#and then hears the commentators say things like Coming In From the Back

[stevestark]

Eddie survives the Upside Down by sheer force of Steve Harrington's will. He, Robin, and Nancy come upon Dustin sobbing over Eddie's very alarmingly still body, and Steve doesn't even hesitate to heave Eddie over his shoulder and carry him to the gate. He refuses to think about whether or not Eddie is dead and this is pointless — he'll be damned if he doesn't try everything. They manage to get Eddie through and escape themselves before the earth starts ripping itself open, and Steve carefully lays Eddie on the bed in the RV, tearing down the road at an ungodly speed, driving straight for the hospital.

He's so singularly focused on not letting Eddie die that he doesn't remember about Erica, Lucas, and Max until he watches in horror as a gurney carrying Max comes flying through the doors of the emergency room, Lucas and Erica running behind it. The nurses stop the Sinclairs from following her through to the surgical wing, and Steve hurriedly vacates his seat, pulling the two kids into a hug, apologies pouring from his lips. Eventually, he stops babbling, and everyone takes a seat, Steve wincing as he does so.

The bites on his sides still smart, but he can — and will — wait to get seen himself until he hears something about Eddie. When they'd shown up, Steve carrying Eddie bridal style and screaming for help, everyone around them had thought Eddie was dead; after getting him on a gurney, a nurse yelled at everyone to shut up as she pressed a stethoscope to Eddie's chest, and the next thing Steve knew, Eddie was being wheeled away from them to surgery. Dustin had fallen to his knees, appearing to be praying to anything listening, and Steve nearly joined him. Somehow, Eddie was still alive. Steve refused to be seen until he knew that was still the case.

Hours pass before they're allowed in to see Eddie; when they are, it's somehow more horrifying than the moment Steve had found him cradled in Dustin's lap. Eddie is still motionless, but now he's paler, there's what looks like a hundred wires coming out of his body, and a tube is breathing for him. Steve hazily registers the doctors explaining that the blood loss was significant, as were the wounds littering Eddie's body, and that it's going to be a waiting game to see what happens next. He startles when he hears the gentle comment that if Eddie doesn't wake within a week, it's unlikely he ever will; Steve refuses to even consider that as a possibility.

Nancy manages to talk Steve into getting his own bites cleaned and stitched, which turns into taking him home for a shower and a change of clothes; they're still driving the stolen RV, and when Steve pulls back into the hospital parking lot, he hesitates before climbing out. Eddie's denim vest is still sitting on the sofa, bloodstained and ripped all over. Steve digs through the cabinets of the RV until he finds a sewing kit, and brings the vest inside with him.

He carefully washes out as much of the blood as he can in the bathroom sink, and plops into a chair at Eddie's bedside, pulling out red thread and a needle from the sewing kit. Nancy, Robin, and Dustin all exchange looks before simply sitting in silence, watching Steve carefully begin to repair every tear in the fabric.

Eventually, Nancy gets a hold of Wayne Munson, who enters the room, sees Steve hard at work on his project, and doesn't say a word — he just pulls a chair up next to Steve's, claps him on the shoulder, and reaches out to pat Eddie's leg through the hospital blankets. Neither Steve nor Wayne leave their spots other than to use the bathroom, and nobody tries to make them.

Three days into Eddie's hospital stay, the door opens, and Eleven, Jonathan, Will, Mike, and someone Steve doesn't recognize enter the room. Steve looks up, unblinking and on the verge of unseeing, before turning his attention back to the vest; two small hands reach out and cover his, and it's only then that he registers who's standing in front of him. Eleven is looking at him sadly, and hesitates only briefly before she leans forward to hug him.

He grips her tightly, and takes a shaky breath before holding a hand out toward the Byers brothers and Mike, and sooner than anyone can blink, there's a massive huddle of arms enveloping Steve. For the first time since leaving the Upside Down, Steve lets himself cry; nobody comments at it, nobody even acknowledges it — other than Eleven, who gently wipes his face with her sleeves when they finally separate.

More chairs are dragged into the room, and suddenly Eddie is the most popular patient in the hospital — tied with Max, of course, as the group takes shifts between the two rooms. Steve and Wayne are the only permanent fixtures in Eddie's room, just as Lucas and Erica are the only permanent residents with Max.

Steve finishes patching the tears in the vest, but Eddie hasn't woken up yet, so his fingers itch to keep going. He pulls out a spool of white thread, and outlines the jagged stitches he made before, carefully working his way over the entire vest once more. When he finishes that, he grabs black thread, and repeats the process.

He's in a sort of trance as he stitches away, conversations happening around him but sounding like they're miles away. It's not until someone physically stops his hands moving again that he realizes the words are being directed towards him; confused, he looks up and jolts so strongly he nearly tips his chair backwards. The person who stopped him working this time is Jim Hopper, and for the first time since the doctor gave them the stupid timeline, Steve feels hope. If Hopper can come back, Eddie can too. Eddie can too.

On day 6 of Eddie's coma, Steve speaks for the first time, tired eyes looking at Eleven beseechingly. "Can you... will you see if he's still in there?"

Eleven takes the bandana Wayne passes her and ties it over her eyes, one hand gripping Eddie's, the other intertwined with Steve's. She focuses on the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the wheezing of the oxygen pump, the sounds allowing her to drift into the in-between. She finds Eddie curled in a ball, hands clutching his sides, tears silently streaming down his face.

As she did with Steve, she gently reaches out and wipes his face clean, and waits for him to acknowledge her; he eventually looks up at her and his eyebrows furrow. "Who are you?" he asks, voice scratchy with disuse.

"Eleven," she says, holding out her hand to you.

"Henderson's friend?"

Eleven nods. "Come. Time to leave here. They're waiting for you."

She pulls Eddie to his feet and starts walking forward, focusing her hearing until she can isolate Steve's breathing pattern under the din of the hospital machinery. Her eyes fly open under the bandana, and she rips it off, turning to look at Eddie expectantly. For a moment, there's nothing and then —

Eddie starts choking on the breathing tube, Wayne starts yelling for a doctor, Steve breaks down in fresh tears, and the kids are cheering.

It's hours of examinations later that Steve is finally able to return to his seat at Eddie's side, everyone, Wayne included, giving him a minute alone with Eddie. When he enters, he notices Eddie is holding the vest, tracing his fingers over Steve's haphazard stitching.

Sheepishly, Steve raises a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I did the best I could."

The stitches zigzag across all the places the fabric had been slashed, both by demobat talons and sharp bushes in the Upside Down forest, and Steve's work has it looking like branches of lightning working their way across the vest. Eddie shakes his head and looks up at Steve, eyes wide and shining. "You fixed it."

Steve shrugs and Eddie shakes his head again. "Harrington.... Steve. You... you fixed it. For me."

Steve inches forward in his seat, and reaches out to grab one of Eddie's hands. "I dunno, I kinda think I fucked it up. But I could tell when you threw it at me that this was something that was important to you. I didn't let that place take you away, why would I let it take your things?"

Eddie laughs, head thrown back against his pillows, hand squeezing the absolute life out of Steve's. When he finally settles, he looks at Steve bashfully, head dipped down just enough that he's looking up at him through his eyelashes. "Talk about a declaration of unambiguous true love," he whispers.

Steve doesn't seem surprised or put off by Eddie's assessment; in fact, all he does is beam at him before lifting Eddie's hand to his face, pressing a featherlight kiss to his bruised knuckles.

"Take me out on a date first, Munson. Then we can start throwing words like love around."

As the room fills with the sound of Eddie and Steve's laughter, the rest of the group filters back in, including Lucas pushing a wheelchair-bound Max; Steve looks around at all of them and sighs around a soft smile.

They won.

[dontexpectmuch]

i know how much you guys love this series, so i give you a new part. this one how ever will be;

comments/feedback is highly appreciated! please, im getting desperate :d

Habits Jude Bellingham might develop before you guys get into a relationship!

(a Lost in Madrid drabble!)

it is no secret that jude just loves to talk. he genuinely enjoys it so much to share any and every thought that goes through his mind, no matter how small it might be. he couldn’t tell when it started exactly, but suddenly he found himself on his way to you, a tired student that just wants to finish their work. as soon as he lifts his hand, knocks on your door and enters the room his lips start moving, talking so lively and fast that you need some time to register what is even happening.

“what do you mean ‘m talkin’ your ear off? you literally study literature and shit!” - “it’s more about reading, jude.” you sigh, wishing for any kind of help at this moment.

it is also nothing new for you to receive messages from jude during your quiet evenings when you decide to stay home. jude recently got into sending audio messages, you being his number one victim [forced] friend, whom he shared this new passion with. and most of the times he won’t even say anything important. he’ll just sing a new spanish song he has learned that past week. and he will sing. no matter how terrible it sounds and how much it makes your ears bleed. though, you also always listen to those audios, even though you know what the content will be.

“jude?” opening your door after hearing a desperate knock, you did not think that you would see your [not] friend standing there. he looks tiredly at you, clothes wrinkled and sandals on, “mum wanted me to bring you some cake she baked.” he gives you the tupperware filled with slices of cake, energy low. you feel your shoulders relax as you look up at him, “tell her i love her, please.” he just nods. and even though he always complains to you about how he is not some delivery boy, he can’t help but get excited at the thought of seeing your soft eyes when you receive food his mum made. it makes him feel giddy inside.

he makes you trip purposely whenever you walk in front of him, and then giggles and jogs away to join the others on the field when you send daggers his way with your glare.

he forces you to play two-touch, even though you have told him multiple times already that you cannot play really well. he quite literally forces you to become better, giving you tips while making you pass the ball against the wall back and forth. “i don’t want to do this anymore, jude.” - “well, that’s too damn bad.” his gaze serious as he corrects your form once more. “bitch.” you murmur under your breath, praying for him to just disappear somewhere and leave you alone.

“what?” you ask as you look up from your notes, eyes wide as you watch jude place a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll onto your desk. “i heard that you like sweets, or whatever.” he says, [desperately] wanting to look cool. your heart starts to pick up in speed when you look back and forth between jude and the things he just gave you, warmth spreading through your body. “thanks.”

“watch me.” he smirks at you, who looks quite annoyed tired at him. “i’ll hit this first time.” - “like you did to me on my first day here?” - “dude! i told you not to talk about it anymore, ‘t’s a sensitive topic for me, ‘kay?”

heartfelt conversations between you are not as rare as one might think. whenever jude comes to you to talk your ear off while toi work on your research, you sometimes tell him about your own stuff. that leads to various topics you two discuss, which also results in sharing some intimate thoughts. it makes jude, who usually looks so confident and well put together, look more human, like a 20 year old guy who also learns something new every day.

—————————————

surpriseee! hope you like it!! :)

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Nineteen - Together again

You had sat your mother down when you got home. She called for tea, and you sat down beside her, wondering how you were going to tell her the news. Your poor mother had been stressing out since she revived the letter from your uncle, your father's brother, about taking back his money to support you both while in London.

"Mother, I... Our situation may have come up with the Bridgerton's earlier, and I have recieved a very generous offer from them." You start slowly.

"Are you to wed one of them?" She sits up in her seat, looking at you eagerly. Of course she would assume that.

"Um, no."

She looks rather deflated with your answer. "What is it then?"

"The Viscount has offered to take me under his wing and set me a dowry aside. We don't need to rush to find me a husband. Anthony will look after us. Violet had offered to help find a suitor."

Your mother now looks elated. "Oh, darling, that'd wonderful!" She hugs you.

You smile. You feel like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"Oh, this is wonderful! I must send the Dowergess something in return. My gratitude to that family will be forever endless."

You chuckle at how excited your mother is. You haven't seen her this cheerful in quite some time. It felt good to see her smile again.

"Flowers! I shall send her an abundance of flowers!" Your mother rises from her chair and goes off in search of a maid who she can send down to the flower shop. You roll your eyes with a smile.

Things were looking up again.

A couple of days later, you're at the Bridgerton house. It's as lively as you remember it being last year. Eloise was practising some dancing with Gregory while Violet watched on. Gregory didn't seem to mind dancing with his sister, but Eloise seemed to mind quite a lot. You knew how she felt about this whole thing.

Benedict was sitting on the couch nearby. You were sitting opposite him, watching them the two siblings dance.

"I do not think she is very good," Hyacinth says, coming over to sit with you.

"I believe she can hear you," Benedict says to her in response.

"I can hear you," Eloise confirms.

"Ow! Watch my feet!" Gregory looks up at his sister after she steps on his foot.

"Might we be done?" Eloise asks.

"If you are to catch the queen's eye after that interruption, you must be perfection." Violet states.

"I believe it was the interruption that was perfection," Eloise sighs.

"Shocking that Eloise Bridgerton was not named the season diamond, was it not?" Benedict says casually.

At that exact moment, Anthony comes strolling in. "Was anyone else aware that dear Colin has decided to add Albania or some such place to his itinerary as he gads about the world?"

"How wonderful it must be to travel," you say softly.

"I rather prefer the comfort of the countryside," Benedict comments.

"I do miss the country."

Benedict looks up from his sketchbook, of which he has been working very hard on, to look at you. "Then you need to come to our family estate."

You find yourself looking away shyly. He's still disappointed he didn't see you all summer.

"How lucky for him that he can simply decide to do that," Eloise remarks.

"Joining us for tea, Anthony?" Violet asks.

"Uh, I'm afraid I must pass. Too many calls on my funds today. Now that the season has started, I need to fill your coffers at the modiste and oversee the hiring of extra staff. And your ring. When you get the chance, I need it."

You look at Anthony silently. He was serious.

"The fields by Ferryhallow. I was thinking we might hold off on leasing them due to the hard frost." Anthony continues.

"I beg your pardon?" Violet looks at her eldest son.

"The frost hardens the soil, saps it of nutrients," he explains. "That is very well, but you requested my ring?"

"Father's betrothal ring."

"Did someone catch your eye at the presentation, Brother?" Benedict asks with a grin.

"I thought all the young ladies looked beautiful," Hyacinth chimes in.

"Not particularly. And all the young ladies looked the same. Like young ladies. I'd simply like to be prepared for when the opportunity presents itself," Anthony clarifies.

"The opportunity?" Violet asks.

"I've already compiled an index of the season's eligible misses and arranged interviews."

You look at Anthony in disbelief. He was serious. Those poor ladies.

"Interviews!" Violet chuckles. "Dearest, I shall be more than happy to give you my ring when you find someone with whom you are very much in love. Besides, it is in safekeeping at Aubrey Hall."

"Very well."

Violet slides up to the sofa Benedict is lounging on and looks at him. "See that he is quite well."

"Me?" Benedict asks, looking up at her.

"I'm not in need of coddling," Anthony says from across the room. "I assure you all, everything is in order."

Anthony checks his pocket watch and then takes his leave rather quickly. Everyone watches him go in silence. You turn to look at Benedict once Anthony is gone, and he just sighs, looking back at you.

Anthony Bridgerton was a stubborn fool.

Later that afternoon, while Eloise went to the market with Penelope, an endeavour you were not invited to take part in, you spent the hours with Benedict in his makeshift studio. He called it a studio, but it was merely a room he came in to sketch quietly away from his family.

You liked that about Benedict. The way he finds comfort in his own little bubble. He cared very little for society and all its trails. He was more tranquil.

You watch him sketch away, his attention deep into the pages in the book. Last year, he granted you the privilege to come see his hobby. He shared his work with you, and you complimented it. Even now, you had had no idea just how much you had impacted him and his art.

He rubs gently at the charcoal on the page, smudging it carefully. You watch with great interest as he examines his work. He pulls a slight face. While he decides if he likes it or not, you admire him.

Benedict Bridgerton is handsome, kind, funny, and gentle. He has an eye for detail and a smile to charm any lady who is lucky enough to witness it.

He would have no trouble finding a wife of he wanted to.

The thought makes you look down at the table quietly. It would be so easy for him to find a perfect match. Someone who compliments him and would look after him. You are not so lucky.

Though you hope to catch someone's eye at the ball tomorrow night, you won't hold your breath. You're not a pretty Bridgerton.

"Are you alright?"

You look up and meet his beautiful blue eyes. You swear you've never seen a shade like them before.

"Yes. Sorry. I've just been thinking."

"I can see that," he chuckles.

You smile softly and turn your eyes back to his book so you won't have to look at him again. "Do you ever plan on getting married?"

"Has mother put you up to this?" He teases.

"No, I just... You'd make a good husband."

"Is that what you've been thinking about?" He chuckles. "If I can help it, I'll remain a bachelor."

"I see." You sigh softly. You shouldn't be surprised. You won't mention marriage again to him.

Benedict watches you for a moment and then turns the page in his sketchbook. He sketches away quietly, glancing at you every so often. You don't even notice, too caught up in your thoughts again.

You were so beautiful when you were loat in your mind. No. You were beautiful all the time. Benedict hoped you knew that.

He did the best he could in a short span of time, taking in as many details as possible. You were a vision in his eyes. When he was sat fired with the sketch, he put his book down on the table and slid it over to you, nudging you out of your thoughts.

You look down at the book and see the sketch of you looking back.

"Benedict... you're so talented."

He chuckled softly. "I just want you to see yourself the way I do. I know how important it is to you that you find a husband and look after your mother. You'll find someone."

You look into those beautiful blue eyes and for just a moment with that he would be the one.

You look away. "Thank you."

Benedict also finds himself looking away. Perhaps he had been a little too forward there. However, he doesn't regret telling you what he thought.

You only sit there a few moments more before excusing yourself and heading home. It felt a little strange staying there for any longer.

Benedict sat alone in that room, unable to draw anymore. His mind was preoccupied now.

He wished you had stayed.

When you got home, your mother noticed how quiet you were. She watched you retreat upstairs alone. You wanted to call out to you and check you were alright, but she didn't.

You stayed up in your room for the rest of the afternoon. Only coming down for dinner. Your mother didn't ask why you had become so quiet. You would tell her if you wanted to.

It wasn't until you finished dinner that you spoke up. "Mother?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm going to make you proud. You know that, don't you?"

Your mother smile. "You always make me proud."

You smile back. You knew she meant it. Despite everything you and she had been through with losing your father, losing the country house, your uncle backing out of looking after you, you still had each other and you would make her proud. Every single day.

"I'm going to look after you," you tell her.

"You don't need to worry about me."

"I always do."

You both smile at each silently.

You swore to yourself there, and then that this year, you would do better. This year, you will find your place in the world.

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

[lokideservesahug]

Bound to falling in love

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Mick Schumacher x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Unsurprisingly this won the vote. But I hope you like it :)

Summary: Mick Schumacher has been extremelyprivate with how soulmark his whole life. But what happens when the interest does ehat its best at, snooping. Well Mick Schumacher might just finally meet the celebrity that he doesn't at all have a tiny crush on...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: WE ARE SO BACK BABY!!🖤🖤 Mercedes CCH 2024 Incoming (I'm delusional)

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 756,986 others

View all 533 comments

User1: I knew Y/N was an F1 girlie but I didn't know she was a Mercedes girl🤔

↳Yourusername: Have been for ever🖤

User2: Y/N is like me fr eith that caption

↳User3: Fr though😭 Like wdym 2nd place in sprint doesn't mean Lewis will get his 8th!?

↳Yourusername: Maybe he performed so well just to improve his ex-husband

↳User4: LMAO Poor Nico

Lewishamilton: Glad to see your support lies in the right place💪

↳Yourusername: OH my gosh. Sir Lewis Hamilton. It is an honour to speak to you

↳Lewishamilton: Maybe you should come to the Mercedes garage some time. I think certain people would love your company👀

↳User5: I think he just killed Y/N

↳User6: Wa she talking about himself or someone else. George perhaps? I'M so nosy!!!

↳User7: Well Mick is in the likes so that's where my money is...

↳User8: Sure grandma, the mkst soul ate obsessed obsessed In existence is caught up over Y/N...

↳User7: I mean it is Y/N Y/L/N

↳User8: True...

User9: Mick being in the likes👀

↳User10: Meh even if he does have a thing for Y/N, he'll still stick to his soulmate like he has done for decades.

↳User11: Hear me out, Y/N is his soulmate...

↳User10: Girl actualy shut up

↳User11: Just look at that twitter thread

↳User10: Hmmm interesting. It looks like it could be possible but the chances are 0.001% of it being her. Just because one user recognised it doesn't mean it's her

User12: Is anyone else really confused by all this talk of the twitter thread and that "one reply"

Liked by Yourusername

↳User13: basically people are trying to find out who Mick's soulmate is and currently people think it's Y/N

↳User12: OH... how random

↳User13: Yeah but tell me they wouldn't make the perfect couple...

Liked by Yourusername

↳User14: Y/N liking this comment + its replies twice is wild and shows she's as curious as us...

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Mick's phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Your phone | Mick's | Your phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: This guy wouldn't leave me alone in Italy. He says he's in the family business of driving cars or smt

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 1,023,987 others

View all 674 comments

User1: NO WAY.... DOES THIS MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES

↳User2: Girl probably? Hopefully? Idk?

User3: We don't need confirmation now...but also we so do!!!

User4: Awww they really are perfect for each other!🥺🥰

Liked by Mickschumacher, Yourusername

Lewishamilton: Glad you two finally found the time to go on a proper date rather than letting Mick ogle you all day!

↳Mickschumacher: Thanks for that man...

↳Yourusername: Aww Micky, you stare at me all the time?

↳Mickschumacher: How can I not Schatz, you're the most gorgeous person in the whole world❤❤❤

↳Estabanocon: How sweet 🤢

↳Mickschumacher: Aww just let me be in love this once.

User5: Ugh he's so bf coded

Liked by Yourusername

↳User6: I SEE YOU LURKING Y/N

User7: did you guys see Mick say love? Ooh is this a new word added to the equation or....

Liked by yourusername

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

New story from Mickschumacher

(My darling, my soulmate. Finally all mine to love)

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist:@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

[aerinaga]

ocean eyes pt. 1

paige bueckers x reader series

synopsis: your family tagging you along as chauffeurs with the divisions of the uconn basketball team won’t be that bad right? having to be stuck in disturbing (yet so tempting) tension with a blondie from the wbb team won’t make this 3-day trip go downhill…maybe?

warnings: none

your younger brother, nathan, is part of the uconn basketball team. he’s a sophomore at uconn, and he’s been doing great there. he tags you along during their games, even on their little parties, even with the uconn wbb team.

the women’s division in basketball is way more popular than what you thought. in fact, it’s way more popular than the mens team. you always laugh at the thought that the women’s team get way more girls than they do.

as the year is ending and summer is starting, all coaches in the basketball field have decided to go on a trip. this is gonna be the biggest trip ever, knowing that both men and womens division will be there.

your parents volunteered to chauffeur an extra vehicle. but being the independent you, you decided to take your own car too. you offered to be a chauffeur as well. you got caught up on your nerves since you would be meeting new people, but who knows? you might end up making good friends with the girls.

PRESENT TIME

it was 6am, everyone was gathered at uconn. cars were ready, luggages were everywhere, girls, and guys everywhere. your mind was still foggy, not being used to this early morning.

the coaches and parents were assigning the seating arrangements for the car rides. as you look at the list, paige bueckers is assigned to your car. her. you saw her often, at your brothers games. the both of you never really talked, only hi’s and heys at each other when your family greeted her.

there was always this tension between the both of you. the tension in where your lips might just crash at each other. besides the point, she is beautiful. you do have a thing for girls here and there, but she makes you so gay.

you can feel her piercing gaze at you. you can’t help but look back, her ocean eyes too beautiful to resist. you open your trunk for her to put your luggage in. kk, azzi, and ice were also joining in your car. you knew them well enough, excited for whats coming in the next days.

paige immediately took shotgun, connecting her phone to the aux because she claims that “she has the best music taste.” well what if she tasted good too?

it’s been 2 hours on the road, all 3 girls at the back were fast asleep. paige was awake, looking at the road ahead of her as the sun rises.

“do you wanna switch? i can drive too, we can pull up to the side.” paige talks to you quietly, not wanting to wake up the people at the back.

“no it’s okay, just keep the aux going. you do have good music taste like what people say.” you chuckle lightly, giving her a small smile as you look at her swiftly.

“i mean, it’s me. i have all kinds of music.” she shrugs her shoulders (🤷‍♀️).

you hum at her as an approval, focusing your attention on the road.

a few moments later, you hear her mumble something.

“what did you say? is there something wrong, p?” you don’t know how you got that nickname, instincts you guess.

“hmm nothing, you look pretty even if i can tell you’re tired. not used to waking up early huh?”

you blush at her comment, trying to keep in your smile.

after 4 hours on the road, the teams arrived at the resort. it was a beach resort, the sand was white, water was clear, the breeze just felt like summer. the coaches booked two villas, one for the men and the other for the women.

you don’t know how you ended up in a room with paige. well…at least the bed is a queen sized bed…? fuck.

you were in the room when paige suddenly walks in. you turn to look back at her, and you see her smirking.

“what? i didn’t choose this arrangement” you huff, feeling teased by paige. paige laughs, putting her luggage down to go closer to you.

she walks closer to you, grabbing you by the waist.

“maybe you just can’t resist me, baby.” she whispers.

“or maybe, YOU can’t resist me, p.” you move your face closer to hers.

the space between the both of you is so little, lips so close to touching each other.

before you could do anything, kk barges in the room.

a/n: HALUUU 😙 send me in messages and tell me how you like it! send requests too.

[jenomi]

gala night with jeno

pairing: non-idol!jeno x afab!reader content warnings: FLUFF! :3 & suggestive if you squint

✧･ﾟ: *✧*:･ﾟ✧

"babe are you ready? we're gonna be late" you hear your fiancé jeno call from the kitchen.

"yes yes yes" you trot out of the room quickly carrying your heels.

tonight, you were attending the annual summer gala hosted by your company. it was one of the most talked about events of the year for it's grandeur and auction items. you were feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness, but knowing you'll have jeno by your side brought you comfort.

"okay" you quietly whisper to yourself as you finish putting on your heels and check your hair and makeup in the mirror by the door. you stand up straight and smooth out the material of your dress. "how do i look?" you turn to face jeno.

"beautiful." he says on an exhale.

your heart skips a beat as you step closer to your fiancé and fix his tie. "you look handsome as ever" you whisper laying your hand on his chest as you tilt your head up to give him a kiss and a smile.

he wraps his arm around your waist pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. as you pull back with a smile, jeno follows your lips.

"this is why i didn't put on any lip product yet" you laugh lightly and you swear you hear jeno moan softly. you quickly finish your lip routine in the mirror before receiving a text from your friend who's also attending the gala tonight.

"okay kimmy just texted me saying her and jaemin just left their apartment. we should go too" you say grabbing your clutch and typing a quick reply to your coworker/friend.

jeno grabs his car keys, "mm let's go" he smiles and kisses your cheek before opening the door for you.

he holds your hand down to the car and makes sure you step over any gaps, grates, and puddles in your heels. you smile fondly at him each time, you wonder how you could fall more in love with him, yet it happens more and more everyday.

as you pull up to the hotel that the gala was hosted at, jeno makes sure your door stays locked so valet can't open your door and help you out of the car. he wants to do that himself, and it makes you laugh every time. your silly, jealous fiancé.

the building was beautiful, lights framing the stairs leading up to it and the hotel lights illuminating the clear night sky.

you bump into your friend and her boyfriend as you're waiting for the elevator. you exchange greetings and feel grateful that you and jeno have friends to help keep you company. jeno and jaemin grew close through you and kimmy, even planning hang outs without the two of you. you both laugh and say that they're in love.

you all enter the ballroom fashionably late as the auction begins. you both don't plan on going home with anything, but you do your duty and place bids on things you wouldn't mind having but once the price gets too high, you tap out. nonetheless, you both still try to have fun, whispering silly comments to each other and having to hide your laughs with your panels.

"that vase would look amazing in our boat" jeno whispered. you don't have a boat.

"my mom would love that" you whisper about a clutch completely covered in jewels. she would hate that. "so would mine" jeno responds. his mom would hate it even more.

when the live auction concludes, you and kimmy head to find your supervisors to say your hellos and have your chats while jeno and jaemin take to the silent auction. if jeno sees something he'd think you'd like, he'll place a generous bid on it. in years past, you've come home to him gifting you a beautiful yet simple necklace that he'll shyly reveal that he won at the gala you attended together. your eyes light up when you receive such an unexpected gift, that he tries to continue the tradition and win something he knows you'd love each year to be the reason for the surprised look on your face.

after a few glasses of champagne (but not for jeno, since he's driving) and a healthy amount of mingling, you and jeno start your goodbyes and head home. you're thoroughly tipsy at this point, clinging onto jeno's arm or having jeno's arm secure around your waist. you giggle as you enter the empty elevator to go down to the lobby.

"i love you" you rest your chin on his chest.

his eyes crease as he smiles, "i love you too baby" and leans down to give you a peck on the lips.

as you exit the building, you squeal as your fiancé carries you bridal style down the stairs earning you a few stares and some smiles. jeno didn't care. all he cared about was you - he knew your feet were hurting from being in your heels all night, and he didn't want you hurting yourself any more than you already have.

jeno sets you down on at the bottom of the stairs with a pat on your ass before he hands his ticket to valet to get his car. as you wait, jeno wraps his jacket around your shoulders. you weren't cold, but jeno always worries and doesn't want you to get sick. he walks away for a moment, leaving you confused since valet is already grabbing his car.

you see him approach a younger couple and shyly ask, "hi. sorry, do you mind taking a picture of me and my fiancé?"

they happily agree and you and jeno pose lovingly in front of the illuminated steps. jeno wraps his hand around your waist and you turn your body towards him and place your left hand on his chest. you both smile for the camera but then jeno leans down to give you a kiss on the cheek. you giggle as you turn to look up at him and place your hand on his neck.

you momentarily forget your picture was being taken until the young girl gives the phone back to jeno. he thanks her right as his car pulls up.

of course, jeno opens the door for you before tipping the valet driver discreetly with a handshake. you watch the interaction intently before jeno gets in the car.

"you know its customary to tip valet, right? you don't have to do a secret handshake" you tease.

"yea, but i feel cool doing it" you laugh at his honest response as he leans over the console to buckle your seat belt for you. he pulls back before leaning in to give you a quick kiss again before putting the car in drive.

as jeno drives home, you unlock his phone to look at the pictures you just took. they were beautiful, honestly almost as beautiful as your engagement photos. the lighting was perfect, and you could see the sparkle in both your and jeno's eyes. your engagement ring sparkles on your hand against his chest. and in the photos before he leans down to kiss you on the cheek, you can see jeno looking down at you like you're his whole world and it makes your heart strings pull. and in the last few photos, you're both looking at each other with silly smiles and nothing but love in your eyes. your diamond ring catches the moonlight in the last photo, making it shine brighter than ever just like your love for each other.

you quickly send all the photos to yourself before reaching over and grabbing jeno's hand and giving him a kiss on the cheek. he smiles at you and kisses the back of your hand before focusing back on the road. his hand rests innocently on your thigh, but you both know the main event begins when you get home.

[orbitariums]

warmth | art donaldson + patrick zweig + black fem reader (a snippet)

i miss posting on here real bad and i keep teasing things (christopher moltisanti, richie jerimovich) and not actually writing/releasing them SO i'm putting this snippet of this oneshot i'm writing to encourage myself to actually put this out.

i think this will probably have multiple parts because the tension needs to builddd. and please, let me know y'alls thoughts!!! what do you think, what do you predict is gonna happen, r u thirsting adequately, etc. i love hearing your little comments <333

& let me know if you’d wanna be tagged when this comes out

essentially: reader, patrick and art were childhood best friends who conveniently were all in love with each other, or at least had enough sexual tension to make it feel that way. fast forward almost a decade later, and reader has made it onto the red carpet with her fantastic pen, and patrick and art have gone pro. when she invites them to her house for a star-studded friendsgiving, tensions rise and old doors open, springing forth new possibilities. this is only the beginning.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

warmth

“We should just turn around now, save ourselves the embarrassment.”

Patrick paid Art no mind, rolling down the window and leaning out of it, pressing the buzzer as you had dutifully instructed them in your email invite. 

“Too late now. Already threw away about a gallon of gas just coming up the hill to this place,” he replied, the sense of ease in his voice only egging Art on even more. 

“Exactly why we should leave. I mean, fuck. Does she have to live on a hill?”

“Residence of [last name], to whom am I speaking?” a male voice rings on the other end. 

“Uh…” Patrick starts, Art reaching up over him, 

“Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?”

A silence filled the air. Patrick swatted at Art, forcing him back in his seat. 

“Why’d you say it like a question, dumbass?”

Art stammered, already starting to get red in the face,

“I was --”

The gate swung open and both the boys let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you!” Patrick chimed, smirking at Art, who seemed to be sinking in his seat. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Meanwhile, you were inside the mansion that you call home, flowing around the kitchen like there weren’t about fifty people milling about and mingling amongst one another. It smelled like something out of Hansel and Gretel -- from the fragrant brown roasted turkey sitting in the oven, to the gourmand scent of perfectly caramelized candied yams, to the vanilla musk perfume you dotted on your wrists. A black mini Schnauzer nipped excitedly at your feet as you added half a cherry tomato to the giant bowl of salad you’ve been prepping for the last twenty minutes. You look like a pro, like a party of this magnitude is no big deal to you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“Do we ring the doorbell? Or maybe… should we knock?” Art questioned, hands tied behind his back as he glanced up at Patrick for answers. 

“It’s open,” Patrick retorted, but he too stood stupefied at the door, like a weary traveler wavering in horrific awe before the mouth of some epic beast. 

“On three?” Art suggested, and when he didn’t hear a response, he started to count, “one… two…”

Patrick stepped in before Art could get to three. Art scoffed, but followed behind him anyway. 

The two of them stood there silently, taking the grandiosity of it all in — the sky-high dome ceiling, two grand wooden staircases directly opposite one another, the shiny verdant porcelain flooring, the Basquiat painting hanging above the wide bookcase directly in front of them. Mouths open, they looked like they were ready to catch flies. 

“Fuuuck me,” Patrick breathed out heavily. Art’s head was stuck staring up at the ceiling, so high he thought it’d never end. 

“You made it.”

Both Art and Patrick seemed to stand straight at the sound of your voice, like soldiers at attention. You almost laughed, but instead you stood there coolly, smiling at them both with your lips and your eyes— in them, a look that was almost knowing, wise beyond your years. It seemed like a lifetime before either of them would speak. They spent half that lifetime practically gawking at you, drinking you in. And how could they not, when you were draped in that cream-colored silk dress, the flowy bottom dancing above your ankles. You looked more beautiful than they remembered you, calmer, secure — of course, they hadn’t seen you since they were teenagers. Now there was this air of timelessness about you that was only just poking at the surface when you were in high school. Now it surrounded you. Something mystic encompassed your entire spirit, dripping from your head to your feet. They’d spent years seeing you from behind a screen, being interviewed on live TV, attending red carpets for award shows, blending in with the Hollywood mecca — another beautiful twenty-something industry talent. But the glow of the television that seemed to give everyone a perfectly filtered sheen was nothing compared to your beauty here. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Patrick broke the silence first, practically lurching forward with open arms to embrace you. His beard scratched against your cheek. You could smell the cologne that was beginning to wear off, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke. His arms nearly suffocated you.

When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he smiled at you so fervently. 

“Good to see you too, Patrick…” you glanced over at the mousy boy who didn’t seem to have changed much since high school. “C’mere, Artie.”

Art chuckled: a nervous huff of relief, inching forward into your open arms and nuzzling his chin into your shoulder, closing his arms around your midwaist. You could smell the aftershave that still clung to his face, and the detergent still fresh from his clothes. 

You pulled away, but took one of each of their hands, squeezing. 

“My two boys. Man, how long has it been?”

“Oh, just a while—”

“Seven years,” Art interjected. 

“Who’s counting, right?” Patrick grinned, making all of you laugh. 

You looked at them almost expectantly, eyes wide like a doe, the slightest smile playing at your lips. They looked back with bated breaths. Always, you were in charge, always. It had been like this since the scabby-kneed days of childhood. If you wanted to play on the swings, they were there on either side of you. You were the queen of the sandbox. In middle school, they snuck extra cookies for you from the lunchroom and fought over who got to surprise you with the treat every day. Senior year of high school, in the hotel room in London, when you had them perched on either side of you like baby birds waiting for mother’s return— when you had both your hands on each of their thighs, had them panting like puppy dogs, inching your hands further and further only to leave the minute you heard “lights out.” 

It had been seven years since then and still, it was the same. Only this time, you were stupidly rich, thanks to the soaring success of your two psychological thriller books turned TV series. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten about them, or didn’t care about them now that you were rich and famous. You’d gotten accepted to study creative writing at Brown, Art went to play at Stanford, and Patrick went on his path to go pro. You were delighted to see that they were only a click away thanks to the internet, just one click away from being reintegrated into your life. Your childhood best friends. 

“C’mon, lunch is almost ready.”

Friendsgiving. Who didn’t love the concept? It was a readily welcomed, wholesome idea — friends of all ages and backgrounds coming together to rehash their Thanksgiving with leftovers, stories from the year, and maybe a game of cards. Except your friendsgiving was attended by A-list actresses, Cannes festival attending screenwriters, and the odd Grammy-nominated artist. And your friendsgiving was not at all an intimate affair — it may as well have been a club party. Most people were outside, dancing, shrieking with laughter, drinking, and skipping their way to their seats. Your backyard was vast and verdant green, with a pool in the center, the perimeter lined with lemon and peach trees, and miles to explore. 

“This is fucking insane, is that Dakota Johnson?” Patrick scoffed. He and Patrick had been left to their own devices yet again, while you flitted around being the hostess with the mostest, easing and gliding about. A laugh here, a clink of glasses there, and a coolness to you that stood in striking comparison with the warmth that stirred deep down inside you. A warmth that could be served with a ladle into goblets, like some elixir with magical properties only you possessed. 

“No, you idiot, that’s— oh shit. That might be Dakota Johnson.” 

Clink clink clink. 

“Everybody, hi, hi! Thank you for coming, please, sit down,” you called out, clinking your glass to get the attention of your guests. Patrick and Art scrambled to find seats, ending up at a table with people who might have been minor celebrities or art critiques or designers -- at least one of those options. 

“I wanna thank you all so much for coming, this really means a lot to me. I know these sorts of things can be really hectic, but you guys make this house feel like a home. I’m glad that some of you will be staying with me for the next few days, there’s always room for more,” you glanced over at Art and Patrick. “Some of you are new friends, some of you I’ve known for far too long. But I think it’s incredibly fucking cool that we’re all here together now in this moment, just enjoying each other’s presence. I do this every year, and every year I meet even more amazing, talented, fascinating people and you all are so dear to my heart. And now, what we’re all waiting for… lunch is served!”

A cacophony of cheers rang out as staff rushed about to place plates in front of everyone. You stood giggling, basking in all of it. Patrick and Art couldn't help but watch on with deeply impressed smiles — you were meant to bask: in glory, in pleasure, in everything. You looked just right standing where you were.

The rest of the afternoon Patrick and Art spent attempting to blend in as best they could. They were pro tennis players, but this was another level of stardom that they couldn’t quite fathom yet. They watched you ruthlessly the entire night, unable to squash those rising feelings of attraction and yearning for you that had never quite simmered to begin with. You’d always been cooler than them, but watching you now there was a certain air to you that belonged to a grown woman, someone comfortable and confident and in their element. You were positively swimming in the sunlight the entire afternoon. It was like you had this sort of magnetic pull to all things good, rich, and warm. People wanted to be around you. And god, did this prove that. 

By night time, people were finally starting to leave. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, making the fairy lights glow stronger now. The few people that were staying with you for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend had disappeared to their rooms. Besides the waitstaff still milling about, clearing the tables, it was just you, Patrick, and Art. The two of them hadn’t meant to stay so long, really. It wasn’t like they were forcing themselves to stick around and be acknowledged by you in a way that felt meaningful. Sure, you’d had your small talk and cracked a few inside jokes, but as much as neither wanted to admit it, they needed more. If it was hard to get your attention before, it was nearly impossible now. They were surrounded by so many people who all wanted to network and talk and introduce themselves, they found themselves mingling with your friends, some of them people who they’d seen on screen in the past year,  more than you. They’d been dragged onto the dance floor multiple times by multiple acquaintances, only to gawk at you swaying your hips rather than actually dance themselves. It became overwhelmingly clear, in their increasingly present desperation, that they should’ve accepted your offer to stay in this castle of a house for the weekend. Neither of them had packed a bag. 

“This is awkward, we’re the only ones left,” Art sighed, still sitting at their table. 

“Let’s just… wait, okay? She might come back out."

"And give us a little speech?"

"Yeah, asshole, maybe she will."

At that very moment, you appeared again, this time clad in a two piece linen pajama set. You didn’t miss the way both their eyes trailed up your legs as you stood in front of them, arms crossed, smiling expectantly. 

“I was hoping you two would still be here,” you said. You glanced between the two of them, that awkward silence filling the air once again. “C’mon. Let’s talk.”

You turned and walked back inside, the two of them trailing behind you.

"Your house is fucking sick by the way. I mean holy shit," Art blurted once you got to the main entrance hall.

"Feel like I just walked into a page of Architectural Digest," Patrick added on.

You led them up the stairs. Both their eyes dropped to your ass, which poked out just a bit from under the pair of shorts you wore. Silently watching the way your body curved as you walked.

"Ha, thanks. I think I did pretty okay for myself," you replied.

You led them to the den on the second floor and sat criss cross apple sauce on the lush green couch. Art sat on your left, Patrick on your right. Patrick spread his legs and Art had one foot up on the couch, bouncing against his knee. 

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much. I was so busy being the host of the year that I didn’t pay enough attention to you two. My favorites.”

Art chuckled,

“Favorites? You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! D’you know how much I missed you guys?”

Patrick scoffed playfully,

“All those TV interviews I watched of you? I wouldn’t even be thinking about us.”

You couldn’t help but grin, that warmth coming through once again. It nearly made the two men melt. 

“Well I was. I always think about you guys.”

Now came Patrick’s voice again, a heaviness to it that almost made you jump,

“Do you think about anything specific?”

Although it had been nearly a decade since you’d last seen each other, you didn’t miss a single thing about either of them. Patrick didn’t mince words, and he never shied away from not just hinting at, but blaring his salacious intentions every time he spoke. You tilted your head towards him, a cool smile tugging at your lips. 

“Just what good times we had.”

A silence, accented with a flood of nostalgia and a pointed reference to those “good times” permeated the air. You took a moment to gaze at the two of them ever so softly — enough for them to feel it, but not enough to make them squirm (though, they were easy to make squirm) — before you decimated the silence by slapping your hands down on either of their thighs and squeezing endearingly. 

“So tell me, where’ve you two been? I’m not the only one on TV these days.”

“Ahh, you don’t wanna hear about boring tennis,” Art waved a hand of dismissal. 

You chortled, a trademark of yours that Art and Patrick had always poked fun at in school,

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“You still laugh the same,” Patrick said, grinning like he was trying not to but was unable.

You chuckled, this time low in your throat, and turned your head to face him again. You and Patrick were similar in the sense that you were always pushing the boundaries, tiptoeing closer and closer to the line — but the three of you had never quite established where that was. At some point, you were all just too close to even think about “the line” or “boundaries” — all of you appeared clueless to societal expectations of friendship, spurting a sort of cultlike relationship where everyone else was an outsider. 

“Do I?” smiling at him like you were warning him not to tease. 

“Yeah, that little snort you do,” Patrick replied, unshaken. 

“You do do a little snort,” Art chimed in, always chirping like he spoke from a less nefarious place. 

“And if I get started on you guys’ little tennis grunts?” you grinned fully now, showing teeth, looking between the two of them and leaning back a bit.

They followed, leaning back against the couch and keeping their heads in line with yours so you were never too far away from them, each of them turning their heads to look at you. 

“No way you actually watch us,” Art replied.

“I do!” you insisted. “Seriously, if you’d asked anybody here you would know.”

“Sure, let me just strike up conversation with George Clooney,” Art shot back.

“Ha-ha,” you bleated sarcastically. “I don’t even know him… but I have walked past him once on the carpet.”

“Look at you,” Patrick smirked. “Little Miss Superstar.”

He punctuated his sentence with a hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered over to him and you caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed, felt the way he gazed up at you. You didn’t miss the desire twinkling in his eyes. 

Then Art, always second but not necessarily last, 

“She’s our little superstar, you know that, right?” 

His hand just gently grazing your shoulder.

You let them revel in the moment for as long as you felt appropriate, then huffed.

“You know you guys can stay for the weekend, right? I mean, you should.”

“Oh… no, we wouldn’t wanna impose,” Patrick said, his hand slinking away from your knee.

Another chortle from you, this time the kind that said everything about how you lived in comparison to them,

“You wouldn’t be. This is a five bedroom house. It’s fine. Besides, don’t you guys wanna actually catch up? I’ll let you torture me with tennis talk.”

Art started to stammer,

“I-I mean… we didn’t bring anything.”

“Just our idiot selves,” Patrick added.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get Charles to get you guys all set up.”

“Charles?”

“Oh, he’s my assistant,” you said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. “You’re not fighting me on this. I want to spend some quality time with my boys. Don’t make me have to beg for it.”

“We could never make you beg for anything,” Art replied, just a little too quickly. 

“I know, Art, that’s why I love you,” you grinned over at him. “So, are we all in agreement? Stay with me. Just this weekend.”

“Yes,” they both replied a little too quickly this time. 

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. 

“You know… I really, really missed you guys. And those good times we had.”

You let the memory of that night of almosts in London resurge, let their minds run amuck with whatever teenage fantasy was still left over from that night. A moment so brief it could almost be forgotten, could even be flagged as incidental, accidental, but the three of you knew, even as grown adults (especially as grown adults), that it would always stick and remain unresolved, unless someone ran to the rescue with some sort of solution. Once again they held their breaths. You stood up, glanced between the two of them like you were sizing them up, and then smiled as if nothing had happened at all — you let them breath. 

“Your bedroom’s the second on the right when you leave here. Charles will help you get set up— I’ll see you guys in the morning for breakfast.”

And just like that, you were gone. The air in the room seemed to clear. Your presence was like a thousand tons of pressure weighing on their bodies and their minds. Finally, they could breathe.

They glanced at each other with the same longing, almost nervous expression — high school all over again.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

eek let me know what y'all thought. i wanna finish it by this week <3

[mrsmothermaximoff]

Missed me?

part 1 | part 2

Pairing: Stepmommy Wanda x f!reader

Tags: Stepmom x stepdaughter, fluff, daddy issues, kissing, drinking, mentions of upcoming smut

Summary: Y/N's back from college and finds out her stepmother may have missed her just as much as she did

Dinner ended after a painfully long 2 hours and you helped Wanda finish up the dishes while you two caught up. "So, did you meet anyone special over there?" The words tasted bitter in her mouth. "No, not really. Just a bunch of people who wasted my time." Wanda paused briefly after putting a plate in this sink, "Who wasted your time?" The question felt more than casual, like she demanded an answer. "Just people I thought respected me, turns out they all thought I was a joke." She frowned at you, "I don't think you're a joke, my Y/N." That nickname always left your face burning. "Thank you Wanda, I missed you." She pulled you in for an unexpected hug, one that was so rudely interrupted by your father coming to grab his 9th glass of wine.

After the dishes were done your father left upstairs to do who-knows what, and you went to your room to watch a movie with Wanda. The two of you had established a tradition of late-night movie watching about a year ago. Every Thursday Wanda comes to lay with you on your bed and you watch some cheesy laughable movie while you try to hide your giggles from your father. It was always completely innocent, until today that is.

The movie started and you both had already started your fits of laughter before you even grabbed the popcorn. Wanda was always very hospitable, so she loved setting up a series of snacks for the two of you. The movies you always watched were full of cheesy jokes and dumb humor, but this time Wanda wanted to watch something a little but more serious, a romance.

The main characters had already kissed 9 different people only 10 minutes into the movie. "I don't understand how people do it." You commented, upset by the actions of the character. "Do what?" Wanda replied. "Make-out with a bunch of random people all the time just for fun. I don't understand it. Why can't people just love one person forever? And only that person?" She began rubbing your arm softly at that last part. Your breath got caught in your throat at the sudden action. "Mhm" She agreed quietly. "M-maybe they're just lonely." You said trying to regain your thoughts. She stopped at your words, "Do you kiss a lot of people when you're lonely?" Her voice sounded softer, sadder, something you almost never hear from her. "No, but I might try it." You joked with a sad laugh, "I felt so lonely at school, for so long, I don't want to feel lonely anymore." She got quiet, when you looked up at her she was looking at you, focused. Her left hand gently caressed your head, while her right rubbed circles on your stomach. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. She did it again, and again, you anxiously waited for what she was trying to say. What could she have to say that would take this much effort? "Let me be the one you love forever, my Y/N," She whispered so boldly. "the one you always kiss, the one who kills your lonely, the one who makes you feel special every time you think you aren't." She paused, "I love you."

Your eyes filled with tears, and she pulled you into her to steal them with her lips. She softly kissed every tear that fell while she silently hoped you felt comforted by it. When they stopped falling she pulled away. "Wanda, I-" Her expression grew disappointed and saddened. "It's okay Y/N, I understand this is an interesting situation, you don't have to-" You practically threw yourself onto her smashing your lips together again. You heard her sniffle and you quickly pulled away. "Wanda?" She smiled and sniffled back more cries, "You're everything to me Y/N, I've loved you for so long and now you're finally mine." You smiled smugly back at her, "Well, there's still one thing you haven't claimed yet." She looked at you confused, "What?" You signaled for her to get closer, "my virginity."

[multiversefanfics]

Girl Of My Dreams (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warning: maybe some cussing? angst, then fluff again Summary: Summary: You work at a small diner down the street from the compound which Bucky visits often, so often that you remembered his order, but things got a little shaken up when Sharon puts her unwanted opinions in it.

You haven’t talked to Bucky in months, every time he comes into the diner you serve him and that’s it. He tries to talk to you, but you tell him you’re busy even if he’s the only one in the diner. It’s not his fault that Sharon said what she said, he can’t control what comes out of other peoples’ mouths, but the whole “75 girlfriends” comment really got to you, he was a very attractive man, so does he actually go out and pick up girls all the time? Is he a player? A lot is going on and you have enough to worry about. Bucky on the other hand, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’s never felt like this about anyone before, he doesn’t want to lose you, but he knows giving you space may be the right thing to do he doesn’t listen to himself, he keeps trying although you two didn’t know each other for that long Bucky knew that you were the one for him. When he first showed you his arm you were intrigued, you asked many questions about it, and he had no problem answering them.

Bucky has never experienced that type of reaction when he told people about his arm, you didn’t make him feel like a robot or that he didn’t belong you made him happy and Steve and Sam saw that, but of course, Sharon had to go and fuck that up. Bucky stays in his room and only leaves to get food and go to the gym and every time Sharon comes around, he leaves even if he’s in the middle of a conversation and everyone understands they even warn him when she’s about to arrive, so he’s not caught off guard, which Bucky rarely is. There was a soft knock at Bucky’s door “Hey, Buck we were gonna go get some food do you want to come?” No answer, Sam and Steve shared a look and continued on their way, Bucky knew where they were going and after the last time, he was at the diner it was probably best he didn’t go with them.

A short time has passed, and Steve and Sam are at the diner and of course, they are in your section, you walk over and exchange greetings, you’re at work you have to pretend you’re happy. “Y/N please talk to Bucky; he doesn’t leave his room and he feels bad about what Sharon said.” You sighed slightly and rolled your eyes a bit “Why doesn’t he contact his 74 other girlfriends” Sam chuckled and looked you dead in your face “There are no 74 other girlfriends, Bucky isn’t the type to do that, hell I’m surprised at how good he was with you. Bucky is a loner, he’s over 100 years old with no practice when it comes to women, trust us.” Sam’s eyes went from super serious to pleading “Why should I trust you guys, you’re his best friends you could be covering for him.” You crossed your arms over your chest and stared "You don't have to but think about it. Would we really be okay with that type of behavior?" You shrugged your shoulders "I don't know what men think, but I'll think about it. I have to get back to work can you guys stay a bit and give me a ride?" They both nodded and you went to continue your shift, you had plans to talk to Bucky about what was said you just didn't know what you were going to say, and you didn't know what he was going to say.

Finally, your shift was over, and you met up with the guys. "Okay, I'm ready to talk to him." The three of you walked over to Sam's car, Steve opened the front passenger door for you and shut it after you were comfortably in the car, he got in the back and Sam drove to the compound. A short drive later you're outside the compound you take a deep breath and follow them inside, Steve showed you to Bucky's door, and you take another deep breath and knock on the door. "Go away, Steve!" You could hear his voice cracked from the other side of the door which made your heart break in half "It's not, Steve." You heard rapid movement and the door opened to reveal a very tired and sad Bucky. Your heart is now shattered. You did this to him, you hurt him. Well, Sharon did but you felt somewhat to blame. "Hi, Bucky." He blinked a few times and just stared "Y/N..." You rubbed your arm "Can we talk?" He nodded and moved to the side so you can walk in.

His room was dark and a mess. You didn't know Bucky that well, but you knew he wasn't a messy person at all. You sat on the edge of his bed and watched him walk over and sit next to you "Listen Bucky, I am very sorry for ignoring you, that comment really messed me up I like you a lot and I know I shouldn't have let her get in my head but that was the first time we hung out and to hear that I didn't know who to believe, I've been hurt before." You fiddled with your fingers while you tried to figure out what to say next, he saw your hands and gently took them into his. "I have never felt like this in my life, you bring out the best in me even if we only hung out once, the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one for me, and you confirmed it when I showed you my arm most people look at me and treat me differently, you don't and I appreciate that so much I cannot lose you."

You looked over at Bucky and smiled softly "You're not going to lose me, I'm here." He brought your hands up and kissed both of them "By the way I don't have 74 other girlfriends, I'm really hoping to have 1 that is if you want to." You smiled again and nodded "Of course I would love to." He pulled you into a hug sighing with relief "You already make me so happy" You pulled back softly pecking his nose "Now, why don't we clean up this room and go downstairs and I make us some food" He smiled and nodded his head. You walked over to the windows opening the curtains to finally let some light in the room. After cleaning Bucky's room for about an hour, you both go downstairs and into the kitchen. “Alright, what do you want to eat?” Bucky sat at the island and watched you look around the kitchen “What can you make?” You leaned against the counter and started naming things you could make “Ooh chicken alfredo sounds good” You smiled and started getting all the ingredients out, you looked back at Bucky who was just admiring you “Wanna help?” He nodded excitedly and stood up to come help “Okay, so what do you need me to do?” You looked around for the easiest task you reached over and handed him a pot "Fill this up with some water, maybe about halfway maybe a little more." Bucky can't mess up filling a pot with water, can he? "Is this good enough?" You nodded and instructed him to put it on the stove.

While you were cutting up the chicken you figured the water would be boiling but nope, he never turned the stove on, you giggled to yourself and turned the stove on when he wasn't paying attention. The two of you laughed and cooked. Finally, you were done and ready to eat, you both sat down, and Bucky looked down at his plate in amazement "This looks amazing" The two of you sat there in silence, enjoying the wonderful meal that you two prepared together, when in walks Sharon. You look up in disgust as she walks into the kitchen "Hey, one of Bucky's girlfriends is here, do the others know not to come by?" You could feel your blood boiling again and just as you were about to speak, Bucky spoke up instead "What the fuck is your problem?" Sharon looked at Bucky shocked by what he said but she stood firm "I just want her to know how much of a player you are." You rolled your eyes and continued eating, it seemed like Bucky had this handled, so you sat back and watched. "Y/N is my one and only girlfriend, and it's about time you respect her and me and everyone else in this compound." At this point, Bucky is now standing and staring straight into Sharon's eyes.

Sharon takes a step closer to the island. "Do you really want to go there with me Bucky?" Bucky walked around the island and stood firmly in front of Sharon, now it was time for you to step in you walked up behind Bucky and gently grabbed his right arm "It's not worth it, baby." You felt Bucky's arm relax and he slowly turned his head to look at you "You're right, Doll. Let's go continue our dinner in the living room." Bucky picks up your plates and walks into the living room, he sets them down on the coffee table and stands there with his hands on his hips. "Actually, you know what I have one more thing to say then I'm done." He turned around to face Sharon and took a deep breath "Ever since Steve stopped fucking you, you've been the biggest bitch imaginable, but one thing you are absolutely not going to do is, disrespect Y/N. You don't even know her and honestly, I would love to keep it that way so pack your shit and get out." Both you and Sharon stood there shocked. You never expected Bucky to say anything like that, that was the moment you realized you found the one for you.

Main Masterlist - Bucky Barnes Masterlist - Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys like it; I tried my best to make it good for you guys. feedback is definitely appreciated along with constructed criticism, please the more the better. Tell me how I can make it better for you guys to read. :)

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scorpiosaintt @buckysdoll85 @grdh90 @thedonswife13 @scott-loki-barnes @b3llair3

[myguumi]

sweet disaster!

synopsis; you attempt to bake for your boyfriend, but it doesnt exactly go as planned..

notes - gn!reader x satoru gojo :) "hun" used as a pet name once. i am genuinely SO ANXIOUS to post this. if u like it pls reblog or comment or whatever.. if u dont like it just come to my house and shoot me tbh

you had always known your boyfriend liked sweet things. the first time you had met satoru, he was munching on some sort of candy. his friends, students, everyone knew. so.. you wanted to try and be a good partner; attempting to bake something for him.

lord now knows you're terrible at baking, and you won't try again.

because it's your fourth try at baking cookies for him, and so far you've failed by forgetting the flour, not placing them further away on the pan causing them to stick together, burning them- you've done everything you could to fuck up these cookies.

you could just watch a tutorial. easy enough, right? well you've watched the same video over and over again, having the urge to punch your phone at the random males voice instructing you for what feels like the tenth time. you could call megumi? he could help. maybe.

a click at the door makes you freeze at the garbage can, having just thrown out your fourth- fifth batch of cookies? you've lost count. you hurriedly shut the garbage, trying to clean up the kitchen and yourself the most you can in only a few seconds, which isn't a lot, but why not try?

satoru shuffles in, looking around a bit for you, hearing you moving around and clinking stuff in the kitchen. "..hun, what're you doing?" he asks, walking over to the kitchen and staring you down as you stand next to the garbage, a complete mess, probably. you haven't had time to look at yourself, just an assumption from the way he's staring down at you and obviously trying not to laugh.

"..nothing at all!" you say, looking over at your boyfriend with a bubbly smile on your face to attempt to distract him from whatever you just threw out, and the burning smell coursing around the house. "you sure?" he questions, tilting his head a bit to the side. you nod, looking into his eyes- well, blindfold- with that same smile on your face. satoru giggles a bit at you, walking over to you.

"two questions. one, why does it smell like a house fire in here? and two, why are you trying so desperately to hide the trash?" he asks, looking down at you. you look up at him. "tried to bake for you, obviously didn't go as planned," you sigh. "stupid dude who's tutorial i was watching didn't make any sense." satoru lets out a small laugh, smiling down at you with that cheeky grin of his.

"you don't gotta bake me anything, you're enough yourself. plus, i don't want you burning down the house.." he mumbles, making you softly punch his arm. "in all seriousness tho, you could've called megumi. he's a pretty good baker, somewhat good of a cook. if you wanna learn how to bake, give him a call."

you nod, still smiling up at him. he leans down and gives you a small peck on the lips, leaning back up to stare back down at you. "please don't try baking again without someone else. it smelled like there was a fire, i thought you burned the house down. smelled like it, at least." satoru says, still looking down at you. you pout up at him, flicking his forehead.

made by myguumi; please dont alter my work or try and post as your own. reblogs are appreciated, but claiming as your own is not.

@venzlenes

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

chaggie cannon affections are driving me FERAL i SWEAR

both of the on-screen chaggie kisses (or one, if you don't count Charlie smooching her gf's scarred eye, u monster) have been done in PRIVATE and i love that

that thing when a couple has a separation between Them In Public and Them Alone Together. Not in a "PDA bad" way-

(because they show affection in other small touches, in soppy smiles thrown at each other, in Charlie picking up Vaggie for a twirl hug and Vaggie's pet names for her of "sweetie" and "babe", all tossed out casually for anyone to see)

-but in a way reminds you, hey, they were together for YEARS before the show started.

Couples starting out often only have time together in public or semi-public places, dates and getting to know you meet ups. Maybe later they spend time at each other's places. Maybe they move in together and start figuring that out!

Chaggie is waaaaaaay beyond that. They share a room, share a BED, no comment on that at all, it's NORMAL for them. They've got time and space for just themselves where no one else can see

and the few times WE see them in those moments, there is the affection. Vaggie comforting Charlie in the first episode. Charlie's kiss to Vaggie's eye patch in the middle of packing for heaven. Their 'proper' kiss not in their room sure but alone TOGTHER in a hallway, away from everyone else for a moment

they're the framing device for a story that's about their hotel, not them, so we don't follow them around in off duty hours. We are seeing them AT WORK even if the hotel's guests start turning into their friends- this isn't casual at home chaggie, this is their Lets Make Our Dream Come True timeslot, and having them lean on each other physically and emotionally during it is always sweet to see, but also....

....it just reminds me SO MUCH of the couples i see irl. The ones who're clearly thinking about each other so much and having fun doing stuff together, but also know they'll have time later for kisses and snuggles.

(away from ppl who roll eyes or make faces or crack a joke, whistle playfully or groan in annoyance)

like. rewatching them meet up at the hotel gate in ep 7.

How Vaggie just lunges into that hug, Charlie ready to catch her, that way Charlie leans in close while holding her, the smile with Something in it and eyes heavy lidded- saying "C'mon, let's go home~" after complimenting her girlfriend's new wings, her face almost touching Vaggie's-

THEY! ARE HOLDING BACK SO HARD! Hearing them both sigh into their later kiss- When they're alone, stuff goes on we don't see, we don't see it because it's not PUBLIC and they are hardly ever shown really in PRIVATE

and it makes me giggle and wiggle. thinking about that

if this is chaggie holding back... then...

^////^!!!

[luv-sims]

our epic love!

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

your epic love story with the infamous jake sim, your academic rival turned luv of ur life <3

jake sim x fem reader

warnings | kissing, angst (barely, like not even.)

2.2k

my second post!! I love this trope and I love jake :( pls cut me some slack btw I got lazy near the end 😭😭

The first time you met the infamous Jake, it was your first day at the prestigious Seoul Academy. Your parents had moved back to South Korea for work, and you found yourself thrown into a world of intense academic pressure and relentless competition. From the moment you stepped into the classroom, it was clear that Jake Sim was the golden boy.

He was sitting at the front of the room, surrounded by a group of friends, laughing at something you couldn't hear. He had an easy charm, a confident aura that made you feel small and insignificant. As you introduced yourself to the class, you could feel his eyes on you, assessing, judging.

"Another transfer student," he murmured to the boy next to him, loud enough for you to hear. "We'll see how long this one lasts." As his best friend Sunghoon chuckled,

The comment stung, but you refused to let it show. You had something to prove, not just to Jake, but to yourself. You had always been a top student back home, and you weren't about to let some arrogant dickhead boy in need of some ass-kicking get in your way.

From that day on, you and Jake were locked in a fierce competition. Every test, every assignment, every debate became a battleground. Jake was brilliant, there was no denying that, but so were you. Your grades were always neck and neck, the top spot constantly shifting between the two of you.

The tension between you was thick. You would exchange sharp words in the hallways, challenge each other in class, and glare at each other during school events. It was exhausting, but it also pushed you to be better, to work harder, and that’s all you needed.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the library, buried under a mountain of books. Finals were approaching, and you were determined to outscore Jake, even at the cost of your well being. You were so focused that you didn't notice him sitting a few tables away, watching you with an unreadable expression biting his lip.

"You're going to burn out if you keep this up," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You looked up, startled. "I don't need your advice, Sim."

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Suit yourself. Just don't come crying to me when you crash and burn, while I get 100%."

You glared at him, anger bubbling up inside you. "I won't. And for your information, I don't plan on crashing and burning. I'm going to beat you Sim." Slightly pouting.

Jake's eyes flashed with something that looked almost like admiration. "We'll see about that." He says softly.

The competition continued, but something was changing. You started to notice things about Jake that you hadn't before. The way his brow furrowed in concentration when he was working on a difficult problem, the way he bit his lip when he was nervous, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about.

You told yourself it didn't matter. Jake was still your rival, and you couldn't afford to be distracted. But it was getting harder to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when he was around, the way you found yourself thinking about him when you were supposed to be studying.

One evening, you stayed late at school to finish a project. The building was quiet, almost eerie, and you were starting to feel a little uneasy. Just as you were about to pack up and leave, the door opened, and Jake walked in.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I forgot some notes."

You nodded, turning back to your work. You could feel his eyes on you, and it was making it hard to concentrate.

"Do you ever take a break?" he asked after a moment.

"Do you?" you shot back, not looking up.

Jake sighed, walking over to your table. "Look, Y/N, I know we don't get along, but this is getting ridiculous. We're going to make ourselves sick if we keep this up."

You finally looked at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. "Why do you care?"

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. "Because... I don't know. Maybe I don't want to see you hurt yourself."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability in Jake, and it made your heart ache. But it also made you scared.

“Don’t act like you care, Sim.” You say with a shaken voice before tearing your gaze away from him.

Despite your resolve to keep your distance, you found yourself working with Jake more often against your will even after that vulnerable moment. It started with a group project that neither of you could avoid, but it quickly became something more. You began to see that Jake wasn't just a rival, he was a person with his own struggles, fears, and dreams.

One evening, as you were working on your project in the library, you found yourself opening up to him about your fears and insecurities. Jake listened, his usual cocky attitude gone, replaced by a quiet understanding.

"I know what it's like to feel like you have to be perfect all the time," he said softly. "My parents expect nothing less from me. It's exhausting."

You looked at him, surprised by his honesty. "I didn't know. You always seem so... confident."

Jake laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "It's all an act. I'm just as scared as you are."

In that moment, something shifted between you. The rivalry was still there, but it was tempered by a newfound understanding and respect. You began to see Jake not as an enemy, but as someone who was just as driven and passionate as you were.

As the weeks passed, you and Jake grew closer. The late-night study sessions became a regular occurrence, and you found yourself looking forward to them. You would talk about everything and nothing, your conversations flowing easily.

But beneath the surface, there were feelings that neither of you were ready to acknowledge. You would catch Jake looking at you with a softness in his eyes that made your heart race, and you knew that your own feelings were growing stronger.

One evening, as you were walking home together after another late-night study session, Jake stopped suddenly, turning to face you.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you," he said, his voice tense with emotion.

Your heart pounded in your chest. "What is it, Sim?"

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. "I... I think I'm falling for you."

The words hung in the air between you, charged with emotion. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Jake leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, tentative kiss.

Your hands lingered onto his soft hair, slightly deepening the kiss before he groaned in your mouth pulling you closer by your neck.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. All the anger, the rivalry, the tension melted away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable connection you shared.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your hearts racing.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," Jake admitted, his eyes filled with vulnerability.

You smiled with a gentle look in your eyes, your own feelings finally breaking free. "Me too, Jake. Me too.”

After that night, things between you and Jake changed. The rivalry was still there, but it was tempered by the growing affection you felt for each other. You found yourselves stealing moments between classes, sharing secret smiles and whispered conversations, and definitely not heated make out sessions in the corner of the library.

But as much as you wanted to shout your feelings from the rooftops, there was a part of you that was still scared. You had built your identity around being the best, and you didn't know how to let go of that.

One afternoon, as you were walking to class, you saw Jake talking to a girl from his study group. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his arm. Jealousy surged through you, and you turned away, your heart aching.

You guys kiss and the next second he’s flirting with some random girl in your year?

Later that evening, as you were working in the library, Jake found you, his expression concerned.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting down across from you.

You shook your head, trying to hide your emotions. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Jake reached out, taking your hand in his. "Please, talk to me. I can tell something's bothering you, plus you haven’t even spoken to me all day.. I miss you” he says with a pout.

You looked into his eyes, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I saw you with that girl today. I know it's silly, but I couldn't help feeling jealous. And, I don’t know. I guess I feel a bit used…?”

Jake's eyes softened, and he squeezed your hand gently. "Y/N, you have nothing to worry about. She's just a friend. You're the one I care about. I’d never use you, don’t even think that baby.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked away, ashamed of your insecurities. "I just... I don't want to lose you."

Jake stood up, pulling you into his arms. "You're not going to lose me, Y/N. I promise." As you cry into his embrace.

As the final exams approached, the pressure became almost unbearable. You and Jake were both pushing yourselves to the limit, and the stress was taking its toll on your relationship, and it was definitely not for the best.

You found yourselves snapping at each other over little things, the tension building until it was almost too much to bear.

One evening, after a particularly heated argument, you found yourself alone in the library, tears streaming down your face. You felt like you were falling apart, and you didn't know how to fix it, like everything around you was drifting away.

Just as you were about to give up, Jake walked in, his expression filled with regret.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," he said, sitting down next to you. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm just so stressed, and I took it out on you.”

You looked at him, your heart aching. "I'm sorry too. I know you're under a lot of pressure, and I should have been more understanding." You say sniffling.

Jake reached out, taking your hand in his. "We both are. But we need to remember that we're in this together. We're stronger together, I love you remember?”

You nodded, wiping away your tears. "You're right. We can't let the pressure tear us apart, and you know I love you too..”

You say leaving a soft kiss on his lips, as he grins and kisses you gently again.

Jake pulled you into a hug, his arms tight around you. "We'll get through this, Y/N. Together."

The day of the final exams arrived, and the atmosphere at Seoul Academy was electric with tension. You and Jake walked into the exam hall together, your hands brushing lightly as you took your seats. You exchanged a look, a silent promise to give it your all, and no matter the outcome you would both be there for each other.

The exam was grueling, each question more challenging than the last. But you could feel Jake's presence beside you, a steadying force that gave you the strength to keep going. As you scribbled down your answers, you thought back to all the late-night study sessions, the whispered confessions, the stolen kisses. You knew that no matter what the outcome, you and Jake would face it together.

When the exam finally ended, the relief was overwhelming. You and Jake met outside the hall, the tension in the air dissolving as you fell into each other's arms.

"It's over," Jake said, his voice filled with disbelief.

You nodded, your heart pounding. "We did it."

Jake smiled, his eyes shining with pride. "No matter what happens, I'm proud of you, Y/N. We've come so far."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. "I'm proud of us."

The day the results were posted, the school was buzzing with anticipation. You and Jake walked to the bulletin board together, your hands tightly clasped. As you approached, you could see a crowd of students gathered around, their expressions a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed through the crowd, scanning the list for your names. When you found them, your heart skipped a beat.

"Y/N... we're tied," Jake said, his voice filled with awe.

You looked at him, a smile breaking across your face. "We're both at the top."

Jake laughed, pulling you into his comforting embrace. "We did it! We really did it!"

As the crowd cheered around you, you felt a sense of triumph and relief. All the hard work, the late nights, the moments of doubt and fear—it had all led to this moment. And you had done it together.

With the final exams behind you and the results in hand, you and Jake began to look toward the future. You both had your sights set on prestigious universities, your dreams finally within reach.

One evening, as you sat together in the school's garden, Jake turned to you, his expression serious. "Y/N, I've been thinking a lot about what comes next. I want us to stay together, no matter where we end up."

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. "Me too, Jake. We've come this far together, and I can't imagine my future without you."

Jake took your hand, his eyes filled with determination. "We'll make it work. We can apply to the same schools, support each other through whatever challenges come our way."

You nodded, feeling a sense of certainty and hope. "We've already proven that we can overcome anything, as long as we're together."

Jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "I love you, Y/N. And I always will."

Tears filled your eyes as you kissed him back, your heart bursting with emotion. "I love you too, Jake. Forever."

As you held each other, the sun setting behind you, you knew that your journey was just beginning. There would be challenges ahead, but you had each other. And that was all you needed.

epilogue

Years later, as you stood on the stage of your graduation ceremony, you looked out into the crowd and found Jake's eyes. He was standing with his classmates, a proud smile on his face. You had both been accepted to the same university, and your bond had only grown stronger with each passing day over the years.

As you walked across the stage to receive your diploma, you felt a sense of accomplishment and gratitude. You had achieved so much, and you had done it with the person you loved by your side, Jake Sim, the love of your life.

After the ceremony, you and Jake found each other in the crowd, your arms wrapping around each other in a tight embrace.

"We did it," Jake said, his voice filled with emotion. "We made it."

You smiled, tears of joy streaming down your face. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Jake cupped your face in his hands, his eyes shining with love. "And I couldn't have done it without you. We're a team, Y/N. Always."

“Always” you whispered staring at your engagement ring before wrapping your arms around Jake’s neck kissing him, as he wrapped his comforting arms around your waist.

As you kissed, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the love you shared. You knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand.

And that was all you needed.

@luv-sims

[live-laugh-lenney]

ok ok hear me out: george makes a new friend thru social media connections and he is really nervous to ask her out but after his friends give him some convincing…he finally does (very nervously)

i love your fics btw babes

"just ask her, you cretin."

george rolled his eyes at arthur hill's commonly used insult for him in regards to his stupidity and stared back down at his phone held in his hand, eyes focused on the small text bubble that said 'hello', a text so vague yet made his heart pump rapidly in his chest.

yn was someone he met through tiktok during the 'beep' saga in the 2020 covid-19 lockdown.

she had her own account, her own tiny following, her own format and short-form content that would usually appear on his 'for you' page, and she attended the same content creator events as him - he just never plucked up the courage to go and speak to her, to introduce himself formally... but, then again, neither did she.

she found herself admiring his sense of humour and the content he was gracing people with through lockdown and she wasn't shy when it came to showing her enjoyment online. always looking for updates on his page, commenting her ideas, expressing how it was the one thing she had to look forward to during her boring days out of work. and it was during that time that he reciprocated; liking her videos, commenting and showing his own enjoyment towards her content.

"what if she completely airs me?"

"why would she?" chris wonders, feet kicked up on the sofa as he had the football highlights from the weekend playing on the television, "i mean, she's been keeping you entertained for years, george. and not just by her tiktok account. she actually keeps talking to you like she's interested in what you have to tell her."

george could heart he sarcasm dripping from his roommates voice and he couldn't stop himself from throwing a middle finger up in his direction.

"i'm just saying," chris holds his hands up in surrender, "joking or not, she wouldn't be messaging you constantly if she didn't like you in any way."

"i don't want her to like me in any way," george groans heavily, rolling his head back and arthur can't help but laugh at the dilemma his best friend was, "i want her to like me like me."

"this is such a bunch of teenage girl bullshit, george," chris cackles and looks in his direction; the way his phone was on the breakfast bar, between his hands as he leant against the top, "grow a pair of bollocks and just ask her out. what's the worst that could happen? she says no."

"you'll never know if you don't ask her," arthur says and george brings his attention from the ceiling and to the eyes of his two roommates, "seriously, you are so in love. it's sickening."

silence fell in their flat.

the two boys stared at george as he contemplated his decisions. the way his eyes stared at his phone, like he was trying to come up with a good way to carry on with the conversation she had been willing to start, anticipating what his movement was going to be.

"you're currently airing her."

"yes, thank you, christopher," george retorts and picks his phone up from the kitchen island, his thumbs working on a response back to her, "you guys suck at the whole 'wingman' thing, by the way. you're supposed to be nice, make me feel less nervous-"

"just ask her out, idiot. wingmen or not, we just want this to be over."

"the pining needs to stop now. george, just ask her or else someone else will come along," arthur insists, walking passed him and giving his shoulder a soft squeeze, "although, what she sees in your massive head is completely beyond me."

"what one?" george asks with a smirk on his lips and chris lets out a cackle, which bellows around the flat, leaving arthur bewildered in his response, "what?"

george disappears into his room, closing the door behind him, laying on his bed and he could feel his heart beginning to race again. what he wanted was to call her his girlfriend, but to take her out on a date was something he was nervous to do, wanting to surprise her and for it to be the best date she's ever been on. years of friendship and it could be ruined within seconds...

How are you? Are you okay?

I'm good, yeah. Sorry, you caught me in a bad time.

Oh, I'm sorry. Everything sorted now?

Sorted.

What are you doing Thursday night?

I tweeted about doing a live-stream on Tiktok that night, why?

My local down the road does a karaoke night on Thursdays and I was wondering if you fancied it?

Oh, that sounds brilliant.

With Chris and the two Arthur's, too? That sounds like a great night, count me in!

Just me.

And you.

I was thinking more of a date kind of thing.

Oh.

I'm so sorry, George.

his mind was racing.

sorry for what?

for assuming she was invited out with him and his friends? or for not being as interested in a date with him as he was to date her? he could feel his bottom lip going numb as he chewed on the flesh nervously and he could feel the deep pit in his stomach feel empty.

I'd love to.

[thecapricunt1616]

Coriander (c.b. one-shot)

♡ Chapter Inspo: Love, health, immortality, and protection. Tie fresh coriander with a ribbon and hang in the home to bring peace & protection. Add to love charms and spells to bring romance or use in ritual work to ease the pain of a broken love affair. Promotes peace among those who are unable to get along. Use the seeds in love sachets and spells. ♡ Summary: You are in a FWB situation with Richie, Mikey dies - Carmy comes home to run The Beef, and suddenly...you find yourself in a FWB situation with Carmy as well, what happens when Carmy makes you two official in secret so he can have you all to himself? ♡ W/C: 5.3K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/29/2024 ♡ A/N: Hellooooo! Happy day 4/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡Here♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from a sweet anon, ask can be found right ♡Here♡ - Thank you so much for your request! As you can tell by the word count I got very inspired! I hope you enjoy :D This could easily have a part 2 so if you want one, just let me know in the comments This is kind of a Richie/Carmy thing i've never written Richie before and I had a whole lot of fun doing so! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, FWB Relationships, Smoking, Usual TB trigger warnings, Asshole!Carmy (kinda), Angst, No real comfort to be found in the end, Age gap relationships, Rough sex, smutsmutsmut, No uses of Y/N, Reader not described (pics are for vibes only)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had been working at The Bear since it was The Beef. 3 months before Mikey died, you were hired as a food runner. You’d met Mike maybe twice? Both times, the guy was high out of his mind- so you couldn’t say much about his character. 

Richie on the other hand, was flirty. He was handsome, he was funny, he had a huge cock. You were in your third year of college, Richie was smitten with your girlish charm, and you’d fucked those 3 months pretty consistently - until Carmy came back to Chicago. 

You’d been warned his ‘cousin’ was a big shot NYC chef, ‘Michelin Starred’ Richie said one night while fucking your brains out after a stressful shift as he smoked a cigarette in his shitty, dimly lit apartment. Puffs of smoke left his lips as your ass bounced against his hips and he rambled on about what had pissed him off today, 

“Ye’ sweetheart- fuck-“ he took a long inhale before continuing -  “mm’y’fuckin tight baby- shit-“ he stuttered as your pussy clenched around his cock firmly as your second orgasm washed over you, thighs shivering. “Thaaas it- huh? Gooood girl. Knew y’could do it babygirl” he kissed the dimple on your spine as you shivered, tendrils of smoke trailing up your back and over your hips. 

He then sat up, casually taking another drag, tightening his non-dominant hand around your hip so there would be little fingertip bruises once more over the yellowing hearing ones, and continued, his bruising pace getting rougher and quicker as he continued chasing his own orgasm. 

The meat of your ass and the skin of his hips made smacking sounds as they came together. Pathetic little whines drag from your lips with each rough kiss the tip of his cock gave your cervix as he just continued talking like he wasn’t using you like a fuck doll. 

“he uh, has a Michelin star- whatever that means? He’s a little prick. Guess that’s ahh-fuck- that’s why Mike left it t’him- he knows how t’make fancy shit- little fuckin’ Eleven Madison Park dickhead”  he grunted as he filled you up, spanking you roughly for good measure. 

“Good girl. Always take it like a little whore mm?” He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. He pats your hip gently as he pulls out, collapsing next to you with an old man grunt that you always teased him for. “Ey’ sweet girl, Y’wanna rub my back since I fucked y’so good mm? So I won’t be sore at work tomorrow?” He pulled you close, kissing your neck, his stubble making you shiver as cum leaked down your beard-burned thighs. 

That was how you spent one to three nights a week since you’d started working at The Beef. 

Then, Carmy came. For the first 6 or so months, it was business as usual for you and Richie. Quiet spanks on the ass as you walked by him during rush as you brought food out to a customer, sometimes letting him fuck your face in the back alley as he went on about what an asshole Carmen was being that day. 

You just took it, the fighting, the bickering, the sexual tension. You were the go-between for the both of them, when they weren’t talking Richie would bug you to go tell Carmy what he needed to say. “Immature asshole” you’d call him at the end of the day as he knelt between your thighs in that same shitty apartment, sucking on your clit while his beard scratched up your thighs. He’d just chuckle into you, squeezing your thighs amusedly with his large hands. 

Then one day, you were in the dry storage, grabbing something for Marcus that was on the bottom shelf and heavy. You were bent over, trying to tug it out and the door shut behind you.  “Hey- sorry just gonna reach over you-“ Carmy. When you felt him press against your ass like that, his tattooed hand resting on your hip. You felt heat rushing straight for your core, your stomach flipping and fluttering.

Then, you started making moves. A brush of the hand here, a smile there, a giggle at one of his dorky jokes no one else bothered to pay attention to, of course, he noticed. The young piece of ass that used to spend all day giggling and shooting the shit with his older cousin was into him now. The first night it happened, you made sure to pick up a double on a day you usually didn’t go home with Richie, and while everyone except Carmy did their best to rush out the door as soon as they possibly could, you stuck behind. 

You went to the bathroom, fixed up your hair, and your makeup not enough to be noticeable to a guy that you’d changed, but enough to look fresh. You put on some more lipgloss, freshening up your body spray and hiking your tote bag onto your shoulder before heading out of the ladies' room into the back-of-house. You heard the swish swish of a scrub brush, and the plopping of water - and knew Carmy was still in there scrubbing something. When you turned the corner to see him on his hands and knees, muscular arms flexing as he really scrubbed that floor. You could tell there was something….about Carmen Berzatto. 

It wasn’t just the fact his brother died, it wasn’t this strange stoic seriousness he had at not even 35, it was something else. Dedication, maybe? But you weren't sure to what because not a day went by without referring to the restaurant as ‘a shithole with decent sandwiches’ - you knew he was just keeping it running because it’s what Cicero wanted and no one denied that man. But you wanted to see if that dedication or learning ability translated into the bedroom. “Damn- You could eat off that grout” you teased. His head popped up, blue eyes twinkling under the iridescent lights.

This damn family and their pretty eyes

“The hell you still doin’ here? Y’shift ended what-” he looked at the clock, “An hour and six minutes ago” he continued scrubbing at the tile with the tiny little brush. 

“Oh you memorized my shift schedule?” you teased, a small smile on your lips. You were towering over him, being sure to block his light so he would give you his attention once more.

“I make the schedule, yeah I know when my employees work” he looked up at you again “n’y’re in my light” he pushed his greasy curls out of his way with his dry hand. 

“Mmm- last I checked Chef Syd did the scheduling- unless…that changed?” you asked and he looked back at the floor, scrubbing over the same spot he had been since you came over here. 

He made a little ‘mm’ noise and was quiet for a few moments as he continued to scrub. “So why are you still here if y’not gettin’ paid?” he asked again. You crouched next to him, hugging your knees and he stopped, looking over at you. He could smell your perfume perfectly, your lipgloss glitter was shimmering in the light. He could very well near smell the mint coming off of your breath from the gum you had chewed an hour earlier. He swallowed thickly, blinking a few times how he did when he was confused he noticed and his eyes fan to your lips before back up to your eyes. “Uh-”

You cut him off “Cause I haven’t met you, Carmy. We haven’t talked, Why’s that?” you question with a small, innocent smile. It was true, he all but ignored you while he’d been here. The only time he spoke to you was when he absolutely had to tell you something or when he was assigning you your morning tasks when you first got in. 

“W-What d’you wanna know?” he asked, tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips. He was nervous. 

“Why do you ignore me for starts” you jet your bottom lip slightly out into a little barely there pout for added effect, “Tina asked me a few days ago what I did, so what did I do Carmy?” you ask gently. You knew it was because you caught him staring at you so often he thought you thought he was a creep, but you thought it was adorable how flustered he got when he’d been caught and quickly tried to make it look like he’d been focused on something else. 

“Nothin- nothin’ y-you didn’t do anything m’sorry I made you feel- what’re you-” he trailed off as you gently fixed his Saint Anthony chain so it was facing front, carefully slipping your finger under the loop and pinching it between your forefinger and thumb, adjusting the clasp to be at the back of his neck. 

“Sorry, small things like that bug me, I think little things bug you too, Carm” you said softly. His cheeks were getting pink, his pupils were widening. Your plan was working. “Is this ok?” you gently fixed the sleeve of his t-shirt over his bicep, the fabric deliciously stretching over his buff arm 

“Mhmm” he muttered, breath catching as your hand trailed up his shoulder and resting there. “Did you um- did you need something…” he asked, voice that delicious kind of soft you adored. 

“I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.

He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing “Jesus Christ” he muttered to himself, shutting the door behind him. “Y-y’re sure. Like- wait you mean- you mean you want me t-” 

“Do whatever you want with me, chef,” you told him in a sultry tone, watching him closely as he walked over. You’d assumed he’d be just like Richie, rough, unforgiving, and sometimes even a little mean, but the way he cupped your cheek was…gentle. 

“Are you sure you want this? M’y’r boss..I don’ want you t’feel like i’m…making you, ‘er somethin’” he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. He was so close that you could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath as well as the musky scent of the long workday mixed with his cologne. You were nearly put in a trance by it. In response, you gently rest your palm on the back of his neck, pulling him closer and giving him a gentle kiss. 

He leaned forward, resting his hand on the side of your thigh and kissing you back, his lips hesitant on yours at first but when he felt your tongue swipe his bottom lip, his hand moved to your shoulder and gently squeezed as he opened his mouth, tongue darting out to find yours. He moaned softly at your taste, his breath coming out in small hot puffs that fanned your upper lip as you explored his mouth with your tongue. His hand that was on the desk gently moved to your hip, giving a tentative squeeze. You grabbed it, bringing it to your breast and with your hand over his, guiding him to squeeze and massage it. 

He let out a little hum of realization and did as you asked, only able to do so much with a t-shirt bra and work shirt, he with trembling hands tugged at the bottom of your navy blue The Beef t-shirt, asking for permission to take it off. You pulled away, swiftly taking off the shirt and reconnecting your lips with his. Your hands made your way behind your back, unhooking your bra and pulling it off, bringing both of his hands to your breasts. You whine softly as he pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers, the action making them even harder and perkier. He kissed down your jaw, nipping gently and sucking on the sensitive skin. 

Richie can’t know this happened 

“N-no marks babe- kay?” you said a bit breathlessly, hand trailing up to gently tug at his hair. He hummed in response, kissing down and mouthing over the hickeys Richie had left earlier in the week. You bit your lip as he continued to roll and tug your nipples kissing down your neck and when he finally got to your breasts you heard him mutter

“So fuckin perfect” before he took one of your perky abused nipples into his mouth, lightly sucking as you combed through his curls, taking out all the knots with your nimble fingers. With his other hand, he continued to massage your other breast, causing a moan to fall from your lips. 

“You wanna fuck me? Mm? Right here over the desk? You can go as hard as you want yea?” you told him, it was nice that he was spending so much time dedicated to making you feel good, but were confused why he hadn’t just…bent you over and gotten it over with by now like Richie usually did when you fucked at work. 

He pulled off with a pop, looking up at you with those wide eyes that had been darkened with lust. “Uh- Can I taste you..instead?” he asked shyly, resting his chin on your sternum gently, his hot breath puffing from his nose and tickling your chest. You raised your brows, looking at the clock - wasn’t he exhausted?! If he ate you out, that would be what - another 15 minutes on top of him getting off, would probably be another 20, so you both wouldn’t be getting out of there until 1:30 or so. 

Well, if it's what he wants.

“Sure honey” You got up, slipping out of the sweats you took the train home in usually, setting them on the desk to sit on and pushing your panties down as well after kicking off your Ugg slipper shoe-type things and sitting back on the desk, spreading your thighs for him and resting one of your heels on the edge. His mouth parted slightly, nearly dropping to his knees, his curls falling in front of his eyes but he didn’t seem to care as he kissed your inner thighs, almost enjoying his time getting you worked up. He gently sucked on your nether lip, groaning lightly at your flavor. Your mouth drops as you watch him, fully blissed out as he laps at your wet folds.

“Holy shit Carmy” you breathe, gently pushing his bangs back so you could see his pretty blue eyes once again. He looks up at you, sandy brown long lashes nearly touching his bushy brows as he connects his mouth with your clit, flicking his tongue over it and running his jaw back and forth messily, a mix of drool and your arousal running over his chin. “Wow feels so good - doin’ so good Carmy” you breathe, head falling back in pleasure and breathing picking up. He was really good at this. When Richie was in the mood (AKA his back wasn't hurting, or his knees, or his shoulder) he would give you the pleasure of eating you out, and he did it well, he always made sure you came when he did it, and you never had to fake it with him.

You weren’t going to have to fake it with Carmy, either, because holy shit - he was amazing at this. You felt that familiar tightening within’ your stomach within minutes. He took one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder to give himself a better angle, and ran his tongue down, slipping it inside of your pussy and moaning as you gush over his tongue when his nose runs back and forth over your clit, stimulating it most deliciously. Your thigh twitched, toes curling, and a sharp moan comes from your throat, biting down roughly on your lip. “God- god Carmy, I’m cumming” you warn, Gripping his curls rougher which seemed to edge him on, rubbing you rougher with his nose and curling his tongue up against your gummy walls, wet lewd noises coming from between your thighs. 

Within moments there was a fire of pleasure shooting beneath your skin as you cried out in ecstasy. Your eyes rolled beneath your lids, letting go of his hair and gripping the desk instead with a crushing grip as he worked you through the intense waves of overstimulating delight that ripped through you relentlessly. He finished with a chaste kiss on your thigh before grabbing your bra and helping you put it on as well as your panties, even finding the shirt you’d thrown and shaking off the dust from the floor before handing it over. “That was uh…really good, thank you” he wiped his chin and lips with the back of his hand, rubbing it on the back of his jeans. You shamelessly stared at his crotch and noticed the hard bulge in his jeans before looking back up at him.

“You don’t want to get rid of that? I can suck you off if you want I have a hair tie” you said, holding up your wrist to show him. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“No- no you don’t owe me anything, I got what I needed don’worry. See y’tomorrow- make sure you leave through the back I already locked up the front” he said, leaving the office and closing the door behind him to give you some privacy. You sat in shock for a moment, blinking a few times. All he wanted from you was to eat you out? You’d never met another guy who simply ate you out and that was it - they’d always…expected something from you after, and of course, you gave it because you felt like they’d paid you a favor just by eating you out first even if you didn’t finish. You slip your work shirt back on, get up, and put on your sweats with shaky legs before slipping your shoes back on. 

It continued like this, the days you weren't fucking Richie, you were in the back office getting eaten until you nearly passed out. Until The Beef started getting renovated, then the days you weren’t getting your brains fucked out in Richie's bed, your thighs spread wide at odd hours of the morning on Carmens’ couch, some random cooking show playing in the background as he lapped at your pussy like a man starved on his knees in front of you after kissing down your body like you were a goddess to be worshipped. If you were quite honest, you liked this routine. It felt perfect for you, you knew where your feelings lay for both of the men, and it was a stable comfortable routine on both sides. 

For Richie, it was fun and flirtatious. Sneaky spanks when you came to visit and help him renovate the restaurant with Neil, rough makeout sessions in the back alley when he went out for a smoke, rough near bruising quickies in the soon-to-be walk-in freezer that hadn’t been set up yet, so it was a nice little private area you two could go. He’d even started stealing a kiss or two when you weren’t being sexual. He was protective of you, Carmy started noticing this. That was why a few weeks before the big opening, he had started being a bit more handsy with you. 

The two of you started spending a lot more time together, and you realized he was even opening up to you a bit more. He began asking to see you more often, taking you out with him when he had to run errands for the opening. When he took you with him to the restaurant supply store, he had his hand rested on your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he explained to you the difference between the bunch of different kinds of cutlery. You had been baffled that there were 11 different kinds of butter knives there and he explained to you the difference between them, as well as showed you which sets went together.

It was strange you were clenching your thighs together while a man chatted you up over silverware, but the way he guided your hand to hold them so you were doing it ‘properly’ when you picked one up to get a closer look, had your heart jumping to your throat. That specific encounter was the first time you’d been able to really fuck him, and also draw some dominance out of him as well. It wasn't even his day with you, he knew it - he very well knew this, but little did you know that was the reason why he did it. You rode him hard and fast in the back of his van in the parking lot, he’d made sure to move to a spot in the way back where no one else had been parked so the two of you didn’t get caught and thrown on a registry, of course.

So, that night when you had met up with Richie after he had made you dinner and bent you over the couch for your usual Wednesday night activities - by the first yank of your hips you squeaked, “Gentle - please, daddy, not too rough..” you were glad he was taking you from behind, because you couldn’t bare the confused sweet sorry look on his face. You never asked him to be gentle with you, of course he obliged- because it was all an act. Richie was a big softie, a teddy bear. He just liked to fool around and put on the big mean daddy act in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you.t in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you. But he would never really want to hurt you. 

“Wha’s wrong baby, mm? Why you hurtin’?” He held you up by your ribs, sweetly kissing your hairline as he thrusted slower and softer in and out of you, gently resting his lips against your forehead “was I too hard Monday? M’sorry my sweet girl” he rubbed over your breast gently as he continued his gentler strokes. His sweet girl. That caused your heart to sting a bit. You didn’t know that he liked you too, the same way you liked him. Unless it was just an act? You hope it was an act. 

“Yeah” you said, knees going weaker when he reached around your front and toyed with your clit, your hips bucking at the soreness Carmen had left you with earlier. 

“Yeah? Y’never been like this before sweetheart” he kissed over your neck, beard scratching at your skin. 

“Mm- s’okay- feels good- like it when it hurts like this” you rest your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling a pit of guilt setting in your stomach. Would it hurt him if he found out you had started fooling around with Carmy? You hoped not, but couldn’t help but wonder. They were family. Most of all you would hope it wouldn’t make him insecure due to the much closer proximity Carmy and your ages were. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t even realize he was finishing inside of you like normal moaning into your hair. 

“So good- such a good girl” he kissed your head. “go get cleaned up kid, gotta get outta here early t’day cus’ I needa go to Eva’s school play thing” he pats your ass gently and pulled out, leaving you draped over the arm of the couch naked from the waist down and cum leaking down your thighs. You shut your eyes for a moment, rubbing over your face before standing up and doing as he said. 

A little over a week later, Carmy asked you to go straight with him. Well. Not really, he asked you if you were fucking other people to which you gave a simple yes and he just said ‘oh…wish I could be the only one’ you teased him and asked if that meant you wanted to be together, just the two of you and he said yes. So, you stopped fucking Richie. You stopped letting him kiss you in dry storage - you stopped having your ass be available for slapping as he walked by. 

And man, was it hard. He looked like a sad puppy, a small pout coming to his lips when you turned your cheek causing him to kiss that instead of your lips. “ ‘ey-“ he turned your face towards him “where’s my kiss?” You just looked down at the floor, before turning and grabbing the bag of onions you’d been sent in there to get and saying 

“I don’t think we should keep doing this. We should…just work together.” As much as you hated to say it, you did. Then you left the dry storage, and Richie felt his heart crack slightly. Things with him felt way more real then with Carmy, but Carmy was the one who asked you to be his, so you just…went with who asked. You had thought that was the best choice. Even though you stomped on his heart that day, he still cracked jokes with you, and was the same sweet dork you worked with before you started hooking up, the sweet dork that made you want to hook up with him in the first place. 

2 days before the friends and family opening, Carmy invited you over to his so he could cook for you. You’d been able to have his cooking once before, when he’d had you come over right in front of Richie at The Beef, and held a spoon to your lips, a hand under your chin for you to try something he’d come up with. Tonight he was making his familys pasta, and when you’d got there you nearly jumped his bones when he was wearing a work shirt from The Beef. You’d never seen him in it before, he’d never worn it to work even though everyone else had to be wearing theirs.

 You had a joke with yourself that he knew how yummy and slutty he looked in those stupid plain white t’s so thats why he kept wearing them.

“Hey sexy” You’d said when he opened the door, standing on your toes to kiss him deeply. He hummed, pulling you inside quickly and shutting the door behind you both so no neighbors would see. He grabbed your ass with his palms, squeezing it and spanking you lightly.

“Hey pretty girl” he said, kissing your top lip messily “y’hungry, right? Dinners almost done” he carefully brushed your hair from your face, looking down into your eyes with one of his sweet smiles.

“Mm always hungry for the best chef in the worlds food” you mused, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and playing with his curls “Why’d you never wear this at work, mm? Y’look sexy babe” you kissed his neck. He hummed, hands trailing up your back and palming over your ribs.

“Cause they’re itchy, and it’s laundry day” he said as you rubbed over his chest, grabbing at his pecks and squeezing at the flesh. He chuckled, brushing your hands “jesus someones handsy eh? He cupped your cheeks, angling your eyes towards him “food’ll burn, go wash up yeah? I’ll get y’plate ready” he pecked your lips and ran his hands down your front, grabbing your hand nd pressing it to his lips before heading back to the kitchen.

You followed as he said, going to the restroom and washing your hands as well as your makeup off with the makeup wipes that lived in his bathroom for you now, before going to his bedroom. You stepped out of your stupid waitress uniform, slipping on his white shirt that kissed just below your bum. You padded out to the kitchen, seeing him wiping the edge of your plates off with a paper towel, a kitchen rag over his shoulder. God, he looked so amazing in his element. “Hey” you said gently, going to hug him from behind 

“Hey sweet girl, just about done” he sprinkled some fresh parsley over the dish masterfully, before gently rubbing over the back of your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it. “How was the train?” he asked and you pulled away, walking over to his couch and sitting since he’d never bothered to get a kitchen table. 

“Okay, weirdo was playing a ukelele again” you plopped down, crossing your legs and looking over at the random dutch cooking program he had been watching from his station in the kitchen, “You speak dutch?” you asked, he chuckled and you weren’t sure at which statement. 

“No, I don’t, I just watch, and I know what they’re doin’ by the look usually.” he came over, setting a beautiful plate of pasta in your lap and sitting down with the small pot he used for sauce, that he’d mixed the noodles in half hazardly and twirled some of the noodles on the fork, taking a bite. 

Classic Carmy, serving you a Michelin Starred dish, and eating the leftover scraps. 

That was the night you really fell for him. Especially after he did the same thing that he did the first time the two of you hooked up, put you first. Even if he didn’t want you to touch him, even if he was too shy to cuddle you before you fell asleep. You really felt your heart crack open for him.

The night of friends and family, though, you may as well have been a stranger. No matter what you did that night to get his attention, he fully ignored you and snapped at you, and everyone, to ‘pick up your fucking pace’. You had never had him snap at you like this. All you wanted to do was go joke around with Richie, maybe pull him into the dry storage for a quick makeout - but you couldn’t, not anymore. You missed him. You missed your old man, as much as he despised you calling him that, you adored the way he frowned and spanked you in response to the name, telling you ‘it’s already unfair when we go out they think y’my daughter’ 

When you had find out that Carmy had been locked in the freezer - your first instict was to rush to the back of house, comfort him- tell him it would all be fine, but you knew you couldn’t do that, and it would piss him off if you did so. You were his well kept secret, and he wanted you to stay that way. You had found out from Syd, who was really the only one to know about your short-lived relationship - since Carmy seemed to be more open with her then he did with you - his supposed girlfriend. 

“He’s ok, he’s fine- look, just keep pace, ok, me and Richie will handle this - bring the plates from tinas station to table 11, ok?” she told you calmly, giving you a quick reassuring hug before whisking you off to do your job. You did as she said, putting on a smile and bringing the food out to the table, setting it down the way you’d been trained and telling them what was what before telling them to enjoy and heading back to the kitchen to pick up another round of food to bring out to an awaiting hungry group of patrons.

Three hours later, when the night was finally coming to a close- you decided it was a good time to go check on Carmy. All the guests had left, and it was just the staff at this point. You knew that the fire department was on the way since Richie had let everyone know they’d been called, and Syd was back there trying to calm him down. What you didn’t know, was Syd had told Carmy to hold on for a moment because she was gonna go tell her father goodbye and thank him for coming, so he had been left all alone in the back of house, in the freezer.

You walked in, hearing him rambling as you walk up, listening closely to what he was saying.

“Like- Like right? Right?” he chuckled a bit “W-what the fuck was I thinkin’? Huh? The fuck was I thinkin’, Syd? Like - Like I was gonna be in- “ he laughed a bit “In- i-in a relationship- er- er some shit? I-I’m a fuckin- a fuckin psycho- thats thats why, thats why I’m good at what I do, thats how I operate, Syd, you wanna be the best? I am the fucking best, because I didn’t have- any- any of this - this fuckin…bullshit! Right? I-I- I could focus, and I could concentrate, and I- I had a fuckin’ routine, an- and I had fuckin cell reception! An-” he paused. You felt your heart crack, tears filling your eyes,

You were bullshit to him.

He continued, “I dont need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I dont need to- to receive, any amusement- or - or enjoyment. Y’know? And I’m…I’m completely fine, with that. Because absolutely no amount of good, is worth how fuckin’ shitty this feels. S’just…a complete waste of my fucking time.” 

You let out the sob you were holding back, gasping a breath, shaking your head and with a trembling voice, you say, “I’m really sorry you feel this way, Carmy…” before rushing out of the kitchen, hot tears running down your cheeks. You grab your bag from behind the counter, slamming into richie on the way out of the restaurant and he stopped you, grabbing your arm. 

“Hey- hey kid” he said, and the soothing sound of his voice made you break down fully, starting to sob so hard you couldnt see straight, collapsing into his chest. 

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry for being so shitty- I- I dont deserve you” you cried, hugging him tightly, “I have-” you took a gasping breath and look up at him “I- i’m done- tell Carmy that I’m done here….” you let go of him and rush out, quickly walking towards the train station the wind whipping your wet cheeks. You pulled out your phone, calling Carmy to leave him a voicemail. 

“Hey, uh…I don’t know why you fuckin’ asked me out- but uh- fuck you, carmy. Youre right- you deserve nothing- youre a coward, and an asshole. I hate you for making me love you” you hung up, shoving your phone in your pocket, not even caring the admission that slipped past your lips as you stomped up the stairs to the L platform.

Back at the restaurant, Richie storms into the kitchen, slamming his palm on the freezer door. “Yo- the fuck did you just do?” he asked, voice laced with anger.

“I-I don’know. I-I don’ know what the fuck she heard. Dunno” Carmy said, voice indifferent to the entire thing, which just made anger bubble in his chest at his lack of caring. Richie slams his hand into the door harder, making Carmy jump a bit.

“No- asshole, I said - the fuck did you just say, to that fuckin’ girl?” Richie repeated, getting louder now.

“Richie” Carmy said, sighing to himself.

“Richie? Richie What- Tell me! Tell me, What the fuck. What the fuck did you just say to that fuckin girl, Carmen” 

“Will you just shut the FUCK UP AND GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE PLEASE!” Carmy shouts, not having any part of being scolded when his fingertips felt like ice. 

“Oh- oh yeah, I’ll get y’the fuck outta there, Donna” Richie mocked, so angry he didnt care how deeply he cut in the moment.

“The fuck you just say t’me?” Carmy challanged

“I-” Richie sighed, knowing he just took things too far and dropped his head back in annoyance.

“N-no- Richie- What the fuck did you just say?” Carmy asks, louder this time, Pounding on the door when he didnt get a response. 

“Yo- cousin, cousin look - I don’t know why you gotta fuck up everything good in your life. That girl is nice, shes a good fuckin friend t’you” Richie explained, completely oblivious to everything that had really been going on. 

“Are you -” Carmen laughs “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” he spits, the comparison to his mother causing fire to race through his veins.

“No- No i’m not, cousin, someones gotta tell you this shit, ‘eh? First fuckin friend after comin’ home you go ahead and make her cry?!” Richie scolded.

“FUCK YOU! Fuck you Richie!” Carmy yells, running his hands through his hair,

“Ohhh yea, here we go, fuck me, yeeeaaa Carm” he mocked him.

“Yeah! Yeah fuck you fuckin loser. You wouldn’t have shit without me. So fuck you!” carmy shouted at him, his breath coming out in large frosty puffs in front of him.

“Oh-” Richie chuckled, a twinge in his chest that Carmy was willing to cut so deep so quickly “Yeah- yeah tough guy” he mocked, voice getting meeker

“Yeah! Yeah! You- Or y’fuckin kid- fuckin loser - only reason you have anything is me!” Carmy roars, slamming on the door “so ye’ cousin, fuck you!” 

“My KID? Y’gonna talk about my KID? Well at least I have a fuckin kid! What d’you have other then a restaurant, jackass!” he yelled back.

“YEAH? I HAVE THE GIRL YOU BEEN FUCKIN’ FOR THE PAST YEAR, MORON. Why you think she dropped you so fast? Huh? You fucking idiot! She chose me- so ye’. I am the reason you have what you have AND I’LL TAKE WHATEVER I FUCKING WANT. FUCK YOU” He yelled through the door, kicking it with his chefs clog.

Richies mouth dropped, stepping back and feeling as if he’d just been stabbed in the heart. “What?” he said, believing his ears were playing tricks on him, how could Carmy do such a thing to him?

“Yeah- yeah. She chose me, and guess what, I fucked her because i wanted to show you I could. Y’fuckin prick” he sat down on one of the boxes of frozen steaks, rubbing over his face roughly. Richie raced out of the kitchen, telling Syd he was ‘done’ and quickly taking out his phone to call you. 

Back in the freezer, Carmens phone buzzed. He looked at it, seeing a voicemail from you that finally pushed through. When he heard your sad, broken voice, admit that he’d caused you to hate him by his behaviour made him chuck his phone against the freezer wall so hard that the screen shattered.

Never so badly had he ever fucked up, and by doing so he lost the best thing to ever happen to him.

[choso-ish]

Twilight's Embrace

--Suguru Geto x gn! reader

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ Summary: Suguru's breakup with you before leaving Jujutsu Tech.

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ Word count: 1.3k

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ Warnings: Arguing, angst, I think one or two curse words

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ A/N: If you saw the original post of this, no you didn't. It flopped a bit (undoubtedly because of my bad writing, sorry guys), so I decided to do some editing, delete the first one, and post this instead. Can't tell if this is better or worse ngl.

“You deserve someone better.” 

The dim rays of moonlight that shone through the curtains cast an ethereal glow on his face. His lips were pursed, his posture poor, and his gaze no longer lovingly on you. 

He was no student, no man; just your lover eroding into something less than human. But no, he was never human, was he? He was a Jujutsu sorcerer – bound by duty and destiny. 

Humans were now his enemies, after all. 

However, the physical repercussions of that fact were ones you had overlooked for far too long, only noticing them for what they were in this moment, as the two of you were left face-to-face in his room. 

As he stood with his hands in his pockets, his arms suddenly seemed thinner, the shadows beneath his eyes deeper, and his hair now greasier and unrestrained. Each detail painted a poignant picture of his inner turmoil.

It was suddenly so vivid that you were shocked by how long it took you to really see it all in the first place. 

Outside, the faint murmur of crickets filled the silence between the two of you, punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves in the late night’s breeze. Fond memories created in this room were now losing their significance, and it hurt you too much to spend time mulling over that fact. 

You drew in a deep breath, your eyes drifting around the room, as if seeking refuge from your own swirling thoughts. A lone candle slowly flickered on the bedside table, its warm glow offering scant comfort in the face of looming despair.

"I don’t understand," you managed to say, the simplicity of your words betraying just how confused you really were.

“I mean,” you laugh anxiously, a hand slipping through your hair. “We were doing fine. More than fine…” 

So where was this all coming from? 

“You’ve been doing fine.” he slipped in smoothly, his eyes sharper than usual. The comment caused you to pause as another long silence fell across the room. 

"How long?" you questioned softly, your voice trembling with a mix of concern and apprehension. "How long have you been feeling this way?" Each word hung heavy in the air, waiting for his response to break the suffocating silence.

His eyes darted away, revealing a flicker of doubt behind his otherwise collected facade.

You knew, deep down, there was no way that he wasn’t bothered by this, too. 

“I don’t know,” he murmured. He fidgeted and readjusted himself before gazing out of the window and then back at you. “It’s been… pent up for a while I guess.” 

In the growing silence, a surge of emotions overwhelmed you. Doubt crept into the corners of your mind as regret splintered through your heart. 

Each word he spoke felt like another crack in the facade of your shared reality. 

His jaw twitched and for a moment, there was a glimmer of challenge in his eyes as he held your gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” he shot back defensively. “What does matter is that I’m dealing with it.”

But you weren’t hearing it. You were too busy replaying all the ways you felt you had let him down. You weighed up just how much worse things could get before the bleeding stopped. You were standing on the edge of something irreversible – you just couldn’t see the canyon below.

“It matters to me.” you retort gently, subconsciously leaning forward as you try to pry through his walls. You attempt to grab his hand, but he pulls away and looks in the opposite direction. Goddamnit. 

“I can’t help if you don’t let me in, so stop shutting me out.” 

“But I don’t need your help.” There was a furrow in his brow, a crease of frustration etched deep into his forehead. “I told you, I’m dealing with it.”

Rejection had never tasted so bitter. Each time he refused to open up, it felt like reopening a wound. Why won't he just talk to you? Why won’t he confide in you? 

All you wanted was to bear his burdens for him. 

Anger begins to stir within you, and you feel a sense of powerlessness. He's always been your shoulder to cry on, your ear to bend towards in times of distress. Now, he’s closed off when he needs you, as if you’re suddenly a stranger in your own relationship. 

Your fists ball themselves at your thighs, nails piercing your flesh as you fight to hold back the mix of emotions raging inside you. Unshed tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes.

“I… I don’t know.” You manage to whisper, your heart thumping in your ears. “We’re supposed to be a team. You know, in this together." 

But he doesn’t say a word – a stinging reminder of the growing distance between the two of you. With a heavy heart, you realized that perhaps some wounds ran too deep to ever truly heal.

You never thought that would apply to the two of you. 

You cast a fleeting glance around the room once again, searching for something, anything, to anchor you in this moment of uncertainty – but all you found were echoes of memories, now tainted by the harsh reality of your shattered relationship.

The distance between you felt insurmountable, a gaping chasm widening with each passing moment. And though you longed to bridge the gap, to find your way back to each other, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that perhaps it was already too late. 

"I don't want to lose you," you confessed, each word tinged with a raw vulnerability you hadn't anticipated. "But I can't keep pretending everything's okay when it's not."

"I don't know," he muttered, his tone edged with frustration. "Maybe it's better if we just... let it go."

His words landed like a punch to the gut, the finality of them sending a chill down your spine. It was as if he had slammed a door shut that you had desperately hoped to keep open. 

Your eyes widened as you took another step closer to him. No way. 

"Then let's fix it together," you pushed, trying to ignore the tremble in your voice. "...Because I refuse to believe that we're beyond repair.” 

In the silence that followed, you held your breath, hoping for a positive response, a sign that he was willing to try along with you. 

But he remained stubbornly silent, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance. It was as if he had withdrawn into himself, building walls where bridges should have been.

It takes you a moment to realize that you had been crying. 

You quickly wiped away the tears that had begun to pool in your eyes, resigning yourself to the painful truth. "I can't do this alone," you whispered, the words a final plea for understanding. 

"I know," he finally murmured, his voice barely audible. "And I... I'm sorry."

His apology hung in the air like a hollow echo, devoid of the warmth and sincerity you had longed for. It was a bittersweet acknowledgment of the pain he had caused, but it offered no solace in the face of your shattered dreams.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, bringing his palm up to his jaw and running his fingers along his cheeks. “You know it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” 

He wasn't asking for forgiveness; he was grappling with his own emotions, aware of the consequences of his actions – and that terrified you. 

He slowly turned and approached the foyer. After grabbing his coat, he gripped and twisted the doorknob open. 

“Don’t leave me, Suguru.” you stood a few feet from the doorway, showing the last amount of desperation you had left. 

“Please.” 

His eyes caught yours for a brief second before he looked away. You heard the click of the door shutting in place as he exited, creating the final rift between the two of you.

The candle on the nightstand extinguished, the room going dark. 

How swiftly it had become yet another night with only the moon offering its consolation. 

likes/reblogs/comments are more than appreciated! thank you so much for reading to the end :D

©choso-ish. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.

[simplydannie]

During the times Veneer freed Floyd only for Floyd to run straight back to him, did Floyd find Veneer having a breakdown after receiving one too many beatings from one of the Mistress' goons?

Oh he definitely did! And this was right after the Bergens REALLY let Veneer have it.

Floyd was set free… again.

The little Troll was half way out when a burning sensation tugged at his heart…Veneer. This was the third time, and always, Floyd managed to go back. He could leave them at the hands of that evil woman, he almost did once… he couldn’t do it again.

With a heavy sigh, Floyd turned back around and headed back straight to Veneer.

Veneer had been beaten up before. It was nothing new. If it was bullies at school, it was the thugs of the under city that would completely pound him. They’d always assume he was weak, but he never fought back, especially now, because he knew his sisters life was on the line.

The Bergens left him on the floor, blood coming from his nose and mouth, his eye swelling up in pain. He looked towards the doorway as Velvet watched him, a frown on her face, crossed arms, she avoided his gaze.

“I had to let him go. It was the right thing to do.” He told her. She didn’t answer for a moment. “Please say something?”

“…. You ruined it…. You ruined it again.” Was all she said before walking away. Lump formed in his throat. Tears began to form but stung his bruised eyes. Veneer tried to stand and follow after her, but he was to weak this time. The Bergens really did a number. All he could do was crawl. Veneer crawled to the bathroom. Using the sink, he lifted himself to take a look in the mirror…. His face was bruised, his needles shut, blood staining his face… how could he keep on doing this?

The tears escaped him as he allowed himself to fall back to the ground, hugging his knees… he wanted somebody, he wanted Velvet, his parents, he wanted to Floyd… he wanted to be comforted. He just couldn’t take it anymore, his body couldn’t take it anymore, he physically and mentally couldn’t take it anymore. And it’s as if Velvet wasn’t even there. She let them beat him, she’d only stare with distant eyes, a pink hue always glowing….what happened to her? Sometimes he would look at her and it’s as if she wasn’t even there, as if something had replaced her. Was he like that sometimes? Is that what happened when he lost control that one day and captured Floyd? So many questions and thoughts swirled his head….He was just so tired. Veneer lay on the floor hugging himself tightly, he body shaking from the cold, pain, and tears that escaped him.

Floyd made his way through the vents of the facility. Perhaps he convince Veneer this time to leave with him, but it would be hard. He’d never leave without Velvet. Something changed in her…something eating from the inside out. He’d see it in Veneer sometimes, but he wasn’t to far gone….

He could hear screams and shouts through the air vents: The Mistress. She was angry, “Did you give him pain? Did you beat him senseless?” She shouted to her Bergens.

“Yes m’am.”

“Killed him. You should’ve just killed him! I am tired of this! He’s let the damn Troll out once to many times!” She sat her desk staring at the wall, “They ask me if it was a good idea bringing those two in. But so far, they’ve been the only ones to withstand the Troll poison and its effect…”

Floyd crept closer as he heard the mention of the twins, his ears perked up to catch every word.

“Other candidates are probably stronger Mistress.” Gruff commented.

“No..No the other’s have tested candidate after candidate. These two…they are definitely something. One is for them to survive so long alone in the under city. It’s proving effective. Veneer is resilient though. Somehow he’s strong enough to overcome the effects. That’s something definitely worth noting, but if he keeps screwing up, I’m afraid he wont see the end of day…”

Vennie, Floyd took off running in search of Veneer. He figured he’d probably be in the same room he had set Floyd free in, if the Bergens didn’t drag him away somewhere that is. Floyd ran to the room he thought he see Veneer in…He peeked through..empty.

“Where’s they drag you off too Vennie?” The little Troll was about to run off when he heard the cries coming from the bathroom. Using his hair, Floyd lowered himself to the ground. He waited a moment to make sure no distant sounds were coming, to make sure it was safe. After a moment, Floyd ran to the restroom…it was slightly opened. Peeking through, his heart shattered. Veneer was laying on the ground, hugging his knees, tears streaming down his face. His body shaking as he couldn’t control his sobs.

“Vennie?” Floyd approached the Rageon slowly, but Veneer didn’t hear. He continued to cry..

“….I want mom… I want dad….I want to go home” He heard him say in between his sobs. Floyd saw that Veneer couldn’t take it anymore… he was starting to see Under Rageous as home. That place wasn’t home, it was hell. Floyd walked to the Rageon and placed his small hand on Veneers arm. The Rageon felt the touch, and opened his one eye that wasn’t swollen.

“Oh Vennie. What did they do? Those monsters..” Floyd murmured.

“You need to go.” Veneer said.

“No. I can’t. Not like this. You need me here. I’m here for you. You got that.” Floyd said.

“But if they find you…”

“Let them. I’ll even walk back into the diamond willingly. Make it seemed that you changed your mind and caught me again.”

“But Floyd…”

“Stop it and just listen to me please.” Floyd stretched at his arms as far as he could. Embracing the top of the Rageons head, “just stay quiet for a while okay. I’m here.” Veneer squeezed his eyes shut, taking in the Trolls small touch. He began to cry again, but not because of hurt anymore, because relief and comfort… because Floyd was there, a familiarity. The anguish Veneer once felt suddenly washed away. He sighed in relief, allowing the stress to finally leave him. “That’s right. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you… not again.”

Floyd rested his little head on top of Veneers. The Rageons breathing slowed as he finally felt peaceful. Veneer allowed himself to close his eyes and slowly drift to sleep. He knew he had to face Mistress again. He knew they would be back in square one once Floyd was back in the diamond. But for now, Veneer allowed himself this moment to just rest and be in the comfort of someone he cared about… and who cared for him….

… everything else, they could figure out later.