#Fastest Snack Ever

[charlotteking27]

The Times You Have Pranked Lando - LN4

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Putting suspicious items in the cart in front of Lando

Lando and you have a free day, so what better way to spend your time than shopping at a store?

Today you felt rebellious after seeing some tiktoks of girls pranking their boyfriends.

After grabbing some things for the house, It's time to put your plan into motion. Thinking about this, you started to grin evilly before putting on a resting face so Lando wouldn't suspect anything.

You grab a gallon of bleach and put it in the cart in front of Lando.

"Why do we need Bleach"? He questioned

"Because we ran out," You said, trying to play it off, unsuspecting.

"How? we just got some of the other day? Lando said, putting his hand up in a questioning movement.

"I need some more LANDO!, You said ending the conversation, silently giggling, in your head at his reaction.

"ok", Lando mumbled quickly.

You then grab a cleaning tool, putting it in the cart.

"What you got to scrub?!" Lando said, peering over to see what you put in the cart.

"I got some deep cleaning to do, babe." You said trying to hold in your laugh from your boyfriend's reaction.

"Deep cleaning for WHAT? Lando said judging the crap out of you.

"It's spring", you replied.

Lando looks at you and then the scrubber, you again, "It's spring", mocking you.

You put a box of Latex gloves in the cart.

"Why are you getting latex gloves?" Lando said looking freaked out now.

"Because I have to use bleach, but I don't want to hurt my hands," you said, showing him your hands.

"I knew watching the true crime was a bad idea now you are turning into a serial killer", Lando said, looking so done with you.

Having more fun, you picked up a roll of duct tape, putting it in the cart on top of the gloves.

Lando looks flabbergasted at the sight of the duct tape.

"What The Fuck...", Lando said looking over at the cart again.

carrying the Fiskars Lopper tool towards the cart, putting it gently.

"The math ain't mathing no more babe", Lando said shaking his head in disbelief.

"NOOO!!", Lando said before running out of the store as fast as he could.

"Where are you going"? You said, laughing.

"Not with your ass", He said running the fastest you had ever seen him before.

Summary: Lando and you got into an argument, so you told him you were going to sleep in the closet...

"Babe, I'm gonna go sleep in the closet," You said, taking the blanket off your sleeping boyfriend.

"Babe-...", Lando said in a groggy voice from waking up.

"Give me the blanket. I'm gonna go in the closet.", you said before turning to your boyfriend who looked at you with his puppy dog eyes telling you not to leave.

"Wait...you're right. I need my pillow," You said before taking the pillow under his head.

"If you need me, I'm gonna be in the closet", you finished before heading into the closet hearing a faint whine of no from Lando.

"Babe, I need you to sleep with me...I can't sleep without you", he said, sitting up on the bed and calling out to you.

You closed the closet door, lying down on your makeshift bed of blankets and pillow, cuddling up to go to sleep.

You heard knocking on the door, knowing of course it was Lando, "No," you replied to Lando's repeated knocking.

"Babe, I have your favorite snack", Lando said, opening the door ever so slightly.

"What kind of snack is it? You replied.

"Your favorite", Lando said, slowly coming out from behind the door and showing you the snack he brought.

"Okay, fine. You can come, you said finally giving in to Lando's cute face and voice he does.

"Hehe...Yay, I can join you," he said as you both laughed while he jumped cutely, coming towards you to get under the blanket.

You laugh seeing Lando coming closer to you under the blanket, making himself comfy while cuddling you.

"You're so cute," You said, laughing as Lando continued to kiss your cheek.

[reallyromealone]

Title: autographs

Fandom: DC

Characters: wonder woman, batfam

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: Bruce x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, ftm reader, fluff, sexual themes between Bruce and reader(mentions of sexual things like slick and such)(they get interrupted by the children and reader simps for his husband), the bat kids are kids, happy family, reader is a stay at home dad

Notes:

Summary:reader works hard to care for his big family and Bruce decides to swallow his pride and get his husband and son an autograph of a hero the two love

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bruce sighed while holding two photos of wonder woman for said woman to sign.

The things he did for the ones he loved.

His husband and second eldest loved her, watching her fights on the tv and Bruce knew they were too shy to ask him to get autographs but he was willing to do this for them... Their faces would be worth it.

Finding her was easy, the woman towering over her peers with Amazonian height "wonder Woman, I need to speak with you for a moment" Bruce spoke seriously and Diana raised an eyebrow but followed him into another room of the watchtower "what's the matter, batman?" She asked seriously and Bruce sighed "I have a request..." He pulled out the photos "my husband and son are quite the fans of you and are too nervous to meet you themselves..."

"They want autographs?" She said with a soft smile "yes, they look up to you quite a bit"

"If you ever want, I could always make an appearance for them" she signed the pictures and handed them to him "I think Jason would lose his mind at that"

"And (name)?"

"Would explode"

"Well I guess I should make a trip to Gotham sometime"

"Perhaps you should"

(Name) Was helping Alfred with chores, handling the laundry while having his children help via making it a game "gogo! Throw it as fast as you can!" The fastest kid to throw their laundry in the machine got two packets of gummy Candy's instead of one! Little baby Damien strapped to his chest while Tim and Duke tried to put their combined laundry together while Jason and Dick cheered them on, as the older ones they knew they could reasonably get a snack whenever but the littles didn't have that freedom get because they would have another juice incident.

The girls were out with (name)s mother for the day, having some girl time without the boys and all the chaos that came with them.

Frankly (name) was happy that his mom was willing to take a role like that on, offering the girls a female role model of realistic expectations was critical at such a young age.

"Woooo! You guys did great!" The boys cheered, happy they 'won' but actually just helped do chores "now why don't you follow your brothers for a snack?" He ushered the boys out and they cheered at the extra snack and (name) Pat the elder twos heads while Damien whined "yeah yeah, it's naptime buddy..." (Name) Unhooked him and brought him up to his nursery, kissing his little head "you get good sleep and dream good stuff for me, alright?" The babe babbled and (name) began mumbling a lullaby, gently rocking the crib.

Eventually Damian fell asleep and (name) went to go check on his hellions he lovingly called children and smiled when he saw them playing video games, the littles on auto mode as they haven't quite figured out how to properly play video games but still be included. He loved that his kids got along so well-- well most of the time.

Deciding to take a minute, he slinked down into the cave for a needed moment alone without his little ones making demands, Alfred keeping an ear for them and with a baby monitor he decided to take a nap on the small seating area in the corner while he waited for Bruce to return. Taking care of eight children was no easy feat but him and Bruce made it work, it being the weekend the whole family was home, typically it was school and preschool, little Damien and Cass with a nanny while (name) helped Alfred or was out with Bruce doing public things.

(Name) Woke to the sound of the engine of the batmobile, lifting his body to see Bruce step up in full suit and made no attempts in hiding his blatantly roaming eyes "you see something you like?" Bruce teased taking off his cowl and (name) hummed "you have no idea..." The man was ready to climb the dark knight like a tree and do things most unholy.

"Well hold onto that, I have something for you" Bruce teased and pulled out a rolled picture and handed it to (name) gently unrolled it "no fucking way..." (Name) Whispered before looking at him "babe... You got her autograph?!" He jumped up and Bruce chuckled "she was more than happy to sigh for you and Jason" holding out the other picture (name) had a love sick smile on his face "oh he's gonna lose his mind, you're a good dad" (name) pulled Bruce close by his hips and kissed him gently "I try what I can..." Bruce mumbled and resumed kissing him, always a sucker for his husband's lips.

Jason was getting ready for bed when he saw the photo on his bed, immediately clutching the picture to see it's authenticity and hopped out of bed and ran down to his parents room and knocked on the door "papa? Dad?"

(Name) Froze his actions when he heard his son and looked at Bruce "sorry, baby" he whispered and they immediately put pants on, (name) wiping his thighs and cringing at the slick between his legs... "Eugh" he grumbled and pulled on Bruce's shirt before going and opening the door "what's up jaybird?" He asked his second eldest and let him in "look!" Jason showed the autograph "your dad got you that, why don't you go thank him?" (Name) Gestured to Bruce who smiled at his kid, Jason immediately running and hugging him "thank you! Thank you!" Bruce hugged him tight, kissing the top of his head aggressively and making the boy laugh "oh no! My son fell into the dad hug trap! He will never escape!" (Name) Teased quietly and Jason laughed and gave non committal plea for freedom and Bruce let him go but not without another kiss to the forehead.

"Now go back to bed, Birdy" (name) said to his son "you can show your brothers tomorrow, yeah?"

"Ok! Love you guys!"

"Love you too baby"

(Name) Waited till he couldn't hear the footsteps and immediately turned to look at Bruce "you're a good dad" he walked over and got situated in Bruce's lap, Bruce admiring his handsome husband who gently cupped his jawline "and you're a good husband for putting up with me"

"Someone's gotta make sure you take naps and eat" he teased the man who grumbled "and I gotta make sure you don't wear your binder too long" Bruce teased back and pinched (name)s butt cheek "yeah yeah!" He teased, the two grinning and kissing each other "now where were we?"

"now I kind of just wanna cuddle...."

".... What movie then"

"the princess Bride :)"

[woso-story]

Sore Loser

Leah Williamson x Reader

You always knew Leah was competitive. It was one of the many things you loved about her. She brought that fire onto the pitch every single game, and it was one of the reasons she was such a great leader. But what wasn’t always so great? That competitiveness extended far beyond football. It didn’t matter if it was a simple card game, a casual bet with Beth, or even something ridiculous like who could get dressed the fastest in the morning—Leah hated losing. And when she did? Well, she became a sulking, grumpy mess.

Which was exactly why you were not looking forward to tonight.

Game night at your apartment with the team was usually fun. It was loud, chaotic, and filled with laughter, but there was always the underlying knowledge that Leah would inevitably throw a small tantrum if she didn’t win. She had promised, again, that she’d be on her best behavior. You had given her a knowing look when she said it, and she had grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I swear, babe. I’ll be good.”

You wanted to believe her. Really, you did. But history had proven otherwise.

Sure enough, the night started off great. Everyone piled into your apartment, bringing snacks, drinks, and way too much energy after a long week of training. You sat curled up next to Leah on the couch, listening to the friendly banter flying around. Even Leah was in high spirits—laughing, joking, being her usual charming self.

Then came Taboo.

The teams were divided, and by some cruel twist of fate, you ended up on opposing sides. Leah shot you a playful smirk, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Prepare to lose, love.”

You smirked back. “We’ll see about that.”

At first, the game was lighthearted, the usual chaos ensuing with people shouting out wrong answers and groaning at tricky clues. But as the rounds progressed and the scores became tighter, you could feel Leah’s competitive streak creeping in. Her relaxed posture became rigid, her lips pressing into a tight line whenever her team missed an easy point.

And then—disaster struck.

Your team won.

The moment the final point was called, the room erupted into cheers and groans. Some of Leah’s teammates slumped dramatically onto the couch, laughing at their defeat, but Leah? She looked devastated. Like someone had just told her that football had been permanently canceled.

“No way. No. Absolutely not. You cheated,” she accused, pointing at you with narrowed eyes.

You barely held back your laugh. “Leah—”

“This game is rigged!” she continued, turning to everyone in the room, her voice filled with righteous indignation.

The room fell into silence for a beat before Kyra, ever the instigator, piped up. “Leah, you sound like little Harper when she doesn’t get ice cream.”

And just like that, everyone burst out laughing.

Everyone except Leah.

With an annoyed huff, she stomped out of the living room and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Kyra smirked. “Told ya. Toddler.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go handle my toddler.”

Walking into your bedroom, you found Leah sitting on the bed, arms crossed over her chest, a deep frown etched onto her face. She looked so ridiculously cute in her little sulk that you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Go away,” she muttered.

You didn’t. Instead, you sat beside her and grinned. “You know everyone loves you, right? They weren’t making fun of you.”

Leah turned her head away. “I don’t like being the butt of the joke.”

“You’re not. You’re just a sore loser, and everyone finds it hilarious.”

She shot you a glare, but it had no real heat behind it.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to her cheek. She remained still, her pout still intact. So, you kissed her again. And again. And again.

Finally, she cracked. A tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“There it is,” you murmured, grinning at her.

Leah sighed dramatically. “I still think you cheated.”

You chuckled. “Of course, you do. Anything for my little grumpy toddler.”

She shoved you playfully, but when you tugged her hand, she followed you back into the living room.

The second you both stepped out, the team erupted into cheers.

“Look at that! She smiles!” Caitlin teased.

Leah rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the slight blush creeping up her neck.

And, just as you predicted, for the rest of the night, everyone mysteriously let Leah win every game. Because sometimes, it was just easier that way.

And you? You wouldn’t have her any other way.

[majoryeager104]

Grumpy Keigo, who’d been working his ass off all day only to get an earful from the commission telling him he needed to be faster. Of course, the fastest man alive could never be fast enough.

Grumpy Keigo, who got home and through your apartments balcony door, his wings immediately drooping in defeat as soon as he touched the floor. You noticed, and opened the door for him, asking what was wrong. He stayed quiet, walking over to flop on the couch, his wings sprawled all over the place.

Grumpy Keigo, who looked up at you with the biggest pout you’d ever seen on him before, a true feat, before telling you what happened while you carded your fingers through his hair and feathers. That seemed to cheer him up. A little.

Grumpy Keigo, who seemingly expected you to baby him afterwards, his pout returning when you said you were too busy for cuddles. You were, technically. You’d been making yourself a snack when he’d gotten back. You walked back into the kitchen, finishing up.

Grumpy Keigo, who, as soon as you were done making it, used his feathers to drag you (and your snack) back to the living room, trapping you in his wings with a playful little “gotcha”, while he put his chin on your shoulder from behind, getting comfortable. This was gonna be a while.

[gothicgaycowboy]

✦ Aegon ii Targaryen NSFW alphabet ✦

My modern Aegon’s parents are Rhaenyra and Alicent and he’s bisexual <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you’re in a relationship he can be very affectionate. Making sure you are well taken care of after intense sex or even just getting water and a snack after gentle sex because he can get pretty hungry after it himself. It’s hard work.

However if you’re just a casual hookup he’s not nearly as concerned. He’s confident in himself enough to know you are satisfied after all is said and done but he’s a bit of a dickhead. He’ll give you a sloppy kiss and a pat on the ass as a goodbye but that’s about it. You’ll know he had a good time if he leaves you his number before heading out the door.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Honestly, his cock. He loves how you look taking it and how you moan when he pushes it in for the first time. He’s also a big fan of when you praise it specifically ‘your cock feels so good aegon’ ‘your dick is so pretty’ etc.

When it comes to a partner he’s an equal opportunist when it comes to tits and ass. He loves to suck on tits until they are dripping with his saliva and to watch them bounce as you ride him. For your ass he’s a big believer in smacking in and outside of the bedroom, as well as gripping it while he pounds into you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

He’s open to cumming wherever you want him to but he’s a big fan of cumming on you. Your ass, your tits, your face, you name a part of your body and he will cum on it. What can he say, he’s always been artistic and painting you with his cum is no exception.

D = Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to be pegged desperately. He’s fucked many guys before but he’s never loved bottoming as much as topping.

But the idea of you in a cute little lingerie getup and strap-on railing him while you sing sweet praises in his ears? That’s a whole other story. He’s jerked off to the idea many night in a row but he hasn’t quite gotten the courage yet to ask you. Maybe someday soon.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Let’s face it Aegon is a slut. You think of gender a identity and he has been with them more than once and does that experience ever come in handy with you.

He’s got you crying from pleasure night after night and never seems to tire of it.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying, may include a visual)

Reverse cowgirl all the way. The visual of you bouncing on top of him, hips rolling, ass jiggling with your back arched, his hands on your tits, is the fastest way to make him cum. He also loves pulling your face towards him so he can still kiss you.

Extra points if you do it in front of your mirror so he can watch you fall apart and see your breasts bounce with your movements.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Depends on the moment.

If either of you make a strange noise, or accidentally injure yourself he’s not too pompous to laugh it off and make a joke about it in the future. But he’s not going to ruin the heat of the moment by creating a comedy special in the middle of it all.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

He doesn’t really have to shave downstairs to be well groomed. Targaryen’s don’t have much body hair and what they do have is soft and thin.

He does like to grow out his facial hair occasionally and it’s a good look on him. When he’s grown it out he tells you to ride his moustache often.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

There’s two different types of sex with Aegon, the kind you started out with in the beginning of your relationship and still have: nasty, dirty, spit in your mouth kind of sex, and the kind you can only recently do: love making (even though he hates that phrase.)

He can be surprisingly romantic. He’s a fan of kissing during sex, holding hands, and eye contact.

He’s got all the duality you need.

J = Jack Off (how often do they do it? how do they feel about it?)

24/7 365. If you’re not around to help him he will absolutely be indulging himself. He has a locked album on his phone filled with pictures and videos of you in compromising positions.

His favourite is the video you sent him of you playing with your pussy, legs spread, tits pulled out of your dress, knickers pushed to the side as you ride your fingers and moan his name. It makes him feel like you’re right there in the room with him.

K = Kink (what are they into?)

What isn’t he into is a simpler question.

He’s a versatile man in general so when he’s in dom mood he likes slapping you on both sets of cheeks but not enough to seriously hurt you. Because he never grew up with a father and the word means almost nothing to him he loves to be called daddy. A little bit of voyeurism. Overstimulation is also a good way to get him going without even having to touch him. Nothing brings him as much pleasure as watching you squirm and whine as he makes you cum over and over again. He also likes to be a little condescending when he’s in charge: ‘what did you say baby? I can’t hear you over the sound your wet little cunt.’

When he’s feeling subby it’s a whole other ballpark. He loves being edged for hours, knowing he’s completely in your control. He’s a fan of being manhandled, chocking, slapping, scratching, anything is on the table for him if you’re up for it.

There’s much more he’s up for but at the end of the day all he wants is to be praised no matter what you two are doing.

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

For how kinky he is his favourite basic location is his bed. He’s up to do it truly anytime and anywhere but nowhere feels better than his soft mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going?)

Almost anything will get him going. He’s turned on most of the time. But seeing you taking interest in something he enjoys will always push him over the edge. He remembers going on a rant to you about his favourite album and he glanced up to see you looking at him with genuine interest, and love in your eyes and he doesn’t think he’s gotten harder faster in his.

Looks-wise he adores the sight of you in nothing but a t-shirt and knickers. Morning breath be damned if he sees you wearing that it’s game over. You’ve told him many times you’d be happy to put some sexy lingerie on but he always reassures you he’s just as turned on seeing you in that.

N = Nope (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He never wants to actually hurt you. The first time you had sex and cried you had to reassure him it was from pleasure and not pain so he would touch you again. Any bodily fluids besides spit and cum is completely out of the question.

Also he’s got two moms so calling anyone mommy is a no-no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves both.

When it comes to giving he could do it all day long. The image of you either sat on his face or lying above him is something he couldn’t describe with words how hot it makes him feel. Your legs as earmuffs is the greatest gift he could ever get. He’s incredibly skilled, his tongue (which is pierced by the way) and jaw never seeming to get tired.

He swears you are the best head he has ever gotten. Your lips wrapped around him makes him understand why people can believe in the afterlife. He also love the sight of you looking up at, eyes wide as you swallow him down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? )

It can go either way depending on his mood.

After a bad day he will most likely take out his frustration by pounding into you until both of you can’t remember your names. The grip he has on your hips leaving bruises the next day. One time he even managed to break your bed frame (don’t worry he paid for a new one).

Morning sex tends to be much more tender and romantic. Slow kisses and shallow thrusts before both of you have to go out into the real world.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often?)

Whenever there’s time for one he’ll make it happen. He doesn’t care how inconvenient it is, if he has opportunity to fuck you he will take it 100% of the time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks?)

He’s lived his life by the motto of try anything once. He even has a whole day dedicated to it.

When you were about 3 months into your relationships you took it as your chance to bring up experimenting and he was so excited. You tried roleplaying, bdsm, wax play, and exhibitionism all in 24 hours.

After that you both decide that one day a month if the other person brought up something they wanted to try you would try it, and anything else that came to mind for both of you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

You swear there is nothing that can stop Aegon when he’s horny. Your personal record together is 3 and a half hours with no breaks.

Sometime you tap out before he does.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s got a collection in his bedside drawer: all different types of vibrators, butt plugs, dildos, and fleshlights in all different colours.

He was always up to using them on you especially the vibrators and butt plugs. Pushing them into all your holes as you moaned into his mouth. And you using them on him? That was a wet dream.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease?)

He likes to be teased more than he likes to tease you. The fun in sex for him (other than the fact that it just feels amazing) is watching you succumb to pleasure, not to deny you anything.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make?)

He’s pretty vocal. Moans, grunts, gasps all leaving his mouth in the moment. He also gets vocal with his words praising you in all the ways you like.

‘You feel so fucking good darling’ ‘you were made for me only, right?’ ‘I want you to cum for me, please baby’

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon)

He really wants to have a threesome with you. He’s been a little shy to bring it up because he doesn’t want you to feel insecure, or think the reason he wants to is because you aren’t satisfying him and feel pressured to do it. But the idea of you making out with some other guy/girl while he fucks you really turns him on.

X = X-Ray (what’s goin’ on under those clothes?)

His cock is pretty average in size, around 6 inches and decently thick but it’s a beautiful sight. Pink tip with juicy vein running down the underside. Every time you see it you just want to put it in your mouth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Once he starts he can’t be stopped. There’s not a day you’ve been together when you haven’t fucked. (Of course he’s up for period sex.)

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He usually gets a burst of energy after sex. He likes to make a nice snack after you’re done. If you’re feeling tired he’ll rub your back until you fall asleep and usually watch some television on a low volume after you’ve passed out before curling up next to you.

[rendiamberspirit]

Shower prompt (as that do be how it be sometimes)

Izuna: *swearing and insulting people/complaining to madara*

Kagami: *hears* -gasp-

Izuna: *looks at him in horror*

Kagami: I'm telling mom.

This quickly becomes a chase of Kagami running to Tobirama, Izuna chasing Kagami, and Madara following wondering who "mom" is and why Izuna looks terrified.

Madara quickly learns 1) mom is tobirama, 2) Izuna fears quiet disappointment over yelling or a koi pond, and 3) Tobirama makes *amazing* mochi and other sweets. Oh, and that Kagami has weaponized other's foolishness for forehead kisses, and it's rather impressive. And no, he's not jealous of them. Shut up.

Kagami is the very best little ninja. Mom said so, so he knows it's true.

He's practicing the most important skill for a ninja to have, sneaking up on people.

Mom said if he can sneak up on people then he will always have an advantage.

Kagami's favorite person to sneak up on is Izuna. Izuna is always stalking his snacks! Mom only makes so many and Izuna ways then even though Kagami had time him all of moms treats are supposed to be his!

He's very carefully sneaking in the open window of Izuna and Madara's house when he hears what Izuna is saying.

He gaps and covers his mouth before pointing and shouting "I'm telling Mom!"

Izuna eyes widen so big it almost makes him laugh, but he knows if he is going to tattle to Mom he has to be the fastest he's ever been. So he shoots off running at full speed.

"Aniki get him! Didn't let him tell on me!" Izuna is shouting full of terror.

Kagami almost cackles, but he's being sneaky as well as fast so he doesn't want to give away his position.

Izuna is going to be in so much trouble and he's going to be so afraid of mom that Kagami won't have to share any treats for weeks!

Kagami is so proud of himself for making it all the way to the Senju compound without being found. He did just like Mom said and switched to blending in when he realized he wasn't going to out run them.

It's very important to adapt and change tactics if your first one isn't working. He got to watch with a smile on his face at Izuna and Madara race by him.

Madara asking why they are running, and where they are running.

While Izuna was whining the whole way about getting in trouble and how he has to stop Kagami.

As if he could. Mom has been teaching him stealth since he was like 4 when the village was first made. He's 10 now and knows the path to the Senju compound better than anyone! He knows all the hiddey spots, all the grannies that will cover for him, and all the booths he can hide in.

As soon as he sees Mom's house he's yelling, "mom! Izuna said the mean words!"

"Mean words?" Madara mutters from off to his right.

Izuna lunges at him and he isn't able to avoid him so Kagami ends up wrapped in Izuna's arms as he whisper tells.

"You little tattle tale! I thought we were friends."

They both freeze when they hear the door open.

"Uchiha's." A flat look, then a kinda smile, "Kagami, what were you telling when you got here?"

"Izuna was using mean words! I heard him say really bad ones even."

Izuna drops Kagami like he's being burned.

"They weren't that bad! And I didn't know he was there! I swear I wouldn't have said it if I thought he would hear me."

Tobirama says nothing. But he doesn't have to, the depot disappointed facial expression speaks for itself.

Izuna visibly wilts and Kagami preens.

Madara watches on in utter confusion.

"Wait. YOU'RE mom???"

Tobirama's eyes cut over to him. "To Kagami yes."

Madara is baffled. This is the White Demon. Playing Mom. To a Uchiha child. What is this even? And izuna is what? Afraid of his disappointment?

"Tell him no mochi mom! You don't get rewards for bad behavior right? That's the rule."

Izuna droops noticably as Tobirama turns a disappointed face at home again.

"That's correct. I'm proud of you for not copying bad behavior and reporting it to me instead." Tobirama then drops to a knee and gives Kagami a kiss in the forehead. "But that's what I would expect from my boy."

Madara feels like he is in an alternate reality. Nothing makes sense. His boy? Madara knows who Kagami's parents were. There was a 0% chance of any relation there. So wtf?

"I'm sorry Tobi." Izuna starts apologetically, then after a quick look from Tobirama, "and Kagami. I'm sorry I used mean words in front of you."

"Thank you Izuna. Let's go inside so I can get you both treats for good behavior."

"What!? You said nothing for bad behavior!" Kagami protested loudly

Tobirama eyes flit over to Kagami with a slight frown. "And then he apologized, which is good behavior and we reward that."

Kagami nods, but Madara still hears him mutter, "Izuna always gets treats, I'm the best boy. I should get them all. It's not fair."

It causes him to drown a bit. Was Kagami seriously tattling not because he thought Izuna was doing something wrong but just to stop Tobirama from sharing treats? Again wtf is going on?

Then Tobirama gave him a plate with his special mochi and a couple of other little treats.

Madara hadn't given much thought to being a parent before. But he thinks he would be a great dad for Kagami.

He never wants to go another day without Tobirama's baking.

And clearly Izuna is going about it all wrong if Kagami has managed to trick him out of treats.

Psh. Madara is no novice. He knows you have to lock down the good stuff. So he's going to forge the most beautiful ring for Tobirama and make him Madara's wife.

Yup.

Only option.

Sorry it took so long to get this out!

[moosesarecute]

December 14th

December Masterlist

Masterlist

...I'm sorry

Saying goodbye to Nick was not fun. Annette already missed the small amount of time she had spent with him and the elves.

Benard then winnowed her to the northern boarder of the Winter Court. They had provided her with a new backpack, a map, a lot of berry juice, food and clothing. Nick had also given her a few different pieces of paper. He called it “some easy reading for the journey”. Annette really looked forward to reading them.

“Thank you, Benard,” Annette told her new friend.

Benard gave her a small bow and disappeared. Annette was suddenly very alone, but she had hope. She was going to find her family.

They had planned her entire journey. She was going to walk through the first half of the Middle and then fly as far as she could. The southern part of the Middle was the safest and she still didn’t have too much energy.

“Okay,” she said to hype herself up and then she started to walk.

She walked and walked and walked. She went past so many trees and so many birds, but she paid no attention to any of them. Nick had told her about the dangers that could live in the Middle and told her to draw as little attention to herself as possible.

After a few hours, her heart started to pull. The feeling overwhelmed her at first, but she did as Nick told her, she followed it. She let the pull chose her path.

She walked for just a little longer, until she stopped to eat. She ate some of the snacks she had gotten and drank some of the Winter Berry juice.

After the drink, she started to feel…weird. Not bad weird, but good weird.

Her mind felt clear. She felt lighter. As she continued her walk, her body felt easy. Her chest pull became stronger and stronger. And a line started to form in her chest. She could almost touch it with her mind.

After that happened, everything happened so quickly.

She was suddenly covered. Covered in black and sheer moving shapes. They hugged her entire body. The feeling was familiar, even though he knew nothing about her. One of them wrapped tightly around her ring finger. They danced around her, and she almost started to dance with them, when she heard a voice.

“There you are.”

Annette’s eyes shot towards the voice, and she met Bru’s serious eyes.

“We’ve got you now.”

Annette immediately started to back away, but she walked straight into something. She quickly turned around and was met by Cris.

They had surrounded her.

Cris grabbed her by her throat, but the black creatures pulled him off her. They however weren’t enough to hold back both males. Bru jumped at her again by the throat. She tried to fight him, but with her weak body and the surprise of the attack made her unable to move.

Her vision started to blacken as Bru’s grip tightened.

As she started to black out. The only thought in her mind was…Az?

Azriel woke up with pain in his chest. He had taken a nap to try to disappear from his feelings.

It wasn’t as intense as last time, but it was like it was starting to form. The bond was starting to form.

He rushed out of his bed.

“Find her.” he commanded his shadows. They parted into five and went five different directions.

Azriel rushed into his leathers and put on any weapon he had in sight. If he had to fight, he would. Nothing was keeping him from finding you.

The feeling of the bond heightened. He let out a cry and his legs gave out underneath him. He dug deep and lifted the bonded. He tugged and when he felt something on the other side, he gave out a louder cry.

He pulled and pulled and pulled. It was too weak to tell him where you were, but it was there.

“Please,” he begged. “Please.”

He couldn’t find you.

He got up on his feet and jumped out of the window. He flew the fastest he had ever done. He pulled and pulled and pulled, but nothing answered.

He felt so overwhelmed. He cried his eyes out as he kept begging for something to lead him to you.

“We’ve got her.”

Azriel didn’t hesitate as he shadow-walked where the shadows wanted to take him.

He ended up in the Middle. He had never shadow-walked that far before. But it didn’t matter, because you weren’t there.

“Sorry, sorry, lost her, sorry.” His shadows cried into his head.

“No, no, no, no.”

You had been here, but he was too late. He tried to look around for signs, but he couldn’t find any.

“Y/N, please.”

He was giving up, when his shadows grabbed his wrist and aggressively pulled him. They guided him to a hat.

It was simple, but warm. It was knitted. He picked it up, but didn’t notice anything important. He was going to let it onto the ground when he smelled you.

He got weak in his knees. The smell of his love. But it wasn’t right. Something was different. It was sour.

“I’m sorry.” He cried.

You were scared. Your smell was off because you were scared. You were scared and he had been too late to save you.

He had to find you.

Taglist: @prettylittlewrites @hailqueenconquer @onebadassunicorn @mich0731 @tele86 @mellowmusings @anarchiii @anainkandpaper @donnadiddadog @atomictyphoonkitten @annablack @graciepies @salvatoresister1 @nastylicious @plants-w0rld @stqrgirlies-blog

Let me know if you want to be added!

Dividers by: @issysh3ll

[svtskneecaps]

i miss qsmp outlast trials so here's a list of my favorite parts of qsmp outlast trials

hearing baghera get increasingly more french from halfway down the hallway bc the goons are hassling her and she can't find the objective

jaiden screaming like she's being killed irl anytime something moves

cellbit being half a mile away completing the objective on his own

quackity always managing to be the last man standing bc he spends the round cowering in hidey holes and then gets teased mercilessly by the dead chat bc he's the only one who can res them

slimecicle stepping on all of the glass in a half mile radius

slimecicle kiting the monsters around a couch like a god gamer

cellbit eating snacks and giggling while watching everyone else do the tutorial

roier being absolutely fucking goated at the arm wrestling minigame and then like two rounds later having the sharpest and fastest skill fall off i have ever seen

foolish and jaiden taking turns getting scared by nothing and winding each other up

that one round where jaiden got attacked like three times within two rooms of the entrance

cellbit going I'M DYING I'M DYING and hearing quackity's muffled voice in a hiding spot down the hall go NOT ME I'M ALIVE BITCH

everyone and their mom drinking health by mistake while attempting to hand it off to their teammate

roier blasting freddy's music box into the mic to fuck with quackity

mouse freaking jaiden out by joining the discord call and saying hello while they were in a game

jaiden saying "eat brick" or "eat glass" every time she throws an item

cussing in whatever language they remember first

roier ducking all the tin can noise traps even while actively being chased

"welcome to brazil's first radio station [royalty free music plays]"

every time roier is in danger he yells for quackity. quackity is halfway across the map. he has nothing. he is screaming.

[phiphispage]

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔

⋆˚꩜｡ 𝑩𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 + 𝑺𝑷𝑶𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑫 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟐!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏-

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒 ! ;

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓,𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 (𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐭) , 𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱! (𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩)

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒. .⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

If anything it was pathetic. Obviously .

But honestly, you didn’t care. You were in his room, on his bed and Matt was down on his knees in front of you.

And he was begging. He was begging so he could touch you. He could taste you. He could feel you. And it was beautiful.

Though you’d never admit it, you’d thought dreamed about this already. Like it was going to happen eventually. But….you sure as hell weren’t complaining, he looked absolutely perfect, majestic even. He looked at you like a pleading puppy wanting a snack. Oh he was yearning for it. And sure , you might have seemed confident , I mean you wouldn’t have full on commanded him to beg for him to give you head if you weren’t confident. But god you were so close to just giving in and falling apart under his dominance. But would that been such a bad thing?

After about 10 seconds of silence you finally replied to his pleas.

“How bad you want it ? “ You said looking down at him , his glossy, practically red eyes looking back at your unreadable ones.

“Enough for it to destroy our friendship and you” he said, it was cringe. It really was but god it turned you on. So….

“Fine. Go ahead , want it so bad?T-“ before you could even start your sentence Matt was i between your legs. Hungry. Starved.

And given by the utterly pornographic sound that escaped your mouth, he was good at it too.

Now , you’d been all high and mighty not even 2 seconds ago but now? It’s like you had been brainwashed. Matt gave you small kisses on your Inner thighs, then bigger kisses on you inner thighs , then when he finally started licking your soar clit he’d left you with plenty of very visible hickeys all around you.

“Matt-“

“Was’ wrong? Was so confident a minute ago” he said in a small snarky remark, he was proud of himself, I mean if he was going to destroy his friendship with you , might as well make you remember it.

“Please- Don’t-“

“Ya cute’” he said in between slow, painfully pleasurable licks. “Can’t even put together two sentences while your best friend’s tongue inside ya” he said. At this point he was talking to himself, he barely even finished talking before you finished , and to be very honest , that was the fastest you’ve ever finished. It didn’t even take you ten minutes and you were riding out your high on Matt’s tongue…

Matt slowly got up after you finished riding out your high, his chin and mouth covered in your juices, a huge smirk playing on his mouth.

“Don’t say a thing.” You said looking at him, the same huge smirk still playing on his lips , which were still covered by - well, you.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re adorable. But we aren’t even close to done yet” he said before crawling back on top of you and not letting you say a word before kissing you.

You could taste yourself.

You could feel his raging boner.

And you could sense that this was going to be a longggg night.

And by long, I mean LONG.

9;42 pm

You finally stopped making out and decided to repay Matt with the favor and undid his belt while going down on your knees in front of him, slowly , teasingly.

And to say the least he was a whimpering mess by the 2nd time he finished in your mouth, the first time was because of you good you were using your mouth , the second time was because right when he came instead of pulling away you swallowed. And that to say the least instantly made him hard again.

10;17 pm

After a long period of asking each other if you were sure sure about this Matt finally started to slowly insert himself.

You winced in pain abit. Sure you’ve lost your v card to some guy in high school and had a couple casual hook ups but this was Matt .

And it didn’t help he was HUGE. Almost 11 inches. He looked at you in a “you sure you wanna do this ?” Type of way and only when you nodded he continued , but once he was fully in, and the pain finally turned into pleasure ……

“Fuck Matt-! Don’t stop! Please-“

“Hm! Ain’t gonna- fuck….”

He started deep and painfully slow , waiting for it to gradually build up and up then eventually started going faster and faster. Until the only thing we heard were the sounds of your moans , and his groans.

Matt picked up his pace while you tried to grab his bed sheets for some stability. Matt was sweet to you, he had pride, so it was abit surprising when he actually begged for you. What wasn’t very surprising was that he was silent. Couple of groans here and there but it was as if he was trying to win back some sort of pride from begging earlier. It was cute.

But you knew it wouldn’t last long…..

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒. .⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.

╰┈➤ SORRY FOR THIS SHORT PART ! DIDN’T HAVE ANY MOTIVATION!! PART 3 OUT IN 2 WEEKS!! (Small filler parts out soon !!)

[killuasskateboard]

a/n: hihi! Its been kinda a long time since i wrote, soooo yeah i made a oneshot today :) its a random one that just popped out in my brain, soo enjoy !!

Killua x reader oneshot!

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Sweet Exceptions

“Race you guys to the store!” Gon announced, already taking off.

“Gon, that’s not fair!” you laughed, chasing after him.

Killua smirked. “Hah. Like either of you can outrun me.” In a blink, he dashed ahead, leaving both you and Gon in the dust.

By the time you made it to the store, Killua was already standing in the snack aisle, grinning victoriously.

“You guys are so slow,” he teased.

Gon pouted, but you ignored him, eyes scanning the shelves for your target.

ChocoRobots.

Ever since you met Killua, you had developed a habit of eating them, too. The sweet, crunchy treat had quickly become one of your favorites, much to Killua’s delight (and occasional annoyance when you stole one from him).

“There!” you pointed, spotting a familiar blue-and-yellow package.

But the excitement was short-lived.

There was only one left.

You and Killua locked eyes, then looked at the package. Then back at each other.

The tension was real.

Gon, sensing the impending standoff, slowly stepped back. “Uh… should I—?”

Before he could finish, you let out a small sigh and grabbed the package, then—

You handed it to Killua.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You can have it,” you said with a small smile. “You love them more than I do.”

Killua stared at you, clearly stunned. He was many things—an assassin, a prodigy, the fastest person you knew—but speechless? That was rare.

“…Tch.” He took the package, tearing it open in one smooth motion.

You expected him to immediately start eating, but instead, he glanced at you as you continued to stare at the chocolate treats in his hand.

You weren’t doing it on purpose. Really.

It was just that he was so smug about getting the last pack, and now he was enjoying it right in front of you, and—

Killua let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re so annoying.”

Before you could respond, he picked up a ChocoRobot and held it out toward you.

Your eyes widened. “Wait… really?”

“Just take it before I change my mind.”

You grinned and took the piece, popping it into your mouth. It tasted even better than usual.

Gon, who had been watching the whole exchange, suddenly whined. “No fair! You never share with me, Killua!”

Killua smirked, stuffing another piece into his mouth. “Yeah, well, Y/n’s different.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

Gon gasped dramatically. “Are you saying I’m not special?”

Killua rolled his eyes. “You’re special in the way an annoying little brother is special.”

You just laughed, happily munching on your ChocoRobot, while Killua pretended not to notice the smile on your face.

Maybe ChocoRobots weren’t the only sweet thing here.

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Thank you for reading! I hope there arent any grammar mistakes, english isnt my first language. I hope you have a great day/night <33

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

[cup1drul3z]

★ — Only a vampire can love you forever | CH 10

ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ᴄʜᴜʙʙʏ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴄᴀɪᴛʟʏɴ | 7.4ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

CW : Dark!sevika, age gap, private school, toxic, forbidden love, mentions of blood, hopeless lesbians, TEACHER X STUDENT, porn with plot, oral sex, reader is a virgin, innocent reader, theres like a 500 year age gap, courruption, masturbation, cheating, odd love triangle?, READER IS STUCK IN THE MIDDLE OF A BUNCH OF ATRACTIVE VAMPIRES

A/N : welcome back to cupid is running out of banners and now she has to recycle her old ones

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

The whistle blew, sharp and sudden, slicing through the air like a jolt of electricity.

You blinked, your eyes snapping away from the stands where your father's seat still sat empty—third row up, right side, the one your mom always saved for him even when she knew he wouldn’t come.

"Y/N!" someone screamed from the field. "Focus!"

You jerked your head toward the sound—Mel Medarda, your best friend since fourth grade, arms waving like crazy from across the field. Her braids were coming loose from her ponytail, sweat glistening on her forehead, but she was smiling—sharp and determined, like she always was when she wanted you to wake up and win.

Right. The game.

Your heart kicked into high gear as you turned back toward the ball, the mud under your cleats slick from the morning rain. The opposing team was already closing in, but the field stretched open before you like a track begging to be run.

Your coach's voice echoed faintly from the sidelines—Go, go, go—

And then you were gone.

Your feet moved before your thoughts could catch up—legs pumping, the wind slicing past your cheeks as you sprinted faster than you knew you could. You cut through the midfield like a blade, weaving past defenders who barely saw you coming.

You were the fastest on your team. Always had been.

They said it was natural talent. Said you had “gifted genetics.”

But no one ever explained why you healed faster after a fall. Or why your vision sharpened just before a goal. Or why your chest barely burned even after the longest run.

You didn’t question it. Not then.

You just ran.

And the crowd was on its feet now, roaring—parents, teammates, people you didn’t know. Except one voice cut through it all:

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You glanced to the left as you neared the goal—

And saw your mom, standing in her hoodie and faded jeans, wrapped in a scarf even though it was barely chilly. She looked paler than usual. A little thinner. But her smile was huge.

You didn’t need your dad.

Not in that moment.

Because she was there.

You struck the ball with a clean, powerful kick—and it soared into the net just as the goalie dove the wrong way.

The whistle blew again.

Goal.

Your teammates screamed, running at you. Mel got to you first, nearly tackling you in a hug.

“You’re a freaking blur out there,” she laughed. “You sure you’re not cheating?”

You laughed too, breathless and beaming. “Just fast.”

Mel rolled her eyes, ruffling your hair. “Remind me not to race you ever again.”

You looked back at your mom.

She was clapping, still smiling, her scarf fluttering in the wind. But her eyes looked tired. Red-rimmed.

You would learn later that she had pushed herself just to make it there. That she lied to the nurse and told her she was “feeling strong enough” today. That she brought snacks even though she could barely hold the bag.

But right then?

She was just your mom.

The one who showed up. The one who screamed your name when you scored. The one who smiled like you were everything.

You didn’t know how much you’d miss that smile.

Not yet.

The game had ended over twenty minutes ago, but the field still buzzed with leftover energy. Kids darted between backpacks and coolers, soccer balls rolling along the grass as parents gathered up gear and handed out juice boxes like medals.

You scanned the crowd, eyes bouncing over teammates hugging their parents, laughter bubbling up from every corner.

Then— You saw her.

Your mom stood near the edge of the field, arms folded over her stomach, scarf still wrapped tightly around her neck. Her cheeks were flushed with the afternoon sun—or maybe the effort of standing so long—but her smile hadn’t faded one bit.

You didn’t even think. You just ran.

Your cleats thudded against the soft grass as you sprinted toward her, your heart still beating hard from the game. You practically launched into her, arms wrapping around her middle as you buried your face in her scarf.

“Did you see that?!” you beamed, muffled by fabric.

She laughed—quiet and warm—and wrapped both arms around you, holding you close despite how sweaty and grass-stained you were.

“Of course I did,” she said, her voice a little breathless but strong. “You were flying out there, sweetheart. I could barely keep track of you.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at her, your face flushed and grinning, eyes shining with pride. “We won.”

“I saw,” she said, cupping your cheek for a moment. “You were amazing.”

You leaned into her touch instinctively, grinning from ear to ear.

“Mel says I should be tested for rocket fuel,” you joked.

Your mom raised a brow, smiling through tired eyes. “Well… you have been running circles around everyone since you could walk.”

“Do you think I’m, like… mutant-fast?”

“I think,” she said, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, “you’re just my little supernova.”

You giggled.

And for a moment, the world felt perfect.

No illness. No silence in the stands. Just you and her and a warm breeze that smelled like grass and orange slices.

You didn’t know it would be one of the last times she came to a game.

Didn’t know this hug would replay in your head years later like a prayer.

You only knew she was there.

And that was enough.

You stood at the top of the stairs, still in your grass-stained uniform, socks half-peeled off your ankles and cleats dangling from one hand.

The glow from the kitchen lights spilled up the stairwell, flickering faintly with the movement of shadows below.

You hadn’t meant to listen.

But you’d come down for water, and then—

“��you missed it, Mark.”

Your mother’s voice. Frustrated. Tired. More cracked than usual.

There was a pause.

Then your dad’s voice, low and defensive. “I told you I had to work. I can’t keep asking for days off. Do you want to pay the hospital bills with handshakes and good intentions?”

“She scored two goals,” she shot back. “She kept looking for you. I could see it in her face.”

Another pause. This one longer. He didn’t respond right away.

“She doesn’t know,” he said finally, more quietly now. “She doesn’t know how bad it’s getting. That’s what we agreed on, remember?”

You froze on the top step.

Your fingers tightened around your cleats.

“I know,” your mom replied, her voice smaller now. “I know. But—what if I don’t get to see her next game? Or her birthday? Or her first dance?”

Your stomach twisted.

You stepped back, slow and silent, like the floor might give out beneath you if you moved too fast.

“I just want her to remember me there. Not hooked up to machines. Not in some white room where the nurses forget my name.”

“Don’t say that,” your dad said, sharper this time. “You’re going to get better.”

“She deserves the truth.”

“She deserves a mother who survives.”

The silence that followed was thick. Unbreathable.

You turned and walked back to your room without a sound, eyes wide and throat burning.

You didn’t cry.

Not yet.

You just sat down on the edge of your bed, journal still clutched in your hand from earlier. The pages fluttered slightly from the open window.

You stared at them.

But all you could hear was your mother’s voice, echoing like a crack in the wall.

“She doesn’t know how bad it’s getting.”

You knew now.

And it was already too much.

The locker room buzzed with noise—shoes squeaking against the tile, bags unzipping, jerseys being tossed around, and someone’s Bluetooth speaker blasting a pop song that half the team sang along to, off-key and unapologetic.

You sat in front of the mirror, still in your undershirt and spandex shorts, your cleats half-laced but forgotten. Your teammates joked and danced around you, but their voices were muffled—like you were underwater.

You stared at your reflection.

You hadn’t slept.

Every word from last night echoed in your head, each one layering on top of the other until it was a dull roar. Hospital bills. Prognosis. What if I don’t make it to her birthday...

You blinked at your own face, wondering if you looked different now that you knew.

“Earth to Y/N.”

You blinked again.

In the reflection, you saw her approaching.

Taylor. Blonde. Loud. A year older. Never let you forget about sixth grade.

She leaned down, right next to your ear, her lip gloss overly shiny and voice too sweet.

“You still staring at girls in the locker room?” she said under her breath. “Or is it just yourself now?”

You flinched slightly but didn’t move. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

She smirked and straightened, holding up a silver cross necklace and dangling it in front of your face like it was garlic and you were something unclean.

“Thought you should see something holy, just in case you forgot how gross you are.”

The words hit sharper than usual. Maybe because today, you were already cracked. Maybe because last night had already hollowed you out.

You opened your mouth, unsure if you were going to speak or sob.

But you didn’t get the chance.

“Back off, Taylor.”

Mel’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Taylor turned, that same smugness still plastered on her face, but it slipped when she saw Mel Medarda standing behind her, arms crossed, still tying her jersey into a tight knot at her waist.

Mel stepped closer, chin raised. “Funny, coming from someone who begged to braid my hair in sixth grade and cried when I said no.”

A couple girls nearby laughed.

Taylor flushed.

Mel leaned in, tone lowering. “You come for her again, I will remind this whole locker room of how obsessed you were with me before Y/N even figured herself out. Try me.”

Taylor scowled and turned on her heel, muttering something under her breath as she stomped to the other end of the locker room.

You finally looked away from the mirror.

Mel sat next to you and handed you your jersey like nothing happened. “She’s always been a trash bag wrapped in lip gloss.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Thanks.”

She nudged you lightly with her shoulder. “You okay?”

You nodded.

Lied.

“I’m fine.”

But the way your fingers trembled when you took the jersey told her otherwise.

Mel didn’t press.

She just stayed beside you as you changed.

And for a little while, the silence between you felt like armor.

The team lined up on the grass, forming messy rows as they stretched and warmed up. The sun beat gently against your skin, just warm enough to make the back of your neck damp with sweat. Sneakers thudded against the field, balls passed back and forth, and someone yelled “heads!” before a stray ball went flying across the turf.

You barely moved to dodge it.

“Alright, bring it in!” Coach’s voice called out, loud and scratchy like he’d already blown his whistle one too many times today.

The team jogged in and took a knee around him, a mix of shin guards, scuffed cleats, and ponytails bobbing as everyone settled into the circle. You dropped down last, wiping your hands on the sides of your shorts, your eyes unfocused.

Coach launched into his usual pre-scrimmage talk—something about being proud, the effort everyone’s been putting in, how today was about communication and teamwork and not just showing off your footwork—but his voice blurred at the edges.

Your gaze drifted, almost on instinct, toward the bleachers behind the field.

The stands weren’t full—just scattered groups of parents and siblings, chatting and pointing, some with sunhats and iced coffees.

And there, like always, was your mom.

Wrapped in a big cardigan, sunglasses perched on her nose, a water bottle in hand she probably wouldn’t finish. She looked so small sitting there, a blanket over her lap despite the warmth, but she smiled when she saw you were looking.

You raised your hand in a little wave.

She waved back—slow and soft, like even that took effort.

Your stomach twisted.

Because the spot next to her—your dad’s seat—was empty. Again.

Coach’s voice faded further.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked down at the grass. Picked at a thread unraveling on your sock.

Your chest ached—not with heartbreak, not with fury. Just that dull, sinking kind of tired that settles in when you stop expecting people to show up.

Someone nudged you lightly—Mel.

You looked up.

She didn’t say anything.

Just offered a small smile, the kind that said I saw. And I’m not going to make you talk about it.

Coach clapped once, loudly. “Alright, let’s show them what we’ve been working on!”

The team stood as one.

You followed.

But your eyes flicked to the stands once more.

And though she looked tired, your mom was still smiling.

Still there.

And that was the only thing keeping your feet moving.

The whistle blew, sharp and piercing, and the scrimmage began.

Your team wore red vests pulled over their regular practice jerseys, while the other side—Taylor’s side—kept to blue. You tugged your vest tighter over your shoulders as you jogged into position, mud already streaked across your knees from warmups.

Mel gave you a quick nod as she passed by. You got this, her eyes seemed to say.

You tried to believe it.

But the second the ball hit the field, Taylor was on you.

Every time you got close to the ball, she was there—shoving a shoulder too hard into yours, stepping on the back of your cleat “accidentally,” using every petty middle school trick in the book.

At first, you gritted your teeth and brushed it off.

Then came the trip.

You went down hard, sliding into a shallow patch of mud, your palms scraping against wet grass as the breath was knocked out of your lungs.

The whistle didn’t blow.

You looked up, eyes locking with Coach’s—he was watching now, but hesitating.

The game kept going.

You pushed yourself up and caught Taylor’s smirk as she jogged past. “Oops.”

A few parents in the stands leaned forward. One even murmured, “Is that the same girl who—?” but their voice was drowned out by shouting from the field.

You stayed focused. Tried to.

The next time the ball came near you, Taylor didn’t even go for it—she went for you.

Another shove, this one square to your shoulder. You stumbled but stayed upright.

“Maybe you should go cry to Mel again,” she hissed under her breath. “Is that your girlfriend now, or are you still hung up on me?”

You whipped your head toward her, eyes wide with disbelief.

The ref—who was just another teacher helping out—still didn’t say anything.

“Taylor!” Coach finally barked from the sideline. “Cool it!”

Taylor raised her hands in mock innocence, backing away. “What? I’m just playing hard.”

You stood still, chest heaving, heart pounding—not from the game, but from the white-hot embarrassment creeping up your neck. You could feel everyone watching now.

The parents.

Your teammates.

Your mom.

Your fists curled at your sides.

Mel jogged over and placed a hand on your back lightly. “Hey,” she whispered, “Don’t let her take the game from you.”

You nodded once, eyes still locked on Taylor, who now looked like a lion circling for her next opening.

But the whistle blew again, and you reset.

The field had become a pressure cooker—too much heat, too many eyes, and too much unsaid.

Your jaw was clenched tight as your team reset. The ball rolled your way, a perfect pass from midfield, and for a moment, everything else dropped away.

You took it.

Your cleats dug into the turf as you sprinted down the left side, cutting through the defense with ease. The wind bit at your face, the red vest fluttering at your sides, and the goal was within reach—

Then Taylor was there.

She crashed into you shoulder-to-shoulder, nearly sending you off balance as she fought for control. You didn’t flinch this time. You held your ground, both of you sprinting full-speed now, side by side, every footstep like thunder in your ears.

She managed to swipe the ball.

And then you were chasing her.

You didn’t think.

You just moved.

And in one flash of instinct—or maybe rage—you pulled a move you saw in a movie once. Something dirty. Something that worked.

You dropped to your side, your leg shooting out at the perfect angle.

Her shin collided with your ankle mid-stride.

Taylor flew.

She went airborne—arms flailing, cleats off the ground—before slamming into the grass hard. A wet, sickening crack echoed across the field as her leg twisted unnaturally.

Then came the scream.

High. Piercing. Shattering.

Everything stopped.

The ball rolled away unnoticed.

The whistle shrieked.

You sat up slowly, dazed, your hands braced in the mud. The world narrowed, muffled voices rising like smoke. Players from both teams sprinted toward Taylor as she writhed on the ground, sobbing, clutching her leg where—

You saw it.

Bone.

Pale and jagged, jutting through skin that was already slick with blood.

Someone screamed again—this time a parent.

Coaches ran across the field, waving their arms and shouting for everyone to back up.

You rose to your feet in a daze, hands covering your mouth, your heart pounding in your ears. The nausea hit first, then the cold.

You took a step forward, unsure of what you were even doing—

Mel looked up from where she knelt beside Taylor, her eyes snapping to yours.

Her face was pale.

Not angry.

Not accusing.

Just… concerned.

Like she didn’t know whether to run to you or away from you.

And the way she looked at you?

You weren’t sure you knew either.

The field was chaos.

An ambulance had been called.

Taylor’s screams echoed across the bleachers long after she’d been wheeled off the grass, her sobs muffled only by the sound of panicked parents and the wail of sirens approaching from the street.

You barely heard any of it.

You stood near the sideline, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your cleats still caked with mud and grass. A sharp sting was blooming along your elbow where you’d scraped it sliding—but it didn’t hurt half as much as the twist in your stomach.

Everything was numb.

Coach spoke to a woman in a windbreaker, someone from the school’s administration. Her eyes kept flicking toward you, her expression unreadable. You caught bits of their conversation: “reckless,” “not intentional,” “what do we tell the parents?”

Then Coach turned to you.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, “you’re coming with us. We need to talk to the principal.”

You nodded.

You didn’t ask if Taylor was okay. You already knew she wasn’t.

The walk to the office was silent. The woman didn’t speak, just walked ahead while you trailed behind, your footsteps squelching slightly with every step down the hallway. Your hands were starting to shake, and your palms itched with dried mud.

When you entered the front office, the air-conditioning blasted cold across your damp skin. Everything smelled like disinfectant and laminated folders. A secretary looked up from her computer with a raised brow, eyes narrowing slightly when she saw your jersey and the splatter of dirt across your face.

You were led into a side room—small, windowless, a round table with three chairs. A box of tissues sat untouched in the center like some kind of offering.

The administrator motioned for you to sit.

“We’re just waiting for someone from the district,” she said calmly. “And your mother is on her way.”

You sat.

The chair creaked beneath you.

You stared at your hands in your lap, dried mud under your nails.

There was no clock on the wall, but you felt every second drag like it might never end.

You weren’t sure if you were in trouble. You weren’t sure if you even deserved to be.

All you knew was that your ears still rang with the sound of Taylor’s scream.

And for the first time in your life— You weren’t sure if you were still the good kid anymore.

The clink of a fork against a plate was the only sound in the room.

Dinner sat half-eaten. Your mashed potatoes untouched. The chicken cold. Your mom picked at her food in slow, tired motions, while your dad scrolled through something on his phone, the screen casting a blue light over his face.

You sat at the end of the table, shoulders hunched, staring at your plate but not seeing any of it. The silence between the three of you was thick—too thick. The kind you could choke on.

Then he spoke.

“So… how’d the scrimmage go?”

You didn’t look up.

Didn’t move.

You blinked slowly. Once. Twice.

Then your jaw tensed.

Your fork hit the plate with a metallic clang as you shoved your chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the tile.

You stood. “Seriously?”

Your dad looked up, confused. “What?”

“You’re asking now? After everything?”

Your mom’s head turned slowly, eyes wide and weary.

Mark furrowed his brow. “I’m just trying to ask—”

“You weren’t there!” you snapped, your voice shaking now. “You’re never there. And don’t act like you care when you can’t even show up to the one thing I’m actually good at!”

“Y/N—” your mom tried gently, but you couldn’t stop.

“You two argue about me like I’m a problem to solve. Like I’m just some expense or distraction. I heard you. Last night.”

Mark froze.

Your mom went still, lips parting slightly.

“I was on the stairs. I heard everything. The bills. The prognosis. The fact that you didn’t think I could handle it.”

Tears were forming in your eyes now, hot and fast.

“And you know what? Maybe I can’t handle it. Maybe I’m just a stupid kid who can’t even get through one game without flipping out. But you should’ve told me.”

The words fell out like they’d been waiting in your throat for weeks.

“I deserve to know if my mom is dying.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Your dad sat frozen, guilt flooding his face in slow waves. Your mom’s hand trembled around her fork before she set it down with care and reached across the table.

But you stepped back.

“I don’t want lies anymore,” you whispered.

Then you turned and walked out of the dining room, not waiting to hear who followed.

The house was dark.

Still.

Silent—until it wasn’t.

The sound hit you like a crack in the night.

Yelling.

Your father’s voice. Hoarse. Raw.

You sat up in bed, your heart already pounding, sleep falling off you like a broken coat. The air felt cold. Heavy. Like something was wrong before your feet even touched the floor.

You padded down the hallway, each step slower than the last. The yelling had stopped, but something in your stomach twisted tighter with every breath.

Your parents’ bedroom door was open a sliver, light spilling out faint and gold onto the hardwood.

You pushed it open with trembling fingers.

And your world stopped.

Your father was kneeling beside the bed, crying—really crying. His hands clenched in the blanket, knuckles white, his face buried against the side of the mattress like he was trying to wake up from a nightmare.

Your mother lay still. Too still.

Her eyes were closed. Her lips parted. One hand resting gently on her stomach, the other limp at her side.

You stood there for one second. Then two.

And then you screamed.

“Mom?!”

You ran across the room and dropped to your knees beside her, grabbing her wrist, her hand, anything.

“Mom—wake up! Please—wake up! Mom—please!”

Tears blurred your vision instantly, hot and stinging, pouring down your face as you shook her shoulder. Her skin was still warm but unmoving. Her chest didn’t rise.

You pressed your head to hers, sobbing into her hair, your cries turning ragged, panicked, desperate.

“No—no, no, no—don’t leave me. I’m not ready—I didn’t—you said you’d be there. You said—you promised.”

Your father had his face buried in his hands now, silent again except for the sound of his grief.

And the room filled with everything she wouldn’t say anymore.

The things she wouldn’t see.

Your next birthday.

Your first love.

Your future.

She was gone.

And all you could do was scream into the quiet.

Everything after that night blurred together like smudged ink on a soaked page.

You didn’t remember the exact day of the funeral, just that it was overcast, and the sky looked like it wanted to cry but didn’t. Like it was holding back out of politeness. You stood next to your father in black that didn’t quite fit right, staring at a coffin too small for how big she’d been in your world.

People gave you cards with doves on them. People you didn’t know hugged you too long. People whispered things like “she’s in a better place,” as if that helped you feel any less left behind.

You stopped hearing them after a while.

Flowers came by the boxload. Lilies. White roses. Vases lined the house like a memorial that never got cleaned up.

You started sleeping in until the sun was down.

You forgot to eat. Or you remembered and just didn’t care.

Your father tried, for a little while.

Then he stopped trying.

And then Karen started showing up.

Smiling in pastel sweaters. Laughing too loudly in the kitchen. Her voice was like glass clinking in your skull. She touched your dad’s arm too easily. Brought muffins. Started leaving her toothbrush in the upstairs bathroom.

You barely spoke to her.

Then one day—months, maybe—Karen’s kids were there too. Chloe and Harper. Harper peeked into your room and said it was “boring.” Chloe never spoke to you directly.

You watched your home shrink around you until it didn’t feel like yours anymore.

And still, the grief stayed. Heavy and constant. Like a fog you didn’t walk through so much as drown in.

Then—

One afternoon, your father knocked on your door.

He didn’t ask if you wanted to talk.

He just opened it.

Karen stood behind him, her smile tight.

“We need to speak with you,” he said.

You followed, barefoot, numb.

You sat across from them in the living room, knees pulled to your chest.

It wasn’t a moment of healing. It wasn’t a warm heart-to-heart. It was short. Simple.

“We’re sending you to an Academy in the north west.”

That was it.

No: How are you feeling? No: Are you ready?

Just we’re sending you away.

Like you were a thing to manage.

Something they could ship off and not have to deal with.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves.

And something inside you cracked—not like thunder, but like glass.

That was the first time in months you really felt anything.

Not sadness.

Not loss.

Just rage.

And it woke you up.

You woke with a soft gasp, the remnants of your dream—her voice, that living room, the weight of those words—still clinging to your chest like humidity.

The guest room was filled with golden light, the sun just starting to peek through the curtains, painting soft stripes across the floor. Your phone was still clutched in your hand, open to Caitlyn’s contact, the message screen mostly empty but somehow comforting.

Beside you, your journal lay open, pages slightly wrinkled from where you'd dozed off mid-entry. You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you sat up, hair sticking up on one side and your mouth tasting like sleep and silence.

You glanced down at your phone again, the screen lighting up with a soft buzz as you pressed the side.

1 new message.

From Caitlyn.

“The earliest flight we could get you is tonight.”

You whined, flopping back onto the pillows for a brief, dramatic second before accepting the reality. “Figures,” you muttered to yourself.

You dragged yourself into the bathroom, flipping on the light and squinting at your reflection in the mirror. Puffy eyes. Messy hair. That old sleep shirt that clung awkwardly to your curves.

You reached for your toothbrush and began brushing in slow, tired motions.

Your phone buzzed again on the sink.

You glanced down, expecting another message from Caitlyn.

But it wasn’t her.

It was an unknown number.

And it read simply:

“Meet me at Red Fern Café. 1pm.”

You froze mid-brush, staring at the screen, toothpaste clinging to the corner of your lip.

You didn’t recognize the number.

You didn’t know the café.

And yet something deep in your gut said this wasn’t random.

This was for you.

The Red Fern Café sat at the corner of an old brick intersection downtown—wedged between a bookstore that hadn't updated its window display since 2003 and a boutique that only seemed to sell gray scarves and overpriced coffee-table books.

It was quiet when you stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling with a light, eerie chime that didn’t feel quite welcoming. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and something older, like the wood of the booths had been soaked in stories too long to forget.

You glanced around.

There were only a few people inside—an older couple near the front, a girl studying with headphones in…

And a man in the corner booth.

Alone.

Pale skin, gray-green like marble, and a sharp suit that looked too expensive for a place like this. He sat with his legs crossed, one gloved hand wrapped around a mug that he hadn’t taken a sip from. His other eye—the only one he had—was piercing.

The right eye was missing. A scar trailing through it.

You froze just inside the doorway, something flickering in the back of your brain.

You’d seen him before. In the park. Back at the cemetery. That figure watching you from afar before vanishing into the trees.

Your stomach twisted.

He didn’t wave you over.

Didn’t call your name.

But he looked at you—and tilted his head slightly, like he already knew you’d come.

You didn’t move right away.

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag.

But eventually… you stepped forward, each footstep feeling heavier than the last, like the air around him was thicker. Charged.

You stopped in front of the booth.

He smiled—thin and measured. Like a knife being unsheathed.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth like smoke. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

You sat down across from him slowly, your knees brushing against the underside of the table as your fingers tightened around the edge of the seat.

He didn’t speak. And neither did you.

The café continued on around you like nothing was happening—milk steaming behind the counter, the distant clink of a spoon in a ceramic cup. But your skin prickled with the weight of his gaze, like he was measuring something beneath your bones.

Minutes passed.

Your mouth was dry. Your jaw locked.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“I imagine,” he said softly, “you have questions.”

You stared at him.

He smiled—cold and patient.

“But I didn’t ask you here for your curiosity. I asked you here for the truth.”

You blinked once. “What truth?”

Silco’s good eye narrowed slightly, the light catching in its sharp green hue.

“I knew your mother,” he said.

The words landed like stones in your stomach.

“I knew her well. Long before you were born. She was… bright. Defiant. Too clever for the life she was forced into.” His voice dropped just slightly. “We cared for each other. Until it became… complicated.”

You swallowed.

“She loved my father,” you said, unsure if it was a question or a protest.

Silco gave a small tilt of his head. “She tried.”

He leaned forward now, his voice lowering just enough to make you feel like the walls of the booth were pressing in.

“But she didn’t carry his blood.”

Your hands curled into your lap.

“You’re saying—?”

“I’m saying I’m the reason you sunburn so easily. I’m the reason you’re fast. The reason you heal too quickly. The reason you see too much.”

Your heart thudded once—twice.

And then he said the part that made it all colder:

“I’m the reason you were sent away.”

Your breath caught.

He kept going. “Karen’s loyalty was easy to buy. I gave her the money. A significant amount. Enough to convince your father that boarding school would be a fresh start. Somewhere far. Isolated. Safe.”

You felt like the booth tilted slightly beneath you.

“You—you paid them to get rid of me?” Your voice was shaking.

“I paid them to protect you,” he corrected, gently. “You were beginning to show signs. That night… the locker room… the broken bone. The girl with the cross.” He looked at you, unreadable. “You think that was a coincidence?”

You stared at him, frozen.

“Your instincts are starting to catch up with your bloodline, Y/N. And they needed to be contained before the wrong people noticed.”

You felt sick.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he added. “But you were never going to be normal. Not for long.”

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you whispered, “So what now?”

Silco’s lips curled, just faintly. “Now… we talk about what comes next.”

You didn’t speak.

Your knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the table, legs tense beneath you, eyes locked on him as if doing so would anchor you to something—anything.

Silco leaned back slightly, folding his gloved hands atop the table, as calm as if he were discussing weather patterns instead of rewriting the foundation of your life.

“You’re only half vampire,” he said simply. “The blood that runs through you is diluted—dormant, in a way. Your mother was human. Fragile, soft. But im—” he tapped his chest lightly, “—pure.”

You flinched.

The words shouldn’t make your stomach turn, but they did.

“I’ve seen what you are when you’re pushed,” he continued. “How you move. How quickly your instincts rise. But that’s only the surface. The awakening—the true inheritance—requires more.”

Your lips parted, barely whispering, “More what?”

“Blood,” he said plainly. “Pure blood. You’re caught in a halfway place. Mortal. And yet… not.” His gaze sharpened, cutting straight through you. “You’re walking the line between two worlds. But you won’t stay on the edge forever.”

You stared at him. “You mean… I’d have to be turned?”

He nodded once. “Not just by anyone. By a pure vampire. Not someone turned, not someone weak or reckless. Someone old. Someone of bloodline.”

A sick twist curled in your gut.

You thought of Caitlyn. Of Sevika. Of the pull you felt between them. The bonds. The dreams. The hunger.

“You’ve already bonded with two of them, haven’t you?” Silco’s tone was knowing, not cruel. “I can feel it on you. Like scent on silk.”

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

He sat forward now, and for the first time, his voice was gentler. “You don’t know what you’re becoming, Y/N. You don’t even know what you’re capable of. But if you stay in the dark much longer…” He tapped the table once. “Others will find you first. Others less patient than me.”

Your throat was tight. The café felt like it was closing in again.

“What happens if I don’t… if I don’t let it wake up?” you asked.

Silco didn’t answer for a long time.

Then, finally:

“Then you’ll die as something less than what you were born to be.”

You sat cross-legged on the guest bed, your journal resting in your lap, pen poised just above the page. The sunlight from the window had shifted golden, stretching long shadows across the floor. Your phone lay face down beside you—untouched since the café.

You hadn’t texted Caitlyn. You hadn’t texted Sevika.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because… this felt like something that needed to be said face-to-face. When they could see your expression. Hear your voice. Know you weren’t just spiraling.

You exhaled slowly through your nose and wrote:

I met him today. He told me everything. About Mom. About me. About what I’m becoming. He said if I want to be whole, I have to be turned by a pure vampire. I don’t know what to do with that yet. I don’t know what I am. But I know where I belong—and it’s not here.

Your pen paused as your stomach twisted.

You closed the journal and gently set it aside.

A knock tapped softly against the door.

You looked up.

Your father’s voice came through, hesitant. “Y/N? Can I come in?”

You hesitated.

“…Yeah.”

The door creaked open, and he stood there, hands in his pockets, looking older than you remembered. Tired. Like whatever had hardened in him after your mom died had finally started to crack.

“I know you’re leaving in a couple hours,” he said, eyes flicking from the suitcase by your bed to your face. “But… Karen made dinner. I thought maybe… we could all eat together. Just once.”

You stared at him for a beat.

You could tell he was trying. Even if it was late. Even if it would never be enough.

You nodded once. “Okay.”

A breath of relief left his chest. “Yeah? Okay. I’ll… I’ll let her know.”

He gave you a small smile and turned to leave.

But just before the door closed, he stopped and looked back.

“I know things got messy,” he said. “But… I’m glad you came.”

You didn’t answer.

Not yet.

You just sat there.

And when the door finally clicked shut again, you reached for your suitcase.

Time to go home.

Dinner was quiet at first. Almost eerily so.

You sat at the wooden and glass table, the same one your father had bought with Karen not long after she moved in. The glass top always seemed too fragile for a family dinner—like it was pretending to be something it wasn’t. Just like this house.

Karen had made some roasted chicken, a dry-looking salad, and potatoes that somehow managed to taste like nothing. She’d set the table like it was a magazine spread—cloth napkins, cheap gold-rimmed plates, a candle lit even though it was barely 6 p.m.

You sat stiffly, your fork pushing pieces of food around your plate. Across from you, Harper kept her head down, picking at her meal with barely-veiled tension. Chloe scrolled her phone under the table. Your dad tried to make light conversation, asking about your flight like he wasn’t the one who'd sent you away in the first place.

But Karen?

Karen had her voice turned up just enough to fill the silences.

“It’ll be good for you to get back into a routine,” she said, spooning more salad onto her plate, the metal clinking against the edge of the glass tabletop. “That school’s so strict. Maybe they can teach you how to sit up straight again.”

You said nothing.

She kept going. “And I hope they’re keeping a better eye on who you’re spending time with. You’re… at a sensitive age, and some girls don’t always know what kind of attention they’re attracting.”

Your fork froze mid-push.

Harper looked up sharply from her plate.

Karen sipped her wine like she hadn’t said anything wrong. “I mean, all this experimenting—it’s really a trend, isn’t it? It’s not natural. Girls kissing girls for attention, like that’s something to be proud of.”

You blinked slowly. Your heart beat once—twice.

Harper’s hands slowly curled around her fork.

Karen laughed lightly, as if amused by her own “insight.”

And then Harper stood.

So fast her chair scraped across the tile.

“Shut up.”

Karen blinked. “Excuse me?”

Harper’s voice shook. “Just shut the fuck up, Karen.”

Your dad opened his mouth, but Harper was already reaching across the table.

She grabbed the salad bowl—glass, heavy, still half full—and with a furious, tear-glossed scream, she slammed it into the center of the table.

The sound was instant and shattering.

The glass tabletop exploded beneath it, cracking like a spiderweb, shards flying in every direction. The bowl split in half, lettuce and croutons flying across the room.

You flinched, breath caught in your chest.

Your dad stood up in a rush. “Harper!”

But Harper was already storming out of the dining room, shoulders shaking, hands red from the impact.

The room was silent—except for the creak of broken glass and the soft drip of dressing sliding down one of the wooden legs.

Karen just sat there, stunned, her mouth parted.

You pushed your chair back.

And stood.

Without a word.

Your suitcase lay open on the bed, half-zipped and stuffed full of wrinkled clothes, your journal, chargers, toothpaste barely shoved into a side pocket. You moved fast—grabbing whatever was yours and tossing it in without care. You didn’t want to be here a second longer than necessary.

The glass table.

The sound.

Karen’s voice.

Harper’s scream.

It all buzzed around your skull like a wasp’s nest.

You reached for your phone charger and paused—your hand throbbing.

You looked down.

And that’s when you saw it.

A long, jagged shard of glass embedded in the soft flesh of your palm. Your breath caught in your throat. Blood had already soaked into your skin, but your adrenaline had numbed it until now.

You sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, wrapping your hand around it.

“Okay,” you muttered under your breath. “Okay, okay…”

You pulled the glass out—slowly, wincing as blood welled up fast and thick.

“Shit,” you hissed, staggering slightly as you reached for the first aid kit on the dresser. With your good hand, you tore open a bandage, wrapping it around the wound with trembling fingers.

The door creaked open.

“Y/N?”

You turned quickly, startled.

Harper stood there, her eyes still a little red, arms crossed protectively across her chest. She glanced at your bleeding hand, then at your suitcase.

“I just…” she started, hesitating. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For my mom. For what she said.”

You stared at her for a moment.

Then shook your head, shoulders slumping.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, the bandage pressing tight against your palm. “It’s not your fault.”

Harper stepped into the room, looking like she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“It’s not,” she said, voice a little firmer. “But I still hate that she’s like that. I hate that you have to leave because this house is… like this.”

You zipped your suitcase the rest of the way and offered her a small, tired smile.

“I was always going to leave,” you said. “It just… feels more final now.”

She nodded, then looked down at your hand again.

“You’re bleeding.”

You gave a half-laugh, glancing at the red already soaking through the bandage.

“I noticed.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then, softly, Harper said, “I’m really glad you didn’t tell her about me. About the other night.”

You looked at her, something softer in your eyes now.

“I’d never do that.”

She nodded.

And for the first time, you thought maybe she believed you.

The low hum of the plane surrounded you like a blanket—steady, soft, and constant enough to almost lull you to sleep. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

You sat by the window, forehead occasionally resting against the cool plastic as clouds passed beneath you like slow, white rivers. The lights above the cabin were dimmed, and most passengers were already half-asleep, curled against their neck pillows or distracted by glowing screens.

You had your tray table down.

On it sat your journal, half-filled pages curling at the edges from how often you’d pressed the pen too hard. Your handwriting wavered with the turbulence, but you kept going.

He said he knew Mom. He said I’m only half of what I could be. That being turned would wake something up inside me. I don’t know if I want to be awake anymore.

You paused. Tapped the pen gently against the corner of the page. Then added:

But I miss them. And I need answers.

Beside your journal sat your copy of Pride and Prejudice—creased at the spine, the sticky notes Caitlyn had once lent you still sticking out from the top like multicolored feathers.

You turned to the chapter you’d fallen behind on.

It felt strange—normal—to be reading again. Annotating. Rewriting analysis in the margins. For a few minutes, it was just Elizabeth Bennet and long British sentences and the sound of jet engines in your ears.

But beneath it all, your hand still throbbed under the bandage.

And something inside you whispered that whatever came next... was going to change everything.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Autumn Break

Masterlist

The soft crunch of tires on gravel filled the air as Lando’s car rolled up the winding driveway of his family’s countryside estate. The sprawling stone cottage came into view, its warm lights glowing against the backdrop of an overcast autumn sky. The surrounding hills were painted in hues of orange and gold, leaves fluttering down with the breeze.

“This is it!” Lando announced with a grin, pulling the handbrake and hopping out. “Welcome to paradise, everyone.”

Franco was the first to step out, immediately stretching his arms. “Lando, mate, you’ve outdone yourself. This is incredible.”

Oscar followed, giving an approving nod. “I can see why you wanted to host. Feels like we’re in a painting.”

I slid out of the car last, my eyes trailing across the rolling fields. “It’s beautiful. Quiet, too.”

“Exactly the point,” Lando replied, clapping his hands. “No media, no fans, just us.”

Alex was the last to step out, his expression guarded as he adjusted his hoodie. His eyes flicked to me for a brief moment before quickly looking away. He’d been distant ever since the invite had been extended, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.

Lando caught the tension and quickly ushered everyone toward the house. “Let’s get inside and warm up. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Inside, the estate was as cozy as I had imagined—stone walls, exposed wooden beams, and a massive fireplace crackling in the living room. The smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, and a stack of blankets was already piled on the sofa.

As Lando launched into a detailed history of his family’s estate, I couldn’t help but notice Alex keeping his distance. He hovered near the back of the group, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the room but never settling on me.

The awkwardness between us was palpable, but I decided to give him space. Franco, ever the entertainer, kept the mood light with his exaggerated reactions to Lando’s stories.

By the time dinner rolled around, everyone had settled into their respective corners of the house. Franco had claimed the spot by the fireplace, Oscar was engrossed in a book, and Lando was in the kitchen preparing snacks. I wandered outside for some fresh air, finding myself on a stone patio overlooking the garden. The quiet was comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos of the paddock.

“You okay?” Franco’s voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, his easy smile reassuring.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just... taking it all in.”

He nodded knowingly. “It’s a lot, huh? Don’t let Alex get to you, by the way. He’s just cautious.”

“I get it,” I replied. “I just wish people would take the time to know me instead of believing everything they hear.”

“They will,” Franco said confidently. “Starting with us.”

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Lando proposed a hike to “explore the vast wilderness.”

“It’s a three-mile loop,” he explained, tying his boots. “Should take us a couple of hours if we don’t stop too much. Franco, try not to sprint ahead this time.”

Franco smirked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “No promises.”

As the group set off, the crisp autumn air filled my lungs, and the sound of rustling leaves accompanied every step. Lando and Franco led the way, their laughter echoing through the trees as they debated the fastest route. Oscar stayed in the middle, occasionally chiming in, while I found myself at the back—again, next to Alex.

“Some view, huh?” I said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Alex replied shortly, not meeting my gaze.

Deciding to keep things light, I continued, “I think Lando’s underestimating how bad Franco’s sense of direction is. We might end up doing double the distance.”

That earned a faint chuckle from Alex. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Encouraged, I pressed on. “Have you been on many of these trips with him?”

“A few,” he admitted. “Lando loves this kind of thing—getting everyone together, playing host.”

“And you?”

Alex hesitated, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “I prefer to keep things simple.”

The trail eventually led to a small clearing at the top of a hill, offering a panoramic view of the countryside. Lando and Franco were already there, Franco snapping pictures while Lando struck ridiculous poses.

“Finally!” Franco called out as Alex and I arrived. “Took you long enough.”

“We weren’t the ones who got lost halfway up,” I shot back, earning a laugh from Oscar.

As everyone took a moment to catch their breath, Alex wandered to the edge of the clearing, his hands in his pockets. I hesitated before approaching, the silence between us growing heavier.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I said softly, standing beside Alex.

He nodded but didn’t respond.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to address the elephant in the room. “Look, Alex... I know you’ve probably heard a lot about me, and I can’t control what people say. But I’d appreciate it if you gave me a chance to prove who I really am.”

Alex’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s not just the rumors. It’s... hard to trust people in this sport. Everyone’s looking out for themselves.”

“I get that,” I said, my tone as earnest as I could be. “But trust has to start somewhere, right?”

For a moment, Alex didn’t say anything. Then, finally, he looked at me, his expression softening. “Maybe.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

That evening, the group gathered in the living room for game night. Lando had pulled out a stack of board games and a console, insisting on a Mario Kart tournament.

“I’m warning you now,” Lando said, wagging a finger, “I’m undefeated on this track.”

“You’ve met your match,” I replied with a grin, grabbing a controller.

The games were chaotic and loud, with Franco yelling at the screen every time he crashed and Oscar quietly dominating round after round. Alex was surprisingly competitive, his focus laser-sharp as he maneuvered through the tracks.

When Alex and I were paired up for a doubles match, I couldn’t help but notice how the tension between us had eased. He even laughed when I accidentally sent a blue shell his way, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

By the end of the night, the room was filled with laughter and empty snack bags. As everyone started to drift off to bed, Alex lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting mine.

“You’re not bad at this,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“High praise from the great Alex Albon,” I teased, earning a quiet chuckle.

“Goodnight,” he said softly before heading upstairs.

“Goodnight,” I replied, feeling a small sense of accomplishment.

The next morning, I woke early and found Alex sitting on the patio, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

“Mind if I join?” I asked, holding up my own mug.

He gestured to the chair beside him. “Go ahead.”

The two of us sat in silence for a while, watching the sun rise over the hills. Finally, Alex spoke.

“You’re different from what I expected,” he admitted, his tone thoughtful.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked with a small smile.

He nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

The conversation that followed was easy, flowing naturally as Alex asked about my journey into racing and the challenges I’d faced. For the first time, he seemed genuinely interested, his walls starting to come down.

By the time the others woke up, I felt like I’d made real progress. And as Lando teased Alex about his newfound friendliness, I couldn’t help but smile.

For the first time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, Alex was starting to see me for who I truly was.

After breakfast, I found myself lounging on the couch, the warmth of the fireplace making it almost too comfortable to move. But an idea had been brewing in the back of my mind since the night before. I turned to the group, a sly smile creeping onto my face.

“You know what this place needs?” I asked.

“What’s that?” Lando replied, lounging dramatically in an armchair like he owned the place (which, technically, he did).

“Cookies,” I said simply.

Franco perked up immediately. “You mean the fresh, warm, melt-in-your-mouth kind?”

“The only kind,” I confirmed. “But we’re going to make them ourselves.”

“Uh-oh,” Lando said with mock concern. “Do we trust you in a kitchen?”

I shot him a playful glare. “I can bake, thank you very much. But it’s a team effort.”

Alex, sitting in the corner with a book, raised an eyebrow. “You really think we’re capable of that kind of coordination?”

“That’s half the fun,” I replied, already grabbing my jacket. “But first, we need supplies. Who’s coming with me to the store?”

The trip to the local store was far from calm. Lando insisted on driving, which was a mistake given his tendency to take every turn like it was a hairpin on a race track. Franco and I were crammed into the backseat, laughing as Oscar tried to argue with Lando about his “questionable” navigation skills.

The store itself was no better. Franco and Lando raced down the aisles with shopping baskets, grabbing random ingredients that definitely weren’t on my list.

“Why do we need gummy worms for cookies?” I asked, holding up the package Lando had thrown in.

“They’re for me,” he said with a grin, tossing another bag into the basket.

Alex, who had been surprisingly quiet, handed me a small bag of chocolate chips. “These are the good ones,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“Noted,” I replied, smiling. “Thank you, cookie connoisseur.”

By the time we left, we had enough supplies to bake cookies for an army—or maybe just for Franco, given his appetite.

Back at the house, we divided into makeshift teams: Franco and Lando were on “mixing duty,” Alex and I handled measurements, and Oscar claimed the role of “quality control,” which mostly involved sneaking chocolate chips when he thought no one was looking.

“Why is this so sticky?” Franco asked, holding up a spatula covered in dough.

“Because you’re not mixing it right,” Lando replied, trying to wrestle the bowl from him.

“You’re not mixing it right!” Franco shot back, prompting an all-out tug-of-war over the bowl.

“Guys!” I intervened, laughing. “Just stir it gently. It’s cookie dough, not cement.”

Alex smirked from across the counter. “They’re hopeless.”

“And you’re not helping,” I teased, nudging him with my elbow. He shook his head, but I caught the faint smile on his face.

After what felt like an eternity—and a small flour fight initiated by Franco—we finally managed to get the dough onto baking sheets and into the oven.

As the cookies baked, the smell of chocolate and vanilla filled the kitchen. Lando set a timer and then plopped onto the couch, visibly exhausted from the “hard labor.”

“This better be worth it,” he said dramatically.

“Oh, it will be,” I assured him.

When the timer dinged, everyone crowded around as I carefully pulled the trays from the oven. The cookies were golden brown, the chocolate chips glistening.

“Moment of truth,” Franco announced, grabbing one before they’d even had a chance to cool. “Hot! Hot!” he yelped, tossing it between his hands.

“Patience, Franco,” Alex said, shaking his head.

But once the cookies had cooled enough to eat, the chaos turned to quiet as everyone took their first bite.

“These are... amazing,” Oscar said, his eyes wide.

“I told you,” I replied smugly.

Even Alex looked impressed. “Not bad,” he said, his voice light.

“High praise from the great Alex Albon,” I teased, earning a chuckle and a slap to the arm.

With the cookies devoured and the kitchen a mess, we all collapsed in the living room, full and content. Lando had a plate of extras balanced on his lap, and Franco was already eyeing them.

“This,” Franco declared, “needs to be a tradition.”

“I’m not cleaning next time,” Oscar said firmly, though his smile betrayed him.

Alex, sitting on the armrest of the couch, glanced at me. “You were right,” he said softly. “This was fun.”

“See? Told you baking isn’t so bad,” I replied.

For the rest of the evening, the house was filled with laughter, the smell of cookies lingering in the air. And as I looked around at my friends, I couldn’t help but feel grateful. These moments—messy, imperfect, and full of heart—were what made everything worth it.

[aijunbi]

BBANGSAZ AS YOUR . . .

'' to my... sweet darling— '' " ahhh!! burn it!!! "

── • bbangsaz x you hcs (in diff aus too wow) no shipping tho

── • kim minji x f!reader x pham hanni , requested , divider creds: @/cafekitsune , mild language

── • lolol i want them so bad

── ♪ light – wave to earth , nonsense – sabrina carpenter , brb – kasper

💗 .NON!IDOL BBANGSAZ. ゜

GIRLFRIENDS!BBANGSAZ who always yap their butts off regardless if you're listening or not because they have each other to listen to. they're like 5 year olds laying on their stomachs on the ground, their feet kicking up in the air as they talk about the most randomest topics... like pizza for example.

GIRLFRIENDS!BBANGSAZ who argue on a daily basis that your ears and brain hurts. you suffer from PBADS (severe bbangsaz argument aftermath disease syndrome) with all the yelling and near fistfights all day.

^ GIRLFRIENDS!BBANGSAZ who will be wearing a get along shirt 24/7.

hanni: "this is stupid."

minji: "it's your fault."

hanni: "shut your bitch ass up!"

you: "language!"

GIRLFRIENDS!BBANGSAZ who always put on a show (with dj haerin and dahye as background dancers) just for you to do something for/with them.

"music... cue!" hanni and minji both instructed haerin who was in charge of the music, their hands shaking in the air like cheerleaders with pom-poms. hanni starts off the song, her hands moving to her heart dramatically, her fingers clutching onto her shirt. "you are my sea, you are my sunshine. the stars, the moon," hanni's voice began to fade as she stepped aside for minji.

"there is a light," minji continues on. "not far away from us, from us," they both started harmonizing at the last part. hyein and danielle were doing some sort of an interpretative dance in the back, springing around like grasshoppers.you weren't impressed by their vocals, but more so on how much they're getting along at the current moment.

"fine, fine, i'll do it. i'll play league with you guys." you put up your hands in surrender. hanni looks ecstatic as she jumps around, her hands grabbing your face and pulling you into a kiss, while minji looks totally devasted and confused.

"hey, that's not what we agreed to!"

"sucks to be you, loser!"

GIRLFRIENDS!BBANGSAZ whose love language is acts of service (m) and physical touch (h). minji will tie your shoes whenever it's loose, or hold open the door for you, or take care of you when you're sick. hanni will always have a hand in yours, an arm around your waist, or her head on your shoulder.

GIRLFRIENDS!BBANGSAZ who makes everything a competition. whether it be who can get you a snack first or who can build you a house in minecraft the fastest. but you love the way they love you anyway, so it's all fine.

✎ 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

🎤 .IDOL!BBANGSAZ. ゜

IDOLS!BBANGSAZ who write songs dedicated to you (much to the other members' dismay).

IDOLS!BBANGSAZ who absolutely hate going out with you while wearing disguises because they want it to be just normal.

IDOLS!BBANGSAZ who often gets shipped with other idols/have dating rumors so they address it, asking for the rumors to stop and have to reassure you about it.

IDOLS!BBANGSAZ who sends you edits of themselves and spam it in the gc trying to make you fall for them harder.

IDOLS!BBANGSAZ who talks about you subtlety on their lives while you're right next to them. you occasionally let out a little giggle or whisper, making the chat ask who it is. they ignore it, of course.

"we were hanging out with our girl... friend yesterday. our friend who is a girl. and she got us the cutest ring ever!" hanni holds up her hand to show a ring on her ring finger of all fingers. minji nods and shows the same ring on her own hand. you were sitting behind the phone, a small giggle escaping your lips when they began to pose with the rings.

user01: who was that

user02: was that your friend???

user03: lolol that's prob the gf they're talking abt

IDOLS!BBANGSAZ who are your famous secret girlfriends.

✎ 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

🌃 .SUPERHERO!BBANGSAZ. ゜

SUPERHERO!BBANGSAZ who always go to you whenever they're injured, claiming you're better than the hospital who might stick a needle in them. hanni will be whining for you to take care of her first when you're dealing with minji, and minji will be throwing a fit whenever you switch to take care of hanni.

hanni: "take care of me first!"

you: "jeez... okay..."

minji: "no! me first!"

SUPERHERO!BBANGSAZ who will stop by your work to greet you or bring you your lunch if you forgot it at home.

SUPERHERO!BBANGSAZ who team up and make some grand gesture for you that makes the news. for example, 'be our valentine's?' written by minji using spider webs, and signing it off with a cat and a spider.

SUPERHERO!BBANGSAZ who abuse their powers just to impress you or to one up another.

you yelped as you felt somebody teleport and pull you into a hug from behind. even if you knew it was hanni, it still didn't fail to scare you. "oh my god, hanni, you scared me." she only chuckles and starts peppering your neck with kisses, her fingers digging into the your stomach. you tilt your head to give her better access, enjoying the way her lips were traveling around your neck and shoulder. until a sudden force tugs you away from hanni into the arms of minji, her hands resting on the small of your back as she sticks a mocking tongue at hanni. "both of you stop manhandling me."

SUPERHERO!BBANGSAZ who hates dealing with villains when they have a date planned with you, so they try to get it over as soon as possible, even asking to reschedule the fight everybody expects (surprisingly the villain agrees because they have their own partner at home)

SUPERHERO!BBANGSAZ who make you worry to your core if they come home way more injured than usual, or don't come home until late. but you're just relieved that they're alive and breathing. they may be the city's greatest protectors but they're still your girlfriends.

✎ 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

✉️ .EXES!BBANGSAZ. ゜

EXES!BBANGSAZ who would argue with you over the dumbest reasons, leading to the breakup. it can be talking to another person for too long or not answering the phone when called multiple times, or paying more attention to the other.

EXES!BBANGSAZ who once serenaded you through your window only to have it shut on them after the song ended.

EXES!BBANGSAZ who tries to win you back with handwritten letters and desperate 'i miss you' texts late at night.

hanni (DO NOT RESPOND!!): we miss you.

hanni (DO NOT RESPOND!!): please hear us out.

hanni (DO NOT RESPOND!!): you know we love you. we didn't mean what we said.

to: my pretty girl, yn

from: kim minji

yn, love, i know our fight was unreasonable and we shouldn't have ever lashed out at you like that. please unblock us and call us back. we just worry about you and we care about you deeply. baby, please. we'll give up the world just for you to even look at us. text us. please. :(

EXES!BBANGSAZ who always ask your friends on how you're doing, and you hate how your friends will always tell them. hanni will always ask danielle because that girl can't lie and ignore for her life, while minji asks haerin with a promise of getting her food. hyein will tell them no matter what.

EXES!BBANGSAZ who try to woo you with your favorite things like coffee or snacks. you take it but then turn around on them after. if it's a big meal that they got you, you'll share with your friends.

EXES!BBANGSAZ who finally got you to listen and became yours again.

✎ 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

❤️‍🩹 .TOXIC!SITUATIONSHIP!BBANGSAZ. ゜— one suggestive

TOXIC!SITUATIONSHIP!BBANGSAZ who you know is high-key toxic and isn't good for you but you keep coming back due to how gentle they coo and convince you that they're everything you need and kiss you after breaking your heart.

"no, yn, you were just... imagining things. i wasn't talking to any girl at all that night." you knew she was lying, but the way she was cradling your face and how soft her voice sounded made you think otherwise. she grins once she sees you melt into her, your walls coming down and trusting her again, and she leans down to place a sweet kiss full of lies on your lips. she breaks your heart again the next day when you wake up with an empty bed and a post from minji about her 1 month that you had no idea of.

you go back to hanni after the encounter with minji that you swore was never meant to happen. with a poorly suppressed wicked grin, she takes you in immediately and starts love bombing you, her honey voice combined with sweet words did a number to your brain. "i can treat you better, isn't that right, beautiful?" her words like a spell, going in one ear and out the other, but a bit stays. a bit that makes you want to believe she actually loves you. you see her with another girl a week later.

TOXIC!SITUATIONSHIP!BBANGSAZ who flirts with you whenever you are alone with them, two voices in both of your ears saying promising words that makes you almost believe it, but then stop when other girls come by and openly flirt with them instead.

TOXIC!SITUATIONSHIP!BBANGSAZ who, contrary to their gentle voices, are rough with you, leaving you with marks and scratches that lasts for months after hook-ups that you swore to never give in to again.

TOXIC!SITUATIONSHIP!BBANGSAZ whose favorite activity is to love bomb you then ghost you the next day.

TOXIC!SITUATIONSHIP!BBANGSAZ who gets confused when you start posting yourself more and stop responding to them. they're spamming you, asking why you're not responding just get blocked. they both stare at your photos all day together, thinking of how vulnerable and naive you used to be, but now you're all about self-care and... it makes them... miss you.

TOXIC!SITUATIONSHIP!BBANGSAZ who returns back in your life, asking and pleading for you and them to be permanent. you were hesitant at first, your friends telling you no, but minji and hanni keeps insisting so you give in. safe to say you were disappointed again when they end up drunk at a party and accidentally hook up with other girls.

hehehe @cassiespoiler @ninguitar @lararajjj @saysirhc

[majoryeager104]

LovEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeee ur writing AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

could i request cuddling hcs for Shigaraki or Keigo?

eeeee ok don’t mind if I do I love writing these sm 👌😭 ill do a lil section for both of em cos I got time to kill

Tomura Shigaraki

He’s definitely terrified the first time you ask for cuddles

“What if I disintegrate you?” Was definitely his first response

He was reluctant as heck

The most important person in his life dying by his hands?

NO. 

He’d definitely argue 

And dramatically gasp when you shrug off his concerns

“Just wear your gloves-“ “WHAT IF THEY FALL OFF AND YOU DIE”

He’s so concerned 😭😭

But when you finally convince him

And he settles in to cuddle

He’s got his gloves on tight

And he’s like barely touching you

He’s all tense too

He aint risking anything

But slowly

As time goes by and he gets more comfortable doing it

He adores cuddles

He’ll totally fight tooth and nail to make sure he gets to cuddle with you

Or else atp he probably won’t sleep

And don’t try to sneak off during the night

He doesn’t care if you need to use the bathroom

He’s offended

“Do I smell bad or something”

“No I just needed to use the bathroom”

“Do you not love me anymore”

With the biggest pout 

But when he needs to use the bathroom

He throws you off of him like a ragdoll

Smh

But then he gets snacks from the kitchen on the way back

And gives you a kiss on the forehead 

And all is forgiven 😌

Keigo Takami

This man is the KING of cuddles

Touya, Tomura and Spinner in my hc’s were all reluctant as heck

NOT KEIGO. 

He’s already in

Zipping under the covers with you before you could say anything

He probably initiated the first time you cuddled

Like “babe babe babe babe babe BABE-“ “WHAT” “cuddles ☝️🥹”

But honestly he’s such a good cuddle buddy

Wraps the both of you up in his wings

Who needs blankets when you got them FEATHERS 😭

And he’s so proud like “you like my feathers? Thanks I like to keep em soft you know” 

Tells you the shampoo conditioners and other products he uses

And it’s a lot. 

Ofc. 

But dayum is it worth it

Especially when he’s laying on top of you with his head on your stomach

Bc he doesn’t like laying on his back bc his wings get in the way

And he’s rubbing your sides and leaning up every so often to shower you with kisses

Bc ur just so fine 🫵😌

And he tells you that REPEATEDLY every time you cuddle

Bc he adores cuddles 

And adores you even more

Sometimes he’ll just use cuddles as an excuse to just love on you

But sadly he probably doesn’t get a lot of time to cuddle 

Being the number 2 hero and all

“Fastest man alive” 😭😭😭 slay ig

But when he does have time for cuddles

He’s like the best cuddle buddy EVER. 

OMG ITS SO FLUFFY IM GONNA DIE ANYWAYS ENJOY IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE HEHE

Banner Creds to Artist 🙌🙌🙌 lmk if you recognize the shiggy one in the comments so I can add their tag here 🙏🙏🙏

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 90: Lilia and Baul (pt1)

We have heard hints of information about Baul throughout the game: he immigrated from Sunset Savanna to the land of Briar and was “a gallant royal guard who served the king of Briar Valley.”

Malleus comments early on about Sebek taking after his grandfather’s “hot-blooded nature,” with Silver saying that Baul and Lilia are old friends.

For the first four years of the game we did not have much information about Baul aside from occasional references from Sebek that he would look displeased whenever Sebek entered a kitchen or ate certain kind of snacks.

Lilia says that Sebek has been close to Baul ever since he was little: “you really are the very picture of your grandfather, from the way you talk to the way you think.”

Sebek has apparently heard many tales about Lilia’s exploits in battle from Baul, saying that he has also heard about Lilia’s magearm, and “how it left foes prostrated and helpless on the ground.”

Sebek says that Baul has told him how many times Lilia risked his life for his home when he was young but Lilia responds, “Must Baul tell the same stories with every passing century? Yammering about the good old days is the fastest way to make young'uns' eyes glaze over.”

We receive many interactions between a dream version of young Baul and Lilia, where Baul disagrees with Lilia’s decision to allow the group of Silver, Sebek, Grim and the prefect join their journey, but ultimately acquiesces. Baul tries to have Silver and Sebek seized after they successfully knock Lilia’s mask from his face in a fight but Lilia assures him he is unharmed. 

Baul introduces Lilia as a great man and “the General of the Right in Briarland's royal guard,” as well as “the Running Rampart of the Verdurous Moor” (first referenced during Beanfest), and says that normally they would never be worthy of standing in Lilia’s presence.

Baul insists that he and Sebek look nothing alike as the has no grandchildren and Sebek does not have “the signature Zigvolt scales,” so the must merely have the same surname.

Deciding that something must have brought them together, Lilia assigns the group to Baul to oversee, despite his protests.

[littlepurples-world]

Little!glinda + Cg!fiyero

Moodboard and hcs !!

Headcannons !

Sleepy glinda always falls asleep on fiyero because she knows he'll protect her

+ little!glinda taking a nap every 4 hours cause she's a sleepy baby !!

Cg!fiyero is the funnest cg to have ! They always have friendly competitions to see who can eat veggies fastest n stuff <3

Little!glinda always babbles to fiyero and he nods along pretending to know what shes saying

Cg!fiyero who tries his hardest not to ever yell because it scares little!glinda

Fiyero's clothes always magically end up in glinda's closet

Cg!fiyero who always has to make sure glinda has had enough water each day

Sometimes little!glinda has nightmares if fiyero isn't with her so she tries her best to play pretend that he's with her

Every time fiyero has to leave glinda he always brings her back a new stuffie

Cg!fiyero always carrying around little snacks for little!glinda so she's always got some energy

Eeeeek i love little!glinda smmm

<333