousy, sadness, and a crushing sense of inadequacy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to the girl in the photos, wondering if you were ever enough or if you’d ever measure up to what Paul seemed to have with someone else.

It seemed impossible, especially when you were just a regular girl, whilst Paul’s girlfriend looked like she modeled during the off-season.

It didn’t make sense, you knew that. After all, you had no claim over him. But the feelings didn’t care about logic. The more you thought about it, the more it hurt—you couldn’t shake the sting of seeing them together, knowing you weren’t ever meant to be part of his story.

It felt like a cruel reminder that no matter how much you’d hoped, love was always just out of reach. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look away.

It is now the present and you feel better, but you haven’t fully healed from the trauma just yet. You were so determined to distract yourself from the pain that you had thrown yourself into work and your blog that you had created as an escape from the world.

The rhythm of curating content helps clear your mind, and you even rediscover hobbies you had set aside for too long in the midst of it all. You hadn't given up on love entirely but forced yourself to keep your mind occupied so that the pain would be the least of your worries.

Whenever the emotions and stress of work start to overwhelm you, you lean on your friends, finding comfort in their support and understanding. It’s not a perfect fix, but it helps you push forward, one step at a time.

Ever since you decided to swamp yourself with work, you started to find new friendships with the other rookies and drivers on the grid.

Pepe Martí is someone you’ve seen around before, but you’ve never really interacted with much. You were always mostly with Paul or Ollie, sometimes Isack, Pepe’s teammate, but you barely crossed each other’s paths unless it came to media or updates regarding the F2 socials.

Unexpectedly, as you start to bump into him more often, you start noticing his presence just a bit more. At first, it’s casual—a quick hello in passing, a smile shared before he goes on his way. But soon, it feels like more.

You start to notice how often your paths cross, as if the universe is aligning in subtle ways, but you digress, since you were way too focused on yourself and work to even think about anything else.

Soon enough, you find yourself hanging around the Campos Racing garage during the next few races. What catches you off guard is how warm and attentive Pepe is whenever you’re there to have a casual chat or just to relax before they get on track.

In every conversation, whether it’s about racing or something completely unrelated, he listens with genuine interest.

There’s no rush, no forced small talk. It’s as if he cares about what you’re saying, and that’s something you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

You first notice it one afternoon when you’re at the F2 paddock, buried in your phone and laptop as you work on a new blog post. A familiar voice interrupts your focus.

“Hey,” Pepe says, leaning against the fence next to you with a casual smile. His presence is relaxed but unwavering, as if he’s just always there. “I saw your latest post about the Monaco Grand Prix. That was pretty solid. You have a real way with words.”

You glance up, a little surprised by the compliment, but you return his smile. “Thanks,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been diving into the details a bit more lately.”

You weren't used to compliments on things like your blog, but when someone notices how much work you put in, you can’t help but feel bashful.

Pepe nods, clearly interested. “I can tell. I didn’t realize you knew so much about the strategy behind it all.”

“F1 is a lot more than just the race itself,” you explain, feeling a spark of excitement. “It’s the stories, the tactics, the behind-the-scenes stuff that gets missed.”

He seems genuinely engaged. “You should do a piece on how the strategy changes with the weather conditions next time. It’d be interesting to see your take on it.”

You blink in surprise, almost speechless. “That’s a great idea, actually,” you admit, a little flustered.

Pepe grins. “Glad you think so. I’ll be reading it when it’s up.” He straightens up, giving you a wink before walking away, leaving you both flattered and puzzled by his sudden interest.

‘Lock in, Y/n. God, now is not the time to be flustered because of a guy,’ you try to shake off the feeling but can’t help but feel a newfound sense of appreciation towards Pepe.

Over the next few days, you notice Pepe around more. It starts with small things—asking for your opinion on the latest race results, asking if you’re going to any of the after-race events, or simply offering a casual “Hey, how’s the blog going?” when he sees you walking between the pits.

Each time, his words are light but thoughtful, as though he’s genuinely interested, not just making small talk. There’s no rush to any of his actions, no pressure—just a quiet confidence that feels both comforting and intriguing.

One evening, after a long day of racing, you find him sitting in the garage and staring out at the grandstand as he is looking up at the sunset. You walk over, hesitant but curious.

“Mind if I join?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up, his smile warm and easy. “Not at all. The view’s better with company, anyway.”

You sit down next to him, and for a few moments, there’s just the hum of the distant engines and the warmth of the setting sun. Then, quietly, Pepe turns toward you.

“I like how you see things,” he says, his voice sincere. “The way you talk about the races, the details... it’s like you bring a whole new perspective to it. Not many people see it the way you do.” You look at him, surprised by his words.

“I’m just... trying to share the side of it people don’t always notice. You know, the stuff that’s hidden.” Pepe nods slowly, as if processing your words. “Yeah, I get that. You have a way of making the unseen things feel important.”

For a moment, you both sit in comfortable silence, the connection between you growing deeper with each passing second. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t rush. He’s just there, a steady presence, showing up when you least expect it.

And slowly, it starts to feel like maybe this quiet, consistent attention is something more than just friendly banter.

It wasn’t noticeable at first—mostly small gestures that you brush off as coincidence.

One morning, after a particularly tough day at the track, you’re buried in your laptop, trying to finish up a blog post, when you hear footsteps behind you.

You look up to find Pepe standing there, holding out a Red Bull can in your direction with a small smile.

“Figured you could use this,” he says, his voice casual but thoughtful. “You looked like you could use a pick-me-up.”

You blink, surprised by the gesture. Energy drinks weren’t exactly your choice of drink when it came to caffeine, but you were grateful for the drink. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

Pepe shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “No problem. I’ve been there—long days, late nights. Thought a Red Bull might help since I don’t really like coffee.”

You accept the drink and open it, feeling a warmth spread through you—not from the Red Bull, but from the kindness in his eyes.

It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. The more you think about it, the more you realize that, over the past few weeks, he’s been going out of his way to make sure you feel seen—whether it’s checking in on how your day’s going or making sure you’re okay during hectic moments.

As the days pass, he starts sharing stories about his own struggles in racing—how he’s dealt with pressure, the challenges of balancing his personal life with his career (not to mention the shitty luck he’d been having lately).

His openness catches you off guard, and you find yourself listening intently, feeling a connection you didn’t expect.

“You’d be surprised how much racing can mess with your head sometimes,” he says one afternoon, leaning against a wall as he talks. “But you have to push through, even when everything feels off.”

His words linger with you long after the conversation ends. And for the first time, you see him in a new light—not just as someone who’s kind and attentive, but as someone who truly understands the ups and downs of life, someone who knows how to make you feel special without even trying.

Despite Pepe’s kindness lately, you hesitate. Every time he goes out of his way to make you feel special, you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest, but something pulls you back.

Your mind still lingers on Paul—the way he smiled at her, the way his presence felt so magnetic, even from a distance. It’s like an anchor you can’t shake, a feeling you’re not ready to let go of.

One night, unable to sleep, you find yourself texting your closest friend, Marina. You vent about everything—how much you’re drawn to Pepe’s attention, but how you feel stuck on Paul, unable to move past the crush that was never meant to be.

Your Marina’s reply comes almost immediately. "You’re holding onto something that wasn’t yours to begin with. Paul is in a relationship, and no matter how much you wish it were different, you deserve more than just hoping for a chance."

The words hit harder than you expect, and you feel the truth in them—like a weight lifting off your chest. You pause, staring at the screen, then take a deep breath. "I know," you text back. "I’m just scared to let go."

Your friend’s response is simple but reassuring: "Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means making space for something that’s actually real."

You close your eyes for a moment, letting those words sink in. And for the first time, you feel the weight of holding onto Paul begin to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of clarity. Maybe you’re ready to move forward.

It’s late one evening, and you find yourself talking to Pepe again, this time in the quiet of a nearly empty garage after a long day of media and racing.

The conversation starts off light, but as the hours pass, something shifts. You’re sitting across from him, both of you exhausted but not ready to call it a night.

Without warning, Pepe looks at you, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more earnest.

“You know,” he says, his voice softer than usual, “I really admire how you handle everything. I’ve seen the way you juggle work, racing, everything. You’ve got this strength about you that’s... rare. It’s not just about how you push through tough times, but the way you stay true to yourself, even when everything feels impossible.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “I... don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replies, his gaze steady. “I just think you’re incredible. And I don’t think enough people tell you that.”

His words catch you off guard, and something inside you stirs—a warmth, a flutter of something new. The walls you’ve carefully built around yourself begin to crack, just a little.

It’s not just the compliment itself, but the way he says it—without any expectation, no hidden motive. Just pure, honest admiration.

You look at him, really look at him, and for the first time, you begin to see him in a new light. He’s not just kind and attentive—he’s genuine, and that genuineness makes everything about him feel different, something you didn’t expect.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting his words settle in. The weight of the day, the pressure of expectations, and the uncertainty that’s been following you around seem to melt away, if only for a brief second.

You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that—to be seen, really seen, for who you are and not just what you do.

Pepe shifts a little, his gaze still warm and steady. “I know and understand that it’s not easy. I’ve seen how much effort you put into everything you do. But don’t forget that you deserve to have someone see you for the amazing person you are, not just for what you’re capable of.”

You swallow, blinking away the unexpected emotion. The vulnerability in his words makes your heart ache, but in a way that feels freeing, like a weight lifting off your shoulders. “I... don’t know if I believe that,” you admit, your voice softer than you expected.

“You will,” he says with a smile that makes your chest flutter. “Because you’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet but powerful way he expresses his admiration—it breaks through the last of the walls you’ve built up around yourself.

In that moment, you realize how much he’s not just seen you, but understood you. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to start seeing him, too, not as someone in the background of your thoughts, but as someone who could be a part of your future.

Suddenly, you realize that this connection with him could be more than just a passing feeling.

As the days pass, you find yourself spending more time with Pepe—whether it's during work events, casual hangouts, or just those quiet moments where the world seems to slow down. And with each interaction, you begin to notice the little things that set him apart.

It’s in the way he listens when you talk, really listens, as if he values every word you say. He doesn't just hear you; he understands you.

When you ramble on about your latest fashion idea or a new post you're planning for your blog, he’s there, nodding along, offering insights or just genuinely interested in what excites you. He makes you feel like your passions are important, even if they seem trivial to others.

And then there’s the way he encourages you, not just with words, but in his actions. When you doubt yourself, he’s there to remind you of your strength, to tell you that you’re capable of so much more than you realize.

It’s the little things—those quiet words of encouragement when you need them most—that make you feel seen in ways you hadn’t expected.

But perhaps most of all, it’s the care he shows for your happiness. It’s the way he asks about your day, not because he feels he has to, but because he genuinely wants to know.

How your day went, if you’re feeling okay, if there's anything he can do to make things better. It’s a kindness you didn’t know you needed, and slowly, you begin to realize that these small acts—these simple gestures—are what make him someone truly special.

When things aren’t going as smoothly for him, you’re there to support him in the same way. You’re with him through the highs and the lows, whether it’s during a frustrating race where he’s forced to retire early or a weekend where things just don’t seem to click.

After a no-finish result in one of the races, you tell him: “You gave it your all. It wasn’t your day, but I know you'll bounce back.” It’s the small, thoughtful words that show him you care, even when he’s at his lowest.

Then comes the Azerbaijan Grand Prix. You’re watching the race unfold, and your stomach drops when you see his car lose control and crash.

You hold your breath, your heart pounding, as the screen cuts away. Your thoughts race until you hear an update confirming that he’s okay, but you can’t help but worry. You know he’s going to be shaken up, even if it doesn’t show.

You’re one of the first people to get to the medical bay after the crash. When you walk in, Pepe is sitting on the bed, his helmet off, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there's a silence between you. He’s still processing everything that just happened.

“Hey," you say softly, approaching him. "You good?"

He gives a small, tired smile. "Yeah, just... it's frustrating, you know? I thought I had it under control, but... things happen. Not to mention the lock up we had the other day,"

You pull up a chair beside him, sitting down without a second thought. "I saw it. But you’re here, and that’s all that matters." You place a hand on his arm, offering a quiet reassurance. "I’m just glad you're okay."

He meets your eyes, his expression softening. "Thanks for being here," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot, more than you know."

For a moment, you just sit there together, the chaos of the race weekend fading into the background. And as you talk about the race, his crash, and what’s next, you realize just how much you care—not just for his career, but for him.

The connection you share feels deeper than ever, something solid and real.

After everything—the highs and lows, the moments of doubt and clarity—you find yourself standing at a crossroads.

You think about all the times you’ve hesitated, the moments you almost pulled away, unsure if you were ready to move on, still clinging to a love that never was. But as you look at Pepe, sitting beside you, as present and steady as he’s always been, something clicks.

It’s not just the way he’s supported you, or how he’s always seen the best in you, even when you couldn’t see it in yourself.

It’s how he makes you feel, not just valued, but cherished for exactly who you are—the messy, complex, imperfect you. In his eyes, you’re enough. And for the first time in a long time, you believe it, too.

Pepe’s kindness, patience, and unwavering support have shown you a kind of love that’s not based on fleeting moments or unattainable ideals. It’s real. It’s grounded. And more than anything, it’s filled with hope—a hope you hadn’t realized you’d lost until now.

So, when he looks at you, his gaze filled with something deeper than friendship, you finally allow yourself to take the leap. You smile, a little unsure, but ready. “Pepe, I think I’m ready for this.”

He grins, his eyes lighting up with a warmth that makes your heart flutter. “Me too,” he says, his voice low and genuine. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready.”

In that moment, you know, with certainty, that you’ve chosen the right path. You’re not just moving on—you’re moving forward, with someone who will walk beside you every step of the way, supporting you, loving you, and reminding you that you’re worthy of all the happiness you’ve been seeking.

Epilogue:

Months have passed since you and Pepe decided to give love a real shot, and life has never felt brighter. His unwavering presence and quiet strength have become your anchor, and the happiness you’ve found together is undeniable.

The laughter you share, the quiet moments together, and the way he looks at you with so much care and love, it all fills you with a peace you didn’t know was possible.

It’s the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix weekend, and Pepe is in peak form. You’re on the edge of your seat, clutching your puppy’s leash as the race unfolds.

When Pepe crosses the finish line in first place, the roar of the crowd barely registers as you’re too busy cheering alongside his parents with all your might.

Later, you meet him in parc fermé, tears of joy in your eyes as he steps out of the car. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into a tight hug, his helmet still tucked under his arm.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispers, his words meant just for you despite the bustling celebrations around you.

That evening, you’re by his side as the team celebrates his victory. The champagne flows, and the glow of his achievement lights up the room. But it’s the quiet moments you share—when he leans over to steal a kiss and murmurs how much you mean to him—that remind you how lucky you are.

The next day, as you’re strolling through the paddock together, you catch sight of Paul in the distance.

He’s talking to someone, but his eyes briefly flicker to you and Pepe. His expression shifts for just a second—an unrecognizable look you can’t quite place—but you don’t dwell on it.

Pepe squeezes your hand, and your attention snaps back to him. He’s smiling at you in that way that makes your heart race, the way that reminds you of why you chose him. The life you’ve built together is filled with love, laughter, and hope—and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

© soleilpinto 24’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[merrycrisis-if]

I didn't realize up until 3 days ago that you had updated Merry Crisis. I played the demo very late at night and I felt such a strong feeling of melancholy and longing when reading the scenes between MC and their family members. The messy drama with the aunts and the uncles... The endless boredom shared between all older cousins... The bittersweet memories when remembering departed grandparents... The sibling rivalry when playing any type of games... "Don't forget the taste of your mother's soup". God. I might have shed a tear or two. More than the romances (who are actually great, don't get me wrong), I fell in love with the way you write about the MC's family and culture. There are many things about them I could never truly understand ; I'm not Singaporean, nor Chinese, or even American, and I never lived in either of the places the MC spent most of their life. Culturally speaking, we have nothing in common. But there were so many moments where I saw parts of myself reflected in that young adult struggling with conflicting aspects of their identity, especially when it comes to feeling torn between different places, feeling like a stranger no matter where you are, and being queer while fearing coming out to your parents. What struck me the hardest was when the MC thought their grandmother would have gotten along with Nat, even though they don't know how she would have reacted to their partner being the same gender as them... So, thank you for that. Anyways, this isn't really why I'm sending you this ask. There were heavy rain falls where I live yesterday night, and a part of my basement got flooded. I had to throw a lot of things away, including many childhood drawings and family pictures. Some of my dad's old stuff got pretty soaked as well, but his vintage ViewMaster 3D collection miraculously didn't suffer too much damage. I was drying them up as best as I could, before coming to a stop. There were a few slides of Singapore lost among the countless others of European and American cities, dating back from 1957. It reminded me of you, probably because your story was still so fresh on my mind, and I thought I'd share a few of my favorites with you. I'm sorry for the horrible quality, though. They are pretty old and my phone doesn't take very good pictures.

Thank you for your stories. Happy holidays to you and your loved ones, I wish you all the best.

This message struck me really deeply, so thank you so much for sharing this with me. It makes me so incredibly moved when merry crisis reaches across time and space and ends up resonating with someone from a completely different culture/place -- makes me think about just how many experiences are shared in the most unlikely ways.

I'm sorry to hear the flooding but wow it sounds like you uncovered a lot of real gems. Thank you so much for sharing them with me! The one in the top left made me think about my grandma who says back in the day, my old house used to overlook the sea (kinda like those shophouses in the picture) -- until Singapore reclaimed land and pushed the coast much further south. And the other one, in the bottom left of Haw Par Villa reminds me of the time I went to there with my family (this is a little creepy Chinese place with scary statues and an awesome exhibit of the "ten courts of hell") and there was one statue of what happens when you talk back to your older siblings and my younger brother and I had a good laugh over that (you get boiled alive in lava or something equally horrifying).

Anyway, your message was so special to me. Receiving things like this make me so motivated to write!!

Happy holidays to you too!! <3

[galvanizedfriend]

Fic Update: Speed Dating [4/4]

Roomates!AU. Friends to lovers. Rom-Com Vibes. AH/AU Klaus is having a bad month, so Caroline decides it's a great idea to drag him along to a round of Speed Dating. Other men in the room do not approve. (That's how it starts, anyway) --

Caroline doesn't see Elijah again for the next two days. Whatever has brought him to town, he either glides through the apartment like a ghost or their schedules are totally at odds. If not for the extravagantly tailored wool coat hanging by the door and what Caroline has quickly learned is a very distinctive brand of grumpiness on Klaus, she might have thought he'd already left.

Fate seems to be sparing her the embarrassment of coming face to face with him again after that first encounter, and it's probably for the best. But curiosity gnaws at her like an unscratchable itch. Elijah has intrigued her for years, far more than any of Klaus' other siblings. Finally putting a face - well, a little more than a face - to the name was satisfying, but it has fueled her desire to know more.

The Mikaelsons carry an enigmatic allure, a heady mix of glamor and mystery that is equal parts magnetic and intimidating. Despite living with one and being friends with another, the family remains a riddle to Caroline. The more she learns, the murkier it gets. It's maddening. Nothing about them makes sense. Caroline can't even decide if they have a deep dislike for each other or love one another to unhealthy degrees.

After two days, though, she's just about lost hope of bumping into Elijah again. She doubts he'll be staying for much longer, especially with Klaus' cordial show of hospitality. Not that Elijah seemed bothered - being caustic to siblings for no apparent reason seems to be one of those things that are normal by Mikaelson standards. It's just how they operate.

She is mindlessly scrolling through Instagram after yet another grueling shift at the hospital, waiting for the microwave to deliver her sad leftover dinner. Her feed is embarrassingly weak. It's been ages since she even posted anything new. Her last photo was taken on a night out with Tyler, for crying out loud. Should she even keep it there? What's the proper etiquette for when you break up with someone for no earth-shattering reasons, the relationship just fizzling out and running its course? Is it rude to delete all evidence of him from her social media? Is it expected? Would he even care?

Has he deleted her from his feed?

Come to think of it... Is Tyler even seeing anyone? Read the final chapter here

--

Can't believe I'm starting out my years by actually finishing something. 🤧 After 100 years of pain, it's finally done. If anyone still remembers what this is, I hope you enjoy it! Beware of the smut! As always, your comments/kudos/reblogs are very much appreciated and help to feed the monster who should be working but is writing fic instead. Happy 2025, folks! ✨

[incognitoleeknow]

The College Blonde

Synopsis:

After getting stuck trying make your assignment deadline, you find your life taking a quick turn for the pleasurable when you meet a stunning blonde who seems to be just the thing you needed to reignite your creativity.

Pairing: Dom!Femreader x Sub!Felix

Genre: Porn w/o plot, smut

Word count: 3.2k

College AU. Porn without plot. Lust at first sight. Strangers to lovers. Jeongin makes a cameo in the beginning as MC's best friend. Pleasure-dom reader. Submissive Felix. Mommy kink (Felix calls reader "mommy" once). Slight dacryphilia. Light orgasm denial. Reader uses nicknames like "good boy, kitten". Body worship. Blowjob (Male receiving). Corruption kink. Exhibitionism (sex in public). Y/N POV.

A/n: This is my first time writing a fic so be as brutal as you wish. Also, I'm not a native english speaker and I spell like a rake so grammatical errors and spelling errors are bound to be found. You have been warned. Enjoy!

Explicit content, adult themes, suitable for 18+ only.

This is an original work. Do not repost, re-upload or otherwise redistribute.

© Novemer 2024 by IncognitoLeeKnow.

Last updated: April, 2025. (Spelling check)

"Thank you for cheering me up today. I honestly don't know what I would do without you." 

You took an elongated sip from your americano, sighing in delight as you felt the icy liquid pass your tongue, temporarily relieving you from the blistering summer heat. 

"You didn't leave me much of a choice now, did you?" Jeongin said as a playful smirk creeped up the corners of his mouth.   

"Oh, Yeah?" You looked up with a raised eyebrow, taking a small break from the date with your iced americano. 

"We both know you could never say 'no' to me." You flickered your eyebrows in a playful display of challenge, a satisfactory smile taking form on your plump lips. 

Sighing in defeat, Jeongin leaned back into the soft leather cushions of the Cafe chair. Followed by a soft chuckle as he said,

"Yeah well, you got me there I guess. So how's the paper coming along?" Concern in his voice apparent, albeit unnecessary. 

You knew he was referring to this semester's paper. And even though it started off as a fun and easy assignment, you had now hit the dreaded fictional wall. Apparently any topic could get you feeling bored and filled with anxiety, given lack of creativity. 

A small bump in the road, you were sure. The typical cycle of creative progress. For inspiration surely is lucrative albeit a fleeting thing, and you suppose you would have to simply wait, until creativity decided to grace your mind with its presence once again. 

Insert Jeongin and your eager request to meet him for coffee. You were best friends and had been since the second week of college. You had been late, as you usually were, running across campus with hurried steps in futile hopes of getting to the lecture hall before your professor. 

That same morning, however, your sleep ridden brain failed to remember how to tie your shoelaces. Instead opting for the much faster approach of simply tucking said laces into the sides, between your shoe and your feet. Resulting in the typical sitcom fall-over-your-own-feet plot, successfully yeeting your body towards the ground at a horrifying speed. 

Standing just a few feet away observing the borderline comical fall, Jeongin hurried over to you and asked if you were okay. 

A quick visit to the nurses office, thanks to repeatedly insisting on Jeongin's part, you found yourself earning a sprained wrist along with your first college friend. 

"Y/N?" Jeongin asked with slight concern. 

"Huh? Oh, sorry, I must've spaced out for a second. What was the question again?" You asked as you shook your head, slowly blinking your eyes, trying to snap back to reality. 

"You seem stressed, are you okay?" He said as he leaned forward, taking your hands in his own. 

"Nah, it's not as bad as it might appear. I think I just need to blow off some steam, you know?" You gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, thankful for his genuine concern. 

"Some steam, ey?" Mischievous smile returning to his lips along with a playful eyebrow raise. 

"Oh come on, you know what I mean. I just need to have a night out with friends or something." You said, shaking off Jeongin's suggestive sarcasm.

 Although you would have lied if you would have said that the thought of a steamy night with a stranger did not intrigue you. 

To be completely honest with yourself, the thought alone made you clench around nothing. But where would you even find someone? On campus? Not a fucking chance. 

***

With a huge smile on your lips, you waved goodbye to your friend, feeling somewhat relieved for the first time in a hot minute. 

You took a deep breath, letting the scent of greenery and sunshine envelope your senses. You could feel your muscles slowly relaxing as you stretched your body, arms high above your head. 

With a newly given optimism and drive, courtesy of your bff, you decided to take the opportunity to go to the campus library, in hopes of finding some additional inspiration for your paper. 

Walking with slow, unhurried steps you went through the campus park, taking in the scenery around you, coming to a stop before the fountain placed in the center of the grounds. 

You had always liked this fountain and the majestic water display it provided. 

Taking a few minutes to admire the way the water elegantly sprayed from the unpolished steel structure. Your mood brightened by the way the droplets formed an array of colors in the sunlight, gleefully watching as they bounced playfully against the wet surface and reconnected with the marbled pool at the base. 

Indeed, the soothing sound of water hitting the wet surface was your favorite. Surely nothing could be more relaxing than this. 

Closing your eyes, you let the world disappear into the background as time seemingly came to a halt around you. 

Ah, piece of mind...

You exhaled a deep breath with the feeling of an oncoming gentle, warm summer breeze. 

The presence of another soul beside you, made you quickly snap back to reality however, effectively bursting the ethereal bubble you created with a loud 'pop'. 

A hint of annoyance crossed your features, as you slowly cracked an eye open to see the person responsible. 

Your annoyance was quickly replaced by sheer astonishment followed by a hushed gasp as your eyes took in the creature standing beside you. If you did not know any better, you would have sworn you were looking at an angel. He was long, muscular in built with broad shoulders and long, blond traces elegantly falling along his sharp jawline. Beautiful, wooden eyes and a galaxy of freckles displayed across rose tinted cheeks. He was staring ahead, at the fountain no doubt, seemingly oblivious to your less than stellar reaction to his visuals. 

You forced yourself out of your trance. Feeling somewhat embarrassed by your blatant display of lack of self-control. You absent-mindedly looked at your watch trying to, unsuccessfully, appear unaffected by the stunning stranger. 

"Shit!" 

Your sudden exclamation startles the poor boy beside you, making his eyes follow you in confused horror as you took off sprinting towards the library, remembering your upcoming assignment deadline.

***

Time sure flies fast when you are looking at a whole God damn meal. Unfortunately time moves slower than a fucking snail when you are doing an assignment you do not have even the 10th of as much of an interest doing.

With the deadline for your paper being only a couple of weeks away, you felt the pressure of adulthood on you. With a sigh, you closed yet another book you found failed to provide you with the information you needed. Pushing back your chair, you got up to start the umpteenth round of browsing the many sections of the library. 

You walked towards the deepest end of the library, the part reserved for professors who once or twice a year came to refresh their memory of some long forgotten trivia or, the occasional horny campus couple looking to spice up their sexual endeavors. You suppose it was the perfect place for privacy, given the lack of sunlight as well as the lack of efficient lighting of space. Leaving visitors with less than pleasant experience, at least if you were actually looking for something. 

You went from hardback to hardback, squinting your eyes trying to decipher the titles, looking for that one book Jeongin said "will definitely help you". 

Trolleys with books crammed the aisle, no doubt to the fault of the newly appointed campus librarian who always seemed to be more interested in hitting on whatever cute girl walked past, instead of actually doing his job. You made a mental note to remind him of his duties at a later time. 

Without much attention spared to the snug space that surrounded you, you found yourself coming to a sudden halt as your face connected with something halfway through the giant bookshelf. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you" You said reflexively as you lifted your gaze to meet the person in front of you. 

"No worries, mate" the deep voiced, blonde stranger replied, flashing an innocent smile that might as well have blinded you. 

You instantly recognized him, and of course anyone would. The beauty of this man was unforgettable, to say the least. You were a bit taken aback by his deep voice, the depth of it unexpected, given his angelic face. 

You gave a polite nod his way and he smiled as he returned to reading the book in his hands. 

Not wanting to disturb his reading session, you quietly moved to get past him, to continue your search. The small passageway and seemingly endlessly littered books and trolleys making your efforts damn near impossible. 

"I'm sorry to bother you again, but I really need to get to the other side" you flashed an apologetic smile while pointing past the blonde with your finger as if the reason for you needing to get past him was not blithely clear already. 

He followed the gesture of your hand, and quickly answered.

"Oh, Yeah. Of course, go ahead. Miss...?" 

"Y/N." You quickly finished his sentence. "And you are..?" 

"I'm Felix, nice to meet you Y/N." he smiled as he turned, pressing his body as tightly as he could against one of the bookshelves, signaling with his hands for you to go past him. 

"Thank you." You said gratefully, adding a small head-bow. As you took a step closer, you angled your body, making pulling it flush against his, thinking it to be the lesser of two evils. 

Your bodies painfully flushed together as you tried to wiggle your way past him and the unfortunately placed trolly, that for whatever reason seemed to be welded to the floor. His hands moved to hold the sides of your t-shirt in an attempt to help stabilize your steps. 

His cologne engulfed your senses with the close proximity, making you clench around nothing as you could feel wetness starting to form between your legs as your body unconsciously moved an inch closer to the man in front of you. 

You dared a glance at him, pleasantly surprised at the sight you were met with. 

Felix's cheeks had flushed a pink hue, eyes closed in an apparent attempt at self-restraint, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

Cute... 

Your body moved as if on cue, your mind not even registering your movements before your hands made contact with the flushed blonde before you, tracing feather light, experimental touches across the sides of his torso, gliding up to settle on the pecks of his chest. His grip on your shirt tightened as a barely audible whimper escaped his lips. 

The delighted smirk on your face met by his surprised one. Seemingly unable to register the sound that had previously escaped him. 

"I- I'm Sorry..." he cleared his throat, embarrassed eyes turning away as his small voice trailed off mid-sentence. 

Perfect... 

A wicked smile on your lips, you leaned into his ear and whispered,

"That's one hell of a delicious sound you got there, Kitten" you leaned back to look at him as his eyes snapped back to meet yours, unsure if he had heard you right. 

Your lustful eyes made him swallow thickly. You felt his cock twitch against your core and the color of his cheeks turned from pink to a deep crimson, spreading all the way to his ears. You licked your lips. His breath hitching in anticipation as you moved to close the distance between you.  

You raised your hands to cup his burning cheeks, trapping him in a passionate kiss, taking away whatever little resolve he had as he melted into your touch. 

One hand taking a firm grip of the roots of his hair, gently pulling him back, deepening the kiss, the other tracing down his chest, past his chiseled abs, stopping at the apparent bulge to stroke some much needed relief over his strained core. The sound of wet kisses and whimpers filling the tight space between bookshelves. 

You broke the kiss to give room for a much needed oxygen boost. Your lungs desperately deprived of air, and by the looks of it, you were not the only one. Felix was panting helplessly, pleading eyes begging you not to stop. 

"Tell me what you want" voice hushed and sultry, devilish eyes meeting his hooded ones. Felix broke eye contact, seemingly embarrassed of the thought of voicing his desires. You pressed your chest to his, your warm breath making him shutter as it fanned over the shell of his ear.

"Use your words Kitten, and I'll make you feel real good, yeah?"

Moving slowly downward, you let your tongue taste his neck before leaving a trail of wet kisses along his collarbone. 

You unbuttoned his pants, letting your hand slip inside the leathery material. Teasingly stroking his length as you coaxed the boy to speak. 

"I want to... ah... t-touch you." he finally mustered between staggered breaths. His husky, submissive tone sent a shot of electricity straight to your core, making your cunt throb.

"If you want to touch me, you'll have to

earn it, Kitten." Crouching down to your knees, you placed your hands on the back of his thighs. Stroking reassuring circles with your thumbs before teasing digits followed the outline of his clothed muscles, stopping by the hem of his pants. 

You swiftly removed the piece of clothing, freeing his cock with a slight bounce and left the fabric to pool around his ankles. 

His breath clung to his lungs, turning into a relieved moan as he felt you wrap your hand around his base, gently gripping him. His muscles tensed beneath your hand as you applied a bit more pressure. You kept eye contact with him as you reached out to taste his twitching cock. Going base to tip in one painfully slow drag with your hot, wet tongue, you eventually shut your eyes. A satisfied hum escaped your throat as the salty precum connected with your taste buds.

As you opened your eyes to reap the fruits of your labor, you felt his member twitch expectantly in your hands as your eyes met. Hooded eyes filled with lustful anticipation, his body trembled with your every touch in the most delicious display of sinful submission. 

Oh, what a delectable scene to behold. 

You moved to grip the hem of his shirt pulling it upwards, exposing his sculpture abs with it. You took your time admiring the way his honey glossed skin prickled as you applied feather light kisses to them. He really must have been hand crafted by Venus herself. His waist was slim, shoulder wide. He was not just pretty, he was gorgeous. You had to mentally slap yourself to keep yourself focused. 

"Here Kitten, be a good boy and hold this in your mouth for me." Felix wasted no time following your command, his hand trembled as he reached to take the fabric out of your way. 

"Words Kitten..." you commanded, voice low and hushed. 

"Y-yes, Mommy" he breathlessly stifled out as he placed the fabric between his teeth. 

The sudden impromptu nickname surprised you.

It was an unexpected answer to say the least, albeit not entirely unwelcome. You would not have guessed he had it in him based on your first impression of him, but then again, you would not have guessed him to be this submissive either, so you supposed you should not be so taken aback by it. You should never judge a book by its cover after all. 

You scuffed. A subtle pleased smirk gracing your features before responding to his enthusiasm with a faint,

"Good boy." 

You wrapped your plump lips around his length, slowly lowering yourself over him, swirling your tongue around the tip as you went down.

You moved your hand to cup his balls, gently playing with them before you started to apply gentle pressure, stroking the underside of his length. 

"I-I can't... ah... so.. so good!" Subtle beads of pleasure starting to form at the corners of his eyes. 

Felix leaned his head back against the heavy bookshelf as his hands gently fell to the top of your head, his fingers intertwining with the strands of your hair. He offered no pressure, no aim to guide your movements. His shaky hands only set out to find a place of rest in a desperate attempt to ground himself. His hips squirmed helplessly with the building pleasure of the tortuous assault of your mouth to his core. 

You let his cock fall out of your mouth with a noticeable 'pop' and Felix looked like he was ready to do the same. His hands were trembling as he desperately tried to hold on to what little sanity he had left. 

"No cumming now, Kitten. You're going to be a good boy for me, aren't you?" Your hands continued to teasingly stroke his cock as you spoke, making it difficult for the poor boy to form a coherent answer. 

"I-... ah.. I can't..." gentle tears blurred his vision. He could feel the unsought of his release creeping menacingly close, as he struggled to get away from your touch, not wanting the pleasure to end. 

You quickly released your grip of him and watched him whimper as the sudden inaction chased his high away. His chest heaved with want, its color matching the flush of his pretty star sprinkled cheeks as he tried to break through the fog of unadulterated bliss. 

"P-please.." Felix managed to let out between sobs, voice small and pleading. Bringing your tongue back to the tip of his cock, you teased him with small, wet Kitten licks before taking the length of him into your mouth. You bobbed your head in a hurried fashion, feeling his soft head bouncing off the back of your throat. 

Felix moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, making the shirt fall from his mouth. He quickly replaced it with his fist in a desperate, albeit futile, attempt to hold back screams while the other gripped his shirt anew, unable to handle the pleasure your mouth conditioned him with. 

His beautiful moans and hitched breaths spurring you on as you quickened your ministries. You could feel the wetness dripping from your neglected sex, unable to deny the effects his pleas had on you. 

"Cum for me Kitten" you said breathlessly, before returning to suck on his length with newly found determination. 

That was seemingly all the permission Felix needed, making his walls of fragile attempt to restrain come crashing down before your very eyes. Cumming with the most deliciously sinful broken moans you had ever heard. 

His orgasm sent electricity flowing through every nerve, muscles flexing and relaxing by their own accord as pearls of sweat dripped from his temples, down to his chiseled pecs. White flashes of hot bliss washing over him in waves. Cock twitching violently, coating your mouth with stripes of warm, delectable release. 

You sucked him through his high, making sure to milk every last drop of his essence before swallowing, unwilling to let any of his delicious nectar go to waste.

You stood from your kneeling position, legs a tad shaky from the tiring position and carpeted concrete. You used your thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, before licking it clean. 

Felix looked at your suggestive move, lingering chock and exhaustion from his intensive release, apparent on his stunning features. 

He looked like he was going to cum again, cock unrelentingly hard, twitching as a result of your blatant display of insatiable lust. 

"Thanks for the meal, Kitten." You winked before leaving to get your things. 

What the fuck did I just do?

***

Thank you so much for reading my fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it by reblogging and liking my post. Be sure to let me know if you'd like a part two.

Stay dark my friends.

[bon2bonn]

Change of winds

22!F1!grid X female!driver!reader

Words count : 3.2k .

* I'm so sorry for the long delay 🙏🏻 💔 . 💀🤦🏻‍♀️Life is shit in general and I can't finish any of my WIP list , so this might be the last update for a while until I could make/find the time to breathe and get some proper writing done .

2.october

Stretching after a long dreadful meeting was the first thing she did once everyone dismissed themselves out of the room , suppressing a yawn by covering her mouth as she leaned back in her chair in exhaustion . Today was a full schedule and that means back to back meetings along with legal and audit reviews of months worth of work , not to mention the preparations for upcoming events and gala's due to end of year celebrations back in headquarters .

To say her schedule was packed would be an understatement, but she made sure to not overwhelm herself and made time to check on the guys . she hated how they all got distracted by their busy schedules and lives in general, now they barely got a chance to meet eachother at their Spare time, and that was hard on all of them , the transition of going from spending most of their time working together even spending their off time close by to separate across the globe with them traveling constantly and her tucked away from one meeting to another not to mention the different timezones far away from their reach .

They still made the effort to call and leave voice messages daily, keeping her up with what's happening on the grid, and she in return left them all with voice messages and calls before every race , wishing them luck and a safe drive , religiously tuning in to every quali and race despite the time gaps and the work load , even indulging her now employees to enjoy the sport too , unknown to them how she herself used to race not long ago , some even recognized her but kept quiet out of respect to not get her unwanted attention, so she made most of the time to distract herself from the pit of uneasiness growing in her chest , and her almost overflowing schedule helped in that aspect.

A light knock snapped her out, followed by her assistant Lauren who peeked her head in , giving her an apologetic look making her sigh deeply before ushering her in " what now? " Lauren winced as she briefed her on the situation " you remember Mr Solly ? , head of the Australian branch is outside waiting on for an urgent meeting, something to do with the recent changes regarding the finance and marketing department " she tilted her head at the name " he came all the way to France to complain?" Lauren just nod not knowing what to say, making her huff a laugh " that's dedication, I'll give him that " taking a quick glance at her watch she then decided "Alright, I have 20 minutes before the next meeting so send him in , and please make sure to send out the Japanese deadline notice before we head to Montreal " Lauren nods as she typed on her pad then handed her the next meeting files " this will be our final meeting for the French branch , tomorrow will be field day and you have an appearance at Paris d'or gala , then you're free till Wednesday night , we'll be heading to Spain for the launch then we'll fly to Montreal form there before heading to New York on the 13th " she slumped over the desk dramatically , Groaning as she grumbled " and I thought my media duties were torturous " making Lauren remember " by the way the new Media team are going to attend the event tomorrow evening and will accompany us through the rest of the way back to UK " she snapped her head at the news " what!? , no no no " Lauren nod at her miserable face " yes, be grateful they're not following you everyday" , she straightened her posture and nods " if they try to get on my nerves I'm ditching them for good " Lauren nods in agreement " fair enough " then she made way to the door , letting Mr Solly in before closing it behind her .

The man walked in confidently with a certain look in his eyes, one she saw too many times to recognise with ease, he was sizing her and at the same time giving off the illusion of power , of having the upper hand over the situation, and she wanted to see the show he was trying to put up to it's end so she held her tongue as she greeted him " Mr Solly, you're a long way from Australia" he nods stoically " Ms L/N, I apologize for the inconvenience , I know how demanding your schedule is these days " she gave him a bored look " good to see we both think of it the same way " , her statement made him clench his hands but he kept his cool and proceeded " well , it's about the financial arrangements you installed previously and we see that they're a bit , extreme " she leveled him with a raised eyebrow " and may I ask who is we? " He cleared his throat " well the .... The directors and ..." She didn't waste time listening to his lame excuses " if my memory serves me right , and it does. The 'arrangements' as you called them were approved by the board members along with the department manager himself and the shareholders " his breath hitched and she didn't stop there " these arrangements came in time with various complaints from within the department about missing numbers from the accounts and they're not just small undetected numbers, they're big Mr Solly, too big to get swiped aside as human error or collateral casualty, so I'm asking you directly Mr Solly, do you have something to say? " , he clenched his jaw before he gritted out " what are you insinuating? " She leaned back on her chair with a wide grin " I'm not insinuating anything Mr Solly, I'm just asking obvious questions? But you seems to already know the answers " , He straightened his back and dropped his fake smile " you have no idea how things work, this is bigger than you , you think you can just come in and run around as you please just cause you're sitting on that chair? It's only a matter of time before everything crumbles because of your ignorance , you won't be smiling then " , she feigned surprise " are you threatening me Mr Solly? " He seemed satisfied with her reaction as he smugly answered " no , I'm simply enlightening you " she shook her head in boredom, staking her files and intertwined her hands on top of the stak giving him a wide smile unfazed by his falling apart façade " then let me enlight you in return , in two weeks time will be the next evaluation, I'll expect one of two things when I turn up by then , either your full report along with the missing accounts and data or your resignation letter, it's up to you to choose which one I'll be receiving first " .

She stood with a silent huff , not giving him space to react or answer back to the accusations and collected her files " now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be , I'm sure you know your way out " she made her way to the door and left like nothing happened.

The man was at the point beyond seething, he screamed at the empty chair, slamming his hands on the desk and proceeded to kick at chair before him . She stood by Lauren's desk, not bothering to glance at the closed door where the shouts of anger radiates off " charge him if he damaged anything and be sure to have at least one of the security to..... help him out if needed , and let me know if Martin call back or send the files I asked about " with a final nod she made her way to the next meeting .

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Posted Tuesday , 4.oct .2022

The L/N official

📍Paris, France 🇫🇷

Liked by Lewishamilton , Pierregasly, Redbullracing , and 2,274,119 others

TheL/Nofficial . light mode ☀️, night mode 🌑✨ , First official post with our lovely boss @Y/nsworld, we kicked off our journey with Paris 🗼 enchanting glamour, thank you France for the hospitality and we can't wait to return for more 🇫🇷♥️ .

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Username excuse me!?!! Miss Y/N what are you doing here!?!??!

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Username Mo...Moth..... Mommy?

Username not the type of surprise I expect but okaaaaaay?!!!!!!🔥

Username she's glowing ✨

Username miss Mam you can't just choke us like this !?!!! I mean..... You can ! But ?????

Username I need context!!!! asap !!?!!

Username admin's first post and they already got us on a choke hold 🙌🏻🥵

└TheL/Nofficial 😉glad to be at service.

Username CEO!!Y/N! That's it she can do it all !

Username another fantasy of mine just came true on a huuuuuge scale so excuse me as I scream my lungs out 🤠

Username L/N????? Hold the fuck up what did I miss??????

Redbullracing as gorgeous as always 😍🙌🏻

Scudriaferrari principessa ✨ 👑

└Redbullracing excuse you ! 🤨 I was here first ?

└scudriaferrari and ?

└TheL/Nofficial ladies, No need to fight! There's enough room for every admirer 😌

Username not redbulls fighting with Ferrari 💀

Aston Martin F1 Team ✨🧎🏻‍♀️♥️

Username admin deserve a raise for gracing us with updates! 🥺

└ TheL/Nofficial I know right!! @y/nsworld ????

└y/nsworld you started 2 days ago ??

└TheL/Nofficial I'm just shooting my shot 🤷🏻‍♀️

Username all hail the Queen 🔥🥵

Username admin I love you💍🧎🏻‍♀️

└TheL/Nofficial 🙈oh, stop it !

Username F1 who I only know CEO! Y/N 💼🏧🧎🏻‍♀️

Pierregasly I knew I shouldn't have miss it!

└TheL/Nofficial you snooze you lose !

└pierregasly @Y/nsworld excuse me, your admin is bullying me !!

└Y/nsworld I don't know what you're talking about 🤷🏻‍♀️

└TheL/Nofficial Boss said it's ok 👍🏻 so suck it !!!

Username admin is brutal 😭and I love it ✨

Kilyanmbappe ♥️ 👑

└Y/nsworld 💙 🐢

Username a lot of things are happening at the same time and I'm beyond losing my shit !!!! Send help !!!!!

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4.october 2022

Letting a chuckled at her frowning face , then shared an amused grin over her head with Sergio who extended his arm out for her to hold into " I thought you'd be more hungover than this " , she gave him a hard glare reaching blindly to smack him as she replied emphasizing with each smack " and I thought you'd be nicer " he dodged the last one groaning as he held his wounded shoulder from her assault " you ditched me for months!! and when you show up you hit me !? " She shrugged " I'm suffering and you're the one responsible for it so you have to suffer too " she turned to Sergio who was now laughing at their fight while kylian scoffed at her "it's not my fault you drink like a bottomless pit ! I told you to slow down !" She turned her head back to scowl at him " I was nervous!! and you dared me to drink half of what we had!" He looked away at her accusations finding interest in the ceiling , away from her glaring eyes .

She rolled her eyes and asked " where's Leo ? He's my favourite anyway, and he's for sure nicer than you " he pouted and made his way behind her to wrap his arms around in a tight hug, swaying them from side to side as he whined " I thought I was your favourite?! " She held his arms with one of her hands while she used the other to reach back to give him a hard pinch on his side " not when you're amplifying my headache " making him yelp in pain and flinch away holding his side " fuck! " , she ignored him and turned to Sergio who was holding back his laugh and raised an eyebrow at him with her eyes narrowed " you want one ? " He backed away raising his hands in fear " no thank you" she nods and made her way towards the rest of the team waiting for the tour guide to lead them further into the newly built facility .

Her father's company has been one of the main investors which made the responsibility to attend on a short notice to attend the tour either along with the other investors from other companies or with the team itself, and since she was barely conscious that morning when Lauren flooded her phone with SOS messages to drag her not even 15 minutes later to attend with the team their first tour on the newly built facility .

So here she is , willing her tired self to push through the day in favour of sleeping her killer hangover away , not to mention her little shit of a best friend who is making hard for her to not throw him in one of the construction containers to serve him for poking fun at her .

°°°°°°°°°°°

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

5.october

Tom made his way to the stairs, avoiding the crowded lift in order to clear his mind a bit , a little exercise with some music won't do him any harm , so with his headphones on loud he took the first two floors before contemplating his choice as his legs started to shake , and it didn't take long for him to deem his choice a shitty one and used the exit door to find the lift in the third floor .

He leaning on the wall to support his weight as he waited to catch his lost breaths , and when it finally arrived it was way less crowded than he expected, with only one lady standing on the side with her hands clapped before her in an elegant way , he adjusted his hoodie and greeted her in a polite " hello " receiving a nod back before taking the other side further from her after pressing the top floor, focusing his eyes on his phone to pass the time , after a moment she asked after noticing where he's heading " you're going for a meeting too ? " He looked at her then shrugged " you can say that " she hummed in thought then pointed at what he was wearing , a hoodie along with jeans and his hair a mess , and gave a disapproving face " I don't think you have an appropriate attire for such place " even shaking her head with disdain " kids these days " he gave her a side glance , huffing a laugh under his breath before speaking aloud " well , it's a good thing i didn't ask for your opinion nor approval on that , seeing it's none of your business " leaving her with her mouth shut and hands clenched into fists , and made his exit when they reached the floor , rolling his eyes at her then turned round the corner and out of her sight.

He came face to face with Eddie who looked ready to head to a meeting, giving him a glare as he stood his ground with his arms crossed making Eddie clap his hands in a pleading manner " it's a last minute meeting, I wouldn't go if it wasn't urgent, it's only half hour consultation " when he didn't receive any answer he went for bribery " I'll get you a brand new set " Tommy gave him an unimpressed look " Bibi already did send me one from France " Eddie rolled his eyes with a mumble of " of course she did " before huffing at his youngest brother and asked " what do you want ? " Tommy extended his hand with his palm up " I'm driving back , and for the next week " he glared back at him and Searched his pockets before throwing his key at Tommy's waiting hand pointing at him in warning " just this time " and hurried down the hall to the meeting room , he swung the keys around his finger as he made his way to Carlton , his brother's longtime assistant who sat behind his desk as usual , making the later look up when he made his way over , smiling up at him as he leaned on the desk " look what Van Gogh dragged in " Tommy's smile widened , with his dimples on full display as he peeked his head over the screen that Carlton was working on minutes ago , " oh , no need for insults , you could just say you missed me " Carlton raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed " yeah sure , I do miss you missing up my files and distracting me half of the time you're here , and the other half you spend whining up and down about being board " Tommy kept his grin and teased with his eyes squinted " so you do miss me ! " Carlton rolled his eyes and sighed going back to his work " sit your ass down, I got work to do " he saluted and made his way over to set of plush chair across from the desk and made himself comfortable then started working on one of his sketches , moments later he heard his name being called, and when he looked up he was greeted by a slightly medium sized bag aimed at his face but he caught it before any damage could happen, and before jumping to send it back at Carlton he looked at the bag and his smile returned at the sight of his favourite candy , and called out in a sweet voice " ooooh , so you did, did missed me !? " making the other mumble under his breath " sometimes I regret doing so " making Tommy ask loudly " what was that ? " , " nothing! , if you don't want it give it back ! " The call made Tommy hug the bag and lean away "ok! I want it ! And thank you for thinking of me ! " making Carlton groan and burry his blushing face on his hands almost regretting his action , almost , but the sound of Tommy's loud humming made him take it back , " huummmn , sweet , but not as sweet as you~ " , yup he definitely regrets it now .

Back to Edward who was making his way to his urgent consultation after handing over his car keys, taking a breath before unlocking the door and stepping in , about to greet the Clint who turned out to be a woman standing by the window overlooking the skyline of London with her back facing him , but his words died in his throat when she turned around to face him , a smile made it's way upon her lips and she didn't hesitate to greet him , taking notice of his stunned face and stiff shoulders " hello Edward , it's been a long time " , he couldn't grasp if it's real or if he was having a cruel dream , no a nightmare . but it took him a moment to find his voice again and ask in disbelief " Mom ? " .

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter 46

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

It is currently success week at work which means it is quiet as the grave. A great time to work on finishing projects at work and perfect to fill my spare time with attempting to write fanfiction. I blame @aplaceofnonsense and @futuretimelord-468 for this endeavor.

I am not sure what will come from this trial, but if it works out I might be posting a wangxian modern day musician au on ao3. There are zero promises this will be a reality, let me be clear, a writer I am not. However the rough outline now exists in this world.

Anyways!

Let's go chapter 46!!

Hua Cheng keeping and framing Xie Lian's calligraphy is so sweet. p334

aaaaand the palace is on fire- again! p334

Xie Lian accidentally (and only slightly inappropriately) charming little ghosts everywhere. (re: him telling the little ghosties they did a good job taking care of the fire of the palace that is definitely not his.). p335

Dang, who needs a security team when it is impossible to take anything. Cool home security system. p337

ofc it's Lan Chang, the impotence joke lives on in it's 3rd chapter. pp340-341

This is kind of sad with Lan Chang and the fetus though. If it was hers (I am assuming it is) then her spending her eternal death looking for it is so sad. p343

oooooo! The juicy drama of Lan Chang's kid being fathered by an upper court heavenly official! p346

Shi Qingxuan is a gem; "Temple Master" but also kind of a mess. Like don't go around touching random people lol. p349 (also the fact that they panicked and switched forms is incredible.) ah, yes, let me just change corporeal form and leave this situation immediately.

Bullshit! How tf was it Xie Lian's kid?? This guy can't even kiss someone without almost dying about it. p352

I smell trash in the air

It definitely cannot be Xie Lian! Like this man is a mess, but he would definitely remember that. If he remembered the most awkward erotic flowers, he would remember that!

[ladsgirlmelxia]

Caleb's Dark Secret (Yes I damn hope I am wrong)

**SPOILERS FOR LATEST MAIN STORY UPDATE** So with the latest LaDs Main Story Update I feel like with Sylus freeing her, and she still not remembering anything, there is more to it than we probably think. Cause yes we knew that MC loses her memories after she is killed and reincarnated again. I was wondering why she didn't remember Sylus, since he even mentioned that this time she should remember. So I made up a pretty wild theory, which I honestly HOPE is wrong, cause damn that would make Caleb really dark and manipulative (my poor baby boy) Okay here we go.. What if Caleb was the one, who made MC forget after the rescue / escape and it was him who erased her memories? And this is actually the reason why he never dared to approach her. He took this big part from her, kind of selfishly (or hopefully to help her) but nonetheless he thinks he is not worthy of her / thinks she will hate him once she finds out the truth. A few ideas / hints which point to that 1. She doesn't remember the escape / Sylus saving her, although it is pretty clearly mentioned in the story that this time she should remember. What if Sylus and Caleb fought cause Sylus wanted to take MC with him (save her). The fight Sylus' Evol against Caleb's Gravity / Black hole one, together with the accident of Xavier's time travel, caused the chronorift catastrophe. After this Caleb erased MCs memories to make sure she would stay with him and not search for Sylus 2. This is the reason why Caleb never dared to remind her, try her help remember the labs, even though she would remember their strong connection. He was scared to trigger anything that might make her remember and she would remember Sylus and then go look for him. That's also why he wanted to know what she had found out in the N109 Zone, I think he definitely knows that Sylus is there. 3. Caleb knows how to "swallow" the chips signal to protect his memories with MC, what if this was not his first attempt in doing something like this. Only the first time he thought he could "hide" the memories in a created black hole but instead erased them in MC. 4. Caleb erased her memories to save / protect her. A child this deeply traumatised won't find much sleep, will scream etc. I can imagine MC having horrible first nights after the escape and he just wants to ease her pain and so he erases those memories that cause her so much pain. If this is true, why not erase his as well though? Cause if none of them remember, they are defenseless, they won't recognise former ever people or even scientists from those labs. So Caleb takes in all this pain and suffering to remember just so MC has a chance on a better life / a new beginning (my fav interpretation and I can fully side here with him)

So this was all I had to write to this topic. I know it's far fetched and this also implies like before there is any actual dating happening, I think Caleb will have to do a confession, since he mentioned a few times his sin. And I havea very bad feeling this might be the story around his birthday card, finally coming clean with MC. And if she can accept him with his darkest side, then he might finally be confident in doing the next steps with her. Anyway sorry for the angst and trauma :D I am super excited to see how it's coming all along.

[jaylver]

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE — P.SH (TEASER!)

SYNOPSIS: Having a one night stand wasn’t your forte, but with the help of adrenaline, and most definitely not alcohol, you managed to rope yourself into one. Worst part of all was the fact that you didn’t even know his name! The only distinguishable part of him was his blinding white hair. You figured you will never see him again after, but you were so wrong. Your friend practically set you up for failure after convincing you to take her place on a blind date to try and drive the guy away, only for it to be the one you slept with, who also happened to be your mother’s best friend’s son that you met right before that. 

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!sunghoon x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, comedy, slice of life, angst

WARNING(S): profanities, slight violence, suggestive content (no smut), drinking, partying (subjected to change)

RELEASE DATE: (estimated) 8th September 2023 / (latest) 15th September 2023 / 11.30 pm GMT+8

AUTHOR NOTES: send in an ask/comment to be added to the ongoing taglist! will be closed before the release date (when i update it). after the last jayke fics being filled with angst, i've decided to go back to my roots and write something more light hearted.

TAGLIST (CLOSED!!!!!): @1800-beomgyu @yawnzshit @shinrjj @skzenhalove @taekwondoes @lalalalawon @ce1ight @enhacqke @winteringdream @strvlveera @rikisly @rikakhai @renchai @sievenderz @fariylixie0915 @enhastolemyheart @ckline35 @imhuh @yenqa @jayfrvr @tobiosbbyghorl @liikno @vizstars @kells5595 @addictedtohobi @rikisly @luvkpopp @delulu4-life @leep0ems @moonlighthoon @internet-folks @flwrshee @beansworldsstuff @bitehee @asyleums @luv4cheol @yur1a1 @dammit-jjk @kjrcrz @jhopesucker @enhaz1 @lilriswife4life

© jaylver all rights reserved.

THIS SHOULDN’T BE HAPPENING TO YOU NOW, BUT IT ACTUALLY WAS. 

Never in a million years would you have expected yourself in some random guy’s bed, naked and a throbbing head reminding you of last night's mistake. Blacked out, you were too drunk to even remember making a callous decision in fucking a guy’s name you couldn’t even remember now. Wow.

How did you even manage to bring yourself into this situation? Well, a frat party might explain it. Letting Wonyoung and Yunjin drag you to their favourite frat party was already the first mistake, but when you discovered good booze and consumed too much of it, you ended up wandering off and found a hot man, not turning back, instead you ventured into his bed. Horniness along with a pinch of alcohol could really cloud someone’s mind and awareness, unfortunately you could prove that fact since you were a victim of it. 

It was currently 4 am and the man you fucked last night was dead asleep with his back facing to you while on the other hand, you were wide awake, swallowing whatever information you got from last night. You remembered him as a charming, flirty, funny white headed man who had a big dic—heart—excuse you, that was equally respectful and polite. 

He was just as handsome, gorgeous and breathtaking as his personality. Bright eyes, pale skin that complimented his hair, a pair of dimples that had you swooning, and legs long enough to outshine a professional model. Hell, how was he not a model in the first place?

Whatever happened yesterday night stays in the depths of his bed. Period. Though you couldn't deny his … skills, and you wouldn't mind another night with him, yet something in you was rejecting the idea of seeing him again and determined to have him remain as a one night stand.

Frankly speaking, you didn't want to leave this bed of his at all. Was he a morning stay in bed cuddling type of person? You wouldn't know and you're scared to know. What if he kicks you out? You needed to save yourself the embarrassing walk of shame in the morning, so instead, you slowly slipped out of bed, making sure he was still sound asleep before scurrying out.

The clothes scattered on the floor were unsurprising. You picked up your undergarments and the skimpy black dress you wore, pulling it on quickly as if your life depended on it. You weren’t cold hearted enough to leave without saying nothing, that was too low. Taking the nearest piece of paper you could find, you wrote down a few words of farewell and thanked him for the night, cringing all while you wrote it. Gosh, this was shabby but it would have to do.

Rounding your things up, your handbag and phone in hand as you buckled your heels strap, you quietly and sneakily exited from his dorm room, thankfully no signs of his roommates were around. Now, the problem was walking back to your part of the dorms in the cold of the night. Exciting, wasn’t it?

The moment you got back, the dorm was silent and dark. Wonyoung was asleep in her room, but Yunjin was lying on the couch with her hair in a mess and you knew she was going to have the worst hangover in the morning. You crept past her sleeping figure and went into your own room, letting out a sigh of relief before dropping into the comforts of your bed. Never again.

. . . to be continued !

[tirsynni]

Right now for my agency, immigration staff is down to a skeleton crew. My agency is looking into different funds to keep us hired as long as possible, but without the reimbursements from our grant funders, there's no way we can stay employed. Everyone knows that it's a matter of time. We are literally owed 100s of thousands of dollars in unpaid reimbursements as it is. Within the month, definitely, but it can be as soon as next week, and when it happens, as it's being assessed on a week-by-week basis, there will be no warning beyond what management has already told us: we are screwed.

For the remaining staff, our focus is clear. On the personal front, everyone is applying for employment elsewhere. In different fields, obviously, as our field -- not just immigration but human and social services -- are being brutalized right now. Many members of our staff are immigrants, here in the US on employment visas and working toward citizenship. Obviously, they are terrified but doing their best. Resumes are being updated, and everyone is able to get letters of reference from our current agency due to the nature of the layoffs. Unfortunately, unemployment is terrible in my state, and everyone knows it. HR is helping all laid off staff -- past and future -- with unemployment, insurance options, etc. Everything except financial assistance, including severance, due to the current financial issue.

On the professional front, we are doing everything we can to assist our clients. This includes finding alternative financial and legal assistance, as Trump and his Trumpers keep cutting off the different avenues for them. There are multiple grassroot and underground operations occurring throughout the United States right now to help immigrants, along with other groups (particularly transgender individuals) being targeted by the Trump administration. I won't list any of them here, as they are working hard to avoid things in writing or recording. If you find them, absolutely support them, but do not record anything and limit anything in writing. Even if you are the whitest, most cishet person ever, Trump's administration is targeting anyone who they feel is a threat to their objectives. Sanctuary cities, officials, and agencies are being targeted at a federal and state level.

Obviously, I would love some help, as my layoff is right around the corner, I have my cats (including a diabetic cat) to take care of, and I'm applying for every remote position I am eligible for but I'm not receiving any call backs yet: bmc | kofi. If you can afford to support me, your local nonprofits, etc., that would be absolutely amazing.

If you can't, there are other ways to help. Call your representatives, be they red or blue. You might feel like it's useless in red states but trust me: they are feeling the heat. Many of them are supporting Trump more out of fear than anything right now, out of fear of Trump and out of fear of his supporters. They need to hear from their people, hear what it is happening to them, hear that they're being encouraged to fight against Trump, hear what will happen to their state if they don't fight back. If there is a town hall or anything like that, go to it and get the word out about it. US citizens need to be loud. We need to make it impossible for these people to close their eyes to the current reality.

There are grassroot and underground networks helping people know their rights (which has been amazingly helpful) , and they can always use more hands. Just please remember the main rules for underground movements: do not record anything. No pictures. No videos. No posting names or other identifying information online. Do not talk to police, as many are in full cooperation with ICE. (Honestly, no one should be cooperating with the police, anyway, but especially now.) There are online resources you can use. There are ways you can help as a bystander and as a member of your community.

ACLU Immigrant Legal Resource Center CLINIC

Like I said, I would obviously love some assistance for myself: bmc | kofi. I have to take care of my cats, ensure my (now oldest) kitty gets her prescription care, and I need to move this year when my lease is up and get the hell out of this area (and take the outside, former-feral cat with me before the bird flu or someone's unleashed dog kills her). But there are many ways right now to help your community and vulnerable people if you can. If you can't due to your own situation, please remember that right now, self-care is its own form of resistance in Trump's war on humanity.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

I, personally, would love to hear about all kinds of details and things that ended up being changed or adjusted from older fics. What were some ideas you had fun with?

oh god

-itysg: many of you might know this one already as it's in an a/n, but i originally entertained the idea of having ajax and zl adopt ruu thanks to some abyssal energy nonsense. i ended up ditching that route bc it would've had to have started when they go to tsurumi? but if you'll remember, ajax then was in no state to support a kid with the magnitudes of baggage that ruu would have at that point, so no.

-cyanide: i don't think there was anything major i ever changed abt cyanide, believe it or not, at least not that i can remember now. the more interesting part abt it is the fact that it got written at all, bc as i was developing wips and seeing which i would pick next, not only was cyanide not my main idea, it was also one in like. twelve. i have SO MANY zhongchi longfic wips. so many. some came up during cyanide and some during babysitting, but a good chunk all sprang up together with cyanide's original draft, so. i had sort of set it aside and was focusing on the True childe suffers fic, but ended up reaching a point there where like. i was kinda following canon. and unlike in the thomato fic that's similar to this wip, i couldn't wrap up childe's situation as swiftly as thoma's, so i started waiting for updates and then that sort of got the fic stuck in a cycle where i know damn well childe's plot in-game is going to be fucking wild and shit kept happening to him (hi inazuma, hi scarascratch, hi fontaine) and i added it to the wip and then i waited for more etc etc. idk. i picked up cyanide as i paused that one and sort of went 'huh ok this one is interesting' i still want to write a beta design childe fic at some point but who knows if i'll ever get around to it (that was the one). i also have a hanahaki wip but the thing is he bribes baizhu to take the flowers out like first scene and the actual plot is emotionless childe navigating all the bs that happens to him while zl tries to figure out when things went so wrong. there's also like two mafia wips that are just variants of each other. there's two mirroring timetravel wips bc i couldn't decide who i wanted to timetravel lmao. there's a different transmigration idea more along the lines of eoos (childe gets into the actual game no weird timeline shenanigans like in cyanide). that's not even the half of it this ship has an absolute chokehold on my writing brainworms.

-jadeite: to elaborate on the previous post which i assume inspired this ask, the first draft of jadeite actually didn't go too far. zl comes to in a hospital in the harbor bc czl had been about to go to a job interview for wangsheng, and as soon as he got to the door and said hi to hu tao a car veered off the street and nearly killed them. czl shoved hu tao out of the way and that's how he dies. originally in the hospital it was gonna be xiangling and xinyan w hu tao bc they came to check on her when shit happened, and they don't really explain much of anything to zl before leaving him. he spends the night in the hospital sort of figuring out how the TV works and going thru the same thought process as in actual jadeite. he gets discharged and is kinda out on his own for a bit (where childe sees him) before ht calls him for the parlor incident. childe isn't present for that in this draft. that's all the first chapter lmaooooo there wasn't all that much after that honestly. a bit of a second chapter and some plot points, but i hadn't thought about it too much (i was writing cyanide at that point). once i came back to it like towards the end of cyanide i sat down and thought through the actual plot and what i wanted to happen and started modifying the first draft into something else, and then i frogged that second draft and the first into what you guys actually got to read

-every good intention: i started writing this immediately after parade of providence and i think you can tell, esp compared to ysmms which was before kaveh's release and therefore before my descent into 'oh god why' territory around his characterization. even before his hangout in 3.7 i could already tell something was off, that final convo on the interdarshan event was like- he's on thin ice now. so i have to confess that i didn't plan to write a third chapter at all. didn't even plan to post it bc it was two chapters of nothing but angst and i figured most people wouldn't care to read it (or might even incur some attack from fandom youngsters). it was going to end with the to-do list and an ambiguous/open end on what happened to alhaitham. but then i couldn't get the brainworms out of my head and i ended up deciding to post it (partly because i was so baffled and disappointed in the fandom about their reaction to that last scene in the interdarshan), but in order to get people to read it, i added the third chapter and the happy ending. one of the bookmarks from someone says something like 'just read the first two chapters' and honestly yeah i never read the last chapter anymore. it was supposed to end at the second, the third is there entirely to appease and entice the to-be audience and going by how many read it compared to two vowels it feels like it actually worked LMAOOOO so yeah let me leave the confession booth now don't shoot me haikavetham shippers i was with you once 😂