#alexa personal stuff

[fire-gift]

I donated blood for the first time today and i was nervous because i thought that i was gonna feel weak af but nope, i feel totally normal and i love seeing my blood outside of my body when it's not my period ❤

[fervidus]

five things in the queue and i remembered to unpause it. hopefully i'm on a roll and can get the rest of my drafts to be posted by mid week (:

[imaginarianisms]

uhh. okay. uh. i'm trying to like. come up w/ words but it's hard bc. autism. but uh. basically as long as you're not hurting people irl & everything's tagged whenever necessary, i genuinely dont care at all what you ship or not as long as nobody irl get hurt. i. don't care what dark topics you write about (or don't! not everything has to be doom & gloom) either. i write about a Lot of dark topics, especially to cope with trauma. nobody has the right to take that from me. a lot of my characters (& the i.ntrojects they are based on because remember they are muses but they're Also i.ntrojects, these are actual members of our s.ystem with feelings of their own) are flawed & traumatized. especially as a survivor of a lot of these said taboo things that most people in general dont like to talk about because they think it's a "dirty" subject myself as an actual survivor w/ did, i've said this before many times on this blog, i'm a c.sa survivor, i'm a c.ult survivor, i'm an i.ncest survivor & i'm no longer afraid to talk about it bc i'm with friends (i hope). it's vital. it's healing. it's important that it's talked about so people who've experienced these things don't feel alone. i can open up about it here. there's some stuff i'm uncomfortable with & i won't write, sure, there's some things i choose not to write that other moots of mine will & i'm not going to be holding that against them for writing about a topic or not (unless if like idk a portrayal of a character is racist or ableist, you get the point, hopefully) & just because I Don't Write Something Does Not Mean I'm Telling You Not To. that's silly imo.

that has Nothing to do with me or my trauma because a) i can differentiate between fiction & reality & b) it's. really weird. in the year 2024 that people will straight up automatically assume just because you write about a topic that somehow automatically means you support something irl when you. Don't Know That, You Do Not Know The Person & c) It's Not About Me & That's Okay & d) people shouldn't go around telling people what they should or shouldn't write as a general rule, we're all grown adults here, that's rude, unless, again, you're politely telling someone that something's off like idk someone writing ableist or racist about a character, don't just go guns blasting ESPECIALLY when you Already Know That Someone Writes About Dark Topics & You Continue Looking At It Anyway ie someone writes a muse that's a serial murderer & you don't like gore & you continue to follow that blog anyway. thats on You. that is Your responsibility. tags exist for a reason. as long as everything's tagged it should be fine) about a specific topic, that wouldn't Change anything. said topics would still exist even if every single person stopped writing about a topic. cults would still exist even if everyone were to stop writing about it. my trauma would still exist even if everyone were to stop writing about the specific things i went through. if i don't like something, all i gotta do is just keep scrolling or if necessary block a tag. (not a whole lot triggers me, there's a difference between squicks & triggers & i'm. tired of people conflating the two when they're entirely different things). i hate to say it because it should be obvious but people don't magically wake up one day & decide to do weird shit for the shits & giggles. there's this weird increasing trend to obsessively search for "problematic" media or "problematic" characters in media to justify demonizing or cancelling it (i'm not talking about like i.e t.wilight where it has actual harmful consequences for n.ative people, i'm talking about people Looking for shit to get mad at & then get shocked that people are like "?") & i'm gonna be honest, a Lot of this is starting to sound like conservative bookburning & a lot of this sounds like the shit my old c.ult leaders used to tell me. it's really that simple. what matters most of all is education about said topics that tbh i find sorely lacking. let's educate people first on what something actually is (for instance, an actual cult & signs) & then people will decide what to do about it & how they portray something. because regardless of what someone else does (& this was something i've had to accept over the years), Not Everything Is Made For Me & That's Okay, I Am Safe Now.

idk i just find that people (in general, i promise it's not at anyone in particular, it's just something i've been meaning to talk about for a long while after seeing some stuff on my dash both on my personal blog & on seeing some stuff in the asoiaf fandom & ngl a bunch of other fandoms too from like years ago so like please don't take this personally /srs) are like way too eager to jump to conclusions about people about all this different stuff when you literally don't know them, that's another person sitting on the other side of that screen that has feelings & sentiments the same way you do. i'm 24. i'm grown (& still growing!). if i've somehow caused offense by not making myself clear enough i'm sorry. that's an autism thing. can we stop acting like this. pls. i'm a grown ass adult & what do i do when i see smth i find wonky or squicky? (& even then sometimes something can fluid)? i look at it rq then i go "oh. thats wonky, oh well thats none of my business!!", i then mind my own business then i keep scrolling. not everyone's writing journey is gonna be the exact same way & that's OKAY. don't hold other people back just because it's not the way YOU write things. you're not better than anyone else. like i've straight up heard of people in a fandom saying "oh you like [x] because [y] portrays [x]" when that person is literally a survivor of that trauma. please. people. stop this shit. quit acting like you give a shit about trauma survivors when you only think there's one way of being a trauma survivor, the "perfect" survivor. learn media literacy. stop clutching pearls. people can skip certain scenes. i think people forget that some media are Meant to be uncomfortable. it's Meant to unsettle you. sometimes things are written as a warning. see: midsommar, a LOT of other horror media, a fuckton of gothic fiction, all of that shit. if you genuinely can't handle a theme, you're under no obligation to consume it but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people, ESPECIALLY survivors, don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest most disturbing parts of their life, do some introspection. ask yourself Why you think that. nothing wrong with self reflection. obviously, that's not to say there's no room for critique or concern but u get what i'm saying i hope. you can like something or even a character without endorsing the topics involved therein or the character(s) in question. sometimes things that are dark & disturbing can be cathartic for people who've been through absolute hell but i'm Also not going to be judging people for being like "okie dokie this isn't for me!!", that's okay, people don't have to consume anything they genuinely can't handle, that's why communication is literally SO important in all kinds of things but like don't force other people in your bubble when they wanna be in their own bubble ykwim. we're all different. do what makes You happiest.

it isn't that big of a deal irl (unless if we're talking about the obvious like racism, homophobia, transphobia, queerphobia, etc). basically what i'm trying to say is like. there's honestly way more shit to be worried about than what someone writes or rps. don't be the type of person to be morally outraged at what other grownass consenting adults are doing because there's gonna be shit that dont make sense to ya. Try to be compassionate towards other people. give other people a chance to talk if you're able to. even if you don't always agree with what they're saying. if you need to, do what needs to be done. every single person deserves respect & what we're Not going to do in the year 2024 is act shitty towards each other just because we don't agree on smth. what we're Not going to do is use people's real traumas for discourse points no matter which "side" (i guess) you fall onto. more than anything, i (& we) believe in nuance, kindness, compassion & respect for each other. we're s.hipcourse/f.andom disk horse unaligned. We Just Work Here.

[bleakfated]

i have the queue topped off for tomorrow but im exhausted <3

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Good boy gone bad- H.HJ

Today is the equivalent of Valentine's Day in my country and I wrote this funny fluff fic to celebrate. A special thank you to my girl @jehhskz for giving me this incredible idea. I hope you like it 💜 And also have a nice day with your boyfriend Hyunjin 🤭

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: suggestive, supernatural and magical stuff, munch! Hyunjin

Alexa, play Good Boy Gone Bad by TOMORROW X TOGETHER

The lights are low. Not because you're trying to be romantic, but because everything bright, it hurts. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor of your apartment, in yesterday’s hoodie, surrounded by the wreckage of your evening— an empty takeout container, an untouched glass of wine, and the poodle your ex gave you last Valentine’s Day.

Prince.

 Fluffy, white, ridiculously spoiled. And the only one who hasn’t left.

"You're all I got now", you whisper, reaching out to scratch his head

He yawns with that squeaky sound of his, then rolls over, showing you his belly like he knows exactly what comes next. You give in, of course you do, rubbing gentle circles on his stomach until his little paws twitch and he lets out a sigh like he had a long day.

"Don't look at me like that", you murmur, flicking a stray piece of lint from his fur. "It’s not my fault I wasn’t ‘ambitious enough’, you say flatly to no one in particular. Then you glance down at Prince, "That’s what he said”

You scratch behind his ears. He yawns.

"Not passionate about my goals. Not the kind of person he could ‘build a future with’ "

You let out a heavy sigh, "I work. I pay rent. I live… I just didn’t live the way he wanted me to"

Prince snuffles and rolls onto his side, now demanding back 

"He wanted me to quit everything and follow him to Seoul. No plan. No job lined up. Just… pack up and support him. While he ‘figured it out’ "

You look at Prince.

"You, my fluffy bastard, are what he left behind when I said no"

You stroke a hand down his little spine. Prince shivers, sighs, tucks his nose into the crook of your elbow like he knows this is the only kind of affection you’re getting tonight.

"I told him I couldn’t just give up on everything. That I loved him, but I couldn’t abandon myself for him. And he said I already had”

You laugh, bitter, humorless

"And now here I am. Three weeks for Valentine’s day. No plans. No boyfriend”

Prince licks your chin.

"Except you"

You blink down at him, emotionally exhausted.

"My ex dumped me and left me with a poodle who refuses to eat unless I hand feed him roasted chicken breast"

You sigh, whispering into his fur, "At least I have you”

Prince curls deeper into your lap like you were just one. You love how warm he is, how he fits perfectly against you— how he stayed.

You love that it makes you feel a little less alone.

Then, suddenly, your phone starts buzzing

 Incoming call: Quokka 🐿️

You groan but swipe to answer, “What?”

“OK LISTEN, before you hang up…”, Han’s voice explodes out of the speaker, “I may have unlocked the universe of infinity love”

“You bought another cursed item off the internet, didn’t you?”

“I invested, Yn. There’s a difference. This is artisanal craftsmanship with metaphysical properties”

“Oh, like that energy activating incense for ‘better blood flow down there’ you bought on AliExpress last year?”

“Ok, first of all, it had 1.2k reviews and a video testimonial”

“You said it only made it worse. Very legit”

“I was under a lot of stress, so obviously it blocked the energy flow”

“Sure”

“But not this one, Yn. This one, it came with a sparkly handwritten note. In blue glitter glue, so it’s legit”

Prince lifts his head and blinks at your phone. You stroke his back, waiting for what’s coming.

“It’s a love candle! But like, not a regular candle, a summoning candle. Like for attracting hot people”

“You mean… a spell for getting laid?”

“No! I mean like a soulmate magnet. A pheromone booster for your aura. It came from, like, Russia? Or was it Chicago? Well, somewhere magical”

You close your eyes and rub your temple, “Han, are you high again?”

“No, but I did almost pass out from the fumes when I lit it. Also, small detail… the wax made my dog horny. He’s been humping the couch for about fifteen minutes”

You pull the phone away from your ear, consider hanging up, then put it back, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re single, obviously! And miserable! And being held hostage by a demonic stuffed animal with a superiority complex”

You glance down. Prince is licking his paw with complete indifference.

“I think it could work for you”, Han continues, “The candles are colorful. You like colorful things. Mine is shaped like a torso, and I think one of the nipples fell off in shipping but that could be symbolic or whatever”

“I’m hanging up”

“WAIT, LISTEN! Just… light the candle, and picture your ideal man. Like… a nice guy. A hot guy. Someone with a big dick”

“Goodbye, Han”

“THE CANDLE WORKS!!  I lit it last night at 11:11 pm, prime manifesting hour, and boom. This morning? My barista asked for my number”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

“I’m not. She said, and I quote: ‘You smell like confidence and testosterone. Can I have your number?’ You know I definitely don't smell like that ”

You glance at the half empty wine bottle on your coffee table, “This is the weirdest call I’ve had in weeks”

He’s grinning through the phone, you can feel it, “You’re welcome. Want me to send you the link?”

“I’m not summoning sex demons for Valentine’s Day, Han”

Han scoffs, “They’re not demons if they’re hot and promise giving you back massages”

“Goodbye, Han”

“Don’t blame me when I’m happily cuddling after sex and you’re still watching Netflix with your dog”

“Enjoy your haunted candle”

“Oh I will. And so will my barista”

And with that, you end the call.

Prince blinks at you. You blink back.

“Don’t you dare turn into a human just to prove him right”

•°. *࿐

Later that night, after you've eaten both your dignity and an entire sleeve of cookies, your phone buzzes with a text from Han.

Quokka 🐿️:

 [Sent you a link]: www.getlitgetlaid.com 

 You're welcome 😉

I lit another candle and now the barista gave me a free muffin   

That’s foreplay, Yn!!

You stare at the link then you stare at Prince. He stares back.

You whisper, “This is stupid”

But you click it anyway.

The site loads with sparkly gifs, pink pop ups, and a massive banner that said:

💘 GET LIT GET LAID— SPARK YOUR SOULMATE 💘 One candle. One night. One stupid hot decision.

There’s a category list with candle names that range from “Mommy issues” to “Sugar daddy” to “Loser trapped in a hot body”

You narrow your eyes, “Han needs help”

Scrolling through, one product makes you freeze.

It’s titled:

VALENTINE #08: Sweet Venom

You start to read the description, already regretting:

🧸 Smells like gummy bear and sin 💦 Notes of grapefruit, bubblegum and fake innocence ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Dimples – Boyish grins – Soft flirting – Oversized hoodies – Shy glances that secretly know exactly what they’re doing – Possibly: men who giggle when they kiss you 🚨 Caution: side effects include blushing, butterflies, and delicious makeouts.

The candle wax is bubblegum pink, sprinkled with red glitter and shaped into a gummy bear wearing sunglasses

“Jeongin”,  you mutter.

 It’s literally Jeongin in candle form

Prince lets out a long, judgmental sigh through his nose. You look at him.

“I know, okay? It’s dumb. But I haven’t made out with anyone in three months and this one promises me to attract a shy hottie and smells like candy!”

Prince gives you the kind of slow blink cats usually do when they’re plotting murder. Then, to make his opinion perfectly clear, he dramatically gets up from your lap, trots over to the corner, and purposefully pees on your favorite fuzzy slipper.

You gasp, “Prince!”

He makes unbroken eye contact the entire time.

Later, as you clean up the disaster, you whisper, “Too bad. Candle’s already on its way”

He barks once in protest or even jealousy. But at this point, that candle is probably your best shot

•°. *࿐

It arrives in a suspiciously pink box.

You're in your pajamas, a messy bun on your head. Prince circles your feet with low grumbles, like he can already see the disaster.

Inside there's bubble wrap, glitter confetti, and a folded card that says:

💘 "For lonely hearts and delusional fools. Good luck, sweetheart" 💘

You blink at it.

Beneath the card sits the candle— chubby, bear shaped, glossy, and pink. You lift it and immediately get hit with the fruity punch of grapefruit and sugar scent. Prince snorts, clearly not liking it. 

You're gonna light it up anyway.

When the match strikes, the wick catches instantly. The flame flares pink, then settles into a low glow.

You whisper, “This is ridiculous”

The candle crackles, like it has something to say about your skepticism.

You sit with it for ten minutes but nothing happens. No naked boys materialize from the void, no romance falls from the ceiling. Just pink light and an increasingly suspicious scent clouding your tiny apartment.

You blow it out.

That night, you dream of dimples and gentle hands that hold you tightly against a solid chest 

•°. *࿐

You sit in your microbiology lecture the next day, twirling your pen, trying to forget the cursed candle and your pissy poodle.

Someone slides into the seat beside you.

“Hey”, says a soft voice.

You turn and there he is— Jeongin. Oversized hoodie, sleepy eyes, and the kind of lazy smile that makes your heart twitch like you’re allergic to calm.

“Hey”, you say trying to pretend you didn’t light up a magic candle to him last night.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Hum… so, exams are coming and I’m, like, failing bacteria”

You blink, “You mean microbiology?”

“Yeah, that. Can you maybe help me? Study, I mean?”

You stare at him. His lips curl up. Dimples. Soft. Boyish smirk. Your brain almost short circuit immediately.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You lit the candle and Jeongin just asked to spend time with you. To study ‘bacteria’. Romance is dead, but of course you want to spend hours talking about bacterial structure and infections with this man.

“Yeah, okay!”, you say, “When do you wanna start?”

“Tonight? If you’re free?”

You swallow, “Yeah, totally. My place?”

“Sure”

“Great, I text you the address”

“Cool”

He winks before he leaves, leaving you completely breathless

•°. *࿐

The books are closed. The last flashcard is discarded  between pizza boxes and your empty soda cans. You're both sitting on your bed after hours of bacterial cell walls. Close. Way too close. Jeongin’s hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and he keeps watching you. The kind of look that could knock the air out of your lungs if you let it.

“I think I get it now”, he says, voice a little raspy from talking for so long, “About bacteria. And maybe about... you”

You blink, “Me?”

His hand touches your knee, carefully. You don’t move.

“I thought I was imagining it”, he says, thumb brushing small circles against the fabric of your joggers, “But I don’t think I am”

Your voice is barely a breath, “Imagining what?”

“That you want me to kiss you”

The tension hangs between you. 

“You were never ‘failing bacteria’, were you?”

He smirks, lazily shaking his head as a ‘no’.  You lean forward, hesitantly, but Jeongin doesn’t waste time. His lips catch yours in a kiss that’s hungry from the very first second.

He kisses like he’s been holding back the whole time— deep, slow, full of heat that crawls up your spine and makes your fingers grab his hoodie like you were trying to pull him even closer. If that’s even possible. You feel him shift closer, one hand sliding behind your neck, the other gripping your waist like he needs to feel every inch of you.

Your teeth graze, lips part. The sound he makes isn’t soft— it’s needy.

His mouth trails down your jaw, before returning to your lips again— urgent, wet, dizzying. Your heart races, your mind spins as he lays you down.

Jeongin’s hands slide beneath your shirt, and your breath hitches when he mutters something filthy against your skin.

You know you should stop, your dog’s still in the room but you think, “he’s just a dog”, and he’s curled up quietly at the foot of your bed like he always is. Right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

Because the second Jeongin shifts above you, one knee nudging between your thighs, hips pressing down to close the space between your bodies— there’s a sudden blur of a bark and a ferocious growl followed by a:

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

You jolt upright just in time to see your little white poodle, Prince, with his teeth sunken to Jeongin’s ass. His ears are back, eyes wild, tail puffed up like a pissed off cotton ball.

“Prince!!” you shriek, grabbing a pillow and throwing at him, “LET GO!”

“I think he broke skin!”, Jeongin mutters, stumbling off the bed, hand clutching his butt, “Why is your dog like this?!”

“He’s never done this before!”

“Well, and I am not in the mood anymore”

“Jeongin, wait!”

“I call you”, he says as he stumbles to the door with his dignity in ruins, muttering about rabies shots.

The second the door shuts, Prince hops smugly on the bed, circles once, and sits like nothing happened.

You look at him with a piercing gaze 

“Prince” you say slowly, “Did you just bite someone because they were on top of me?”

He snores and then, like he has no shame, he crawls into your lap, lays his head on your chest, and lets out the most satisfied sigh you've ever heard.

•°. *࿐

It’s been three days since Prince ruined your make out session with Jeongin.

You still wake up remembering the look on Jeongin’s face. A little turned on. A lot confused

But life moves on, and so do your dating ambitions.

You’ve just finished vacuuming glitter from Jeongin’s candle out of your rug when your phone buzzes again.

Quokka 🐿️ :

How’s microbiology boy 😏

You: 

He got scared off. Prince bit his vibe off…

… and his perfect ass

Quokka 🐿️ :

LMFAOO

Damn, I hate this dog

Try another candle 😌Rebound power unlockedStop falling for muscle gods.

You roll your eyes and type back, “go away”

Quokka 🐿️: No ❤️ Go to the website Do it for the plot

Get one for a comfort boy.

You stare at the link for a full thirty seconds before clicking it again. 

You scroll past “Short kings”, “Bald and bold” and “Tight gym shorts”

Then you stop.

Because this one. This one is pale yellow, shaped like the Sun with a glistening label that reads:

VALENTINE #15: Sunshine Soulmate

🌞 Smells like honey tea, ginger and laughter 🤗 Notes of chocolate cake, kindness and cinnamon ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Gentle souls who bring you flowers for no reason – People who laugh at your worst jokes – Long nights with deep conversations – Someone who actually listens – Possibly: forehead kisses and hugs that feel like home 🚨 Caution: You may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

You whisper, “That’s… Felix” Felix, your neighbor. The guy who laughs when Prince humps his leg in the elevator, whose voice is deep but still soft as sunrises

You buy it. Heart pounding like a teenager in love.

Prince gives you that slow, side eye as if to say: what’s wrong with you?

•°. *࿐

The evening the candles arrive, you shut your curtains and pull Prince to your lap. You open the box, press your nose into it and inhale. 

You light it.

The flame burns in a gentle yellow, rippling across the living room like sunlight on water.

Prince barks once, looks at you. You wrap him in your arms. He hides his head on your shoulder, tail thumping.

Beside you, the candle crackles in soft tones

“I don’t know why I’m doing this”, you whisper, “Felix is… he’s out there. Probably doing small talk with old ladies at the grocery store line” 

You brush your fingertips along Prince’s fur, ���And I’m here wishing he liked me. Not for muscles. Or dangerous smirks. Just… for real, warm, comfortable company”

You laugh weakly, “Instead, I am here like a desperate loser. Stuck on stupid candle magic and a dog who won’t leave my lap”

You blow out the candle and Prince snorts with satisfaction.

You lean your head back and close your eyes wishing it works this time 

•°. *࿐

It’s the day after you lit the candle.

You’re in your apartment, dressed in your emotional support hoodie,  trying to figure out if  cereal counts as dinner, when there’s a knock at the door.

Prince immediately loses his entire mind.

You stagger to the door, hair messy, wearing socks that don’t match. You open it to see…

Felix.

Golden hair, oversized cream knit sweater, a smile that curves like a sunrise, freckles scattered on his cheekbones like a constellation. He’s holding a large tupperware container in one hand, and in the other a movie DVD.

You blink, “Hi…”

“Hey”, he grins, “I made cookies. Movie night? You, me, and…”, he peeks over your shoulder, “Prince. If His Royal Highness is free”

Prince wags his tail like he understands what Felix said, then bounces in excitement.

“I, huh…”, you swallow, “That sounds really nice, actually”

Felix’s smile grows, eyes doing that crinkly thing that makes your stomach fold in on itself like origami.

 “Then come over. Comfy clothes are mandatory”

•°. *࿐

You arrive minutes later with Prince and a bag of chips. Felix opens the door and Prince immediately trots in like he owns the place.

You follow after him.

The apartment smells like vanilla, sunshine and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. There are string lights over the couch. A fluffy blanket fort in the corner. The screen is already paused on the movie menu.

“You seriously still use DVDs?”, you ask.

Felix shrugs, “They’re nostalgic”

He hands you a cookie and gestures for you to sit. Prince climbs onto the couch like he pays rent and plops between you and Felix. 

You roll your eyes, “Prince, really?”

Felix just laughs, “It’s okay. He’s protecting his princess”

You choke on a cookie crumb.

Felix chuckle— warm and contagious. He pats the couch beside him, “Come on. I won’t bite”

You settle in, shoulder brushing him. Prince lets out a grumble, but accepts his fate. 

As the movie plays, you pretend to focus. Felix smells like clean laundry and he keeps laughing at all the dumb lines, and every time, your head turns toward the sound like it’s a magnet

Halfway through, your fingers brush while reaching for the same chip. Neither of you pulls away. He glances at you. You glance at him and the tension grows heavier

“You’re warm”, Felix says, soft like the rain outside 

You whisper, “So are you”

And then, very gently, his fingers lace in yours.

Prince snorts loudly and ruins the moment, of course, but Felix just grins and presses his shoulder into yours. He’s warm and sweet, and you feel like the candle was right: you may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

Even better? Prince is behaving.

Not just behaving like sitting quietly, he's actually snuggled against Felix’s side, tiny chin resting on Felix’s thigh, tail wagging lazily every time Felix absentmindedly scratches his fluffy fur

You almost tear up from the relief.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, “He likes you”

Felix grins, flashing that sunshine smile, “He’s adorable. So chill. I thought he didn't like me”

You look at Prince, who blinks innocently at you, “Yeah, me too…”

You start to relax. Maybe this time it’s different. Maybe Prince has matured, maybe he has accepted he can’t be your only source of affection forever. 

When the screen goes dark and Felix kisses your cheek, thanking you for coming, and walks you both to the door. You feel suspiciously hopeful.

Until twenty minutes later.

Your phone buzzes.

Felix 🌞:

So…

Not to be weird but….

 I think Prince left me a present

In my gym bag

Like a solid one

Like a Number Two  

Your jaw drops.

You:

OH MY GOD FELIX I’M SO SORRY!!! Please say you didn’t put your hand in there

Felix 🌞: 

I didn’t But he looked me RIGHT IN THE EYE before you guys left I thought it was affection It was a threat

You sprint to your room and throw open the door. Prince is stretched luxuriously across your bed, tiny paws crossed, eyes closed like a cat sunbathing.

You whisper, horrified, “You pooped in his bag”

He doesn’t even flinch.

“Why?! You liked him!”

He opens one eye, blinks, yawns and turns away.

Yeah, you probably will die single because of him.

•°. *࿐

It’s been four days since the incident with Felix

You’ve blocked the memory of his hands on your waist and the sound of his laugh as the movie played. You’ve told Han you’re not buying another candle. He insisted anyway

Quokka 🐿️: Girl they have one called “Moonstruck” 

That shit it’s POWERFUL

You roll your eyes so hard you almost pull something. But later that night, curiosity wins. Again. As always. You find yourself scrolling through Get lit, Get laid, one leg on the heater with Prince drooling on your thigh.

You scroll until you see it.

VALENTINE #20: Moonstruck 

🕯️ Smells like lavender, rosemary, paint, and quiet mornings 🎨 Notes of melancholy, watermelon and pink glitter ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Artists who see the world sideways – People who cry at concerts – Loud laughter in silent rooms – Boys who write you poems – Possibly: a guy who really loves you, kinda needy and clingy 🚨 Warning: lighting may cause a sudden urge to talk to the moon

You frown. There’s no face you associate with it. No crush. No worthy idiot.

Just... an unexplainable certainty that you should buy that damn candle..

•°. *࿐

The candle arrives three days later in a box that smells like moon dust.

You light it that night. It flickers purple and gold

Prince hops on the couch, circles a free time, and flops dramatically into your lap with a grunt. You stroke behind his head as you whisper, “You realize this is your fault, right?”

Prince snorts.

“No, seriously. I used to be fine. I had a relationship. An almost stable emotional state. A carpet without candle dust”

He yawns, jaw cracking.

You sigh, laying your head back, candlelight dancing across the ceiling.

“You’re the one who scared my dates away. You. A chaotic dog with judgmental eyebrows and a spirit full of vengeance”

Prince blinks, like he was waiting for you to finish your dramatic monologue

“I’m going to die alone,” you say gently, cupping his face. “Just you and me, buddy. And someday you’ll bury me in someone’s backyard next to your long lost squeaky bones”

Then he licks your nose. You laugh softly, burying your face in his fur. 

The candle flickers. Something in the room shifts. Not loud. Not bright. Just a breath of something different.

You fall asleep on the couch like that.

Prince curled at your side. Candle burning low. Dreams thick and golden behind your eyelids.

As you sleep, a shape stirs on the floor.

But you don’t notice 

Yet.

•°. *࿐

You wake up with a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Not the clatter of paws on tile. No collar jingling. No soft whimper.

A human noise.

You sit up, disoriented. The candle’s completely burned down. Your phone says it’s 3:42 am.

You grab a blanket and tiptoe into the hall.

“Prince?” you whisper, heart hammering.

Then you see him.

A tall, completely naked man rifling through your fridge like he lives there.

His back is to you at first, but then he turns, very casually, sipping from your carton of chocolate milk with a smile like this is the best day of his life

You scream.

He drops the milk.

“WHAT THE FU… WHO THE HELL… WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!”

 “You asked that candle to bring you someone who really loved you. So… surprise?”

You take a full five seconds to connect the dots. The familiar shape of his lips. The floppy hair. The weird sparkle in his eyes that you always said made him look like he knew your secrets.

“…Prince?” you whisper again, backing into the wall.

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Technically, I’m Hyunjin. But yeah. You kinda wished I turned into a human”

You stare at him. “You were a dog…”

“Your dog” he says, stepping closer, still naked, “And now I’m something even better”

“Why are you still naked?!”

“Because pants weren’t part of the wish, obviously"

You’re still in shock. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out as you try not to stare at the way he’s standing there like he isn’t naked while drinking choco milk in your kitchen.

Hyunjin takes one last unapologetic sip straight from the nearly empty carton. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lets out a satisfied sigh like he just finished a fine bottle of wine.

“You’re gonna need to buy more of this, by the way”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He shakes the carton, upside down, “It’s gone. Like. All of it. I was thirsty” 

Then, thoughtfully, he concludes, “I think it’s my favorite thing about being human so far”

“You…” You gesture wildly at the mess of milk dribbled on his chin, the open fridge door, the nudity.

“You drank my entire carton of chocolate milk naked at 4am?!”

“And it was amazing” he says, eyes twinkling, “but also kinda sad, because now there’s none left. So... maybe write it on a list or something?”

You inhale. Exhale. Pinch the bridge of your nose, “You are literally a magical dog who turned into a man because I lit a cursed Valentine’s candle. And your priority is…”

“Chocolate milk”, he finishes happily,  “And pants. Eventually”

You sigh so hard your soul leaves your body for a second, “I need to go lie down”

“Bring me a glass of water?” he calls after you. “I think I’m still a little thirsty”

You just ignore him.

•°. *࿐

You wake up hours later, head pounding.

For a minute, it’s peaceful. 

Maybe it was a dream. A fever dream. The wine, the candle, the stupid wish— maybe it all blurred together and created the world's most chaotic hallucination.

Then you hear it— a soft hum coming from your bathroom followed by a voice calling out sweetly

 “Ynnie… I’m ready!”

You stumble  to the bathroom, push the door open and immediately regret it.

Hyunjin is standing in the tub, completely naked again. Hair fluffed, cheeks glowing, a towel barely draped over one shoulder

“Took you long enough, lady”

“What… are you doing?”

He blinks, all innocent, “Waiting for you to wash me”

Your brain malfunctions, “I… what?! You’re a man now! Wash your own damn self!”

“But you always bathed me”, he tilts his head, lips curling into a pout so automatic that it has to be a leftover reflex from puppyhood.

 “You use that nice strawberry shampoo. You talk to me while you scrub behind my ears. And you give me a towel hat after”

You gape at him, “Hyunjin”

“I even set everything up!” he says proudly, gesturing to the row of bath products you specifically use for your spa days, “I want bubbles. And the scalp massage thing you do with your nails”

He pauses, grinning wider.

“I’ll wag my tail if it helps convince you”

You slam the door in his face and shout through it,  “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCHING MY EXPENSIVE MASK”

From inside, he calls back sweetly, “You’re still gonna brush my hair after, right?”

You groan, “I regret meeting Han in the first place”

You press your forehead to the bathroom door and sigh like you’re in a tragic k-drama.

“No”, you mutter to yourself, “You are not giving in. You’re not brushing his hair. You are not washing a grown man in your tub just because he used to be a poodle”

And then, the door creaks open.

He pokes his head out. Hair dripping, wet strands falling over his flushed face. And his eyes— those big, dark, round eyes— look up at you like you just kicked a puppy.

“Yn…”

You swallow hard 

“I don’t know how to rinse the bubbles out without stinging my eyes…”, he says softly, pouting already, “You always helped me…”

You blink, “Hyunjin, you're literally 1,80 now”

He nods, “And helpless”

You try to hold back. You really do but then he whines— a soft, high pitched whine— and tilts his head the exact same way he did back when he wore a collar instead of a smirk.

 That’s the end of you.

You sigh and push the door open wider, “Move over, prince of manipulation”

His face lights up like you just gave him a treat.

You kneel by the tub, grabbing the showerhead and your strawberry shampoo, muttering under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this”

He leans forward immediately, elbows on the edge, chin in his palms, a grin curling his lips, “You love it”

You glare at him.

He sticks out his tongue.

You dump water over his head.

Then you reach for the conditioner, “You're lucky you're pretty”

He grins, “I am, huh?”

You gently work the conditioner into his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp. He melts instantly. He closes his eyes and lets a pleased little sound slip out of his throat, one that makes your chest tighten.

“I used to love when you did this”, he says, “Even when I was just… Prince”

You blink, “Yeah?”

He hums, “You were always so gentle. Careful. Like I wasn’t just a dog”

You pause, hands still in his hair, “You weren’t just a dog to me. You were like my best friend. Even when you acted bitchy”

That makes his lips part slightly, eyes opening to find yours.

He sits up just a little, water dripping down his chest, “You know what I didn’t like?” he says after a moment, more serious now.

You wait.

“When strangers touched me. Like, on walks. People always think dogs want to be pet, but sometimes I hated it. I only liked it when you did it”

Your heart thumps once, sharp and loud.

“I hated the vet”,  he continues, “and when you left the house for too long. I hated when you cried and I couldn’t do anything but nudge your hand with my nose”

You look down, “You always stayed beside me, though”

“I couldn’t not. You are the person I love the most”,  he says, voice catching a little with the weight of that truth. “Even then, you were mine”

The bathroom fills with soft steam and silence. You rinse the last of the conditioner from his hair, fingers lingering just a little too long at the nape of his neck.

When you look at him again, he’s staring at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

Something human, vulnerable

“Do you still want me?”, he asks, voice quiet, unsure for the first time.

You don’t say anything.

You just reach for a towel, help him sit up, and whisper

“Let’s get you dry first, Prince”

•°. *࿐

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your fridge door slamming and a tragic gasp.

You stumble into the kitchen to find Hyunjin— still only in one of your oversized hoodies, hair a fluffy mess— standing barefoot and betrayed.

He turns, horrified. “You didn’t get more chocolate milk”

You blink. “Good morning to you too”

“I dreamed about it last night”, he whines, “I woke up tasting it. You promised me”

And like a fool, you drag yourself the shopping mall looking like a tired single parent and return with two gallons of chocolate milk, a new phone with a pink glitter case, a comfy set of sweatpants and sweatshirts, socks with little chocolate milk cartons on them and in exchange, you got a custom contact in your phone saved as:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑

By noon, he’s curled up on your couch, sipping from a bendy straw, scrolling through his phone while making soft noises every time he finds an emoji he likes. 

“Why does this one look like you??”, he says, holding up 🐸

You finally stand in front of the hallway mirror, curling your lashes and adjusting your dress.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin asks casually, mouth full of banana bread you didn’t even see him open.

“Out” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“To see another man?”, his tone is suddenly more icy.

You sigh, “It’s just a date, Hyunjin. You’re fine. You’ve got snacks, Netflix, a phone…”

“You’re leaving me alone on my second real day as a human?”

“You spent all morning watching dance compilations on TikTok. I think you’ll survive”

He narrows his eyes, “I bet he's not even that cute”

You grab your bag and keys, “Stop being jealous”

“You’re being reckless!”, he shoots back, arms crossed,  “You just got new clothes and now you’re going to let some muscle boy take them off you?”

“Oh my God. You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t need to!” he says. “I know you. And I know you like when someone is clingy and follows you around the house and licks your cheek to make you laugh”

“HYUNJIN”

“What? Too honest?”

You point to the couch, “Stay here. Don’t pee on anything. Don’t text my friends. And don’t sabotage this date, it's my last chance”

He sulks dramatically, curling up like a cat, muttering, “I hope he's allergic to fur”

You leave anyway.

But as you wait for your Uber, your phone buzzes.

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Fine. Go. But I hope his hugs aren’t as warm as mine Also we’re out of Nutella Also I miss you

You roll your eyes, ignore him and tell yourself, “Just one more date”

But you already know Prince is going to ruin it somehow

•°. *࿐

You were watching a movie at Changbin’s place— just the two of you, a blanket, snacks, and something cheesy playing in the background. He’s got one arm slung casually around your shoulder, his body warm and solid beside yours. You’re relaxed, comfortable, almost sleepy.

Until your phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Changbin glances down first, just instinct. He's in the middle of reaching popcorn, and the screen lights up so bright it catches his eye.

Immediately, he frowns

“Hum… who’s Prince Hyunjin?”

Your blood runs cold. You reach for the phone but it’s too late.

He reads the preview out loud:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Baby, I want to taste you so bad I'm losing my mind. 

Come home and let me be on my knees for you.

The air goes thick.

“Changbin, wait… I can explain…”

“You have a boyfriend named Prince Hyunjin?!”

“He’s not… he wasn’t… he used to be my dog!”

Changbin blinks, “That’s… somehow worse?”

You bury your face in your hands, “He was a poodle, okay? A fluffy little spoiled brat named Prince. But then one day he… he just turned into a human, and now he thinks he owns me”

Changbin just stares at you, “You’re telling me your ex poodle is now sexting you and calling himself Prince Hyunjin?”

“You think I’d make that up?!”

You phone buzz one more time

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Tell this dude you’re with to keep his hands off you unless he wants to lose them

Your thighs are mine.

Changbin slowly stands up, hands in the air like he’s surrendering to your craziness, “You should… just go. Before I get bitten. Or murdered by your shapeshifting, possessive ex dog”

“Bin, please, you have to believe me…”

He backs away toward the door, voice full of sarcasm, “No, no. It’s fine. I just need some time to… process”

He opens the door. And you can’t do anything but grab your purse and leave,

“I… call you?”, you try one last time

“Nah, you don't have to. Bye”

And then, he shuts the door on your face

You sigh and presses your forehead against the cold wall, picking up your phone 

You:

HYUNJIN. 

WHAT DID YOU DO???

He replies immediately:

I always get what I want

•°. *࿐

Your place is quiet when you enter. A low hum comes from the TV still on, playing some cartoon.

And on the couch, curled up sideways, limbs long and tangled, face buried in the cushions— is him.

Hyunjin.

He’s in your favorite hoodie. The one you wear when you’re sad or sick or just need to feel safe. It swallows him, sleeves bunched at the wrists, the hem covering his hips where his bare legs stretch out toward your coffee table.

One hand clutches the sleeve. The other clutches an empty spot on the couch like he reached for you in his sleep.

You stand there for a moment, just watching the ridiculous boy who used to bark at your guests now dreaming under the colorful lights of Adventure Time.

He shifts in his sleep and murmurs your name, crackling your chest open. You walk over, slowly, and crouch beside him, gently stroking back his hair.

"Yn…?" he whispers, eyes still closed.

"Yeah”, you whisper back.

He blinks once, then opens his eyes.

“Did he kiss you?”, he asks quietly, voice hoarse from sleep

“No”

“Good”, his lips curve into a sleepy smile, “I wore your hoodie so you’d think of me”

“How could I forget you, my prince?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your fingers, “Then stay here with me. Forever”

You nod, and curl onto the couch with him. His arms find your waist instantly, nose pressing to your neck. Right there in his arms, the weight of another failed date all thanks to Hyunjin’s relentless mischief, seems to fade a little

You sigh deeply, “You know what, Hyunjin? I give up”

He perks up instantly, “Hum?”

“I’m yours” you say, voice soft but firm. “I’ll spend Valentine’s Day alone and it’s your fault for ruining every single date I try to have”

Hyunjin’s little chest puffs out like he’s won the grandest prize. Then, almost immediately, he sulks, lowering his head and giving you a pout that’s impossible to resist.

“Come on… just one kiss. On the lips. You can’t resist me forever”

“Hyunjin”, you say softly, shaking your head with a gentle smile, “No. Forehead kiss only”

You lean down and press a warm, tender kiss on his forehead, feeling the soft brush of his hair. He grins so bright that you know you’ll never escape being his, no matter how hard you try.

Before you can pull away, Hyunjin’s hands catch your face, and with a cheeky grin, he steals a bold, lingering kiss on your lips. It’s soft but demanding, warm and possessive all at once.

When he finally pulls back, his grin is pure mischief, “See? Told you I always get what I want”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You’re impossible”

Hyunjin just snuggles closer, tail wagging like he owns your heart. And honestly? He does. 

At the end, maybe all the love you needed was right by your side this whole time.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks and loves notes are very much appreciated 😊

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn, @jehhskz, @mbioooo0000, @nightmarenyxx, @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere, @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy, @jeonginsleftcheek, @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world, @hyunles , @lexlikesbts, @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold, @teenagepeterpan, @hangonhyunjin, @yxna-bliss

[redwinelewis]

2 HANDS | LH44

type social media au

pairing lewis hamilton x social media manager + muslim!reader

face claim zainab jiwa

song 2 hands by tate mcrae

summary brand new driver for ferrari means a brand new social media admin as well. but is that all you are? the tifosi doesn't think so.

warnings can be read as platonic or romantic, one (1) landoscar slander

author's note 2 hands with landoscar ❌ 2 hands with lh ��🙂‍↕️ i'm still in the process of reposting my old stuff but in the meantime i hope u guys can enjoy this little piece first 🫶🏽

english is not my first language. all pictures taken from instagram, pinterest and twitter. credit to owners.

masterlist

INSTAGRAM!

scuderiaferrari

liked by lewishamilton, charlesfan1 and 222,826 others.

scuderiaferrari alexa play 2 hands by tate mcrae

view all 1644 comments

user1 i'm looking very respectfully

user2 i have something inappropriate to say

user3 uhm that's landoscar song

user4 user3 "uhm that's landoscar song 🤓☝🏻" wdgaf

user5 oh this new admin just GETS IT

user6 user5 new admin?

user5 user6 yes ferrari has a new admin for their instagram account. don't know if it's true though

scuderiaferrari user6 new admin here! can confirm ✌🏽

user6 scuderiaferrari omg thank you for feeding lh44 girlies everywhere with this post

scuderiaferrari user6 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ more soon

user7 lewis liked 😭

user8 user8 lol he approves this new admin

scuderiaferrari user8 yes he does 😉

scuderiaferrari

liked by lewisfan1, lewisfan2 and 390,726 others.

scuderiaferrari it’s almost time to go again 👊

view all 644 comments

user1 admin giving us the hamilton content we NEEDDDD i feel so blessed

user2 user1 they feeds us well i swear

scuderiaferrari user2 it's my job 🫡 literally lol

user3 admin i love you

user4 these pics are so female gaze i can't explain it

user5 user4 ADMIN IS ONE OF US

user6 user5 maybe the new admin is a woman

scuderiaferrari user6 only girls can understand girls 🙂‍↕️

user6 scuderiaferrari OMG I WAS RIGHT

scuderiaferrari

liked by bxllajames, kimerahramnath and 482,927 others.

scuderiaferrari some more pics from admin's personal camera roll

view all 836 comments

user1 STOP THE WAY HE WAS LOOKING AT HER 😭😭

user2 are my eyes deceiving me or was he blushing in the last pic

user3 are you guys thinking what i'm thinking

user4 user3 yes this feels WAY too personal

user5 the fact that 3 out of these pics are about lewis

user5 user5 admin are you team lh 👀

scuderiaferrari user5 😉😉

user6 am i allowed to ship lewis with ferrari insta admin even tho we don't even know what she look like

user7 "thank you scuderia ferrari instagram admin" we all say in unison

scuderiaferrari user7 you are so welcome besties

f1gossipofficial

liked by lewishamilton, ynln and 5,836 others.

f1gossipofficial The identity of Scuderia Ferrari F1 team new Instagram admin has been leaked, believing to be Y/N L/N ynln. Some of our followers connected the outfit she posted in Ferrari's latest Instagram post to match the one worn by one of the VIP guests in the paddock club. She was also rumoured to be Lewis Hamilton's personal guest during at the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix.

view all 78 comments

user1 SHE'S BEAUTIFUL OMG

user2 LEWIS AND Y/N LIKED??????

user3 oh so she really meant PERSONAL in that photo dump

user4 user3 no wonder those photos at the saudi gp hit different 😭😭

user5 "personal guest" oh? 👀

user6 isn't she a tad too young for him

user7 I hope they're together. She has a great sense of style.

user8 user7 lewis has a very high taste i mean look at him lol i'm sure she'd match his standard

user9 those outfits kinda ate omfg

user10 didn't she use to post tiktok videos about f1?

user11 user10 tiktok is probably her side thing. she's a journalist of some kind. i think she works in the entertainment industry too.

user12 everybody's talking about them potentially dating while i'm here freaking out over the fact that the ferrari admin is a hijabi like me 🥹❤️

user13 user12 YES!! representation matters ❤️

[ssparksflyy]

jason grace dating headcanons ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

pairing jason grace x daughter of hera!reader warnings none i think this ones pretty much all fluff unless your uncomfortable with marriage and children lol an i have a whole yap on how i think children of hera are created here if u wanna check it out cause im quite proud of it ꈍ◡ꈍ , requested !!

alexa play so high school by taylor swift pretty pls ‹𝟹

my bad just had to set the mood before i talked about THE CUTEST COUPLE EVERRRRRR

jason dating a daughter of hera would just be so like cliche classic romance that everybody longs for

a timeless love if you will

youd think that your parents arguments and bickers would have some sort of effect on your relationship but you just dont care LMFAO

well i mean like your relationship with your mother is probably pretty good and stable (you know, for a relationship with a greek god) and i truly do think that hera would be caring torwards her demigod children cause those are her kids and they dont have a stinky man for a father

but your parents really dont have much of an effect on your lives because your relationship is something you developed and worked on together, and it has nothing to do with them

you first met jason when he crash landed on the shore of chb with piper and leo, but didnt really speak to him at first

but he DEFINITELY wished you did

cause the second the crowd swarmed him and he locked eyes with you, oh boy

SMITTEN

actually standing there with his mouth open

he wouldve spoken to you sooner if he didnt feel like his insides were being flipped at the mere thought of you

but you did end up speaking literally the day before he left for his quest

you had moved over to his table during dinner to wish him luck and find out a bit more about this quest

but you ended up taking for the entire night, hitting it off immediately and ending the night with him walking you to your cabin door with the excuse of "my legs are dragging me in the wrong direction!"

and when he returned from his quest, you were the first person he talked to about it

he literally went into full detail just so he'd have an excuse to talk to you longer (but left out the part where leo threatened to dump him into the ocean if he didn't shut up about you)

i feel like during your whole 'friends but you it doesn't feel like your actual friends and you can kinda tell you both want something more' era, jason is definitely making all the efforts to extend the conversation, spend more time with you, and to get to know you better while youre the one dropping more subtle hints that you want something more (which have him staring at his wall at 3 am questioning EVERYTHING)

i hate to drag things on longer than the should but guys... you dont get together until AFTER the quest of the 7 (well 8 cause surprise shawtay! you spent months on a boat fighting the tension between you and jason ‹𝟹) and even then it takes a few months full of you dropping heavy hints, the contemplation to make the first move, and countless amounts of teasing from your friends for him to FINALLY ask you if you'd let him be your boyfriend

thankfully from there, things just began to flow easily :)

you went on dates pretty often, but at some point you stopped considering them to be dates because you spend so much time together and its a bit difficult to come up with something original in a summer camp

but once you eventually move out of chb (jason moved camps to be with you) and into your apartments (not shared cause we need some space), you both made sure you were both coming up with unique ideas and planned dates frequently :)

jason ends up working a job in finance (trust fund, 6'5, blue eyes), while you did... well wtv u want queen !!

honestly life further on out is so peaceful and simple between you two, any issues you face you always work them out together

communication is so big between you two likeeee

not even only if you get into arguments and stuff, but just like in general

you talk about everything, know everything about each other, the yap sesh never ends between you guys ‹𝟹

you probably dont move in together until after youre married, which honestly bro ... biggest occasion ever

i cant lie and be like 'oh you just did something peaceful in a garden with friends ‹𝟹' nah yall went ALL OUT

youve been dreaming about your wedding since you were a kid (it comes with the parentage bro) and jason views giving you a big wedding as a way to really express your love for each other (and he gets to spoil u hehe)

he goes all out to propose too btw, like asks your closest friends from camp what your ideal proposal is and goes through with it

but yea after marriage? your life becomes practically perfect with the beginning of your family and live together forever nd ever ‹𝟹

not to say stuff gets boring like ur kids? some of the most random childrento ever walk the earth like theres always SOMETHING happening with them

and you and jason dont allow yourselves to go boring either, you stay communicating and working out different ways to showcase your affection for each other

you guys stay really close with your friends and always have them over for dinner and such ‹𝟹 (GUYS THE SEVEN ARE FOUND FAMILY IDGAFFFFF)

but yeah you continue to live in your happily ever after little fairy tale for ever n ever n ever ‹𝟹

[captain-huggy-bear]

Can I get a cute domestic night w/ kess?

I'm not sure if I like this idea but here it is anyway! Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

You're on drying duty, Michael on washing up. It's the sort of routine you've fallen into, something that happens every evening that Michael's not on a roadie. Music playing over the Alexa, some random shuffled playlist that combines your tastes in music into one mashup of songs. Half of which don't match or fit each other, but they work for the two of you.

You dry the plates because Michael knows that you hate when you touch wet food or bits from plates and bowls, that it makes you squeamish and overstimulated. Michael washes the dishes because he doesn't really mind, doesn't care if his hands get wet or if he touches something wet.

It's the sort of soft quietness, the sort domestic routine that's everyday but never ceases to make you appreciate your relationship with Michael. How easy things are. How he passes you plates and bowls at a rate that matches you're drying up, how neither of you need to really speak at all because it simply works. It's the sort of domesticity, the sort of routine you miss whenever he's on a roadie, how suddenly you have to do both washing and drying. How the playlist suddenly makes you notice Michael's absence and even the hoodies you steal make you melancholy.

But when Michael's here? It's easy. It's easy in the way he always puts away the stuff on the higher shelves, the glasses and mugs, while you put the plates and bowls away. In the way Michael offers to take the rubbish out to the bins while you wipe down the counters in socked feet.

It's cold out and Michael almost trips on his slides as he tries to put the rubbish in the bin as quickly as possible. When he finally gets back to the door of the kitchen he can't help but stop in the doorway, the cold feeling becoming a mere faint niggling thought at the back of his mind because you're sliding around the kitchen in your fluffy socks.

He can't help the goofy grin that stretches across his lips as he watches you. You're dancing around the kitchen to some song on the playlist that he doesn't know the name of, feet sliding in your fluffy socks, hands holding a disinfectant spray and a cloth as you wipe down the sides as you move.

He's quiet as he closes the back door, leaning back against it just to watch you. The way you start singing along, off key but full of the sort of joy that makes it sound better. How you take extra care on a spot that seems to be stubborn by the stove...fuck, it's the sort of stuff he misses when he's away. Those moments that are so normal, so simple but they're you and him, in your shared home, making a life together.

You're enjoying yourself, waiting for Michael to get back, singing along to a new song you added to the playlist. Well, you're enjoying yourself until your foot slips in your fluffy socks, too slippery against the tile floor, letting out a screech as you start to pitch backwards, arms cartwheeling around to try to gain your balance. The cloth and the spray bottle go flying as you let them go on instinct.

But sturdy arms are around you within a split second, a warm chest against your back as Michael slips behind you to catch you before you can fall more than a few inches.

"Can't leave you alone for five minutes, baby..." He's slipping his arms through and underneath yours, lifting you back to your feet with a sort of ease that would frustrate you if it wasn't so attractive.

"You're stupid floor is slippy..." You grumble and pout even as you turn to face him, letting his hands slip around your hips and pull you into his chest. Michael grins down at you like you're the funniest person on earth, fingers digging into your hips like it's hard not to draw you closer.

"You mean our stupid floor, angel. You live here or did you move out while I was gone?" You're adorable, the way your cheeks puff out as you pout at him, his hoodie making you look cosy and warm. He can't help but tease you because he can, because he gets to see you like this and spend time with you like this...

"I'm living with Tuna now, I was going to leave a note." Your pout is false, the sort of clearly fake act of being upset with him that tells him you're teasing him as much as he's teasing you and he can't help it. He's goofy at the best of times but you bring an extra level of ridiculous out in Michael, like a school boy trying to impress you all the time by making you laugh harder, smile wider.

He falls back to the floor, sprawling at your feet dramatically, hand to his forehead, eyes closed as if you're killing him, as if he's fainted at the suggestion that you're leaving him for Tuna.

"It's because I don't have a beard, right? I'll grow one for you, angel, promise, just don't go and live with Tuna, please!"

"Michael! Get up!" You laugh at him because it's hard to be serious when he's 6ft 5, sprawled across the floor looking like you've ended his world but still unable to hide his own smile.

"How can I when my girlfriend is leaving me for Tuna?" He opens one eye from where is forearm is dramatically, smile widening when he sees the way you grin and laugh, mission firmly accomplished.

"Okay, okay, i'm not leaving you for Tuna, I promise!"

"You promise?" He bounces to his feet so easily from laying on the ground that it's actually pretty impressive, suddenly towering over you, crowding you against the kitchen counter. He's had enough of laying on ground, of the space between the two of you. The tip of Michael's nose rubbing against your own.

"I promise."

"Good." Michael's mouth slants over yours, lips firm, but not harsh. The sort of kiss that you sigh into while your arms wrap around his neck to hold him as close to you as possible. The sort of kiss that you lose yourself into, barely noticing the stretch of your calves as you stand on your tip toes or or the fact that the counter edge is digging into your back because this is it. This is you and Michael and life together for the foreseeable future, hopefully forever.

[yanderedrabbles]

I’m a new writer, can you tell me about your writing process? Are you a planner or a pantster?

welcome to the fold child, here be much editing and rewriting and possibly also dragons.

I'm DEFINITELY a planner. Usually I'll start my stories off with whatever inspired me but as soon as I get a handle on the idea, I jot down plot points to direct the story.

I'm also all over the place when I write. For example, I'm currently working on a Wild West noncon with multiple characters. I've been bouncing around from one section to the other as the ideas come. The trick is to try and neaten it all up in post lmao

Since you're asking a bit more about the writing process, here's where I'd recommend starting:

My favourite books on writing:

Voice by James Scott Bell. It's pretty short but there are so many exercises to practice voice and style. It's that little extra thing that really pushes a piece from good to great. For example, Stephen King has one of the most distinctive styles I've read and I gobble it up every. Single. Time.

Save the Cat Writes A Novel by Jessica Brody. This one is THE guide to novel and plot writing. It's fun to read, easy to reference and it breaks different genre tropes down into much more digestible tips. It's also the best guide for plotting, and really runs you through how to structure a story. Even if you aren't working on long, multi-chapter stories, knowing the different story structures is a must. If you take away one recommendation from this list, let it be this one.

My favourite writing YouTubers:

Jenna Moreci. She's funny and no nonsense. She's also got a writing book out called Shut Up and Write The Book that's on my tbr. She dives into common tropes, discusses when they work and when they're cliche, and some of the best ways to subvert them.

Alexa Donne. A romance and YA author, she's absolutely incredible when it comes to newbie writing mistakes. She's also really great at helping you edit and plot your stuff. She weighs in quite a bit on the plotters vs pantsers debate too.

Obviously, the creative process is going to look different for everybody. The key is to just try different approaches and see what works best for you. Some authors like to have all their background info down pat before they start and others can't write well unless its all happening in the moment. Some people like to do huge writing sprints while others aim for a little every day. It's all trial and error to find what works for you.

My biggest trick as a writer is to literally jot down my ideas as soon as they pop up. Sometimes they'll be little snippets, little pieces of dialogue that sound good, scenes that just pop into my head. I have so many notes just dedicated to compiling these ideas. It doesn't matter that I might not use them in my current fic, I always hold onto them for later.

I'd recommend looking at some famous author writing routines and pulling ideas from there too. Personally, I try and write a little everyday and then do at least two rounds of editing before I post.

I've still got a TON of room for improvement, but those are kind of the seminal works that got me to this point.

That's all. Have fun babe! May the words always come easy, may the editing be ruthless and may the readers be cool as hell. 💕

[princesschimchim1325]

hi i’m not much of one for sending stuff in but i’ve had an idea in my brain ab a poly yingxing x reader x dan fang where reader is short life who was also an artisan like Yingxing as well and dies after Yingxing and Dan Feng both banished and is reincarnated wayyyyy later but unlike dan heng, they accept themselves as both being themselves and also the person they once were, having memories of the past, dreaming of them both. they meet Dan Heng on the Express but Dan Heng makes it clear he has no interest in being close to them, wanting to separate himself from his past life (he does he’s just emotionally constipated).

So they respect his decision. but later they meet Blade by chance and Blade is more than accepting (in his own way, he’s also a constipated weirdo as well, and he’s a little coo coo for coco puffs), and after some time and lots of thinking they end up leaving the express and joining the stelleron hunters to help Blade meet a permanent end because they blame themselves for not stopping Dan Feng and YingXing for their stupid ass decisions.

the rest is up tew yew ☺️ KDHAKD I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS AB THEMMMM like my brain,,, it swirls 👁️_👁️

You are so real, they make the brain gears start working.

I never really considered a reader who died after they committed their sin 🤔 hmmm. Idk maybe bc I think Dan Feng and Yingxing would never abandon their spouse? I cant really comprehend them willingly abandoning their beloved spouse? Your ideas sounds really good but that part really made me think ngl. I think the only way for reader to die after they were exiled is if that reader was brought back to life bc of their actions but died again due to either many factors such as other wars or old age.

As for the reincarnated part, yeah sounds legit tbh. Dan Heng being emotionally constipated and rejecting reader as a way to reject his past is very on brand of him. Even if he does ahve genuine feelings for reader, he thinks it's Dan Feng's lingering love for his spouse.

Blade being a lot more accepting is also very on brand of him if u look past his mara stricken rages. Bladie is pretty chill but at the same time is a weirdo. Alexa play I'm a creep by radiohead. Blade thinks hes being normal but is very obviously not lmao. He probs no longer want to be called Yingxing but just as Blade or Ren.

Reader leaving the express to help Bladie meet his permanent end while Bladie learns to love again and Dan Heng pines from afar is the kind of kdrama angst I wanna see tbh

The self loathing/blaming omg yes, especially if they are the reason why their idiot husbands did what they did, no wonder reader wants to make amends.

When you're in a toxic throuple competition and you see RenHengxReader lmaooo

The ending to this story could be RenHeng and reader make amends and be a throuple again until their life ends and Elio finally gives Blade his permanent end. Dan Heng is left behind to reincarnate and forget about them. Maybe in another life, they'll meet again.

This was such a rollercoaster ngl.

[lastoneout]

Seeing people say with their whole chests that forcefem has no parallel to irl violence or bigotry is fucking bonkers for like seven hundred different reasons but like the one that confuses me the most is we have documented proof of what goes on during conversion therapy and the kinds of shit transphobic parents will do to their kids afab who are too masc in any way, so like do you think that just doesn't happen? Everyone's lying? No transmasc or butch person has ever been murdered or abused to "fix" them?? 99.9% of butch folks afab have stories of being forcibly feminized by their friends and families, often violently, and I have heard from butch trans women that they face significant bigotry from other queer and trans people for the crime of being masc trans women. And intersex men have killed themselves over forced medical and social feminization!!

I just think maybe denying all the violence masc queer people of all types face at the hands of cishetperisex society to defend why your kink is woke is uh. Maybe extremely transphobic and butchphobic and exorsexist and intersexist?? Like I will defend both kinks because I think kinks are almost always morally neutral and I could not give less of a shit what people get off to but come the entire fuck on. If trans and gnc people who have their masculinity targeted exist, which they do, then forcefem has a real world parallel to systemic violence just like forcemasc does(as well as dozens of other kinks, this is a very normal thing and does not make either kink evil, I would wager a significant portion of incredibly common kinks parallel irl violence that's just...what kinks tend to be about, taboo shit), like please go watch Caelen Conrad's videos about infiltrating online gender critical parenting groups and tell me forcible feminization has never been weaponized in a way that could be extremely traumatizing and violent.

(My whole life I have had to deal with people constantly trying to make my name more feminine. I've had people outright refuse to believe I'm a girl named Alex including a customer who harassed me at work for like 10 minutes over it. I had a P.E. teacher growing up who refused to use my real goddamn name for a YEAR because apparently Alexis is a better name for a girl. People can't even be fucking normal about a girl named Alexandria preferring to go by Alex, there's a reason I refuse to tolerate it now, you pull this shit you're either apologizing and not ever doing it again or you're dead to me bcs it's genuinely insane that I should have my NAME denied to me because it's gender neutral and apparently to most folks gender neutral = masculine. They always wanna call me Ally or Lexie or Alexa or Alexis like Alex is one of the most common names in history can we not fucking act like a girl using it is a Defcon 5 Level Gender Deviance Crisis??? Not saying this doesn't happen to other trans and marginalized people of all types, it very much does, which is why it's crazy to me to deny that forced feminization has very much been a major form of violent oppression.)

Forcing masc folks to grow their hair out, wear women's clothes, use feminine deadnames or just names in general, to shave and wear makeup, refusing to give them birthday and christmas gifts they want in favor of girly stuff, sending them to conversion therapy or other institutions, forcibly impregnating them to deny them transition, just straight up beating them and treating them like garbage whenever they express masculinity, intersex medicalization and forced surgery and hormones that do not match the person's desires or gender, and yes gnc/butch trans women facing cis and trans folks who keep trying to "correct" their masculinity or suggest it's proof they aren't trans, these are all things that happen CONSTATLY to masc people, hell even cis men face this shit do you SEE the way white people treat asian and/or disabled men???

I s2g some of y'all think because the patriarchy exists society does not punish people who are not "supposed" to be masculine for being masculine anyway and it's actually deeply upsetting in a way that I cannot accurately put into words to hear my queer siblings deny the documented history of masculinity being punished when it deviates from societal expectations to defend a fucking KINK.

[lovedbysolaris]

Unsigned Feelings. (3)

Isabela Merced x Reader

Summary: You were hired to help her write an album not fall for her. Ghostwriting kept you safe. Until her. Isabela Merced sees through the walls you built with every lyric. What starts as late-night writing sessions turns into something you can’t name—until it hurts not to. But your past doesn’t stay buried. And when secrets surface and pressure builds, you're left with one choice: walk away like you always do... or stay and fight for the one thing you never let yourself want.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: honestly this aint a crazy story...

Recommended Soundtracks for Chapter.

“Godspeed” – Frank Ocean

“You Know How to Love Me” – Phyllis Hyman

“Don’t Delete the Kisses” – Wolf Alice

"Glory Box" - Portishead

“Over the Ocean Call” – Lizzy McAlpine

"Miles Around" - W.S (Unreleased, down below)

___________________________________-

You end up cleaning the Airbnb together, two weeks of notebooks, old takeout, water bottles, and tangled chords getting packed into boxes and gear bags. Isabela follows you room to room like a shadow.

At one point, she asks, “You got somewhere to drop your stuff before the flight?”

You nod. “Need to run it back to the apartment. Feed Hades.”

She pauses at the door. “Can I come?”

You look over your shoulder. “You want to meet my dog that’s built like a Greek statue and doesn’t trust strangers?”

She shrugs. “I’m very charming.”

You laugh. “Come on, then.”

Your apartment is smaller, more lived-in. Not flashy, not expensive—but home.

Navy walls with a matte finish. Exposed pipework. LED strips that aren’t too neon. And when you open the door, Alexa kicks in automatically:

“Now playing: ‘Glory Box’ by Portishead.”

You hear Isabela laugh behind you.

“Okay, I knew you were cool but this confirms it.”

You shrug. “She knows the vibe.”

She steps inside like it’s a museum—hands in her pockets, turning slowly as her eyes take everything in.

There’s a wall of sneakers by the door. Mostly Jordan Retros. Some classics. Some customs. One pair in a glass box.

There’s an incense burner shaped like a hand on the windowsill. A framed poster of a 90s Outkast tour. A black-and-white photo of Hades as a puppy, ears too big for his head.

Then she turns.

And sees the wall.

Dozens of plaques.

Framed gold and platinum certifications, no names on the front—just logos. You’d have to know what to look for.

She squints at one. “Wait. Is that… Khalid?”

You nod from the kitchen. “Yeah.”

She steps closer.

“Kehlani… Noah Kahan? Maren Morris?!”

You pour water into Hades’ bowl. “Country bag. Couldn’t pass that one up.”

Her eyes widen. “You ghostwrote half the charts.”

You lean against the counter. “Not half. Maybe a generous sliver.”

“Why doesn’t anyone know?”

You shrug. “Because ghostwriting’s the best invisibility cloak.”

She walks through the hallway to your room. You follow.

Your room is modern, clean, but personal. Sage bundle tucked under your mirror. Candle burned halfway through. You keep your hats hung up in order of color—some fitted, some faded. Your class ring glints from the edge of your desk.

Isabela leans against the doorway.

Watches you move.

You toss shoes into a bag, fold shirts with single flicks of your wrist, toss in the old guitar strap she’s seen you use every day for two weeks.

You don’t notice the way she’s watching you.

But she’s watching.

She sees your rhythm. Your peace. Your presence. Something about it makes her chest ache. And she doesn't know why.

Maybe because you’re not trying. And yet—you're still unforgettable.

“You always move like that?” she says softly.

You glance up. “Like what?”

“Like you don’t notice people watching you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

She grins. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and chuckle.

She looks down. Then, quietly, she says:

“…Secreta.”

You look up. “What’s that?”

She shrugs, teasing. “First language.”

You pause. “Secret.”

She freezes.

You zip the bag shut.

Then meet her eyes.

“Don’t be surprised I understood you,” you say. “We’re writing in every language now.”

At the airport, you’re all nerves.

Isabela’s got her hoodie up and sunglasses on. But you? You’re practically vibrating.

Tapping your foot.

Bouncing your knee.

Wringing your hands.

You’re quiet.

Too quiet.

She notices.

“So… how’s Hades?”

You nod. “Fine.”

“Your sister—”

“Good.”

She bites her lip, choosing silence.

You board first-class, and it’s a private seating area. Just you and her, two rows across from each other.

You sit stiffly. Gripping the armrest like it’s going to try and escape.

You stare at the window, then away, then back again.

Then you close your eyes.

Isabela notices.

She pulls her AirPods Max from her bag. Gently leans over, places them on your head.

You open one eye.

She smiles softly.

“Just listen.”

You hear it.

It’s “Lovin Kind.”

Mixed. Mastered. Your chords. Her voice. Your words. Her story.

You close your eyes again. Grip the armrest.

And then… you feel it.

Her hand slides into yours.

Warm.

Steady.

Sure.

You don’t open your eyes.

Neither does she.

But somehow, up there in the sky, you both exhale at the same time.

The plane landed smoother than you expected. The wheels kissed the runway, the cabin filled with a light clatter of seatbelts and softened applause, and somehow—somehow—you were still breathing.

You pulled the AirPods off and handed them back to Isabela like nothing had happened.

“I told you I’d be fine,” you said, stretching your legs dramatically.

She stared at you for a full second.

Then: “You were shaking so hard I thought the seat might file for a restraining order.”

You scoffed. “That’s bold. I was calm.”

“You whispered ‘we’re not built for the sky’ like three separate times.”

“Philosophical,” you muttered. “Not panicked.”

She grinned. “Mmm-hmm.”

Outside, a black SUV pulled up curbside.

Vanessa hopped out in a pinstriped jumpsuit, tossing her phone into her purse mid-call. “Welcome to L.A., kids. Let’s make some hits.”

She handed you a key fob. “That’s for your Airbnb. Only a five minute walk from Bela. No excuses for being late to sessions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You set this up?”

Vanessa smirked. “You think I trust you two not to vanish in a city full of distractions?”

Isabela leaned in. “We are the distractions.”

“Exactly.”

The Airbnb was nice—too nice for you, if you were being honest. A sleek little Spanish-style cottage tucked behind bougainvillea and warm brick walls, with glass doors that slid into a small patio garden. Minimalist decor, record player in the corner, a vinyl of Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life already on display.

You didn’t even finish unpacking before Isabela texted:

“Let me show you around. You need city feet.”

You’d barely tied your Jordan 5s before you were in her car again.

It started with a casual drive. Palm trees zipped past your window, the sun stretching warm fingers across your face. Isabela rattled off neighborhood names like song titles—Los Feliz, Echo Park, Silver Lake.

You weren’t really paying attention.

Because you saw it.

A storefront. A faded mural of MJ in a dunk pose. A neon Jumpman in the window.

Your breath hitched. “Pull over.”

“What?”

“Sneaker spot.”

Isabela blinked. “You’re joking.”

You were already out the door.

Inside, it smelled like heaven. Leather. Floor wax. Anticipation.

You moved like a kid in a candy store—eyes wide, hands hovering near displays like they were sacred relics. You struck up a conversation with one of the workers about a rare pair of Cement 3s, bonding instantly. (Need them 3's. Swear I'll sell a kidney)

Isabela stood back, arms crossed, watching the whole thing unfold with a quiet, amused expression. The worker laughed at something you said and clapped your shoulder.

And then…

She saw it.

The smile.

Your real one.

The one that crinkled your eyes and pushed your dimples into the spotlight. The kind of smile you hadn’t once given her in all your two weeks of sessions, of late-night chords and heart-thin lyrics. And something inside her… shifted.

Not in jealousy.

Just in longing.

She wanted that smile. From you. For her.

Hours later, after a detour at a taco stand and a long sunset drive, you finally followed her to her home.

You were still riding the high from the sneaker shop. Until you stepped inside.

Laughter. A deep voice.

You tensed.

You called her name.

No answer.

The laughter led you down the hallway.

You rounded the corner.

And froze.

He was tall. Confident. Smiling like the room was built for him. A bouquet of deep red ranunculus flowers in hand. He wore effortless charisma like a second skin.

Isabela was laughing. Genuinely. Her eyes bright in a way you hadn’t seen before.

And that smile?

That was the one you wanted for you.

It burned.

You straightened your back. Folded your arms.

Isabela noticed the shift in you instantly.

The man turned. “Oh—didn’t know we had company.”

You said nothing.

Isabela gestured between you two. “oh!, this is—”

“I gotta head out. Studio’s tomorrow, right?”

She blinked. “Yeah, but…”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She tilted her head. “You sure? We could ride together.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

You turned.

And walked out.

She followed halfway, her voice at your back.

“You don’t even know where the studio is!”

You stopped at the door. Looked back just once.

“I’ll figure it out.”

And you closed the door before she could say anything else.

Inside, Isabela stood frozen, one hand hovering where the door had just been.

Young Mazino walked back in. “Everything okay?”

She blinked.

“Yeah,” she lied.

But it wasn’t.

Because that you? That version she just got?

Cold. Distant. Quiet.

It was the opposite of the person she had come to know in that echo room. The opposite of the girl who wrote in broken metaphors and whispered lines that felt like confessions.

It was a stranger.

And somehow…

That hurt more than she expected.

A slow, echoing hurt.

Like a song stuck on repeat inside her ribs.

The studio smelled like synth and sunlight.

You’d arrived early. Always did.

The room was clean—too clean. Booth untouched. Monitors still sleeping. You liked it that way. You got to move in silence, tune in without the world watching.

You stood in the center of the sound booth, fingers adjusting the mic stand, lowering it just an inch. Then another. Just to the right height. Not yours.

Hers.

You paused a second, just looking at the mic—tilted toward where her lips would be. A strange warmth crept up your neck.

Behind you, the door clicked open.

You didn’t turn.

You knew it was her.

Isabela stood by the glass, watching. Watching the way your hands moved with purpose. The way you tilted the mic like you’d done it a thousand times just for her. Even though you hadn’t.

She didn’t say a word.

Didn’t need to.

Because in that moment, she forgot she was mad. She forgot about slamming doors, and that stiff exit you gave her.

She just remembered your hands. And the way you always remembered her height.

She slipped in quietly as you started queuing up the mix.

You didn’t look over.

You felt her presence like a shifting temperature. Just behind you. Warm.

“Morning,” she said softly.

“Morning,” you replied, casual. Too casual.

She crossed her arms. Waited. “You’re early.”

You nodded. “Gotta get the levels right.”

She watched you move, wrist flicking faders and scrolling through stems on the board. She’d watched engineers before. Producers. Ghostwriters.

But never like this.

Never like you.

And the silence was killing her.

So she cut it.

“You’re really not gonna talk about it?”

You blinked, slow. “Talk about what?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Last night.”

You shrugged. “Wasn’t much to talk about.”

“Oh come on.”

You finally turned your chair around. Met her eyes.

Calm. Steady. Detached.

“I had a long day. Didn’t want to crowd your moment.”

She scoffed. “That’s what you’re calling it?”

You stood, walking toward the booth to adjust the levels on the guitar mic. “Let’s just make music.”

She stared at your back.

“No,” she said. “Because that’s what you do when you’re feeling something. You bury it in chords and rhyme schemes. You don’t say anything. You just sing it and hope nobody reads between the lines.”

You froze.

She stepped closer.

“You stormed out because you saw something you didn’t like. You were jealous. Or hurt. Or something. But instead of talking, you came here early to avoid me.”

You turned.

Met her eyes.

And said nothing.

She crossed her arms. “So am I wrong?”

You licked your lips, considered lying.

Instead: “I’m not jealous.”

She tilted her head. “Then what?”

You sighed. “I’m…not built for people like him.”

Isabela softened. “I didn’t ask you to be.”

“I know. Still doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.”

The silence returned.

And this time, you broke it.

You slid your phone across the table.

A waveform pulsed on screen. A song titled “Now We’re Strangers (Remix)” — draft version. You hit play.

The room filled with the low hum of your voice. Deeper, more vulnerable than she’d ever heard it.

I left pieces of me at your place / now I drive past, can’t look the same.

You held my hand when my mother was fading / now I can't even text you on birthdays.

She listened. Still. Completely still.

The lyrics spilled out like something you hadn’t meant for anyone to hear.

The truth was, you hadn’t.

“Throwaway,” you muttered.

“For who?”

“Central Cee. Never sent it. Felt too raw.”

Isabela stared at you.

“You wrote that for yourself.”

You didn’t reply.

“I didn’t know you lost her.”

You nodded, eyes still on the console. “Wasn’t trying to lead with grief.”

“But you do,” she said. “Every lyric of that song is grief disguised as detachment.”

You shrugged. “Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

She looked at you differently then.

Like she was seeing the fault lines.

Like she wanted to press her hand into them and see if you’d crack.

She walked over.

Opened her mouth to say something—

And the door opened behind her.

“Yo! This the genius zone or what?”

You both turned.

Young Mazino.

Black leather jacket. Flowers again. Always the damn flowers.

He grinned. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You straightened your back. Your jaw set before you even realized.

Isabela blinked. “Young, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Wanted to see you work,” he said, eyes bouncing from her to you. “Is this the famous SW?”(SongWriter)

You nodded once. Cool. Distant. “What’s up.”

He extended a hand.

You shook it once. Brief. Your fingers didn’t curl.

He noticed.

So did she.

Isabela stepped forward, gesturing toward the vocal booth. “We were just going over scratch vocals.”

Young smiled. “Perfect. I’ll sit back and learn from the best.”

He flopped into the couch like he owned the room.

Isabela turned back to you. Her eyes searching your face.

But whatever softness had been there before— had already gone cold.

You were avoiding her.

Again.

Sinking behind your soundboard like it had a steering wheel and a destination somewhere far, far from her eyes.

And yet…

She wouldn’t leave you alone.

She sat on the edge of the console, just barely not blocking your view, dangling her feet like she didn’t have a single care in the world—but every glance was a plea.

You clicked through samples. Opened closed folders. Re-routed cables that didn’t need re-routing.

She didn’t move.

“You’re mad.”

“Nope.”

“Y/n.”

“I’m working.”

She slid a little closer. “Then let’s work.”

“I am.”

“Together.”

Your fingers froze on the board. Just for a second.

That was all she needed.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said carefully. “The contract said I needed features. Right? You’re in the contract.”

You looked up, slow. “Isabela.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You’re using the contract?”

“I’m honoring it.”

You let out a small laugh, not the funny kind.

Then you sipped your water, turned back toward the board—

“I mean, if you don’t want to finally put your voice back out there—”

You choked.

Water hit your throat sideways. You coughed once, turned back to her with a look.

“I’m fine staying behind the scenes,” you said, clearing your throat.

“But you shouldn’t be.” Her voice was quiet now. Firm.

And then…

Young.

“You know,” he said from the corner, lounging like a well-dressed shadow. “I could always jump on a verse. Just say the word.”

She didn’t even glance his way.

Her eyes were locked on you.

You sighed. “Bela…”

“You get to do it your way,” she said. “Your sound. Your structure. But I want you on this record.”

You looked at her. At the way she was leaning forward just slightly. Not pushing. But not backing down.

Your throat tightened.

You looked away.

“…Fine.”

She grinned.

“But we do it my way.”

You pulled up the session file: Miles Around. An open-space melody. Light guitar laced with a faded drum pattern. Vocals left blank. Instrumental bleeding with potential.

You’d written the hook weeks ago. Never sang it.

Now…

You did.

And she followed.

She stayed in the booth as you fed her line after line, your words folded inside her voice like a letter sealed and never sent.

You didn’t even notice how long it took.

You didn’t notice how Young had stopped smiling.

Then it happened.

She sang a line you wrote—but changed it.

You looked up.

“You said I was safe, then you left the locks unlatched.”

It was yours, originally.

But now it came out as:

“So used to being rejected and brokenhearted”

She was looking at you.

The entire time.

You said nothing.

You couldn’t.

You just watched her sing your words—remixed into her perspective. Her truth.

And something about it left your chest a little hollow.

But you kept going.

And when it was your turn, you sang. Rapped. Poured the smoke in your throat out into something melodic. You weren’t showy. You weren’t polished.

But God, you were honest.

And she watched you like you were rewriting the sky.

By the end of the track, the booth felt like a heartbeat.

You finished your final note. Let it echo into silence.

And before you could open your eyes…

She crashed into you.

Laughing. Breathless. Throwing her arms around your shoulders and squealing against your chest.

You froze.

For a second.

Then—your arms found her waist.

Held her there.

It felt… wrong how right it felt.

You hadn’t liked touch. Not in years.

But your body didn’t flinch this time.

You just… held her.

And Isabela melted.

Somewhere behind you, Young was still in the room.

You’d forgotten that.

Until you stepped out of the booth.

And there he was.

Engulfing her in his arms.

His hands on her waist—just like yours had been. Holding her too long. Too close.

She laughed, oblivious.

You noticed everything.

Especially the way Young looked at you when he hugged her.

He was staking claim.

And he was daring you to say otherwise.

You didn’t.

She turned to praise you.

“That was insane. Like—why are you not headlining Coachella already?”

You waved her off with a crooked grin. “Maybe I just like being your secret weapon.”

She blushed a little. You didn’t point it out.

Then—Young struck again.

“Bela, you free tonight?”

She blinked. “Um… I think—”

“I want to take you out,” he said. “Like a real date.”

You froze.

She looked surprised. “Oh. I mean—yeah, sure. I guess.”

And there it was again.

That ache.

Like being punched in the gut by a ghost.

She turned toward you, halfway between guilt and goodbye.

“You gonna be okay here?”

You nodded. “I don’t want to mess up your love life.”

That hit her.

She caught the jab. Let it slide.

And stepped closer.

She grabbed your hand. Held it gently.

Thanked you with her fingers.

And walked away.

Young waved at you.

You didn’t wave back.

But then—

The door burst open again.

Her boots hit the floor in fast steps.

You turned just in time to see her jog in, breathless.

She grabbed your jaw.

Kissed your cheek.

Hard.

“You’re coming over later,” she whispered. “Dinner. We’re celebrating.”

You blinked.

She smirked.

“Don’t be late.”

And then she was gone.

But the blush on her cheeks?

That stayed burned into your mind.

So did the smile.

The one she hadn’t given to Young.

The one she’d saved for you.

_______________________________________

[pandorasworkshop]

🌕The Bedrooms of the Moon Signs🌕

Pandorasworkshop

Okay so the moon rules the fourth house which is the house of comfort, mother and the home. So looking at people's moon signs is a great way to grasp what their bedroom may look like or what they feel comfortable in. Disclaimer: aspects other fourth house placements and what house ur moon is can affect this.

Moon in Aries: neat and organized or veryyy chaotic, they may have a little corner of their room dedicated to an interest of theirs. Some friends have dumbbells in their rooms as well. Whatever house their moon is in may show be more prominent in their room. Do you guys know those pretty minimal rooms on Pinterest (not the beige) thats what this placement reminds me of and also very chaotic rooms where there are collage walls.

Moon in Taurus: they payyy attention to the little things, they know what they like a value being comfortable, some of my friends with this placement spend a little more on their rooms to make sure everything is up to their standards. Usually have nice bedsheets too. Think nice fabrics. Most likely to have a mini fridge in their room. Their rooms always have a luxurious undertone even if that's not their aesthetic.

Moon in Gemini: techy room three friends of mine have an Alexa in their room and two have a record player. May spend money on gadgets for their room. Naomi Campbell has this placement and her house is literally the shape of an eye. Most likely to focus on lighting in their rooms (led, sunlight lamps, fairy lights). Lot of kpop fans with this placement. Could have multiple journals or sketchbooks all around their room. Tall windows.

Moon in cancer: they like being cozy, literally every single person I know with this placement has a veil hanging from above their bed. Ambient lighting and the starlight projectors. Appealing to all the senses to feel comfortable is important to them. May use candles, diffusers, or incense. Stashes food in their room. Weighted blankets. If they aren't doing well their rooms show their emotions. Most likely to have stuffed animals on their bed.

Moon in Leo: whatever hobbies they have you WILL absolutely know once you step foot in their room. One friend of mine with this placement is a guitarist has seven guitars/banjos/bass hanging on her walls plus pedals and amps all her posters are of bands. Another friend is an artist she paints and likes to bejewel stuff those shiny rhinestones are EVERYWHERE and her walls are painted with her art. Another friend is a nail tech/makeup artist all the tables In her room are filled with supplies and makeup. Look in the cabinet oh more nails. I feel like these placements pets love to hangout in their rooms as well.

Moon in Virgo: their rooms tend to be very organized. Many influencers online who tend to do those organized videos tend to have this placement. Most likely to have one of those carts that wheel around and are a container. Two friends with this placement both have veryyy coordinated bookshelves. Bullet journal and they may have lots of pretty pens. Anything they buy for their room is always useful. Tend to be plant parents as well and a friend and my cousin with this placement both have a yoga mat surrounded by plants. HIDDEN CABINETS. You can tell where they are mentally through their rooms. Really polished rooms even without trying.

Moon in Libra: may have had to host people a lot in their rooms so their rooms have multiple chairs. Their room either looks straight out of a catalog or there is clothes thrown EVERYWHERE. May have a specific area in their room they get ready in. May have framed photos of their loved ones or Polaroids. If they get flowers from somebody they may incorporate them into their room decor by putting them in a vase or drying them. Libra is ruled by Venus so their rooms always like pretty and almost refreshing.

Moon in Scorpio: every single person I know with this placement is metal/goth 😭 really living up to the stereotype. But Scorpio rules the 8th house and 8th house is about secrets, occult and obsession. Many of my friends with this moon placement when they have it they reallyyy lean into their aesthetic. All five of my friends have their walls covered with things and a typically goth aesthetic they really lean into. Something though I feel like is not talked about with Scorpio is their lighter side. Scorpios sister sign is Taurus and Taurus is very light. Both of these signs can embody one another. A girl on tiktok has a Scorpio moon and Venus and her room is very coquette but her walls are still covered with all sorts of things and she really leans into her style.

Moon in Sagittarius: might have a lot of funny things in their room or just plain out strange things. A friend with this placement has road signs all over his room, a random urinal(don't ask me how he got it idk), life size Bigfoot cutout, and a singular poster of the movie white chicks. Another friend with this placement is really well traveled and she has all the cool souvenirs from all over the world and collects them, she also has a few of those educational posters that are pretty.

Moon in Capricorn: antique but not antique in the way Pisces can be. Lots of nice wood furniture, maybe a bit of a masculine undertone with neutral colors. Moody style and coloring. Capricorn is the sister sign to cancer so their rooms are also very cozy. Whimsigoth or academic. Neutral colors or colors that are darker in shades. Knit blankets remind me of this placement. Leather reminds me of this placement as well. Think of retro made new.

Moon in aquarius: do you guys know those blue/white futuristic technological themed rooms people have on tiktok. That's what this placement reminds me of. People I know with this placement tend to have nice ass pc set ups. You may like to sleep in the cold so they can be extra warm in their blankets. Rooms may be more minimal. Nice wallpaper with celebrities who have this placement.

Moon in Pisces: Antiques but in that almost magical way. Women on tiktok with this placement have these beautiful gold gilded mirrors. My friend has this gorgeous antique wardrobe. Most likely to thrift their decor. Florals remind me of this placement. If this person is really religious or really spiritual then you'll know when you go into their room. One of my friends is Christian and her room is filled with beautiful antique crosses. Another friend is Hindu and she has a nice altar in her room. If this person is a smoker they might have decor that relates to that. Witch friend has a lot of themed decor like moon shelves and a whole bookshelf dedicated to her craft. Pisces rules twelfth house which rules religion, substances, and spirituality. Pisces is also the oldest sign.

[anartisticnerd]

All of my current Leverage and Leverage Redemption headcanons!!!!!

• Every night, Eliot checks that everyone is asleep in their beds, checks the locks on the doors, and makes sure the security system is working.

• It really freaked Breanna out the first time she saw Eliot severely injured. Hardison's stories made Eliot seem invincible. Eliot had to hug her and assure her that he was alright.

• Sophie hates Converse and Vans. Like she has some extreme beef with them.

• Breanna and Harry play Pokemon Go together often. Breanna is Team Instinct and Harry is Team Mystic and they fight over gyms all the time.

• Harry knows how to braid hair because when he was still married, his wife insisted that he should be able to do his daughter's hair.

• Eliot has an entire cupboard of drugs, mostly painkillers, ambiguously labled. He has received calls from every single girl on the team boiling down to, "Eliot, I'm on my period, and I can't figure out which of your stupid white bottles is ibuprofen." He's become quite used to it, and now keeps a special area of the cupboard for period stuff.

• Parker steals a stuffed toy whenever the con involves a store owned by an evil person. She's amassed quite a big collection, but bunny will always be her favorite.

• Hardison, with contributions from Parker and Eliot, now sends so much money to Nana that Nana was able to save up to buy a new house in a better neighborhood for all her foster kids.

Edit: she instead invests in supporting local community programs because people have enlightened me that nana wouod never move

• Harvey and Brenna text terribly made memes to each other all the time.

• Breanna's contacts are as follows:

Eliot: Wallmart Batman

Sophie: 👑SLAY QUEEN👑

Hardison: 👨🏿‍💻

Parker: 🐈‍⬛️Cat Burglar🐈‍⬛️

Harry: STUPID LITTLE LAWYER MAN

• Weekly movie night choices:

Sophie: Downtown Abby

Parker: Finding Nemo

Eliot: The Last Mohican/Rocky

Harry: The Spy Next Door

Breanna: Sonic (for the memes only)

• Eliot's room is the comfort room. Bad dream, feeling kinda sick, a recent con weighing heavily in mind, go to Eliot's room. He's almost never asleep, he knows more than anyone about first aid, and he gives the best hugs. He'll act all annoyed, but he'll always make the whumpee stay until they feel better.

• Everyone assumes Sophie can sew because she's the mom friend, but she has no clue. The team seamstress is actually Harry.

• Eliot keeps an ever-growing list of everyone's favorite foods. He keeps extra ingredients around, so he always has what he needs to whip something up if someone's having a bad day.

• Breanna can be extremely petty when she wants to be. She has been known to hack alexas to say creepy stuff out of nowhere and streetlights to turn each one red just to mess with people.

• Harry really loves dogs.

• Sophie once owned a turtle named Mistress Shellington that now belongs to her daughter.

• Harry's favorite color is yellow.

• Breanna forcing everyone to see the Barbie may not be the worst thing to ever happen to him, but Eliot ranks it pretty high on his list of life tragedies.

• Sophie has noticed that Eliot, when it comes to Parker and Breanna, will always grab them (hand, elbow, shoulder) when crossing the street. Nobody gives him any grief for it because they know he just wants to keep them safe.

• Breanna, from upstairs: ELIOT WHAT'S AN 8-TRACK TAPE?

Eliot: *deep sigh* I'm so old.

Harry: *chokes on drink*

• There are so many dents in the walls, and Sophie loves each one. Scrapes from Parker's grappling equipment, divots from Eliot's throwing knives, dents from Breanna's drones. It makes the HQ feel like home.

• Harry is an honorary girly. Girls' night is more like girls plus Harry night.

• Hardison has a note on his phone of things Breanna has said that make him feel old.

• Eliot has resigned himself to the fact that he will be Parker's and Breanna's personal jungle gym until his dying day. Parker pokes his bruises and climbs all over him, and uses his shoulder as a pillow. Breanna is almost the same. She punches and pokes him, just like Parker, and she often lays her head in his lap when watching tv.

Sophie has a picture on her desk of Breanna, asleep in Eliot's lap, and Parker, asleep against Eliot's shoulder. Eliot has one arm around Parker, the other caressing Breanna, tucking her fly away hair behind her ear. A calm smile is on his face. It's one of Sophie's favorite pictures.

• Eliot follows the sidewalk rule at all times.

• Eliot always sits facing the door. If the team is somewhere in public and one of the others takes the seat with the clearest view of the entrances and exits, he will make them switch seats with him so he can see the doors. It's a military habit.

• Parker hides chocolate in the vents so that nobody else can find it.

[mscaseys]

What is your favorite Mark'Gemma quote?

hmm it's hard to choose, probably the 1x07 "i loved all these things about her, equally" quote is my favourite if we're talking specifically about stuff said by mark or gemma. in terms of their relationship overall, i have a few quotes said by mark or even neither of them that i would like to share. bear with me (these are also in no particular order)

1x01: i just think that forgetting about her for 8 hours a day isn't the same thing as healing - devon

1x03: you carry the hurt with you, you feel it down there too, you just don't know what it is - petey

1x06: omark's whole convo with alexa specifically when he talks about wanting to have kids with her and also that she was very pragmatic. but possibly my favourite was when he said "you know, sometimes i think she's not worried about me at all, she's just pissed that she's dead" and alexa saying "she's a part of you".

1x08: the whole imark and ms casey wellness session like every bit of it.

1x09: it was a disaster, she was still in your veins, making everything hurt. + she was wonderful, she made you wonderful - devon (bonus: imark saying "it's a nice name, gemma" before he even knew who she was really hurt me, especially when ms casey said in 1x08 that "you're nice, mark")

2x02: you said that ever since she died, every day has felt like a year, that you felt like you were choking on her ghost - milchick + omark's convo with devon in the diner when he said his sheets smelled like her for weeks

2x03: agreeing to reintegration immediately just to see gemma, nevermind the 0% survival rate

2x05: are they hurting her? - omark

2x06: omark's monologue about the bargaining stage of grief :( "you think about all the things you’d do, and all the ways you’d change to get that person back. you’d drink less. you’d listen more. it’s dumb, but you do it anyway" :(

2x09: she better be fucking alive - omark (i just love that whole scene and devon having to calm him down by saying they're doing it "for gemma")

2x10: "you know, i hid all of her stuff in my basement because it was easier pretending that she never existed" - omark + the cold harbor scene talking to her innie :(

there's probably wayy more that i'm forgetting but these are just a few, and i think it's so special that some of these quotes are said by neither of them. anyway, i probably could go on and on if no one stops me but hope this satisfies your answer xx

[hugshughes]

Liquid Courage J. McCarthy

JJ McCarthy x fem!reader

synopsis - JJ calls you in the middle of the night, inebriated and affectionate. His confessions leave your heart heavy as he sleeps off his drunken haze on your couch. It isn't until the next morning JJ realizes the extent of what he's admitted.

wc - 3.4k

contains - UNEDITED! super cute! alcohol consumption, underage alcohol consumption, JJ gets drunk, eating, hugging. ALL WHILE SOBER: kissing, touching, makin out kinda. reader is insecure about herself (even though she's so cute and pretty), drunk confession, reader gets sad, cursing, i think that's it! oh takes place like october of last year! Rushed ending sorry

an - based on THIS request! LOVEEEEEEDDDDD THIS REQUEST SO MUCH! this was so cute loved it!! #imnotdead :D

-

You hummed to yourself as you pranced around your kitchen, the banana bread you just put in the oven leaving the aroma of your apartment warm. Your hair was in a braid down your back, your adorable pink striped Victoria's Secret pajamas soft against your skin. Music played from your Alexa, your nighttime playlist floating through the air, one of Olivia Rodrigo's new songs gracing your ears.

The thick socks covering your feet kept them from the cold of the linoleum in your bathroom. You took out your contacts, throwing them out before slipping on your glasses. You grabbed your phone off the counter after exiting the bathroom, seeing a couple Snapchat notifications, some from TikTok, and a few messages from your best friend. All three of her texts had said something along the lines of how you should've come out tonight. The third one said how JJ McCarthy was asking where you were. You sighed, turning your phone back off and checking on your banana bread.

JJ had been your friend since freshman year. He was very sweet and so kind. He was so mature and was one of the most polite people you knew. You'd always thought he was extremely cute, I mean, who didn't think that? He had the cutest smile, and the softest dirty blonde hair. His blue eyes were gorgeous. He'd started his little flirting game with you about halfway through sophomore year. He'd compliment you endlessly whenever you saw him, he'd randomly ask you out in the middle of a conversation. That same smile on his face, bright as ever. You, of course, took it all as a joke, a cruel one at that. You assumed JJ was just a flirty guy with a flirty personality, you'd experienced it before. There was zero chance someone like JJ McCarthy would like you.

"Come on. You guys really think he's being serious when he says that stuff?"

"Yes! We do, because he likes you, and it's so obvious. He doesn't talk to us like that, does he?"

You rolled your eyes. Starting to get pissed with them. Your brain could not compute the idea of JJ really liking you.

"Why in the world would JJ McCarthy, probably the most eligable bachelor on the campus of Michigan, like me? I'm not one of the prettiest girls at Mich, let alone am I the prettiest girl that likes him!"

Sometimes you would wonder that if you thought you were pretty, then maybe you'd believe them. You had bad underlying insecurities that stopped you from believing that any guy would like you, let alone someone like JJ.

You leaned your forehead against your silver fridge, the cool of the metal relaxing you. You could hear its low whirring and humming with your proximity to it. The sound occupying your brain as a white noise, leading you to close your eyes. You might've actually fallen asleep if the timer for your bread didn't go off, you scrambling to shout at your Alexa to, 'Please, stop!' You grabbed oven mitts and grabbed the tray after sticking a toothpick into it to check the middle. You set the pan down on your cooling rack, sliding your gloves off. You grabbed your phone and paused your music, going to sit on the couch while your bread cooled.

You stalked your friends Snapchat stories, they were all having fun at the big party everyone seemed to be attending. You halted when you saw your best friend's private story, you knew it only had a handful of people so she posted silly and random things on it.

What she'd posted was a zoomed in photo of what resembled JJ McCarthy with his head thrown back against the couch of whatever frat house they were in. His face looked miserable, and the caption on the photo was saying how that's how she too reacted when you didn't come to parties. You immediately slid up, typing in all caps telling her to shut up. You said how he was not upset over you, and how she was stupid and drunk. It was all lighthearted, you both knew it.

She immediately typed back to you, claiming he'd drunkenly asked her at least four times where you were and why you didn't want to come see him. You giggled to yourself, believing it for just a few moments. You typed to her for a few more minutes before your phone started vibrating in your hand, JJ's contact coming onto your screen. You were met with the photo you'd had him saved with, him smiling that bright beautiful smile across the table from you at Panera sometime during last school year. What was JJ calling you for? You slid to answer, holding your phone to your ear. It was oddly quiet on his end, though he was actively attending a party. He called your name, and you called his.

"JJ? What's up? Are you alright?"

"Hi! Oh my gosh, hi. I can't believe you aren't here right now, I was only excited to see you."

You smiled sadly, he was endearing, and so totally plastered.

"Aw, JJ, I'm sorry. Where are you? It's pretty quiet for a party."

"Oh, yeah. I'm just in the bathroom, standin' around. I got bored. Ya' know, I miss you."

He was so drunk, his words were melting together, but his happiness stayed solid throughout.

"Jay, are you alright? Do you need someone to help you leave? Is Blake there? Colston?"

"You should, we can hang out! But yeah, he's 'round here somewhere. Lemme go get 'im."

You said okay, letting the boy look for his friend. The noise on his end got louder as he left the bathroom. You giggled when you heard him shout hey at random people around the house. You heard JJ call your name into his phone, then again.

"JJ, I'm still here. Any luck finding Colston?"

"Why don't you jus' go marry Colston if he's all 'yer gonna talk about"

You barely heard it, he muttered it with the phone a few inches from his mouth. You were shocked at the words JJ said. What?

"What, JJ?"

"Wish y'were talkin' about me."

You smiled, still a bit confused. His drunk mind was extremely silly.

"I'm talking to you, aren't I? The only boy's call I'd pick up this late."

JJ was ecstatic, smiling brightly as he continued through the party, looking for his teammates.

"I see him! Colston! Come here buddy, she wants to talk to you."

You heard a confused colston mutter 'Who's she?' before he took the phone from JJ, seeing your contact before talking to you.

"Oh hey, what's up?"

"JJ is like, absolutely plastered if you couldn't tell. Are you all good? I asked him and he told me he wanted me to pick him up. If I come get him can you bring him to my car? I'm already in my pajamas."

"Yeah, think Jay'll definitely love that. Kid hasn't stopped asking about you since we got here. I'll have him outside whenever 'ya get here."

You responded with an affirmative, thanking Colston. He handed the phone back to JJ, who was very happy to hear your voice again.

"Hey! What's up? Colston said you're coming to get me."

"Yeah, I'll see you in a couple minutes, okay Jay?"

"Awesome."

He hung up and you giggled. How did you go from an innocent call with the boy to asking him if he needed to be picked up? You shook your head at yourself, standing and grabbing your keychain.

You left your apartment and drove to the house you knew the party was at. Your friends had told you which house it was in case you changed your mind and came. It was less than ten minutes before you were in front of the bustling house, seeing two boys standing on the sidewalk.

You rolled down the window as they walked over, shouting hey to them. JJ was visibly drunk, stumbling just a little as he leaned into your car, a big smile on his face.

"Hi, pretty."

"Hi, JJ."

Colston helped his teammate into the car, making sure you were good to take care of the boy.

"Yeah, we'll be fine, Colst. I'll let 'im have my couch for tonight. I'll text you if I need anything!"

He nodded, lightly slapping the side of your car twice before retreating to the house. You turned your music back on, leaving it at a low volume as you turned around to drive home. You glanced at JJ and noticed the biggest pout on his face.

"JJ McCarthy. I know I didn't just drive over here to get you just for you to be pouting when you get in my car."

"Just text Colston about it, why don't you?"

You busted out giggling. Drunk JJ was such a treat. His jealousy over your friendship with his teammate was incredibly hilarious.

"I might if you don't start bein' nice t'me."

"Sorry 'm being mean."

He barely murmured it, though it was all you needed. You smiled brightly at him, laughing to yourself. JJ never got drunk, he usually opted for just a drink or two, or being the designated driver.

You got home quickly, making small talk with the now sleepy boy. You parked in your spot, hopping out of the car and walking around the hood to help JJ out. He'd stayed at yours after a party once or twice before, but it had always been with a couple other people. Tonight it was just you two.

You walked in, stepping into the elevator right behind JJ. The two of you stepped out of the elevator as the machine dinged and the doors slid open. JJ grabbed your hand as you walked down the hall to your door. You glanced at him, softly smiling. His eyes were barely open, but he still had a smile on his face. You didn't take the action as anything serious, JJ was a physical touch kind of person. He was always hugging people, patting shoulders, bumping fists. He was extra physical with you though, not that you noticed. You were the only girl he ever really acted like that with, again, not to your acknowledgment.

You wouldn't let yourself believe he liked you. Convinced it would hurt too much when eventually he got a prettier, skinnier, bubblier, more likable girlfriend and left you in the dust. JJ had eyes solely for you, though. He only ever looked at you. He asked anyone and everyone if they knew where you were or if you were coming to the party for God's sake.

You closed the door behind JJ and locked it, telling him to make himself at home. He took his shoes off, trying to neatly organize them in your shoe cubby. He wandered over to the couch as you kicked your shoes off and entered your kitchen. You grabbed a cold water bottle, two Ibuprofen tablets and two Tylenol tablets, the perfect hangover cure. You noticed your still warm banana bread sitting on the counter, perking up.

"Jay, do you want some banana bread?"

You heard his footsteps then saw him come around the corner, his eyebrows raised.

"Hell yes."

You giggled, gesturing for him to come stand by you. You flipped the pan over onto the cooling rack, opening the drawer directly in front of you, pulling out a bread knife. You felt a head slip into the crook of your neck, warm breath on your neck. Heat rushed your face, JJ's contagious smile spreading to you.

"Hi, crazy."

You pointed to the water and pills on the counter as you swerved out of his reach, going to grab a cutting board and a plate.

"Take those and your head won't hurt in the morning. Well, I don't know how much you drank, but that'll definitely make it better."

He nodded, immediately following your directions. He gulped down half of the water bottle while you came back over, laying the loaf of bread on the cutting board. You cut a couple pieces off, setting one onto the plate before sliding it over to JJ. He smiled at you, beginning to devour his snack. Hopefully it would absorb some of the alcohol in his stomach.

"You're amazing, you know."

He said it in a way that made it seem like he meant it on a deeper level than you'd usually assume. He said it like he truly did believe that, and it wasn't just because you fed him warm banana bread. You shook your head, brushing it off as you tore of pieces from your slice.

"No, don't shake your head a'me. You are. You act like you're not but y'are."

He was too good at making you feel special. You were just too scared to believe any of it.

"I just like to take care of people I like."

You smiled innocently at him, shrugging your shoulders as you moved to grab a proper storage container for your bread.

"And I just like when the girl I like believes me when I tell her she's amazing."

You froze in your spot. Sure, JJ had flirted with you for about a year. But, he'd never downright told you he liked you. He's drunk out of his mind. You sighed when you turned around, trying to smile at the boy as you stared into his sleepy eyes.

"You're so sleepy, JJ, and drunk."

He nodded a little, his eyes never leaving yours, that smile never leaving his face. He didn't really notice that you'd downplayed his feelings, he'd noticed even less that he'd straight up told you you were the girl he liked. All he could really notice was how beautiful you looked in the dim light of your kitchen, in your cute pajamas and glasses, hair in a messy braid.

You set JJ up on your couch, getting him another water and some thick and soft blankets and a pillow. You ran your hand through his messy hair as he laid in the couch beneath you. His eyes were begging to close, but he still smiled at you. You quietly told him to go to sleep, turning to leave. You'd only made it to the light switch before he called your name.

"I really do like you, 'm not just drunk. Just get too nervous to tell you, 'm sorry."

Your heart was heavy. You wanted to believe him, but how could you? JJ had never shown what you deemed as genuine interest in you when he wasn't inebriated. All he did was toss flirty comments around, throwing his arm over your shoulder every once in a while.

You couldn't lie and say you didn't notice the different look in JJ's eyes as he peered over the back of your couch. The truth in them.

"If you even remember this in the morning, we can talk about it. Alright?"

"That's perfect."

He smiled at you one last time before sinking below the back of your couch, out of sight.

"Goodnight Jay."

"Night night, pretty."

His words made your heart squeeze. You knew that the affection you felt for JJ wouldn't change, no matter if they were just drunk fibs.

You switched the living room lights off, heading into the kitchen. You set out another water and more pills for whenever JJ woke up in the morning. You checked the locked once more before turning all of the lights off. All you heard as you headed back to your bedroom was JJ's heavy breathing, it calmed your racing heart. You left your door cracked open incase JJ woke up needing something.

Your glasses slid up your head as your rubbed your eyes, sighing. You kept reminding your heart that JJ didn't really know what he was saying, that he would regret it.

The bed you slept countless nights in was uncomfortable as ever tonight, you tossed and turned for most of an over before climbing out of bed. You threw your cute pajamas onto the hardwood floor and traded them for a Lululemon bra and some shorts.

You fell asleep after another forty minutes of shifting every minute or so. Your sleep was light and poor. You woke up a little after four am, just three hours after finally falling asleep. Sleep finally took you again for a couple more hours, just until a little after nine.

After lying and staring at your ceiling for half an hour, you slowly sat up in bed, getting up. You exited your room, dragging yourself to the living room. The couch was empty, the blanket JJ had used folded neatly on top of the pillow. How sweet was he? You turned and walked into the kitchen, finally spotting the dirty blonde boy you wanted to see.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, smiling. He was holding a water bottle, his eyes tired and his hair still messy.

"Good morning, JJ."

"Hi."

You felt nerves wash over you. This was it, where he either apologizes and regrets everything he said last night, or you got everything you'd hoped for. You went over to where he was leaning against your counter, hopping up to sit on the counter by him. His head fell to your shoulder as if by reflex.

"How do you feel, Jay?"

"Good, better 'cause y'took care of me."

"I just gave you some meds, Jay."

"Still."

You smiled, leaning your head on his. Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe he would be in love with you. You took a deep breath, now or never.

"Jay, do you-"

"Yes."

You pulled your head from his, turning to give him a look.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say."

"I remember what I said."

You bit your lip, still nervous. You look to where your feet dangled in the air, suddenly scared of his gaze on you.

JJ was nervous as hell too, though. You hadn't said that you liked him back, he definitely remembered that. He was beginning to take your silence as disinterest. He just stared at you, waiting for some indication of how you felt.

"And?"

"'And?' And, I like you."

Your nerves escaped from your body in a giggle, the churning of your stomach now butterflies. JJ did not appreciate the laughter though, taking it the complete wrong way.

"You don't have to laugh at me, shit."

He reached his hands to his eyes, rubbing hard as he started off, away from you. You giggled again, realizing your mistake. You jumped from the counter, sighing JJ's name out.

"Wait, wait Jay, I'm sorry. It's not like that."

You grabbed his arm, trying to halt the taller and stronger boy wasn't easy without his compliance. You shouted his name again and he stopped, turning to you.

"I'm not laughing 'cause you like me. I'm laughing 'cause I barely slept last night worried that you wouldn't like me."

JJ finally looked at you. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"What's do you mean? I literally told you I liked you!"

"JJ! You were so drunk! I wasn't about to convince myself that JJ McCarthy liked me just 'cause he said so while he was plastered."

"I wasn't plastered! And, what do you mean when y'say it like that?"

You rolled your eyes, halfway annoyed. He didn't get it.

"JJ, you could probably get with any girl on the Michigan campus if you wanted to. I wasn't convinced that out of all of them you'd actually want me."

"How could I not like you?"

The truth in JJ's eyes made you feel seen. Like he actually knew you. You smiled sappily, pulling the boy down by his shoulder, kissing him deeply. One of JJ's hands gripped the back of your head, the other pulling you closer by the small of your back.

There you were, standing in your kitchen kissing the boy you could've sworn never liked you. The boy you'd been infatuated with for a year. He was finally yours.

JJ pulled away from your lips, his hands moving to cup your face. His smile was brighter than ever. You both laughed, looking into each other's eyes for just a few seconds before JJ pulled you back in.