#how to hide stats

[partiallypearl]

*insert you are GAYYYY gif*

[nerice]

for legal reasons, this is a series of screenshots instead of a text post. and also region locked to some degree,

[thisghosts-obsessions-again]

ABANAKAKALAM Wow. Wow. I know the description determines who you kissed that evening but imagine if it really was Nicholas or Suho??? Sam saw it! Why bring up the friend question and then drop it the second she starts probbing for more info. Lmaoo. Daniele is so sweet but Suho is also very sweet. And we still have about 2 days to go before the storyline branches out. Will I even be alive when it's out then???

[nanamisgirly]

you gotta win if you wanna cum ྀི

“keep playing” gojo murmurs barely audible, almost embarrassed to say it—but his fingers are already slipping under your shorts like he's done this in his head a hundred time. “i-i wanna see if… my good girl can win…like this.” his fingers slid past the hem of your shorts. 

It was supposed to be just another quiet night. you, your switch, and your nerdy boyfriend with messy hair and a half-finished soda on the table. you were in his lap, like always, thighs straddling his left one, back against his chest. His glasses were crocked because of your head resting on the side of his face. his hands had been resting, harmlessly, mid-thigh.

but tonight it seems like they had a mind of their own. his palms slided up, awkward at first, like he was working up the nerve. and once he brushed your inner thigh and felt how warm you were—how you were already grinding a little without realizing, he sucked in a shaky breath.

“y-you’re, um…" he chuckled nervously, “you're kinda…really…wet already. that's-uh- that's cute.” you can feel how red his ears are. can hear the shaky exhale he lets out as he presses two fingers against the damp fabric of your panties.

you tried to focus on the screen, but his fingers pushed beneath your panties, hesitant but hungry, dragging along your slit with a low groan. his voice was uneven when he spoke again—like he was trying to sound teasing but couldn't hide how wrecked he was.

“wh-what kind of gamer gets this needy holding a controller?” he stammered.

you jolted, hips twitching into his touch, and he gasped softly against your neck—his cock straining against his sweats, and he bit down on a shaky moan.

“i—fuck, wait—don’t cum yet,” he breathed out quickly, as if panicked by how close you already felt. “you—you can’t. not unless you beat the level. that’s the rule.”

you whimpered, legs trembling, gripping the controller tighter as his fingers toyed with your clit in little circles. It was almost clumsy but somehow that made it worse. and the nerdy tone he used—the one when explaining game stats or why a manga panel made him cry—being used, now, to deny your orgasm was really hot.

“i just—it's stupid, but i get turned on seeing you so focused,” he admitted, voice breaking with a shy laugh. “you always look so serious when you play, and i just—kinda wanna mess that up…” when you buck forward, your hips grinding down onto the firm flex of his thigh, he gasps like he’s the one being touched.

“you’re—ngh—you’re seriously doing that on my leg?” His voice cracks in disbelief, cock twitching in his pants. “d-didn’t know you l-liked that…”

his hand creeps up under your shirt with all the subtlety of a boy who’s fantasized about this a thousand times. he palms your breast awkwardly at first, afraid he’ll mess it up, but once his fingers find your nipple—he’s not shy anymore.

he groans, deep and sharp, twisting the sensitive bud between two fingers. “f-fuck, that's so soft,” he breathes. “you're not allowed to b-be this soft when i'm trying…when i'm trying to be m-mean.”

your hands are trembling, buttons mashed half-heartedly as he toys with you like you're his favorite collectible. the pleasure clouds everything. your character on screen stumbles, gets hit, and before you can react—

game over. you freeze, the screen flashes in cruel pixelated defeat.

gojo blinks, “you lost?” his voice is unfortunately too high to be cocky, too breathless to be smug.."c-c'mon you're supposed to be my elite little gamer." you squirm in his lap, frustration boiling in your cheeks—not just from the lost, but also from the aching throb between your legs. “you k-kept distracting me!”

he hums, almost pathetic. then he presses two fingers against your clit, “close doesn't count,” he whispers as he pinches, a sharp flick to your swollen bud. the arm around your chest tightens, his thumb rolling your nipple like it's a fidget toy.

you whine, your head drop on his shoulder, “i w-will win.”

“that's ma girl,” he kisses your temple before licking a stripe behind your ear. “b-but until then…” he presses his thigh up, grinding it into your core while teasing your nipple between sharp tugs. “you're m-mine to play with.”

your fingers tighten around the controller, eyes locked on the screen. and every time you press a button, he mirrors it with a flick or a pinch or a firm grind of his thigh into your pulsing heat.

“shit—satoru,” you breathe, trying to keep your avatar alive.

“keep g-going, you're doing just r-right." he mutters, voice shaky. his glasses are fogged, his hands aren't steady, and his cock is rock-hard beneath you, straining uselessly against his sweats as your soaked core grinds down, again and again, onto his tense thigh.

“you wanna cum?” he asks as he licks the shell of your ear—shaky and wrecked. “t-then win… be my good gamer girl. beat the boss f'me, please...” he presses down harder, rubs the letters W-I-N in slow motion on your sensitive bundle. the pressure is maddening—never enough, always just shy of what you need—and it drags you into the haze of overstimulation.

the motion causes your character to stumble, again, and the screen flashes—again. 

gojo groans, high-pitched. “babyyy—c'mon, you can do better,” he pants, cock twitching. “th-that's a little pathetic, don't make me beg f'you to win…”

you try to grind against his hand, desperate and needy to soothe the ach between your legs. “p-please—satoruu, just let me,”

he chokes out a laugh—breathless and delirious—his grip on your nipple tightens, making you whimper. “s-sowwyyy,” he mumbles, but it sounds more like an apology from someone completely gone. “rules are—ah!—rules, i gotta stick to 'em, right?”

but you lose. again and again.

and by the fourth try, you're barely able to see straight. your legs are trembling, pussy drooling over his pants, leaving an enormous wet patch on his thigh.

he buries his face against your neck, glasses slipping sideways, voice a ragged mess of broken need. “we’ll keep playing,” he groans, like it physically pains him, “until my perfect gamer girl learns to beat the boss while g-getting ruined so bad she forgets her own name.” you moan uncontrollably at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes.

his nose nudges your temple, “you sound so pretty when you whine like that.” his voice is so soft. “you feel even better.” your grinding gets slower, deeper, and gojo's hands go from gripping your breasts to fumbling—desperately—with the waistband of your shorts. 

“he-he, wait—" his sentence breaks off in a cracked moan as his thumb drives back to your panties, finding your clit, drawing unfocused circles like he's forgotten what rhythm even is. his face is flushed, so desperate it's almost pitiful—fingers slipping and smearing your slick everywhere, breathing out broken pleas between every twitch. “y-you're so wet, i can't—fuck—i can't—t-this is so fucked up, i can't think—”

gojo groans through his teeth, his whole frame trembling. “fuuuuuck, y-you gotta stop, i'm-i’m…gonna…” he's desperately trying to keep it together but failing spectaculary. his cock jerking under you with every buck. “s-shouldn't feel this good—fucking h-hell, i'm gonna cum—gonna cum in m-my pants…OHSHITOHSHITFUCKSHITFUUUCK”

his whole body jerks, sudden and absolutely out of his control. an embarrassed moan bursts his lips as he ruts up against your ass—cumming hard, painting the inside of his sweats in sticky heat. his cock twitches helplessly, completely untouched. he whimpers your name into your shoulder like it's a confession. his glasses slip right off, forgotten, as his head lolls against you.

gojo still tries to move his fingers on your stimulated clit, as his mouth leaves open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder. he draggs his hand up back to your hardened tits—palming your breasts, rubbing, squeezing, thumbing your nipples with pure, overwhelmed need.

“we're not done,” he groans, like it's hurting him that you're not cumming. “you're dripping all o-over m'thigh, i c-came like a loser—please, win already, pretty.” he whines, “i-i'll help, i swear, just—fuck—win!”

his hand never stills. slippery fingers flick your clit in desperate, uneven motions, his other hand clutching your tits like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. you’re drooling against his neck now, wrecked and teetering on the edge, and gojo’s crying out every time you shift your weight.

“win,” he sobs, high and broken. “win, baby, please—i’ll cum again too, I will, I’m so close again, y-you feel sogood—“

And the boss’s health bar drops. One last combo. You slam the button.

Victory!!!!

you’re shaking, grinding down with abandon, the game forgotten for just one second—because it’s too much. he’s still whispering praise like he’s praying, hips jerking like he might cum in any second just from the way you clench around nothing. you scream, messy and guttural, because you need it—need him—and it’s all spilling over.

“'t-toru, i win—please, w-wanna cum—please ‘toru—pleaseee,” tears streak down your cheeks as you sob into his neck, twitching with every stroke, every messy rub of his soaked fingers. “c-can’t—’toru, i can’t—too much, ‘s too much—“

he’s not stopping. he whimpers your name, glassy eyes locked on your face memorizing every broken cry that falls from your lips. “you won, y-you get to cum now—I have to make you cum—” he sounds just as wrecked as you, maybe worse. his fingers finally slip inside—two of them, thick and long—he curls them immediately, searching that spongy spot, desperate to please you.

your walls clamp around him so tight he nearly cums again. bullet of sweats are dropping down his neck as he wines, “y-you're squeezing me reallyy good—shit” his breath stutters against your neck, sobbing out broken, pathetic moans as his fingers drag over that spot again and again.

“Let go for me,” he begs. “Please, please, I need you to—need to feel you cum, please, baby—" you're a mess in his lap, crying and convulsing, thighs slick and shaking—his fingers keep pistoning you as he babbles some uncoherent praise and filth against your hot skin.

“g-gonna make you cum so hard,” he pants, sounding half-feral. “gonna feel you soak m-my fingers, fuck—wan’ it messy, baby, wan’ it loud—”

and when you do, when your body snaps and you wail into his shoulder, soaking his hand in a gush of warmth—he lets out the filthiest, most broken moan you’ve ever heard as he cums a second time.

 Unprompted. Pathetically. Just from feeling your cunt pulse around his fingers.

[rumisgf]

“ YOUR BEST EATER ! ” (MHA EDITION)

ꕥ summary: rating how well mha men would eat you out ! (this is canon cause i said so)

ꕥ includes: keigo takami, mirio togata, touya todoroki, shota aizawa, katsuki bakugou, denki kaminari, enji todoroki

ꕥ warnings: dom/sub implications, oral f!recieving, dirty talk, crack ofc this is for fun, slander (sorry lol), black!reader as always, timeskip chargebolt and dynamight

KEIGO TAKAMI - ♾️/10

⊗ he’s a REAL eater.

⊗ you have to cry and beg for him to pop his mouth off you because he has an addiction

⊗ he thinks you taste so good

⊗ there’s not one morning his head doesn’t end up between your thighs

⊗ and at events, he’ll find a way to pull you to the nearest bathroom and get a quick one out because you just looked too good

⊗ he loves having you sit on his face

⊗ “imma eat it. AHHHHH”

⊗ he doesn’t care if you just got off of work or if you’re tired he needs your pussy on his tongue stat.

⊗ he’s such a slut.

“please- ‘s too much~!”

“c‘mon i know you got one more, i got you~”

TOUYA TODOROKI - 3/10

⊗ you thought he was an eater…?

⊗ you’re funny.

⊗ yeah unfortunately mr. long dick over here doesn’t like eating pussy

⊗ his ego is bigger than his dick

⊗ however,

⊗ on the rare occasion that he’s feeling extra nice, he’ll do more than plunge his fingers into you before he makes you take him from the back

“o-oh~..!”

“couldn’t help myself…too fuckin’ wet…”

ENJI TODORKI - 0/10

⊗ like father like son (he’s much worse)

⊗ he’s not particularly a…. giver

⊗ he’s a meanie he’d rather manhandle you instead

⊗ he don’t even like his wife and kids so what makes you think he likes you enough to eat you out

⊗ besides….even if he tried…it wouldn’t be…well…good.

⊗ he’s too rough he might bite your shit i don’t know pookie

⊗ if you beg him enough he’ll do it for like a split second

⊗ you immediately regret your decision

⊗ help him.

“wait- it’s ok it’s o-ok. nevermind…”

“what’s wrong?”

SHOTA AIZAWA - 7/10

⊗ he likes to pretend he doesn’t like giving head

⊗ but you catch him on one of those days….

⊗ he becomes a different man

⊗ and he’s mean with it, too

⊗ your thighs will have bruises from the way he forces your legs open

⊗ he likes eating you out before just because he feels satisfied having you weak before he even fucks you

⊗ he’ll edge you and tease you just to have you begging him to cum

“stay fuckin’ still, or you’re not cummin’. understand?”

MIRIO TOGATA - 10/10

⊗ yes i’m sneaking my man in here. i do not care.

⊗ he’s a certified munch y’all hate to say it

⊗ he gets it from fatgum.

⊗ (i would put him in here but then imma get nasty)

⊗ please just sit on his face and give him three minutes you will be dripping before he even puts it in

⊗ he massages your thighs and kisses your clit ‘cause he really is just so in love with you

⊗ not only will he shove his head between your thighs before he fucks you just to get a quick taste

⊗ he’ll clean you up after he fucks you, tastes himself and you

⊗ he’s a huge giver

⊗ please marry him

“such a pretty pussy, baby…’m gonna clean you right up~”

BAKUGOU KATSUKI - 9/10

⊗ oh give him five minutes

⊗ put him between your legs and he’s done for

⊗ he’s a nasty FREAK and he cannot hide it in this predicament.

⊗ he swears up and down ‘he doesn’t eat pussy’ to all his friends and every girl who brings it up

⊗ but if it’s his baby? someone he’s really into?

⊗ you see a completely different side of him

⊗ and he makes everything so messy

⊗ he’s so focused when he does it and when he looks up at you… you are done for

⊗ he can make you cum quick to get you wet enough to just slip in– then he gets right to business

“kats~…”

“taste so good…so fucking good..”

DENKI KAMINARI - 11/10

⊗ y’all thought i wasn’t gonna put him here?

⊗ he refers to himself as an eater

⊗ he has no shame

⊗ he’ll eat it in the morning, for lunch, after dinner, for dessert- he really doesn’t care

⊗ he definitely can get off just from giving you head

⊗ the feeling of you dripping down his chin and the sound of your moans is enough to get him up

⊗ you will be orgasming more than once

⊗ and he can go on for hours if he really wanted to

“my messy baby…you sound so pretty~

©𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑮𝑭

[hugintheraven]

How Bethesda fixed Vampires without realizing it

So there's a LOT of takes on vampires across media, and most of them are radically different from each other. The Elder Scrolls series has an interesting version that I haven't seen anywhere else, that incidentally fixes a bunch of lore issues with vampires, and yet Bethesda hasn't ever really leaned into any of that.

So, the issue with vampires in large RPGs like Elder Scrolls games, D&D, etc, is that a world where various elements of character building are supposed to be balanced, vampires are heavy on the upside and light on meaningful drawbacks. So in Oblivion, Bethesda completely reworked their vampires, coming at it with a blank slate:

Vampirism is a 4-stage affliction, with each stage increasing the numerous benefits of being a vampire as well as the middling drawbacks. Stage 4 brings with it all humanoid NPCs recognizing you as a ravenous monster and attacking you, basically wrecking the game. And, this is the unique part, you reduce stages by drinking blood. Being a vampire is LESSENED by doing the most vampiric thing out there, it actively makes you weaker.

And this is great. From a gameplay perspective, you vanish below ground to kill zombies/robots/whatever, and you grow stronger as the dungeon goes on. But if you don't rush through it, or if it's large, you surface having ignored your hunger for several days and have to do a whole second quest to sneak into town at night and drink blood, where the only reward is to engage with the game again. It's a drawback in the gameplay sense rather than the stats sense. And it lets game designers throw the player against weak vampires in town early on, and face dungeons full of max-bloodlust monsters later once the player knows how things work.

Meanwhile, from a lore perspective this is also great. Suddenly, it's not that vampires have to be evil, it's that they have a choice. A good person who flees their family to hide in a cave is going to starve, turning into a ravenous, uncontrolled, extremely strong monster. Someone who's comfortable sneaking around town drinking blood, meanwhile? They never lose control. They walk in the sun. They're perfectly human. Or as human as anyone can be while the blood of their neighbors flows in their veins.

And Bethesda doesn't DO ANYTHING with this. People you talk to in-game just treat it as "all vampires are evil, why would you expect anything else", when they've created a world where vampire morality is so much more interesting. The few vampires who exist in civilization that you're not supposed to kill don't really discuss their condition at all. And there's plenty of evil vampires choosing to live in caves running societies of vampires, when that makes no sense compared to basically any other way of life they could set up.

Bethesda games are a masterful disaster, in this as in everything else.

[verstappenverse]

Home Was Always Here

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You were too young then, but years later co-parenting your daughter together in the public eye might finally bring you home to each other. (Requested)

4.5k words / Masterlist

You never meant to raise a child in the spotlight. Definitely not at seventeen, and certainly not with Max Verstappen, Formula 1’s youngest rising star at the time. Barely eighteen himself when you sat on the bathroom floor with shaking hands and two pink lines staring back at you.

You hadn’t even been together that long. You hadn’t planned a life. You hadn’t had a chance to figure out who you were yet. But suddenly you were expected to grow up fast, faster than either of you knew how.

What followed was a blur. A whirlwind of press conferences and pacifiers, grid walks and midnight feedings. Red Bull contracts signed on no sleep. Max learning to shave the same year he learned how to swaddle a newborn. The world met your daughter through grainy airport photos, Max pushing a stroller in one hand and wheeling a carry-on in the other, with you by his side, makeup-free and hollow-eyed, a quiet kind of desperation clinging to both of you. Still kids yourselves, trying to raise one.

The headlines didn’t help. Neither did the noise. Every parenting choice you made got picked apart by strangers on the internet. You were either too young or too careless, too in love or too naive. None of them knew what it was like, how hard you held onto each other at first, how tight Max gripped your hand in the hospital, how he blinked back tears when he first held her.

You tried. God, you tried.

But it’s hard to stay together when you're growing up in different countries, with entire continents and careers pulling you in opposite directions. He had a world championship to chase. You had a newborn to raise. Max chose F1, not out of malice, but necessity, and you chose to protect your daughter from the chaos the best way you knew how.

Quietly. From the sidelines.

Somehow heartbreak became part of the routine. A thousand small choices that led you here. Separate, but never fully apart. Not with her between you.

Never with her.

Now almost a decade later, chaos is a permanent houseguest.

Max never stopped being Max. He’s a world champion now. A household name. The kind of icon whose face is printed on t-shirts, cereal boxes, and wall-sized banners at every European airport. And your daughter, Sofia, is eight years old and growing up fast.

She’s got his eyes, the same sharp blue that narrow when she’s focused and sparkle when she’s proud of herself. She’s got your fire, your timing, your habit of crossing her arms when she’s annoyed. She walks through the paddock like she owns it, chatting with engineers, stealing snacks from catering, slipping into garages like she was born there. She waves at the cameras without hesitation, poses with Lando's sunglasses on and Charles’s cap turned backwards, and calls them “Uncle” with the casualness of someone who doesn’t understand how famous her family really is.

Everyone on the grid loves her

Which is both sweet and fucking terrifying.

Because there's no hiding anymore. Not from the cameras. Not from the journalists who track her growth the way they track Max’s stats. Not from the fans who’ve practically watched her life unfold in real-time. And not from the people in the paddock who’ve started to notice the way you and Max still look at each other when you think no one’s watching.

There’s no space left to pretend. No more safe distance.

Especially not now.

Not when she’s old enough to ask questions. Not when Max lingers a little longer after pickups. Not when the line between co-parents and something more starts blurring again, and every smile feels a little heavier than it should.

Not when your daughter keeps looking at the two of you like she’s waiting for something to finally happen.

You and Max haven’t been together in six nearly seven years, yet somehow it’s never really felt like a clean break. Not with Sofia between you. Not with the way you’ve navigated life side by side, always tethered by something deeper than romance, responsibility, love, history. Her.

You’ve co-parented better than most. No court battles. No ugly headlines. Quiet, careful coordination and a shared, unspoken promise, she comes first. Always.

Sofia has never known a day where one of you didn’t show up. Never felt the sting of absence, never had to pick between you. Birthday parties, school recitals, first bike rides, dentist appointments, you did everything you possibly could manage together. Even when you weren’t together.

You moved to Monaco to make things easier. For her, yes, but maybe for Max too. You told yourself it was about logistics, about support systems and shared routines. But deep down, part of you just didn’t want her growing up with only half the picture.

You stood below the podium when Max won his first championship as a father. Camera lenses flashed, confetti fell, and as he lifted the trophy and pointed to the area where Sofia stood clapping beside you in oversized earmuffs, the world saw a proud dad.

Only you noticed the way his eyes lingered on you for a second. Like some part of him still remembered what it meant to win with you in the crowd.

Since then, there have been countless little moments.

Fingers brushing when passing her water bottle. Hands grazing as you both reach for the same backpack strap. Silences that stretch too long when you’re alone at school pick-up, both watching her from opposite ends of the sidewalk. Conversations that start about your daughter but end with too much softness, too many what-ifs sitting in the space between your words.

And now every time he hands you her lunchbox or smooths her hair behind her ear, you feel it, that familiar knock in your chest.

It starts at Zandvoort.

The weekend is muddy, chaotic, and wet. The sky can’t decide if it wants to drizzle or pour, and everything smells like damp asphalt and tension. Sofia is bundled up beside you in her oversized Verstappen-orange raincoat, rubber boots splashing through every puddle like it’s a personal mission. She’s grinning, carefree, holding your hand and dragging you toward the paddock entrance with the kind of joy only a child can carry through the rain.

Max is late.

You check your phone again. No message. No call. You try not to spiral, try not to wonder if it’s traffic, or if it’s her. The girl. The one from the blurry photos online in those low-rent gossip pages, the soft-launch story post on her Instagram that could be his arm, and sly comments under tagged pictures. You haven’t asked. You haven’t had the nerve.

Because asking would mean admitting you care. And you’re not sure you’re allowed to.

You tuck your phone away just as Harry, one of the Red Bull engineers you’ve chatted with a handful of times this season walks up. He’s charming in that easy, carefree way. Nice enough. Funny enough. The kind of guy who brings you coffee when he sees you in the hospitality tent and knows how to make Sofia laugh by pulling silly faces behind the pit wall.

He grins when he sees her. That same crooked half-smile he always wears.

“You need backup out here?” he jokes, already crouching beside Sofia.

You open your mouth to protest, but she giggles and splashes him before you can stop her. Water hits his jeans. He laughs. You do too, despite yourself.

It’s harmless. He’s harmless.

And then Max arrives.

Hood up, team jacket soaked, shoulders tense, jaw tight, he clocks the two of you instantly. He stops a few steps away and just stares. He doesn’t say hello.

He looks at you.

Then Harry.

Then back at you again.

No words, but the tension curls between your ribs like smoke. Your hands fall to your sides. Harry pretends not to notice.

In that three-second silence everything shifts.

The air thickens. Your smile falters. Your hand slips from Sofia’s as she notices her dad and races toward him with a loud, “Daddy!”

Max finally moves. Bends down and scoops her up with practiced ease, burying his face in her rain-wet hair for a moment.

When he stands back up, his eyes are back on you. There’s a question in them, or maybe a warning, you can’t tell which.

Harry clears his throat. “Well. She’s got a hell of a kick,” he says with a grin, nodding at his soaked pant leg.

You force a polite laugh. “Yeah, she’s a menace.”

Max doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak to Harry at all.

“She was asking for you,” you say, just to say something, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

Max nods once. “Yeah. Sorry. Got held up.”

You nod too, and that’s it.

You don’t ask if the girl is here. If she’s in the motorhome waiting. If Sofia’s going to meet her today.

Because you don’t know if you have the right.

Because for all the years you’ve spent raising a daughter together, showing up side-by-side, holding her through every scraped knee and test result and birthday candle… you still don’t know where you stand.

And that uncertainty? It burns more than you’ll ever admit.

That night, Max texts you.

I don’t like him around her.

You stare at your phone in bed, lips parting, blinking twice before replying.

Harry? Why?

Just don’t.

You exhale through your nose, dragging the duvet up to your chin like it might shield you from the heat rising in your chest. You type three different responses and delete each one.

Too defensive. Too cold. Too revealing.

You settle on something neutral. Careful.

She’s around the crew all the time. You like Harry don’t you? What’s this about?

You watch the screen for a while, waiting for the three little dots to appear. They don’t.

Eventually, you put your phone down. Try to sleep. Fail miserably.

He doesn’t respond. Not until the next morning, when he sends a photo of Sofia eating waffles and smiling up at him from across a hotel breakfast table.

Your heart clenches.

She’s in his hoodie. One of the old ones. The ones you used to sleep in when she was still an infant curled up in your arms.

She asked if we could all live together again.

You stare at the message so long your eyes burn.

It hits harder on weekends like this. The quiet ones with no race and no travel. A rare, shared weekend in Monaco, Sofia bouncing between your apartment and Max’s like it’s all one big home she doesn’t realise is technically split in two.

You’ve just dropped her off at his place. She’s old enough now to want to pack her own bag, though she still asks you to double-check that she remembered her toothbrush. You did, and she did, and now you’re standing in Max’s hallway holding a half-eaten granola bar she insisted she didn’t want anymore.

He takes it from you without a word, tosses it in the bin.

You’re still in the doorway, jacket slung over your arm, not really sure why you haven’t left yet.

“Drink?” he asks casually.

You hesitate. Then nod.

You follow him into the kitchen, watching as he moves around like this is normal. Like you still belong here in the quiet moments, not just the race-day chaos.

He hands you a glass and your fingers brush. You both ignore it.

Sofia’s music plays softly from her bedroom here, some upbeat pop song you don’t recognise but can picture her dancing to. You smile. Max catches it.

“She’s been asking again,” he says after a beat. “About why we don’t live together.”

Your heart sinks, warmth fading.

You nod slowly. “She asked me last week if people can get married twice to the same person. I think she thought we were secretly divorced.”

Max huffs a laugh, but it’s more breath than sound.

“She’s getting older,” you say. “It’s not like when she was little. She notices things now.”

He nods, jaw tense. “Yeah.”

You sip your drink to give your hands something to do. “It used to be easier,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “When we were too tired to feel anything else. When she was up every three hours and all we cared about was keeping her fed and breathing and not breaking her.”

Max smiles at that, tired and nostalgic. “We were zombies.”

“Mm.” You nod. “Now we have time to feel things again… and I don’t always know where to put them.”

It hangs in the air between you, heavy, and awkward, and true.

“She asked me if I’d be happier if you were around more,” he says after a while. “She said I get smiley when you’re here.”

Your heart skips a beat.

You laugh, but it’s a small, nervous sound. “She’s very observant.”

“She’s you.”

You look up at that. And he’s already looking at you.

He clears his throat. “I was thinking of taking her to the karting track this weekend. You know, just to see if she—”

“Wants to try?” You smile. “She’s going to love it. She’s been talking about it nonstop.”

Max grins. “Yeah?”

“She’s nervous though. She wants you to be proud of her.”

He softens. “She doesn’t have to do anything for that.”

You nod, trying not to get swallowed by the look on his face. The one that reminds you what he was like when he was yours. What he’s still like now, when he forgets he’s supposed to keep a distance.

You force a breath. Look down at your drink.

“She asked if I still loved you,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Max stills. Slowly puts his own drink down.

“What did you say?”

You hesitate.

“I said I love you both. That we’re a team.”

It’s the truth. Just not the whole truth.

Max swallows hard. “She’s too smart for that answer.”

You meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

Sofia’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“Can I wear your old helmet dad?”

Max blinks. Looks toward the hallway.

You both let out a breath at the same time.

“Yeah, baby,” he calls. “Be right there.”

You move toward the door, because the moment’s already fading, and staying would only make it worse.

“Thanks for the drink,” you say.

He nods, stepping aside to let you pass.

You leave, but his voice follows you softly.

“Hey—”

You pause in the doorway. Look back.

There’s a question in his eyes, something half-formed on his lips. He opens his mouth—

But then he just smiles. Small. Sad.

“Tell her she can bring the pink hoodie next time,” he says. “I know she ‘forgot’ it on purpose.”

Your lips twitch.

“Yeah,” you say, the smile tugging at your mouth before you can stop it. “She’s been leaving things behind lately.”

Max nods, eyes flicking to yours.

Then the door closes and you leave, again, with your heart too full of things you still don’t know how to say.

You tell yourself it was just nostalgia. Zandvoort always does that, rains down memories with every drop, stirs up old feelings in the static between thunderstorms and pit stops. You convince yourself it’ll pass. That it was just the weather. Just the setting. Just Max being Max.

But then Monza happens.

You’re in the paddock, headset on, eyes locked on the screen as Max flies through Sector 2 with clinical precision.

Sofia stands next to you, bouncing on the balls of her feet, hands gripping the barrier. She’s wearing her little Verstappen cap, slightly crooked, and her cheeks are painted with two messy Dutch flags. Every time the crowd erupts, she flinches forward and you instinctively reach out to steady her, your hand wrapping protectively around her arm.

“Is Daddy winning?” she shouts over the noise, practically vibrating with excitement.

You glance at the delta on the screen and smile. “He’s flying.”

Max crosses the line with a dominant lead. You clap. You cheer. Sofia shrieks with joy, bouncing so high her hat nearly flies off.

You barely hear the anthem over the roar, but you know it by heart. You’ve heard it more times than you can count. You watch as Max steps onto the top step of the podium, champagne bottle in one hand, trophy in the other.

And then he looks out at the crowd.

Eyes scanning thousands of faces and somehow he finds you.

You.

The moment holds. Just long enough for your heart to trip.

Because it’s not the look of a man acknowledging the mother of his child. Not the polite gratitude of a co-parent in the crowd. It’s not professional. It’s not routine.

It’s something else.

It’s softness. It’s gravity. It’s a quiet ache buried beneath pride.

It’s want.

When he lifts the trophy high, chin tilted slightly your way, it feels personal. Like something unspoken. Like a line he’s too afraid to cross but too drawn to ignore.

Your fingers tighten on the railing. The haze of the crowd and the flares curls around you and for a moment, despite the chaos, you forget how to breathe.

Later you’re all at the afterparty.

Nothing extravagant, a casual gathering on the rooftop lounge of the team hotel, a mix of mechanics, engineers, a few drivers, and the people who’ve quietly kept the weekend running behind the scenes. It’s low-lit, the music mellow, with fairy lights strung overhead and the scent of champagne lingering in the air.

You’re tucked into the corner of a cushioned bench with a glass of wine watching Max move through the space like he always does, confident, collected, comfortable. Every so often someone stops him to offer congratulations. He smiles, claps backs, exchanges a few laughs. It should be mundane.

But she’s here.

The girl.

You’d only recently confirmed she wasn’t his girlfriend, at least not officially. Someone on the comms team had mentioned it in passing. “Nothing serious,” they’d said. “Just a friend… apparently.”

But the way she’s looking at him?

It’s not friendly.

She’s tall. Stunning, in that effortless way. The kind of woman who turns heads when she walks into a room without meaning to. She’s laughing at something Max says, leaning in just a little too closely, fingers grazing his forearm like she’s staking a claim.

And Max?

He laughs politely. Responds. But he’s not looking at her.

His eyes flick to you. Again. And again.

Every few minutes, like he’s checking you’re still there.

And every time, it’s like your skin prickles beneath your dress. Like the air gets thinner and your wine gets warmer and your resolve slips further through your fingers.

You try to ignore it. Try to sip your wine and nod along to a mechanic’s story beside you, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. To her.

To the way his jaw tensed when she touched him. To the way his gaze lingered on your bare knees when you crossed your legs. To the heat that simmers just beneath the surface of everything, unsaid and impossible.

Someone sits beside you. You glance over and it’s GP. His expression is soft, patient, as always. A little amused, too.

“You okay?” he asks gently, tilting his drink toward you in quiet solidarity.

You nod, too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”

GP follows your line of sight straight to Max. Then back to you.

He sips his beer once before saying, carefully, “Still in love with him?”

You freeze, the words hitting you like cold water.

“What?”

He shrugs, not unkindly. “Sorry if that was too direct. I’ve known you both since you were kids. It’s kind of obvious.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Swallow.

You can’t say yes… but you can’t say no either.

So you say nothing.

GP chuckles under his breath. “He’s an idiot if he doesn’t see it.”

You look up sharply at that.

“He’s not an idiot,” you say, almost defensively. “I think he’s… he’s scared.”

The words leave your mouth before you realise how much truth they carry, because he is. You know that. You know the way he loves, recklessly, protectively, all or nothing. And you know what’s at stake.

But the thing that takes your breath away is realising so are you.

Scared of losing what you’ve worked so hard to preserve. Of breaking the fragile peace you've built for Sofia. Of stepping over a line you can’t come back from.

But more than anything, you’re scared of never knowing, of never saying it out loud. Of watching someone else stand next to him someday and wondering what might have been if you'd only been brave enough to try.

Baku is different.

You’re staying in the same hotel.

You should be asleep, but your mind won’t rest. You’re pacing emotional circles around yourself, heart tight, questions louder than the silence of your hotel room.

Your phone buzzes just after midnight.

You up?

You reply before you can second-guess.

Yeah. You?

A minute later, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You open it slowly.

He’s standing there in sweatpants and a hoodie, socks on the hallway carpet, his hair messy, like he’s been lying awake too long. There’s something raw in his expression. Something he’s not hiding anymore.

Your heart stumbles against your ribs.

“She asleep?” he asks softly, glancing past you, even though he already knows the answer.

You nod. “Out cold.”

He steps inside. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet room. But he doesn’t move to sit. He just stands there in the middle of your space, hands stuffed in his pockets, like if he lets them out, the truth might spill all over the floor.

He looks at you like he’s been holding something in for years.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, voice low but steady.

Your stomach twists. “Do what?”

He gestures vaguely, frustrated, tired, exposed.

“This. Us. Pretending I’m okay seeing you with someone else. Standing next to you and acting like I don’t feel it every time you laugh at someone else’s joke. Watching Sofia grow up and knowing I never gave us the chance to be more than this.”

He pauses. Breathes hard through his nose.

“I keep trying to be okay with it. With being just the co-parent. Just the friend. But I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time.”

He looks down, like he can’t bear to meet your eyes.

“That I still—” He stops himself.

You take a step closer. “Say it,” you whisper, barely more than a breath.

He swallows hard, lifts his gaze, and finally lets it out.

“That I still love you.”

The words fall between you like a confession and a surrender all at once.

“That I never stopped.”

You don’t even realise you’re crying until he moves toward you, thumb brushing beneath your eye with the gentleness only he’s ever managed. Your chin trembles under his touch.

“We were kids,” he says. “We didn’t know how to hold onto each other and raise a child and survive the world watching us.”

You nod, tears falling freely now.

“I didn’t mean to let you go,” he continues, voice cracking. “I just… didn’t know how to stay without hurting you more.”

You let the words in. Let them wash through the years of silence, of near-misses, of what-ifs.

“I love you too,” you admit, voice trembling. “I thought you didn’t want it. I thought maybe you’d moved on.”

“I never did,” he says quietly. “I didn’t know how to say it, and I didn’t want to mess up what we have.”

You give a small, tearful laugh. “We’re already messy.”

He smiles at that. A real one, crooked and full of memory.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “But we’re a pretty great mess.”

There’s a silence then, heavy and fragile and filled with everything you were never brave enough to speak.

And then you kiss him. It’s the kind of kiss that doesn’t demand anything. That doesn’t ask for forgiveness or explanation. It just is. Steady. Familiar. Home.

His hands find your waist, like muscle memory. Your fingers curl into his hoodie, anchoring yourself to the only thing that’s ever truly felt safe. In that moment it all falls away, the years of longing, the fear, the distance.

You’ve always belonged to each other.

You wake to sunlight filtering through the hotel curtains, casting soft stripes of gold across the carpet and the coffee table littered with empty glasses and a crumpled blanket. Your neck is slightly sore from how you’ve slept curled into Max on the couch, his arm still around your waist, your legs tangled like they never forgot how to fit together.

You stir first, quietly, unsure of whether to move.

Max doesn’t open his eyes, but his grip tightens for a moment. Just enough to say don’t go yet.

And then, from the hallway, bare feet on the carpet. A small gasp. Then stillness.

You both look up at the same time.

Sofia stands there in her pajamas, clutching her stuffed bunny to her chest, one brow slightly raised in that very adult way she inherited from you. Her hair’s messy, cheeks still warm with sleep, but her eyes are sharp. Too sharp for her age.

She looks between the two of you your curled bodies, the hoodie you’re wearing that she knows is her dad’s, the blanket pooled around your knees.

She blinks once.

Then again.

And tilts her head. “Are you guys… boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Your heart skips.

Max shifts beside you, slow and careful. You glance at him, and he glances at you, both of you holding the moment in your hands like it might break if you breathe wrong.

Nervous. Soft. Honest.

Max sits up a little straighter, patting the couch beside him. “Come here for a sec?”

Sofia walks over, climbs into the space between you like she’s done a hundred time. Her eyes flick to the way Max’s hand rests on your knee. She notices. She always notices. She’s a very perceptive eight year old.

He pulls her into his arms and looks down at her, so careful.

“Only if you’re okay with it,” he says.

Sofia stares at him. Then at you.

Then breaks into a grin so wide it knocks the breath from your chest.

“Finally,” she says, matter-of-fact. “I thought you guys were gonna be weird forever.”

You laugh, caught somewhere between a sob and a sigh, burying your face in your hands as Max chuckles under his breath.

“I mean,” she continues, shrugging, “you already do everything together. You just don’t kiss.”

Max raises his eyebrows, and you can’t help but laugh harder, warmth spreading through your chest like sunrise.

“And you’re really okay with it?” you ask, wiping your cheeks.

Sofia nods. “Yeah. I like it when we’re all together. That’s my favourite.”

She says it so simply. So easily.

Like love was never that complicated to begin with.

You were always endgame.

Even when it didn’t feel like it.

Even when the world watched your lives play out through blurry headlines, rumours, and YouTube compilations. Even when the paddock whispered and your hands stopped reaching for each other out loud.

Even when it hurt.

Now you’re not pretending. Not holding your breath. Not keeping your heart behind your teeth.

You’re together. For real.

For her. For each other.

For good.

Taglist: @shigarika @bunnisplayground @thecoolpotatohologram @ymrereads @alexxavicry @gigglepre @esw1012 @satorinnie @percysaidnever @osclerc @sainzluvrr @autumn242 @shadowreader07 @joyfulpandamiracle @inmynotes63 @athanasia-day @embonbon @waterdeeply @shadowsoundeffects13 @fastandcurious16 @odegaardlia @skzvibes-blog @iambored24601 @e10owmaks @painfromblues @brokenvines-wiltingflowers @leo-twins-3107 @rxx-eegh @treatallwithkindness @lewishamiltonismybf @mara1999 @armystay89 @ramonaflwsr @zazima @valevv30 @mischiefmxnxgedhp @yoonessa @wordskeeper

[simpforboys]

Frat!Rafe teaching his sweet tutor how to kiss before her date…

warnings: kissing, suggestive(?)

"Hold on - you're telling me you've never kissed anyone?"

You nervously shake your head, chewing on your bottom lip.

You've been tutoring Rafe in statistics for about three weeks now. It's been going okay, mostly him flirting with you and you shyly laughing, thinking he's just messing around.

But now that you told the popular frat boy you have a date tonight with some Braden Langford, Rafe is curious to know what else you have or haven't done.

He's laying on your twin xl bed, making himself comfortable in your dorm room. You sit across from him in a crisscross, stats textbook on your lap with papers and a graphing calculator next to your thigh.

"Are you making fun of me?" You mumbled anxiously, starting to pick at your fingernails.

Rafe was the first boy to ever be in your room, technically the only person you've ever had in your room since you lived in a single and didn't really have other friends.

"No, baby. 'M jus' surprised," he murmured in disbelief.

It's quiet for a moment before he speaks up, something off in his alluring blue eyes. "Ya said you're goin' on a date t'night?"

You nod, doe-y eyes meeting his.

"He might try t'kiss ya, y'know," Rafe warns, trying to hide the jealousy building in his chest at the thought of his girl tutor going out with another guy.

You remain silent for a moment, blinking at the tall boy on your small bed. But then before your brain could process it, you were blurting out the request.

"Teach me?"

He looks at you for a moment, completely stunned, but also a small smirk curled onto his lips. You quickly tried to backtrack.

"I jus' mean that you kiss girls a lot and you have sex all the time and I don't know anybody else and --"

"Baby, shhh," he cuts off your rambling, the smirk now bigger.

"I'll teach ya how t'kiss, sweet girl. But y'gotta listen t'everythin' I say, mkay?"

You nod, face hot as he grabs the textbook off of your lap. You were already nervous enough as it is about going on your first date, now Rafe Cameron is going to teach you how to kiss?

"’M gonna put my hands ‘ere, kay?” He tells you softly, big hands moving to hold your hips.

“Eyes. Want those pretty eyes on me, pretty girl.” He commands firmly yet gently, not wanting to startle you.

Your eyes flicker down to his, heart pounding in your chest. Butterflies filled your tummy as you stared at him, subconsciously licking your lips.

He lets out a small hum, leaning in slightly to brush his lips against yours. “Lemme take the lead, yeah? Jus’ follow me.”

He gently presses his lips to yours. You instinctively flinch at the new contact, but eventually your eyes flutter shut as you melt against Rafe.

His hands grip your hips a bit better, helping you onto his lap. He moved his lips with yours, fitting together perfectly as he swiped his tongue over your bottom one.

You gasped into his mouth, causing him to slip his tongue in and slide it perfectly against yours. Your own hands move off of your lap, but stay in the air, not knowing what to do.

He takes your hands and guides them onto his shoulders, pulling back so you can both pant together.

“Good girl, baby… doin’ s’good.” He murmurs breathily, before capturing your swollen lips with his again.

As the kisses went on, you continued to melt against him, your body burning from his addictive nature.

Your hands slid down his chest, fingertips gently squeezing in to feel his pecs as you sat perfectly on his lap and made out with your tutee.

Eventually, though, you had to pull away because your lungs were burning with the need for air.

His eyes flutter open against yours again, staring at each other as he rests his forehead against your own.

“Y’okay?” He asks softly.

You nod, breathless and mind a little fuzzy that your first kiss was that good, the type of good that’s only seen in those romance movies.

“Good.”

[slttygeto]

Actors on Actors | Toji Fushiguro

pairing: actor! toji x actress! reader

genre: interview style, slightly suggestive on toji's part

note: ah shit here we go again

📊 Video Stats

10M views | 350K likes | 40K comments

Convincing Toji to do this interview was as hard as his team had expected. 

The man was extremely private, always giving short answers on red carpets but they were more than enough to feed his fans. Coupled with a confident smirk of his and a proud display of the scar on his lip, the man knew he had people swooning for him. 

However, he wasn’t fond of interviews. It was evident in the way he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, a bored look on his face and only answering when the question pertains to his character only. 

Other than that, you couldn’t get a single word out of this man.

When you heard that you were invited to be on an episode of Actors on Actors, you were both excited and nervous. Talking about yourself wasn’t your favorite thing in the world, but you loved getting to know other people in the industry and bonding with them over shared experiences.

What you don’t expect is to read Toji’s name on the paper. 

“Toji?” you turn to your manager with a look of disbelief on your face. “Fushiguro Toji?”

Your manager gives you an apologetic look. She could see the anxiety brewing inside of you, and you have to place a hand over your heart to calm your nerves. 

Talking to that man was the equivalent of talking to a brick wall. There was no way this was going to be a good interview—and who thought of pairing the two of you together?

The tall, broad shouldered man sits in his changing room with the same paper in hand as his eyes land on his name. His makeup artist catches the glimpse of a smirk on his face before Toji turns to his manager.

“That’s the pretty one, right?”

His manager chuckles before placing a hand on Toji’s shoulder. “The one and only.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

The interview is off to an awkward start. At least from your part. 

You feel small under the gaze of such an intimidating man, putting a leg over the other and pulling down the hem of your short dress to hide as much of you as possible. That doesn’t stop Toji’s shameless gawking as the two of you shake hands.

“I’m (Name), nice to meet you.”

“‘course I know who you are,” the words roll of his tongue smoothly and he watches as you purse your lips, dropping your gaze. “Fushiguro Toji”

“Very pleased to meet you.” You finally let go of his hand but you could’ve sworn that his hand lingered on top of yours a bit longer. 

When neither of you decide to speak up first, you let out a nervous chuckle while Toji turns to the filming crew with a playful smirk.

“This is fun,”

“I mean…” you trail off, smoothening the fabric of your dress. Again, his eyes land on your thigh and clear your throat.

“I’m…a really huge fan of your work.” your voice is small as you confess your admiration for his work in the industry. “I’m always amazed by your ability to get into character so quickly.”

“Watched some behind the scene footage?”

You were caught.

“Maybe���I mean it’s there!” You laugh and fortunately for you, Toji does as well as he nods. 

“Sure it is. I could say the same about you—” he gestures towards you with a genuine smile. “Great work, it’s rare to see someone so passionate in the industry nowadays.”

“Oh,” you wave your hands. “It’s-it’s nothing, I just really love acting.”

Toji braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. “How old were you when you thought of giving it a try?” 

Your back straightens up under his gaze and you avoid his eyes as you think of a response. “I was about 6 or 7 when my parents would pull out a camera during Christmas and record me recreating scenes from movies like The Wizard of Oz and The Shining.”

“The Shining?”

“I was a weird kid,” you laugh when you see the look of shock painting his features. “But yeah these two were my favorite movies of all time.”

“That’s interesting, cause in a way I can see you getting into movies like that at a young age.” 

“Really?” 

Toji really likes the glint in your eyes. 

“Mhm,” he nods as he leans back in his armchair. “Like I said I’ve seen some of your work and–” he raises his hands. “I’m a fan.”

You drop your head shyly, silently thanking him for the amount of compliments he was throwing your way. This was honestly going better than you expected, but you knew it was time to ask him questions. 

“Can I just say,” you gesture towards the man. “Your recent work absolutely blew my mind—I mean, the entire movie was just amazing but your role. Wow, just wow.” 

Toji bows down his head when you clap for him, chuckling when you go the extra mile by pretending to bow down for him. 

“That role, was it difficult to get into such a state of mind? I’ve seen many actors—including myself, who needed a much needed break from everything after a certain role. Was it the same for you or were you able to detach yourself from the role easily?”

Toji gives it a thought, taking in the fact that you had crafted this question so carefully unlike any other interview he’s ever been on before. 

“After we finished shooting, I cut off contact with most of the world for about three months straight. I moved out of my neighborhood and into an area where it was just me, the mountains and the sound of birds.”

 Toji proceeds to explain how the role was mentally taxing, how the idea of going back and doing promo for the movie seemed like a huge roadblock he needed to get over. But after lots of therapy and some much needed time off, he was able to get back on his feet. 

“I’m glad that you feel better now, the industry needs good actors like you.” You admit and Toji leans back in his armchair again with a knowing smirk.

“I could say the same about you.”

The interview proceeds smoothly, with the two of you asking each other questions back and forth. After fifty minutes, the interview comes to an end and you get up to share a well deserved goodbye hug. 

However, Toji’s arms linger a little longer around your waist and he whispers something in your ear that’s facing away from the camera.

“You look good by the way.”

Guys, the mics are still on!

🗨️ Top Comments

💬 [somethingsgottagive]: DID YALL SEE THAT (6k likes)

💬 [somuchtosay]: this entire interview is just toji flirting with her im losing my mind (5k likes)

💬 [onehastogo]: ive never seen him this down bad omg??? (7,3K likes)

💬 [theboyismine]: this is the most talkative ive ever seen toji am i sensing smth (1.8K likes)

💬  [sweetnsourchicken] replied to  [theboyismine]: THAT HUG???

💬 [alltheavocadoes]: THE THING HE WHISPERED???(923 likes)

💬 [albumoftheyear]: oh the internet is on FIRE (508 likes)

💬 [cmontryme]: someone check on me ive shipped them for the longest time (392 likes)

💬  [sweetnsourchicken] replied to  [cmontryme]: without a single interaction is crazy

💬 [cmontryme] replied to [sweetnsourchicken]: i’m crazy

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[theghostnamedspecter]

Oh dear fuck it’s finals week.

✨j o y.✨

to everyone doing their finals right now, remember: GRADES ARE TEMPORARY, SOUP IS ETERNAL

do whatever you can and treat yourself to some soup after :)

[wonryllis]

WHEN THEY GET CAUGHT KISSING YOU.

﹙ ⌕ ﹚ 𝓅𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌 ㅤ𝑜𝑓. enhypen kissing their situationship and boom! caught. contains fem!r, kissing & kissing, embarrassed & bold enha, suggestive pg 16. wc 3090 ㅠㅠ, 420 something each. check out the d𝒾rectory? stat agora hills inspo.

𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖧𝖮𝖯𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖢𝖠𝖴𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝖴𝖲──────𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

“they won't find us i promise,” heeseung tries to reassure you, taking a step forward and closing the already negligible space between the two of you. the light from the vents at the top shinning right into his eyes and onto your lips. janitor's closet― your gaze boring into his brown orbs; his falling onto your gloss glimmering against the dark― a kiss that steals your breath.

his arms pull you close by the curve of your waist, gripping the flesh as the kiss grows intense, heavy breaths and sloppy tongues.

“why are we even hiding?” you pant out between the kisses, holding him close and as hooked onto the whole idea of a secret thing. this was lee heeseung. no, this is him. secret flings and hookups, no strings attached & no efforts to make it work. at least that's what you knew of him.

he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, looking straight into your eyes,“i thought you liked it? the whole ‘keeping it a secret’, the thrill of trying not to get caught?” but here he is, doing things you supposedly like, putting in effort.

“isn't this how you are?” casual, clandestine and off the record defined him in your world. “no god, not with you,” his voice is rasp with defence, words tumbling out in a brisk edge. he is not what you think he is. and to him you are so much more than you ever could imagine to be. his lips brush against yours,”i could never be that with you. i want you so much, you have no idea.” and he goes in for another kiss, this time more intimate and deep.

“i swear i saw him go in here!” sunoo's voice echoes outside in the corridor, “what would he even be doing in there?” and before you both can even register the situation, too lost in the kiss, jay hurtles the door open.

you immediately push heeseung away, his steps languid as he staggers back slightly. annoyed and frustrated at his friends for ruining the moment.

jay stands still by the door, holding it open while sunoo comes over to see what's going on. catching sight of the disheveled appearances and gasping breaths, smudged gloss and flushed faces― and a very bummed out heeseung running his fingers through his hair, throwing glare after glare.

“y'all were..” the two intruders trail off in shock. which only intensifies after heeseung slams the door shut in their faces,”busy.” and gets busy with you again.

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖩𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦

“are you sure the windows are tinted?” your question throws jay off for a second, of course it's valid to be worried about that. but you are literally in an empty parking lot, only about to kiss, not commit a crime or violate the laws of human decency. it'll just be a kiss, right?

“i’m sure, now come here,” his fingers wrap around your wrist, urging you to get onto his lap in the driver's seat. sighing in contentment once he feels you settle down comfortably. hands immediately reaching up to your waist in a delicate embrace. “don’t worry so much,” his voice is soft and calm, a high contrast to his heart skipping lanes in his chest.

“just think about me, focus on me,” words barely above a whisper before he kisses you.

his lips are chapped yet when they move against your own, they feel soft; a hint of champagne and waft of honey, floral notes and fruity taste of his drink from earlier at the after party. your hands slide around the back of his neck, tugging at the strands of his hair. faint sighs and low gasps fill the air, the tight space feeling sultry, growing fervid by the second.

it's dream-like, way too good and like floating in the clouds but the loud ringing of jay's phone snaps you both out of it.

riki is calling, the screen shows. he should probably pick it up. he should. yet you both collectively decide he can wait. everyone and everything besides the kiss can wait.

and that turns out to be a mistake. for not even five seconds into the second kiss, there's a thud against the window, riki’s face planted on the glass as he tries to look in,”he's in here jake!” he shouts in a quick look over behind him.

it startles you both, flinching out of the kiss. “jay you sai―” at your instant panic, jay is quick to shush you back into another kiss,”i know, i know. it really is tinted don't worry. they're just bluffing,” he reassures you, his mouth closing in on your top lip in a gentle suck.

“they're literally eating each other's face off! i told y'all they're probably together!” riki’s voice echoes into the parking lot, followed by jake's loud ass laugh. making both you and jay choke mid-kiss as you hop back into your seat and jay rushes out the car to keep their mouths shut.

“haven't y'all heard of privacy!” he scolds, his face hot red with embarrassment, words rolling off in a splutter.

𝖲𝖨𝖬 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖸𝖴𝖭

“jake anyone could walk in!” you slap his chest in a protest, leaning away as he tries to pull you into a kiss again and again. ‘just a kiss’ he insists, but with you straddling his lap, his thighs spread apart and your legs on either side of him― it's impossible. this is jake sim we are talking about; and this guy, from what you have come to know, will turn anything into a makeout session.

“it's my room, they won't just barge in. trust me,” he tucks away the strands of hair falling into your face, his eyes and his voice dripping with desperation; hands moving to trail all over you in attempts to persuade you.

and it works, it takes you just one moment of recollection: the last time you made out with him, same place, same way. and you give in. how could you even resist a guy like this? if you could have, you wouldn't have been in a freaking situationship with him out of all things in the world of romance.

your lips clash against each other, like you haven't kissed in ages. mouths literally devouring and sucking the life out of the heart and the breath out of the lungs. no words exchanged, only muffled sounds and soft gasps.

“fuck your lips are so soft,” jake mumbles between the kiss,”so kissable” unable to hold his thoughts to himself. so drunk, so gone; he doesn't notice heeseung walking in on you both.

not for a few seconds at least, only bothering to cast him a glance over your shoulder before closing his eyes again. leaving heeseung with his jaw slacked, dumbfounded and stunned all at the same time. he takes it as a cue to leave and let the others know not to disturb you both. the last thing he catches glimpse of being your wide eyes realizing he had come in.

“you said no one would walk in!” you immediately complain at the sound of the door creaking close behind heeseung.

“well,” jake sits slack against the headboard, not concerned in the slightest. the amount of care jake could give in a situation like this might as well be equivalent to a speck of dust in the oh mighty universe. but he loved the way your face flushed warm at having been caught.

“it's not like we were trying to hide this. i’m pretty sure everyone already knows how things are between us,” he shrugs, holding you close; eyes locked with yours in a sultry yet genuine gaze,“and how much more things could be.”

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

“never took you for this type,” sunghoon grins against your lips, breath hitting your cheeks warm and uneven. enjoying the way you seem to whine about not letting you kiss him; park sunghoon is a lot of things, but tease? tease is one that gives him life. it's not him, if he doesn't tease the fuck out of you before draining your life force with a kiss that's borderline psychotic.

and right now, with you perched atop the bathroom counter of jungwon's unit with the others right in the other room― sunghoon is exactly in the mood to get the situation heated. or to be more precise, to get caught.

“you were the one who kept teasing me in front of the others! i thought you wanted to― well, isn't this what you wanted too?” you grab his collar to keep him from leaning away, grazing your lips over his to tempt him. he isn't your man yet, but you absolutely know how to have him give in.

“i do, i want it.” his hands roam across the expanse of your back, dropping down to your thighs and tugging you forward. head tilting and leaning in to capture you in a kiss. park sunghoon is a tease, definitely; but he's also whipped.

so much so, he can't resist you even with all his self control working paid overtime.

it doesn't take long for the others to notice your absence, jungwon in particular running around to find you two for dinner. looking everywhere until he hears the shuffling inside the bathroom. he knocks once. twice. and when there's no response he turns the knob finding the door unlocked (that was sunghoon!!!).

“oh my god,” jungwon's exasperates, mood turning sour with embarrassment. your eyes shoot open at his voice, instantly trying to push sunghoon away but damn this guy keeps coming back each time and pulling you into the kiss again.

his ears burning red and the veins in his neck popping out yet he still wouldn't stop. he just can't, he physical can't.

“right in my bathroom? really? and you still going?” the screws in jungwon's brain rust out at he watches the scene unfold. “so sorry, jungwon,” you manage to mumble out, hitting against sunghoon’s chest in a warning.

it only makes him trail the kisses down your jaw and along the curve of your neck, burying his face into the crook in an attempt to keep smooching you in any way he can.

“he's really sorry i swear!” you yell out between the kisses, right before jungwon closes the door.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖶𝖮𝖮

“sunoo,” you mumble in a soft whine, eyes trained on him while he works out. jealous of the dumbbells in his hand, seemingly stealing his attention off of you. his hum of response is affectionate, staring back at you in a ‘what is it?’ look.

“sunoo,” you whine again, louder this time. unable to just watch him when all you wanted was to kiss the life out of his lips. he stops mid-set, placing the weights back in their spot and walks over to where you sit at his desk. just sit and look pretty for me; god you'd do that so well.

he leans over you, hands resting on either side of the chair,”what is it that you want baby?” oh how much you loved this side of him. the side of him that made you believe this was more than it was.

your arms reach out to hook around his neck, pulling yourself up and pushing him against the edge of the desk in a desperate effort to kiss. lips pressing into his in a brief peck at first,”wanna kiss you.”

“jungwon and jake are right outside,” he warns, though not attempting to stop you at all. not even thinking of it. sitting against the edge, letting you pepper as many kisses as you want. “don't you want to kiss me?” you mutter out between the little smooches, twisting sunoo's heart with the tone of disappointment lacing your words and the loss of your touch following it.

“of course i want to baby. i always do,” his voice is low and full of yearning, the burning itch, the craze to be close again. as close as possible. his lips hovering over yours as he pulls you back against him, straight into a kiss. eyes half closed staring down at each other's mouth, parted and quite literally nibbling and sucking, far from gentle or friendly― at all in that sense.

the scent of your shampoo and the taste of your familiar lipbalm is dizzying, and sunoo wonders how he ever managed to just be a friend at one point―

“can't believe i thought you were just friends,” jake barges in, in a hurry, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you both. making sunoo pull away immediately, breathless and sweaty as he responds as casually as he can,”did you need something?” as if he wasn't just about to shove his tongue down your throat.

“um.. yeah―” you yank sunoo back, planting sloppy kisses on his lips and jake’s words die down in a feeble whisper,”i forgot..”

“baby― i mean y/n, wait―” if sunoo wasn't embarrassed enough earlier, he definitely was beyond humanely possible right now, trying to keep you off of him while jake watched and ultimately left with a shake of his head.

𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖶𝖮𝖭

the silence in the air feels thick, stuffed full of tension. and it seems to get hotter by each passing second. your argument with jungwon hanging aloof within a myriad of questions unanswered; what are we? are we even supposed to argue like this? are we supposed to feel like this? jealous, possessive and clinging on to the ache that came along with this undefined relationship.

“i know i said i didn't want anything serious,” jungwon's voice pierces through the soft running of the tapwater behind you, shaky and choked with desire.

“but i get this rush, whenever i’m with you. it's― it's like this high i keep chasing,” he breaths out, taking slow steps towards you. cornering your figure against the kitchen counter, his head hanging low over your shoulder.

lust: one of the seven deadly sins. desire: fickle, and love: hoax and ever changing. he knew it all, so he had always made sure to just have his share of fun and leave it all behind but it was strange how badly you made him want so much more. things he never thought he would ever want. in a way that he was aware would probably destroy him.

“and i know it's not healthy, i know. but i just can't stop―” he lifts his head in the slightest, tilting it towards your lips, grazing and brushing against your own as if he wanted to stretch the moment out,”really can't stop myself,” a longing whisper trickling out his pandora’s box. a yearn for you, so deep he utterly and irrevocably can not defy.

the kiss that follows, starts off soft and gentle like a declaration of love. slowly weaving into one of hunger and craving, impulsive with the need to covet everything down to your core. to start where you end and end where you start. yang jungwon felt absolute badshit crazy.

this wasn't what he had in mind when he proposed the idea to sleep around a few times.

his lips move atop yours in a frenzy, hands grabbing anywhere and everywhere to keep you close. tongue brushing against your parted lips in a tease,”tell me you want me like that too,” he begs into your mouth.

“the water's runn―” clank. before you can answer him, breathless and glazed with need alike, sunoo’s loud ass voice breaks through the moment, followed by his plate of chocolate mousse crashing into the marble tiles.

“i did not see anything! i absolutely did not see y'all about to get it on right in the middle of the kitchen!” sunoo disappears out immediately. leaving you and jungwon panting and flushed with embarassment. your fogged up brains clearing up after the sudden interruption.

“i― your lips are swollen― um, do you want some mousse?” jungwon stammers, retreating away from you.

𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖨

“you're crazy,” you whisper out, glancing around at the empty hallway. feeling the heat emanating off of riki's body as he stands dangerously close to you.

“you're the crazy one,” his chuckle echoes off the walls sending you into a hoard of panic. your hands slapping against his chest to push him away as quick as you can.

hatred, rivalry, and contempt had shaped the idea of your relationship with him for years. so much hostility and so much of ignorance. riki and you were like yin and yang, total opposites and unable to see one ground. ever. but things changed over a shared summer internship and you were not yet ready to accept or admit it. not to yourself or others. god forbid the others found out you didn't puke at the sight of riki.

and being possibly caught kissing him? over your dead body.

“just close your eyes,” riki takes off his beanie and puts it on your head, briskly pulling it down: over your eyes. and before you can utter a word of objection, he is cupping your face and squishing your cheeks― lips meeting your puckered ones in a messy kiss.

you melt into it immediately, ears tuning out and body relaxing. albeit the beating of your hearts seemed to sync over, loud and hard. hands trembling in the slightest, breath speeding up and skin growing warm. it felt like a rippling wave of cold water on a hot shore, the worry of being caught suddenly striking as something insignificant.

“i thought y'all hated each other's guts?” sunghoon’s sudden intrusion whacks the gears in your system. the two of you pulling away like, like poles repeling each other.

“we do!” “we don't!” you and riki call out at the same time, confusing the heck out of sunghoon. “okay.. so y'all are in kissing stage right now, that's cute.” he laughs regardless of the variance between your answers. giving you both a suggestive look before he leaves.

you push up the beanie, peeking from underneath, “you jerk! you did this on purpose didn't you! you wanted to be caught! i can't believe i fell fo―” but riki is not bothering with this now, not when he got what he wanted; a free pass to kiss you from now cause everyone would know of it probably by the end of the day.

“just shut up and kiss me,” he pulls the beanie back over your eyes and lunges forward, diving right into another kiss without wasting any more time. oh you felt like he shot you dead. with the cupid's arrow of course.

taglist 。open! @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

[ri-writes-if]

Chapter 6 is released!

You’ve been wandering in the darkness, but now the light is here, and it blinds you. Your vision clears, and you see it. You see the trap closing right above your head, leaving you with no way to escape.

The situation with Vezriel’s sibling becomes troublesome. Because of your abilities, you learn more than you should know. But it gives you a chance to see Vezriel from a side they show to few demons.

A strange vision promises you misery, though you don’t know why or how. Is it connected to Os? You can only guess, though you don’t have much time for it as Os pulls you back into the high society and shows you how they deal with some matters.

Perhaps Laz would’ve preferred to keep you at a safe distance, but when trouble knocks on the door of their home, Laz can’t refuse your help with an important matter. If you want your payment in honesty, you might just get it this time.

You and Ashmedai both walk closer to something you would rather not remember. For you, it is a painful reminder; for them, it’s another stone added to the weight of their guilt. They’re not prepared to give their last, most painful ‘secret’ to your judgment, but they must.

Az seems so simple, but the more you learn about them, the less you understand them. They’ve opened their home for you—which you never expected to happen—and have shown you unprecedented trust, but you still can’t stop wondering about what they’re hiding from you.

Over 100K words of new content!

Other updates/changes:

Content warnings are updated!

Added the Oracle’s appearance description and the characters’ heights to the profiles.

The relationship’s statuses will update almost at the end of the chapter, so take a peek at these 👀

Serif font is changed. I don’t think anyone cares, lol, but this one is easier to read.

A new hidden stat. It is an obvious one, so I’ll let you find it in the chapter. It’s not here to make or ruin your playthrough, so don’t fret about it and choose what is suitable for your Oracle! :) It’ll mostly give you additional flavor text depending on the other choices you make in the future.

There are lots of variables and branches at work, and I couldn’t go through all of them. So if you see something wanky, or a bug, or a double space line, or typos, or anything that sounds like it shouldn’t be in your specific playthrough/etc., please let me know! You can put it in the tumblr askbox, in the form, or message me directly anywhere.

LINK

I’ve been waiting for this chapter (this and the next one) for so long. When I was coming up with ideas for this story, the last scene of this chapter was among the first things I wrote down. At last you can guess where I’m leading the Oracle and what their journey will look like. Their journey and their growth... or downfall. And you’ll be the one to decide what it is and what the Oracle thinks of it :)

I wonder how many readers will be surprised by it and how many have been expecting it 👀 Let me know what you think about it!

@interact-if

[ao3commentoftheday]

the stats spiral

That's what I call it when I start obsessing over the numbers I get on fics or posts. When I refresh AO3 every five or ten minutes to see if I've got more hits or kudos. When I keep my tumblr activity page open in a tab to see new notes as soon as they come in.

It's not fun. Not really. Even when I sometimes tell myself it is.

You see, it starts out exciting! I've put a thing out there and now I get to see the reactions to it! I'm like a kid on their birthday who can't wait to see their presents. What are people going to say? Will they like it? Will they talk to me about it?

I'm lucky enough that I do get notes on tumblr posts and I do get comments and kudos when I post on AO3. But depending on how excited I am about the thing that I made and depending on how uncertain I am of whether it's any good, I want to get a lot more attention than I end up getting.

I know that that's a normal feeling. I know it's even a rational one! I've put a lot of effort into making something, or I've made something that I think my community will like, and not hearing back like I'd hoped can sometimes feel like rejection. It can be a huge disappointment that makes me doubt myself, my abilities, my connection to my community.

That's why I say it's not fun. Because even though 'engagement' can give me a really high high, it can also give me a really low low.

When I finally realize I'm in one of those lows (and it sometimes takes me a while to realize that I am), that's when I know that I need to step away.

When it's really bad, I just stop posting until I'm in a better mental space. For me, I now recognize that those feelings are often coming from me wanting a connection of some kind. The need for attention is coming from a feeling of loneliness or isolation, and so I need to counteract that by reaching out to people I know and care about to have a chat or a meal or just some time spent doing something communal.

When I can catch it early, then I force myself to close the activity tab here on tumblr and hide whatever stats are making me spiral on AO3. I've learned to recognize that I'm looking to those metrics as a way to feel important or special or cared for in some way and that I need to figure out where I'm feeling insecure in my life and how to get some reassurance - because strangers on the internet won't be able to give me what I need.

If you're currently spiraling, first of all lemme give you a hug ❤️ I hope you can take some time and figure out what it is that you want those stats to tell you about yourself or what it is that you think those stats will give you that you're not getting from somewhere else.

And if you haven't heard it lately, I'm glad that you're in this world - no matter what kind of numbers you have on your posts.

[bluesidez]

I should make a timelapse of my smile fading in real time.

Between Two Worlds ~ Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader (Pt.6)

★ Word Count: 5.9k

★ Content: You meet Miguel's family and friends! Black Cat shows up again (yeah, she's getting a warning now). Miguel meets your mom. A LOT of comparisons to Dana. You two have a fun road trip.

★ A/N: Heyyyy, I'm breaking my hiatus to post this! I'm not officially back back yet though. I'm kinda enjoying not being on tumblr as much. Obviously, I'm still writing though, so I hope you guys enjoy! I also made some changes, some retcons because it was bothering me. Nothing major though, so it shouldn't affect the story.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

The roaring noises of The Weave become second nature to Miguel.

The strobing lights and smoke that clings to the ceiling. Dancers grabbing their customers and leading them to a sit to get a show. Bits of confetti mixed with dollar bills on the floor.

If this was his first time in the club, he'd easily become overstimulated. Now, he's easily leading the rest of the group to the bar.

Xina covers her ears while following him as Gabriel and Kasey simultaneously let out a shriek.

“I can see why this club is popular!” Gabriel clasps Miguel’s shoulder. “Everyone is getting turned up!”

“At eight pm on a Tuesday…” Xina mutters.

“There’s usually a good turn out on Tuesdays.”

Miguel knows. Your dance draws in a crowd every time. You tell him that Tuesdays are the days where you make the most amount of money.

“Good thing I called out tomorrow.” Kasey hooks her arm around Xina, taking the lead. The men follow, Gabriel hooping at the upbeat music while Miguel's eyes scan the area.

He doesn't see you yet. You were nervous during the build up of meeting his friends and family, wondering which one of your glittery outfits is presentable for them. You didn’t want to go too far out, not wanting to scar Xina, but didn't want to lean towards too modest as you had your headliner dance.

Miguel tried to convince you not to worry about it, that anything you wear would be okay.

“Science Guy!” Ben greets, glancing at the fresh faces, “Who has new friends. I always knew you were a social butterfly.”

He shakes his head, “Ben, this is my brother, Gabriel, his girlfriend, Kasey, and my best friend, Xina.”

“Oh shit, I didn't know it was ‘Family Night’ at The Weave.”

“Since when have we ever had family night?” Pixie joins in, nursing a water. Her top catching anyone's eye as it symbolizes fairy wings. If she's here, that means you're nearby.

“We had family night last year where Mj bought in Peter.”

“That was couples night, babe.”

“Oh.”

“It's nice to meet you!” Xina greets loudly, causing everyone at the bar to turn towards her.

“Xi, the music is not that loud.” Kasey reassures with a squeeze on her arm.

Pixie snorts, her eyes tracing Xina up and down, “It was cute though.”

She darts away from Pixie's gaze, face turning red. Miguel steps over to her, his eyes silently asking where are you. Pixie's reassuring look tries to help but it doesn't.

“This is Pixie. She's one of the dancers.”

“Ooh like the pixie haircut?” Gabriel motions around his head.

“That and I like mythical creatures. Like pixies. ” She explains. Miguel tries not to look surprised at your friend willingly telling information to people she just met.

“Pixies are cool.” Xina adds in, fiddling with her white blouse. Pixie only gives her a smile.

“Alright, who wants drinks?” Ben starts taking drink orders.

Miguel’s considering getting one himself since he doesn't see you yet. He wonders if you decided to back out of the meet and greet and not tell him. Did he rush into this? Were you not ready to meet the people he's close to?

He just settles on a water, continuing to scan the area.

“So, you two are dating, right?” Ben asks Gabriel and Kasey.

“Yeah! Going for four years, right?”

Kasey nods after a long sip of her margarita, “That’s right.”

“And uh, you're cool with your boyfriend getting a lap dance?” Ben motions in front of him.

“I'm planning to get one.” She shrugs, “So it's okay if he does too.”

“Nice, nice.”

Gabriel and Kasey’s relationship held it’s ground ever since they first met in college. Being the older brother that Miguel is, he did get worried when they moved in together after eight months of dating. Their relationship lasting five years later was reasonable proof that they were going to last.

“What about you?” Ben asks Xina, who’s been nursing a shirley temple. “Looking to stuff some money in someone’s bra?”

“Oh, no thank you.” She frowns while shaking her head.

“Why not?” Pixie asks, beating Ben to the punch.

“I’d feel…awkward.”

“We don’t bite, babe.”

“Except for Black Cat. I’d steer clear from her.”

Miguel lights up seeing you walk up the bar. The tool from your two piece outfit glimmering under the club lights. A burgundy color that’s still easy on the eyes despite being surrounded by rhinestones. The curls from your high ponytail cascading down your shoulders. You’re beautiful. Miguel swallows the word from the tip of his tongue.

“Finally, you stopped fretting over your hair.” Pixie traces her fingers through your strands to also make sure it’s on point.

“I have guests.”

Kasey squeals, getting up from her seat to hug you. Her slightly chiseled arms enclosing around your frame perfectly.

“I can’t believe I finally get to meet you! Miguel can finally stop hiding you from us.”

“I wasn’t hiding her…” He mutters.

“I’m glad I get to meet you all too. It was time.”

Miguel notices Gabriel’s hands itching to hug her, but the former warned him of not suddenly grabbing the dancers unless he wanted to get kicked out. Kaine is working today and Miguel knows he can be very rough. You open your arms wide for him though and Gabriel giddily hugs you. The action being very brief.

With Xina, you stuck out your hand, knowing a hug was probably too personal for her. She gladly took it, trying not to make the exchange more awkward then it had to be.

“Why are we all chilling at the bar?” You look around, “Thought you guys came in here to have fun.”

“Oh I did.” Kasey says, “I want my first dance to be from an expert.” She wraps her arms around your own.

“Anything for my regular's friends.” You wink at Miguel who smiles against his glass.

You call up Emma, a dancer who comes in occasionally. Her white one piece made her easy to spot anywhere in the club. She does a finger wave along the crowd.

“I have a couple here so I thought it’d be best to do a duo.”

Emma’s blue eyes light up, “I’m down.”

You motion Gabriel and Kasey over, smiling at their excitement.

“Behave yourself.” Xina drones while swirling her drink with a straw.

Miguel leans against the bar, “Are you sure you don’t want to go out there?”

“I’m sure.”

He glances at you and you shrug, leading his brother and girlfriend to a better spot. Miguel wasn’t surprised at his best friend’s behavior. Xina’s prone to sticking to a corner of the wall at a party, red cup in hand while she watches everyone else enjoy themselves. He does it occasionally, but hoped that his friend would try tonight.

“You know, I’m going to force you.”

“Then don’t.” Xina slurps her drink, “I’m fine right here.”

“How old are you again?”

“Don’t you start with me.”

“I’m just wondering…”

“She doesn’t have to see a dancer if she doesn’t want to.” Pixie cuts in, now on the other end, stretching her limbs. Her outfit is easier to see now, with the short, matching green skirt and heels catching the club lights. “Although, that does defeat the purpose of going to a strip club.”

Xina scoffs, “Your friend invited me here.”

“I know.” The trail Pixie’s eyes drags along Xina’s frame is addicting. Slow and deliberate. “Like I said, you don’t have to. But…I thought you liked pixies.”

The blush on Xina’s face is apparent when she sighs. She places a ten dollar bill on the bar before taking Pixie’s hand. Miguel gives a thumbs up when his friend looks back. When they disappear into one of the rooms, he relaxes his shoulders. He wants everyone to have a good time and have a better reception to you.

Ben happily grabs another drink for Miguel, placing the soda down. “You know, I’ve never seen a regular drag his family and friends to meet a stripper.”

“I have nothing to hide.” Miguel admits. “A strip club is like any other establishment.”

Plus, you and him were still trying to keep your relationship secret. Even with Jess now knowing, you were adamant on not telling the entire club your business.

“Yeah filled with half naked dancers and alcohol. I think the deli across the street does something similar on the weekends.”

They share a laugh. The tenseness in Miguel’s body slowly fading away.

“Seriously though, it’s a cool mindset to have. I wish everyone had what you think, Science Guy.”

He blinks, remembering your surprise at his openness. “I just…think that way.”

“Smart, cute, and open minded. Who could ask for a better man?”

A strong, spicy fragrance hits his nostrils. That signature white hair makes its appearance when Black Cat appears beside him at the bar. Her bare arm touching his own. Everything about her appearance is striking, the black bikini while still wearing platform heels to make her tall. The white hair covers her shoulders and back. Miguel ignores the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere.

Ben shakes his head at her appearance, “You need anything?”

“A shot of vodka.”

As he prepares the shot, Miguel tries to focus on his drink. Your words in his head warning him not to talk to the popular cat. Or else you’d lose him too. Since you revealed that she steals your regulars.

That wasn’t going to happen.

Black Cat faces him and quickly downs the shot. Any traces of liquor, she wipes it away with a flicker of her fingertips. While her piercing, silver eyes stare into his soul. Miguel wants to look for you, have you come to his rescue again.

“Why are you all alone?”

“J-Just waiting for some friends.”

She tsks before pouting. “No Silk this time?”

“She’s doing a dance for someone else.”

“Ah…” Her hand rests on the bar. Black, polished nails match her attire. “You look so lonely sitting here.”

“Oh no, no I’m okay.”

“You sure? Being in a club like this all alone can spell all kinds of trouble.” As she speaks, her fingertips slowly inch towards his hand. The scrap of her nail causes him to jolt, placing his hand on his lap.

Of course she notices.

“You’re so adorable. It’s like you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not…”

“You should be.” Ben peeks back in, “You should see that time she scratched the fuck out of that guy last year. I heard he was so close to losing his eye because to her.”

“Ben.” Black Cat glares and he puts his hands up.

“What? It’s true-”

“Don’t you have bartending to do?”

“I’m doing it, kitty cat.”

She rolls her eyes when he flashes her a smile before focusing her attention back on Miguel. He hopes that Ben stayed nearby longer, but he was called away once more.

Black Cat didn’t stop with her advances, scooting closer to him. Her scent is giving him a headache.

“You wanna know why everyone favors me the most?”

“Sure…”

She leans forward, lips grazing his ear. Miguel’s entire body stiffens at the contact. “Because I have the best pussy in the entire club.”

When she parts, her eyes are lowered, locked on him like a predator. Ready to eat. Miguel needs you here.

“I-I see.”

“If you want to see for yourself, all you have to do is ask…” She runs a hand along his back, finally walking away. Miguel turns around in his chair, eyes searching the club for you. Among the sea of lap dances, money flying across the room, you’re walking back with an ecstatic Gabriel and Kasey in tow.

They practically bum rush him at the bar, shouting with excitement.

“I can see why you picked her.” Kasey nudges his ribs.

“I think I threw almost two hundred on the floor.” Gabriel starts counting his fingers.

“Oh I blew four I’m sure.”

You snicker, “I’ll let you know when I count it.”

Miguel's relieved to see you when he abruptly stands. It catches you by surprise, causing you to stumble.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Uh, yeah sure.”

You wave at the two and lead him into your usual private room. The door is hardly closed when Miguel is on you, strong arms pulling you close to his chest.

“Wait, Miguel! My makeup!”

He quickly parts, doing a quick inspection to see if he did some real damage. Thank goodness it wasn’t bad. Just hints of your concealer and lipstick on his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes.”

You snort at his quickness, “I missed you too, but we can’t get too crazy. I got my dance in a few.”

“Okay.”

Miguel embraced you, a quick kiss turning into a careful make out session. His hands digging into the tool of your outfit, breathing in that sweet scent he’s familiar with, blocking out Black Cat’s smell. You show him you miss him just as much when you find his shirt to tug on it. Obviously wanting to take it off but not able to.

“I'm surprised you couldn't wait until Thursday.” You say against his lips, playing with his shirt. “You know where we have forty five minutes instead of the usual thirty.”

The way you accentuate forty five makes the blood rush to his cheeks. You still couldn’t believe that he lied to Jess in order to get more time with you at the club.

“I just needed you.”

“Aww, baby.”

Miguel didn’t want to bring up his interaction with Black Cat. You'd end up distracted and upset at the words she said to him, ergo affecting your performance on stage. He'd just tell you later.

“While you're here,” Your face turns sour. “my mom wants to meet you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I told her about going to the banquet with you and she told me she wasn't comfortable with me going anywhere until she meets you. You could kill me at the hotel or something.”

You let out a short laugh while his stomach churns.

“I'm not going to kill you.”

“You sure about that?” The concern on his face got worse and amuses you more. He relaxes when your lips press against his cheek. “I'm joking. I know you wouldn't. But we need to put my mom at ease.”

“I'm okay with whatever. I want to ease your mom too.” Miguel moves to kiss your head, but hesitates. Instead, he holds your hand and kisses along your knuckles, not wanting to ruin your makeup even more.

“You're sweet.” One last kiss to his lips and you had to go back out. “I'll text you about it later.”

He follows you out and rejoins his family in the crowd. Xina is back, face fully red. Miguel wants to pry into what happened with Pixie when she wasn’t anywhere to be found. But the hype from the crowd at the start of your performance pulls him away.

Miguel locks on to your body pressed along the pole, highlighting your breasts. A ripple amongst your thighs as you spin, feet high in the air and catching the stage lights. The shimmer from your outfit fills the dark crowd. Screams and shouts covering the wide space. Kasey and Gabriel holler the entire time while Xina simply watches. There’s no hint of disinterest in her face, which Miguel can take as a good sign.

The DJ, Lyla, hypes the crowd up into throwing more money in your vicinity. A cascade of dollar bills coats the stage and you submerge yourself in it. A mirage of green replacing your skin.

Miguel’s heartbeat can be heard if the music wasn’t loud. How you soak up the crowd’s applause is admirable. He catches your smile and your eyes when you finish. Everything about you is so attractive. So sexy. He loves that he’s the only that has you. No one can take that away.

“She’s cool.” Xina says. That small bit of approval pulls her into a hug filled with gratitude.

“I told you that you’d like her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She pulls away from him, faking disgust at his affection. “Just…be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Miguel wants to be careful.

Dana causing irreputable damage to his heart wasn’t in his bingo card for the year. What he has with you right now though, he wants to enjoy it. Hoping to whatever god out there that you won’t do the same to him.

It’s why he’s so nervous about the shareholders banquet.

He’s never expressed that to you in his words. The excessive planning and booking gave it away.

This would be the first time you two took a trip together. Heck, even spending the night with one another. Sleeping in the same bed. Your body an inch away from his. For an entire weekend.

It's why he was doing double, triple checks on everything. Making sure his gps was all set. The hotel booking being to your liking. He wonders if he should change up rooms. Maybe you’d want a private room to yourself. You do value your privacy.

When he brought that up to you though, he’s awarded with a frown that made him feel small. Right in the middle of the produce aisle at the grocery store a few days later.

“Now, why would we get separate rooms?”

“I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I will be. With you.”

“What if he’s not comfortable? Did you ever think about that?” Your mom questions, putting a bag of onions in the cart.

Miguel shyly pushes up his frames when you suck your teeth, “Are you uncomfortable? I don’t have to go if you’re not-”

“I want you to go.” He doesn’t miss the small smirk your mother makes at his lack of hesitation. “I’m not uncomfortable. Your comfort is my top priority.”

“And so is yours.” Your mom observes a huge watermelon in the box and Miguel is already there. She does a ritual of wrapping her knuckles against it, before taking a small whiff. With her approval, he picks up the fruit, settling it gently in the cart.

“Thank you, baby.”

You shoot a thumbs up towards him when your mom turns her back. Who knew a way of impressing your mother is by tagging along grocery shopping? Your text about it happening didn't shock him. He meant what he said about putting your mother at ease.

With the planning of the trip, grocery shopping can relax Miguel’s running mind. But his feelings are too important not to share.

“I just…” He stops when your mom is checking out bread, “I’m…nervous.”

Your brows raise, “Why? What about?”

A million things. Presenting at the banquet. Seeing Dana and Tyler. Traveling alone with you. Being alone with you. In a hotel known to value intimacy and privacy. Where his mind lingers on making love to you.

“…a lot of stuff.”

You shake your head, “Pick one of the stuff.”

The two of you move when your mom walks further down the bread aisle. It gives him time to come up with an adequate answer for you. Obviously, he wasn’t going to bring up that he wants to fuck you in front of your mother.

“It’s the first banquet without…her.”

“Who’s her?” Your mom pops in, placing three loaves of bread in the top of the cart.

“His ex-fiancé.” You pick your mother up to speed. “The one who cheated on him with his boss.”

“Oh her! Fuck her.”

“Mom-”

“What? Anyone who does that to me is not worth my time or thoughts. Plus,” She observes Miguel with an up and down glance, “who would want to cheat on this man?”

It’s nice to know he has your mother’s approval now.

“I don’t want it to be awkward...” He admits.

“Oh, it’s always gonna be awkward. But just don’t let it get to you. Or you.” Your mother points to you.

You accusatorily gasp, “Why are you saying that to me?”

“Because you tend to feel some type of way when it comes to stuff you don’t like.”

“Alright…” You turn your head away.

Your mother’s words hung on Miguel’s ear. She's right, it's always gonna be awkward. It matters on how he deals with it. He wasn't going to let Dana's appearance ruin his weekend with you.

“I’m so glad you’re taking my baby away for the weekend.” Your mom says while pointing to a few spices at the top shelf. While Miguel grabs them and hands them over, she continues. “All she ever does is go to work, come home, watch tv, and sleep. Sometimes she might be with her friends, but that’s rare. And I’m not talking just about Tempest. Your other girlfriends.”

Miguel glances over to you in question. You mouth ‘Pixie’ and he understands.

“That’s not all I do.”

“You know it’s not good to lie to your mommy.”

You huff and disappear over to the frozen aisle, leaving Miguel alone with your mom. The silence is brief besides the slight hum from freezers. While he helps your mother grab frozen vegetables, she strikes up another conversation.

“So, does your family know about your trip?”

“Yes, they’re aware.”

“Even your mother?”

Miguel pauses, trying to figure out what to say. His mother knows about his trip, but not that he’s taking you. It’s a conversation he wasn’t mentally prepare for. He didn’t want to hear the usual of you being a rebound or that you’re using him for his money. And a sprinkle of the relationship being so soon from his break up from Dana.

He’d rather hold that off until he’s ready.

“Yes.”

Your mother nods and you come back with a few bags of pizza rolls. Before she can say anything, you cut her off.

“I’m paying for these.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“I can pay for them.” Miguel offers, “I know how much you like them.”

“No, thanks. I got it.”

He pouts, large brown eyes peering over his thick frames and to your eyes. You poke the inside of your cheek before kissing his own. Miguel can’t help the smile that comes out and amuses your mom.

After finishing up the grocery portion, your mom needed to grab some toiletries. It reminded you to grab some yourself for the trip. Miguel was okay, his bag already packed and ready to go. Done a week in advance.

“Y’all don’t need condoms?”

“Did you really just…” You hide your face under your palm at her comment.

“Don’t act like that. I don't want you coming back pregnant.”

“I won’t!”

“Yeah, okay.” Your mom grabbed a few boxes and put them beside your pizza rolls. “I’ve seen that hotel you’re going to. If you’re trying to tell me something is not going to happen, know that I don’t believe you.”

The blood rushes to Miguel’s cheeks while you don’t even try to look at him. Instead, you grab one of the boxes and put it back while your mom’s back is turned.

“I have plenty of condoms.” Miguel whispers.

You smirk, “And you’re saying that to me because…?”

“I…I just thought you should know.” He wasn’t flirting, although he can see how his words can come across that way. Thankfully, you see his serious face and shake your head.

“Thanks.”

The rest of the trip at the store goes well. Miguel surprises your mother by paying for her groceries and yours. Both of you protest in saying that he didn’t have to do that, but he wanted to. He was planning to slyly pay for yours, but he thought why not your mother’s?

She grabs his face and gives him the biggest kiss on his cheek as gratitude. Paired with a ‘You smell good’ comment.

Miguel wanted to help place the bags inside your home, but you stopped him, saying that you didn’t want him to deal with the rest of your family yet. He negotiated and you allowed him to place the rest of the bags on the porch.

You kiss him goodbye, lingering a little under the embrace. Miguel holds back in saying he wanted to bring you back to his apartment, to spend more time with you.

But he’ll have the entire weekend with just you and him.

Miguel went over his checklist.

Bags are in the trunk, air on low, gps set to the hotel, and you're right beside him. You match his attire of the ride, your huge zip-up jacket and matching black sweatpants radiates comfort. Dana always complained about his casual appearance, his baggy pants and loose shirt didn't pair well with her short, sparkly dress and high heels.

She wasn't the one driving for two hours.

He loves how you manage to maintain your cute yet comfortable clothing. Miguel also tries not to focus on how you're putting on lip gloss. Your lips forming a shine that makes him want to ruin it.

“You ready?” He asks when you put your lip gloss away.

“Yes I am.” Miguel chuckles at you putting on your seatbelt. He waves at your family waving goodbye to you before pulling off.

Sweat forms against the steering wheel. The big, bolded numbers of the timeframe of your destination. He isn't sure how he's gonna entertain you for more than 2 hours. Dana usually falls asleep thirty minutes in.

“Oh, you're taking I-95, right?”

“Yes.” He thumbs against the steering wheel, “Is something wrong?”

“No. I wanted to see if we can stop at that big gas station that's about halfway into the trip.” You pull out your phone, quickly showing it to him at a red light. “They got these sandwiches and milkshakes. I haven't been there in months.”

That sounds fun. He's always wondered what that place was like, but Dana pushed about getting food nearby the hotel.

He realizes he hasn't said anything and you pause.

“Oh, sorry, I should’ve asked before while you were planning…”

“No, no we can go there.” The excitement in your eyes kickstarts his heart. “I've never been. You mentioned milkshakes?”

You hum, “I got your sweet tooth, didn't I?”

Miguel avoids eye contact, which makes you laugh.

You go down the list of the potential choices. He settles on cookies and cream while you go for strawberry cheesecake. The music from your ‘road trip’ playlist in the background. Neither of you had a chance to move on to sandwiches when one of your favorite songs started to play.

He blinks and your phone is away while you're rolling your hips in your seat. Miguel is able to get a glance at your body moving to the beat. All sensual and fluid while you're singing at the top of your lungs.

His starts singing along too, albeit not knowing as much of the words as you do. But he's able to ad lib.

The car then turns into a sing-along.

The songs from your playlist are a lot of the ones he recognizes, helping him stay engage during the journey. While Dana was asleep, Miguel tuned into podcasts, various tracks to keep him entertained. He'd admit that it got boring after a while.

Now, in another life, he had a chance of becoming a rapper with the way he kept up with the songs.

At the halfway point, you point to the gas station you mentioned.

It was huge. Multiple lanes for said patrons to pump gas and be on their way. As well as a parking area in front.

Miguel didn’t need gas, he fills up right before reaching the hotel. So when he parks you almost fall out of the car with enthusiasm. His brief look of concern fades when you pull him inside.

Aisles of snacks and drinks on each side of the building. There was a decent amount of people coming and going. You headed straight for one of the touchscreens, right in front of the workers who were making other orders.

There were so many options to chose from. Yes, you mentioned there were sandwiches but there are so many. Hot and cold. Club sandwiches or hoagies. What did he have a taste for? They were going to be on the road for at least another hour. He didn’t want to get something to upset his stomach.

“Maybe I should go for something light.” He mentions, “I’m already getting a shake.”

“And you’re driving. Good idea.”

You point out to a few selections of wraps and that’s good enough for him. Meanwhile, you go for your drink of choice and a meatball sub. While waiting for your order, Miguel grabs some waters and you make a beeline for the candy. You pick his favorite which was sour peach rings. You also grab a bag of trail mix that contained more chocolate than nuts.

After Miguel pays for the snacks, your food is ready. There you two walk out with bags in hand, sucking on your milkshakes.

“Okay, you need to taste this.” You say after getting settled in the car.

Miguel leans over when you hold out your cup to sip, humming at the taste of cheesecake. “That’s good.”

“Isn’t it? I miss going to this place.”

“You said you haven’t been there in months right?”

You nod, unwrapping your sandwich. The scent of the marinara sauce from your sub makes his mouth water. “It’s just because we haven’t gone anywhere past New York. We’ve mainly stuck in the city.”

“Ah.” Miguel cradles the turkey wrap in his hand, taking a small bite.

“Didn’t you and Dana take this highway whenever the banquet comes around?”

“We did.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never been here before. This place has a little bit of everything.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. Unsure what to say without painting Dana in a bad light.

“Dana…has finer tastes.”

“She’s bougie.”

“N-No…well…” Miguel stammers, “S-She just prefers going to higher quality places. This gas station isn’t on her criteria for finer items.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Once again, saying she’s bougie.”

He stays silent about that. You wasn’t wrong, but he never saw her that way. Ever since his promotion, Miguel strived to get her better things. Fancier accessories and finest places to show off his upper class status.

“It’s my fault.” Miguel doesn’t miss your eyes softening, “I made her that way. Why she’s into high quality things.”

You tsk, “It’s not. There’s a difference between spoiling someone and someone taking advantage of how they’re being spoiled. It’s a small difference, but it’s there.”

You turn towards him in your seat, careful to not make a mess. He’s looking at you now. Your face is gentle.

“You don’t deserve to be taken advantage of.”

Miguel’s heart twists, every beat of your words hanging in his head. “I know…”

“Good.” You quickly wipe your lips on a napkin to give him a big kiss on his lips. He takes in your lips, hint of marinara on them.

Not too long after you finish up your food, clean up and head back on the road.

The second half of the trip was relaxing.

Your music was still on, but remained turned down. The two of you ended up talking. Nothing as serious as the conversation back at the gas station. Just about various topics. The tv shows you were watching, trying to get Miguel to watch some of them. You were able to convince him of this show about a serial killer in Florida.

He went on about his game Candy Blast. How he’s maintaining his top five streak with Margo. That he completed enough levels to keep him by for the banquet weekend. Margo will let him know when he’s slipping since she’s always on that game. You intently listened, nodding your head and humming.

Soon, you two were almost at the hotel.

Miguel drove into a backroad, surrounded by trees. He always imagines arriving at the hotel as if he was in a movie. The way the trees fold away, revealing a grand hotel. A cobblestone driveway, a tall, black metal fence surrounding it. Grass being so green that he’d think was artificial. He smiles at your gasp when he pulls up to the front where a man runs out to greet you.

“Hello! Welcome to the Sunset Grove Hotel!”

He opens the door for you and helps you out. Miguel pops the trunk and grabs the bag filled with your snacks and water. He’s by your side as another person comes out to assist with the bags.

Walking inside the hotel will always be a dream. It’s as if the sun kissed the inside with the white walls and gold colored trims. Cream colored seating and pristine clear floors that almost looked like glass. Hotel guests lounging in the seating area, sipping on drinks from the complementary bar.

“Welcome back, Mr. O’Hara.” The front desk worker greets, “It’s an honor to host you again this year.”

“The honor is mine. I enjoy your services every time.”

You quickly tap his shoulder, “I gotta go.”

“Oh, I can come with-”

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” You squeeze his hand, “I’ll be back.”

With the help of another front desk clerk, they show you to the restroom. Miguel turns his attention back to the other clerk.

“Your room is almost ready for you. They’re putting in the finishing touches.” The clerk handed him a beeper. “It’ll vibrate once your room is prepared and I can give you the keys.”

“Thank you.”

Miguel parted from the desk, seeing the banner about the Alchemex 17th Annual Banquet. Sporting the blue and white colors of the company logo. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat in pondering what he was in for this weekend. His presentation is ready, he had his cue cards ready to go.

He’s going to see his ex-fiancé and biological father together and if he went alone, he’d be a nervous wreck.

Even now, without you by his side, his hands are shaking, palms getting sweaty. Your mother’s words hover in his mind again. It’s going to be awkward. How he deals with it is what matters.

“Miguel?”

He turns around. The woman that troubles his mind stands in front of him, clutching her pink purse and wearing a matching, short dress. All while staring at him with her crystal blue eyes.

“Hi Dana.”

Tags: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch

@nina-from-317 @slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel

@moonlight00sthings @bajbr @freehentai

@chubbybyunnie @ilikeowlsidkwhy @questionable-behaviour

@imamexican @tatatida @aphinthestars

@bluesidez @saintdiior @prettygirleli

@twinkdrakez @vicravluv @brown-eyed-thang

@peachipeachy @sonicbutbutter @mermaidian02

@celi-xxmoon @roserfz27 @hellokittyloverrxox

@sweeetas @avengersinitiative2012

[fightingformetaphor]

After toiling for hours in firefox’s inspect window I finally managed to make my AO3 look pretty!!!! I’m actually in love with how brought the colours turned out, even if they’re a little less vibrant on my laptop.

I used base code from @ao3commentoftheday’s glowy skin and some other misc code to change the highlight colours on tags, hide stats from my own works, and hide non-english works, as well as changed the colours pretty massively to fit my pretty Firefox theme (as well as added this stunning gif from the space bar [I found the artist by the way, it's kirokaze!]).

Really random but a huge thank you to all the skin makers out there making code for free! Truly an art I didn’t appreciate enough before this.

Here's the code for this bad boy in case anyone else is interested in my silly little project!!! I don't actually know how to code CSS so if anything is bright blue or doesn't work please let me know, I'll... I'll figure it out.

[drumlien]

genuinely, how does padmund have 21 STR as a level 1 wizard, the rest of his stats are normal, good even for a level 1 wizard...........what god is hiding in him...I see you brennan lee mulligan you ain't slick, what god do you have hiding in this little frog boy?????