#search engine is never prepared for what comes next

[thewordsarestuckinmyhead]

things I have googled back to back while writing: how to use cigarette, moon positions over year, ancient musical instruments, does melted glass smell, what is haemoglobin….

[fastandcarlos]

Never An Interruption : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you’re all ready to celebrate max’s win with him, only when you find someone already there to celebrate, you begin to question the role you truly play in max’s life

Your smile was wide as you watched Max climb up to the top of the podium again, thousands of fans cheering all around you. It still felt surreal as you watched him climb to the top, proudly taking the trophy that was handed to him. 

His eyes scanned the crowd in front of him, giggling to himself once Max’s eyes met yours, noticing the excitable look that was on your face. You were stood just beside Christian, right at the front, exactly where Max always asked for you to be whenever you were there supporting him at a race so that you got to see everything. 

Once the celebrations were over, Max was rushed off to do interviews and gush about his win whilst you returned to the paddock, knowing you’d be able to catch up with Max later. 

It was as chaotic as ever as you watched the engineers begin to sort everything out, packing up ready to head to the next race. You usually didn’t mind waiting around, but today particularly you were on the edge of your seat with excitement about being able to see Max again. 

The race had been a lot closer than usual, leaving you on tenterhooks. Max had fought much more closely with Charles, swapping the lead between the pair until Max just edged him on the last straight. You were proud at the best of times, but today especially, you were thrilled that he managed to get the win. 

After checking your watch to see how late it was again, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You excused yourself from the paddock, heading down to the team’s motorhome, walking straight through to where Max’s driver’s room was, darting between the crowd of hospitality guests. 

It had almost become a bit of a second home for you too, having spent years travelling around the world to support your best friend. You knew the paddock like the back of your hand, and most of the people that were walking around in blue too. 

And despite the fact he had hundreds of people working around the paddock for him, the only person that really meant the most to Max was you. His best friend. 

As you approached the door, you weren’t surprised to hear some noise from inside. You listened for a moment before knocking gently, walking in before Max answered, exactly like he’d told you to do years ago when you first started visiting him.  

You barely managed to step foot into the room before it felt like you were being ushered back out. A nervous looking Max looked at you, hair messy as he ran his hand through it. 

“You alright?” Max smiled, unable to stand still. 

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, trying your best to figure out what was going on as Max’s nervous eyes stuck on you. 

“I was just about to come and find you.” 

“It’s lucky I came and found you then,” you laughed, turning to take a seat on his bed, only to stop yourself just as fast. A figure stared back at you, one that you didn’t recognise but left you feeling incredibly embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t realise that you...yeah...I’ll just...go,” you stuttered, rushing back out of the room. 

Your body jolted as you were met by the crowd of guests yet again, rushing out before any of them caught sight of you. Your feet couldn’t move quick enough, heading back out into the fresh air and in any direction that took you as far away from Red Bull as possible.  

Once you were sat down, your head fell into your hands, letting go of several shaky breaths. Whilst you and Max were the best of friends, your heart wasn’t prepared to see someone else there with him. You knew you shouldn’t be mad, upset, hurt, he was free to do whatever, but for some reason, it still stung. 

It didn’t take long before a figure appeared beside you, almost as soon as you left the room, Max ran out to follow, sprinting all around the paddock in search of you. 

You remained frozen as Max dropped down to sit beside you, letting go of a deep sigh at how hostile you were towards him.  

“Please don’t shut me out,” Max frowned, noticing how tense your body was. 

“Haven’t you got somewhere else to be?” You coldly asked. 

“Not when I know your upset, of course I haven’t,” Max reasoned, nudging gently against your side, silently asking for you to look at him again. 

“If I knew you had company then I never would have burst in like that,” you tried your best to explain, feeling your cheeks begin to darken again, “I’ll stop doing that now.” 

“I love having you burst in,” Max tried his best to assure you, “you’re my best friend and never an interruption.” 

“I know,” you murmured, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice as Max reminded you. 

“What is it?” Max quizzed, knowing you too well, knowing exactly when you were hiding something from him. 

“Nothing...you just go back and be with your girlfriend, you should be celebrating,” you tried to tell him. 

“No way,” he stated, shrugging as your eyes pleaded with him. 

Max’s bluntness took you by surprise, your body almost jumped at how firm he was with his response to you. 

He sensed that too, muttering a quick apology as he realised how taken aback you suddenly were by him. 

“You can’t leave your girlfriend all by herself,” you repeated, reminding Max as to where his priorities should be. Not with you anymore. But with her. 

A small smile crept onto his face, “is that what you think that was?” 

Your shoulders shrugged, truthfully you couldn’t make sense of anything right now. You were sure that if Max had a girlfriend, then he would’ve told you, but maybe he didn’t trust in you quite as much as you thought he did. 

“She works for Red Bull, just came in to help me with something,” Max tried his best to explain with you, “there’s no one more important to me than you are, you know that’s never going to change.” 

Your eyes met Max’s, quickly noticing how sincere he was. His smile widened as he noticed the reality of what he was saying sinking in, reminding you just where his priorities were. 

“I thought you were with her,” you admitted. 

Max nodded back at you, “there’s only one person that I want to be with, and that’s the person I’m with right now.” 

Your heart raced as you listened, watching as Max’s smile grew wider, proud of himself for finally telling you the truth. 

“You mean that?” You nervously asked him. 

Max reached across and rested his hand over the top of yours, “I can’t believe you ever thought I would want to be someone more than I do you. You’re perfect.” 

You turned your hand so that it was palm to palm with Max, allowing your fingers to intertwine in with his. Max’s free arm held around your waist, keeping you as close into his side as he could have you. 

A nervous smile appeared on your face, resting your head on Max’s shoulder so that he could no longer see you. 

“Please don’t tell me these things just because you want to cheer me up,” you asked of him, wondering if what was happening really was true. 

“I mean every single word,” Max assured, “it only ever really has been you.” 

Max moved his hand so that it was under your chin, tilting your head back so your eyes met again. “Where do we go from here?” You whispered, feeling yourself losing control at an alarming rate. 

“I’m not sure,” Max whispered, “but I know that wherever we go from here, it’s going to make me an incredibly happy man.” 

Before you had the chance to respond, Max leant down, pressing the gentlest of kisses against your lips, finally getting to live out the dream that had troubled him for so many years. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[sunny44]

Lights out and together we go

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Girlfriend (or future wife)! reader

Warnings: max and reader getting deunk, mentions of sex and another stuffs

Summary: Where Max and y/n think it's a good idea to get married drunk in Vegas.

Y/n and I arrived in Vegas a day earlier than planned; she had never been there and wanted to explore the city. We were in the paddock now, and I was finishing adjusting my racing suit to get ready for the race. As I closed it, I felt someone hugging me from behind, and I knew it was my girlfriend.

"Hi, love," she whispered, and I smiled.

"Hi, love. Everything okay?" I turned around, and she smiled.

“Yes, just came to wish you good luck."

"Good thing you didn't forget." I smiled, bending down to her level. She smiled in the middle of the kiss.

"Good luck, and take care." She ran her hand through my hair and gave me another quick kiss before going to the spot where she would watch the race.

On the track, I got into the car and prepared for what could be the best or worst race of the year.

"MAX VERSTAPPEN, YOU ARE THE FIRST WINNER OF THE LAS VEGAS GRAND PRIX," my engineer shouted on the radio, and I celebrated.

I stopped the car in the first position and got out, seeing the team and my girlfriend among them. She was much smaller than everyone, so she was hidden among the mechanics.

"You won," she said excitedly, hugging me.

"Yeah, after almost dying a few times." She slapped my arm, and I laughed, kissing her and then weighing in before heading to the podium.

...

Now, we were in a club celebrating the victory with the team. Y/n was chatting animatedly with Kika about something I wasn't paying attention to, and I had my arm around her waist as she stood in front of me.

"Do you wanna dance?" She asked in my ear, and even though I'm not a big fan, I knew how much she enjoyed it, so I agreed.

As the hours passed, we were more than drunk, still dancing together and completely sweaty.

"You know," she said, and I knew something crazy was coming. "There's a chapel nearby."

"You want to get married in Vegas?"

"Don't you?"

"Married to you, yes, but I never thought you'd want to do it here." I held her tighter and kissed her neck. "But I would never refuse to marry you, so..."

"Shall we?" I laughed and agreed.

[…]

I woke up with a throbbing headache and a persistent ringing in my ears. I opened my eyes, looked around and saw the ridiculous decoration of the hotel room that wasn't ours.

I looked at Y/n lying next to me, and under the red sheet, we were both naked. I searched for my phone and saw it lying on the floor with a cracked screen.

When I unlocked it, I noticed several missed calls from Christian and messages from Daniel. I replied to them and put it aside again.

I got up to go to the bathroom and laughed seeing that the bed was heart-shaped. I entered the bathroom and saw marks on my neck and back, and some flashes of the previous night came back as I smiled, remembering a bit.

"What the hell happened last night?" I murmured to myself. After going to the bathroom, I returned to the room, and my girlfriend was sitting on the bed with wide eyes, staring at the floor.

"What happened?" She didn't say anything, and I approached her, touching her shoulder, which brought her out of the trance. "Is everything okay?"

"We have a problem." She said, and I waited for her to continue. "Two problems, actually."

"What are they?"

"We're married." She said, and I widened my eyes.

"What?"

"We're married, Max." She lifted her hand, showing the ring.

It was the ring I had bought a while ago to propose, but I hadn't had the chance to do it, at least not in the way I felt was ideal.

I approached her and took her hand, looking at the ring that I was preparing to use for a proposal. It was now on her finger after apparently getting married drunk in Vegas.

"But that doesn't mean anything." I said nervously.

"What do you mean nothing? There's a ring on my finger, Max, it can only mean one thing." She said, raising only in her panties and grabbing my shirt from the floor.

"It could mean that we're just engaged." I said quickly, and she looked at me.

"And where did this ring come from then?"

"It's mine." I said, and she widened her eyes. "It's yours, actually. I bought it a few months ago because I had plans to propose to you, but I hadn't felt there was an ideal moment yet. Apparently, my drunk self thought it was the right time."

I felt on the bed completely outraged by my stupidity in ruining something important.

"Maxie," she said affectionately, and I felt her hand on my face as she sat on my lap. "You know I don't care about these big things."

"I know, but I wanted it to be something special, not us drunk and sweaty in Vegas." She smiled and gave me a peck. "Is everything okay?"

"It's okay." She kissed my forehead and hugged me. After a few minutes, she got up and grabbed her phone. "Max."

"Yeah?"

"You didn't propose to me."

"What?"

"We're already married." She showed several pictures of us in the chapel set up in the paddock, both clearly drunk, being married by an Elvis.

"We're crazy." I said seriously, and she started laughing. "What are you laughing at?"

"Why are we making such a drama?"

"What do you mean?"

"We were happy; you already planned to propose to me, and I would have accepted." She said calmly. "I love you, and I would marry you any way, no matter where or how."

"Really?" She nodded, and I hugged her.

"Really." I gave her a peck, and we hugged.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm very happy to be your husband, Mrs. Verstappen."

"And I'm also very happy to be your wife, Mr. Verstappen."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Maxie."

[…]

Since the race was on the Saturday night, today at Sunday night, we have dinner with all the drivers, organized by Charles to celebrate our first Vegas race. I was sitting on the bed looking at the photos of our "wedding," laughing at our pictures.

"How do I look?" She came out of the bathroom and ran her hands over her dress.

She was wearing a red strapless dress with glitter, and her hair was pulled back.

"WOW, you look beautiful." I said, getting up and going to her.

"Thank you, so do you." She said, adjusting the collar of my shirt.

"Can we go?" She agreed, and we went to the private room that Charles had rented. When we entered, everyone was already there.

"Good evening, everyone." She smiled and started greeting everyone. I went to where Charles, Carlos, and Lando were.

"I have a serious question." Lando said coming near me. "Look I get why you’re with her, I mean I have a soft spot for brunettes too. What I don’t get is why she likes you? I mean look at her."

"Haha very funny. But now you can stop fangirling my wife."

"Wait did you say wife?" Charles asked, and I cursed myself and my big mouth.

"Fuck." I said. "Look, Y/n and I agreed to keep this a secret so just pretend I didn’t tell you guys."

"Okay but tell us the story." Carlos asked.

"Well, we got drunk after celebrating my win, and then apparently we got married in the F1 chapel by some guy dressed as Elvis." They started laughing. "It’s not funny; I was pretending to propose to her the way she deserved and not just marrying in Vegas and fuck her after and not remembering later."

"Okay stop right now, we don’t need all the details of your night."

"Well, if you look at my back, you will imagine how it went." I said, showing them.

"Oh wow, now I’m interested.”

"Max." She said coming to me. "Hi, boys."

"Hello, Mrs. Ver..." I widened my eyes at Lando. "Actually, now that I've noticed, your eyes are blue."

"They are."

"They are beautiful." He said.

"You know I'm committed, right?" She said confused by his behavior.

"I know." He said nervously. "I'm going to get a drink."

"Is he okay?" She wondered turning to me.

"You know how he is, not used to drinking."

"Neither are we." She said laughing.

...

It's Monday and we're leaving Vegas after a hectic and crazy weekend. We're going to Abu Dhabi for the last race of the year.

"Did you see the news this morning?"

"That our marriage was revealed." She nodded. "Yes, I saw, I'm sorry."

"No need to feel sorry; I'm not ashamed that people know I married the love of my life," she said, giving me a kiss. "It's okay, don't worry."

"Okay." I said, kissing her forehead, and remembered something she said that morning.

"Remember you said we had two problems but got distracted by the marriage thing? What was the other one?"

"Oh my God, I had forgotten." She said nervously. "It's that we had sex without protection, and I'm in my fertile period."

"What? Is that serious?"

"Yes."

"My God, we're going to have a baby."

"Not necessarily, it doesn't mean I'll get pregnant."

"But what if you do?"

"We'll have a mini Verstappen in a few months."

"Okay, we won't come to Vegas ever again." She laughed, and we boarded the jet heading to Abu Dhabi.

Bonus scene!

Y/nverstappen Instagram stories

“Yes I’ve changed my user and now I’m Mrs. Verstappen”

[hargreeves-duncan]

⎯⎯ CRAZY ON YOU

a/n: arranged-ish marriage piece because i got to thinking about what that might look like in sovereign society - enjoy!

summary: the time has come for adam to find a wife… you end up catching his eye

warnings: n/a

word count: 1.4k

visual is for vibes only, reader’s appearance is nondescript!

The High Evolutionary loomed over the palace’s golden floors, his eyes were sharp with cutting dissatisfaction.

“The boy will wed, High Priestess.” The High Evolutionary demanded, standing over her. This was no longer a request, but a decree.

High Priestess, Ayesha, bowed her head. A tugging sensation grew in her heart, “My liege, is it not too soon?”

Her gaze drifted to Adam, standing off to the side, fussing immaturely with the cuffs of his ceremonial suit, “Mentally, he is barely yet a man.”

Adam frowned sharply, “Now, mother - I am not!” he protested vehemently, voice raising with wounded pride.

Ayesha shot him a single, cutting glance. Adam’s mouth snapped shut.

“The boy agrees, it seems,” The High Evolutionary said with veiled amusement.

Ayesha felt an uncomfortable coil twist in her stomach - something scarily similar to fear.

“Adam was engineered to elevate the Sovereign,” The High Evolutionary circled Adam, examining him, “With his Selection Ceremony, he will no longer be incomplete, as he has been.”

He drew closer and, grasping Adam’s jaw between his fingers, tilted his head to the light as he searched for imperfection.

“We will fix this flaw of his… with the right consort.”

Dropping Adam’s chin, he turned back to Ayesha, “I trust you will do right by me, High Priestess. The fate of your race depends upon it.”

The most prestigious day in the Sovereign calendar was fast approaching and you couldn’t be more nervous.

The Selection Ceremony. The formal allocation of a consort to the next generation of the Sovereign’s will-be High Priest: Adam Warlock.

Months of preparation, scrutiny and refinement had come to this. The final six candidates for his hand. Six, the perfect number, for the perfect would-be-bride.

You had never truly expected to

make it this far. There were hundreds of other young women, you thought, much better suited to Adam Warlock.

Of course, you had never actually seen him. Hardly anyone had.

The announcement of his Selection Ceremony, six months prior, had created a wild buzz among the Sovereign.

Many confessed they hadn’t even known the High Priestess had a son at all.

Not even your father, the Sovereign General, knew of his existence until the announcement.

You, and the five other bright, young candidates had been gathered in a preparation chamber.

Self-consciously, you adjusted your dress: a shimmering gold that pooled at your feet, matching the perfect tone of your skin.

You knew you had earned the right to stand here.

You had undergone all of the same tests as the others - intelligence, physical symmetry, emotional control, devotion to the Sovereign, endurance and, finally, status - and you had emerged one of the finest of your kind.

You couldn’t help wondering what Adam would be like, especially, if you were to be chosen as his bride.

A soft chime rang out, and each girl turned towards the chamber’s doors.

They opened with a slow grandeur to reveal a solitary attendant, who gestured wordlessly for all debutantes to step forward.

It was time.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you filed into a single line with the other women, a heavy silence fell over your collective.

The six of you moved in perfect synchrony down the corridor - the grand Coliseum in which you were to be presented lay just ahead.

There would be thousands of Sovereign citizens present, of all social rankings, and their eyes would all be on you. The pressure was suffocating.

One by one, each young woman was sent into the arena - and one by one, she failed to be assigned to Adam, until, only you remained.

You could hear the frustrated rumble of the crowd from behind the doors. It seemed they were beginning to tire of Adam’s insatiable tastes.

You drew a steadying breath, clutching your bouquet, as your name was finally called.

The doors parted, you stepped into the arena.

Cheers thundered so loudly you could feel them beneath your feet. You held your poise, knowing the crowd would be scrutinising over your every move.

You smiled brightly to the crowd, giving them the show they desired from you. A disembodied voice boomed across the arena, reading your statistics aloud:

Intelligence - 94%.

Physical Symmetry - 96%.

Emotional Control - 87%.

Devotion - 94%.

Endurance - 97%.

Status - 91%.

With a combined ranking of 93%, Y/N L/N.

Your eyes drifted upwards to the box at the head of the Coliseum.

There he was - Adam Warlock.

It was impossible to read his face from so far down, but you bowed your head respectfully as you moved to stand in your marked position.

“Adam Warlock, great heir to the Sovereign, will now question the candidate.” A voice announced.

Your grip on your bouquet became tighter as he stood at the edge of the box, surveying you.

The whole Coliseum seemed to hold its breath as they awaited his words.

Your heart hammered in your chest.

You watched as, slowly, Adam descended from his box. A collective murmur of shock travelled around the arena.

Adam stopped before you. For a moment, he didn’t even speak. You didn’t dare to move.

His voice cut the silence in two, low and almost desperate, “Can you see me… beyond what I was made to be?”

Your lips parted softly, “I see you as you stand before me now, not as others have told me you should be, nor as they have told you.”

Your words were honest, reflexive on your tongue. You worried, knowing that in your culture such rawness was rarely rewarded.

A sly smile spread across Adam’s lips and he nodded, holding your eye for a moment too long.

He turned back to the box, where the officiant stood, “I select her.”

A golden staff was struck by the officiant sixfold, sending the crowd into a frenzy of thunderous clapping that rivalled an avalanche.

“By the will of Adam Warlock, heir to the Sovereign, the selection is made.” He proclaimed.

The cheers were so thick that your ears were already straining. You kept your eyes on Adam.

His golden eyes skimmed over your face and recognised your discomfort immediately, all-seeing.

He extended his arm, voice growing softer, “Come.”

Gently, you sat your hand atop his offered arm, allowing his touch to ground you.

Together, you began to walk towards the far exit of the Coliseum. A path reserved only for the heir and their ‘selected’.

You kept yourself collected, chin high, smile bright and steps measured. You could feel the burning heat of Adam’s stare on you, as if he were trying to learn you by heart.

The doors fell closed behind you, the mighty roar of the crowd forgotten.

A comfortable calm settled over the two of you. Adam didn’t pull away immediately, he turned to face you instead.

His golden eyes swept over you curiously, taking in whom was now his beloved.

For a long while, he said nothing, and you felt an excruciating anxiety plague your mind - what if he felt this was a mistake?

Finally, he confessed, “You are not what I expected.”

You almost laughed. Of all the things he could’ve said, this was least expected.

“That is not to say that the unexpected is a fault.” Adam corrected himself hastily.

Briefly, he glanced away. His hands played with the ends of his cloak.

You felt a pang of empathy as you watched him - his pressure was just as great as yours, if not more so.

“I cannot say that I expected you, or any of this, either.” You replied tenderly.

He nodded in agreement with your words, eyes still glued firmly to the floor.

You reached out and tilted his chin up to face you. He cleared his throat, “My mother told me that you are the general’s daughter.”

You offered him a gentle smile, “I am, but, to you, I am only myself, not my title.”

Adam paused, thinking over your words for a second. He nodded once more, “I am glad of that.”

“If you are only you, then I am only Adam.” He smiled decisively and your heart practically melted at his sweet words.

“Will you walk with me?” Adam asked, holding his arm out to you once more.

His voice was softer now - not the grand voice of a Sovereign heir, but of a young man trying to prove his worth to you.

“I would love nothing more.”

Your heart fluttered, and, to think, this was only the beginning.

[miniversse]

⭑”race my heart”pt.2⭑

╰┈➤ OTHER PARTS

⭑ lee know x female reader

⭑ synopsis: lee know, your academic rival strikes your path again during a motorbike meet up, and the lines of hatred and love begin to blur. as the engines rev and the wind blows hard, these lines intertwine and you both spill the bottles of emotions you had for eachother.

⭑ content includes: unprotected sex, spanking, degrading, non-idol lee know, non-idol reader, in established relationship, enemies to lovers, drinking, semi-public sex

⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

as we zoomed through the city streets, the wind rushed past us, and i let my eyes fall shut to take in the cold air. the engine roared as lee know would pick up his pace and you had no other choice but to hold him tighter and push your body closer to his. the way he handled the motorbike, the way he wore his helmet, and the way the city lights reflected over him all made your stomach flutter…

you come to a slow stop at a red light and you gain your hearing again, hearing the other cars on your sides.

“you’re not gonna ask where i live?” you exclaimed over the loud rumbling of his motorbike

“i’m stopping by a kiosk first” the hues turn green and you squeeze him tighter, preparing to take off.

lee know stops at an empty, dark lot of a small kiosk. the parking lot haopened to be behind the building and you were terrified of staying alone.

“i’m gonna grab a beer, need anything?”

“i’m not staying here alone did you lose your mind?!”

“tough luck, i’m not risking my motorbike getting stolen because you can’t wait a few minutes in the dark” he takes his helmet off and adjusts his hair. god you’ve never seen anyone like him.

“i’ll be fast” he walks off, and you’re left waiting in the eerie lot that’s only light source was the kiosks ugly sign.

“so, where do you work now?” he cracks his beer can open and signals you to do the same.

“me? i’m the manager of a computer engineering team” the silence was long and painful, so you throw his question back at him. “what about you?”

“uh, i’ve got a job at my dads liquor store.”

lee know? the academic weapon? working at his dads liquor store? something’s not adding up.

“oh, that’s cool” you take another sip, storing all this information to bring to your friend next time you meet up. he gets on his motorbike, facing you and letting his back rest on the handles. his legs spread wide open, and he glances at you for long periods of time.

“you’ve changed, a lot” his voice is quite, as if embarrassed to state so.

“yeah, you too. no longer that teasing young fucker you were”

“who said i won’t tease you right now right here? hm?” he says confidently.

you scoff, and just before you get to answer him, he’s pulling at your legs and moving you closer to him. he pulls your body on top of his legs and his eyes search yours.

“answer me. how do you know i won’t tease you?”

“i-i don’t kno-“ his lips crash onto yours, silencing you once and for all. his lips were so smooth and captivating, pulling you in for every kiss delicately. he progresses to biting at your lower lip and sucking at it to numb the pain. you let out quite whimpers to address the pain, but he only seemed to go harder and faster.

“l-lee know” you struggle to voice his name between his tongue and mouth, but he places a hand on your back and keeps going.

“call me a fucker again, and i’ll be bound to do it to you. you hear me? whore.”

your developing a wet spot, and the dirty talk isn’t soothing it at all. your feelings of challenging him arise again, and you move your lips to his ear and linger for a moment.

“fu-cker” you pronounce every letter clearly, letting him know you’re up for a challenge and he squints at you in disbelief. his hands move to your shorts and he unbuttons and zips them, pulling you up to drag them off of you. you do the same to him, fighting his growing bulge to strip his lower body bare. vibrations of the engine intensified the knot in your stomach, and you squirmed in your place.

“get down you cumslut, let’s see how i can deal with you” you oblige and move down, the cold air caressing your skin.

“bend over, now.” he puts a hand on your back and another wrapping the top of your thigh, and your wet spot grew thinking of how he would fill you up.

his fingers hook the hem of your underwear and he pulls them down at a painfully slow rate, really teasing you. his fingers find his way to your folds and he feels how wet you are. he lets out a chuckle in your ear, fueling his ego. his fingers push into your opening and you let out a breathy moan. he doesn’t move much, taking his time and slowly exploring your cunt as if you weren’t infront of him fighting to keep your legs stable.

“does cumslut want my dick?”

“y-yes, fuck. please.”

“mmm, you can beg for it.”

your head falls as he curls his fingers inside of you and reaches your good spot frequently. you’re panting now and you needed him inside of you, to get rid of that knot in your stomach.

“p-please lee know, i need you inside m-me. please”

“who was better in school?” the question startled you, and you tried to stand your ground.

“m-me”. his hand strikes across your ass, and you let out a series of whimpers. he asked the same question and you gave the same answer for what felt like forever until you couldn’t handle the pain of him striking your ass, giving in to give him the answer he wants.

“y-you”

“good girl” he caresses the spot he abused, and it felt heavenly at that moment. he brings his head down to your neck, and he marks your skin with hickeys. 

you were growing desperate and put your arm behind you, trying to find his length to guide it into you. he notices your desperate actions and you felt his tip nudge your folds, and you moved back into him to take him in, bringing your hand back to hold on. his cock enters you, and your moans fade into the large and empty lot. he pounces into you at a painstakingly slow pace, slowly picking it up as he widens your tight hole.

“god you’re so tight, i’ll fuck you till you’re loose” and with that he fastens his pace, the sound of his body slamming into you joined with his hissing and repetitive “yeahs” brought you to the edge, moaning sweet nothings to him.

“let me fill you up cumslut, y-yeah?” he picks up his pace and moves into you at an ungodly pace. his warm release fills your insides, and soon yours do too. lee know pants frantically trying to regulate his breathing, and you process everything that happened in the last few minutes. he pulls out of you and helps you put your clothes back on, frozen shocked at his act of kindness. 

you sat back on his motorbike, finishing the remains of the warm beer. he had his hands on both sides of your legs, watching your every move. his face was perfect in every way, and he had a major glow up from your school days. the neon lights casted on his face, and his muscles peeked from his tank top.

“im not satisfied” his voice fills the silence and you look at him with a confused face

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that i need to fuck you till your dry” his confidence was something you envied, he would pierce his eyes into you every time he challenged you and it always worked. the growing emotions of desperation and love for him grew.

“are you sure you can? i don’t think you have the stamina”

“let me show you what stamina looks like” he pushes you to the back and rides in the front, placing his helmet on and bringing you closer to his body. you were on the city roads again, holding onto the man you once wished death upon.

⭑ hihi! im still debating whether to continue one last part or stop it here. if you’ve made it to the end, id really value your opinion!

⭑ TAG LIST

@rylea08

@captainchrisstan

@all4minnie

@strayywayy

[dollfaceksj]

wait i have a question , does cal yoongi have a daddy kink??? 😮‍💨😮‍💨

i’m glad u asked 😴

and remember: if you’re not getting tagged despite signing up to the taglist, it’s because in your settings the ‘allow search engines to find me’ option is disabled which makes me unable to tag you.

can’t afford love | myg (m) #7

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is this even a good idea?

well..

either way

you want this

and you’re ovulating!

it’s not your fault you’re this horny!!

even just his presence is making you want to pounce him

and now with you bent over the table

surrounded by dirty dishes

his groin pressed straight into your ass

you can’t think straight

he’s right

you can still have fun and enjoy as you’re trying for a baby

you’re snapped out of your thoughts when your robe is hiked up to your waist and your entire lower body is naked and exposed

you feel

extremely insecure

doing this in a not-so-dark room

but at least you’re bent over and he can’t see much anyways

his hands knead your hips and asscheeks under his palms, your breath becoming ragged

he runs a finger up your slit, a sudden grunt leaving his lips at the touch makes you glance over your shoulder

“now this,” he starts, “is what i’m talking about.” he brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks your slick off. “maybe i should be a bit rougher on you since you’ve always liked that a lot more.”

you angrily grunt. you turn your head again, pressing your cheek against the surface of the table. “shut up.”

the loud crack of your ass getting slapped rings in your ears and the heat spreads through your skin

“always got something to say, huh?”

hmmm

you do

you literally do

but…

“you like it, though,” you remark, trying to stifle a smirk

“hm,” he hums as he massages your asscheeks. “i do, don’t i?”

there’s a certain tone in his voice that you can’t quite put your finger on

you glance at him again and he’s staring straight at you. “i suppose i never liked the easy way,” he says and you’re not even really sure what he means by that

is he talking about you?

how you’ve just

never been an easy person?

…

well in all seriousness

you weren’t

and you will never be

you’re of the opinion that things should be earned

you say as you’re preparing ready to get rawdogged by your exhusband

he runs a hand up your spine which causes you to shiver

pathetic.

“i still love looking at you from this position, you know,” he starts and the ruffling of him pulling his sweats down doesn’t go unnoticed by you

“yeah? why’s that?”

“feel like i can do whatever i want to you and you’ll let me cause you enjoy it too.”

what the hell….

he’s SICK

“what does that even mea–”

SMACK.

“ow!” you screech but somewhere it sounds like a moan. a screechy moan if you will.

“see?” he chuckles and reaches for your wrists to pin them into your lower back with one hand whilst he tugs his boxers down with his free hand. “you like it. i also know it’s your favorite position and don’t tell me it’s not because we both know it is.”

you merely huff in response. “so? it’s yours too.”

he hums quietly.

“no, it’s not.” his free hand wraps around his shaft and he uses it to tease your wet slit

you close your eyes to concentrate and prepare but you can’t help but wonder what he’s on about..

“i fucked you from behind often because i knew you liked it. i like it too but it’s not my favorite.”

huh???

you were so sure it was

just because it was usually your go-to position whenever you had sex with each other

and you know he absolutely loves your ass and hips so you’re not sure where this is coming from now

you quietly ask, “then what is?”

he stays quiet for a few moments

“missionary.” he starts pushing into you which makes your mind go blank

you can’t even bring yourself to ask why but he lets you know nonetheless

“watching your face when you’re getting fucked is my favorite thing in the world.” he bottoms out, pelvis pushed straight into your asscheeks

your face?

he loves watching your face?

“the way your brows furrow and the way your mouth falls open. the way you struggle to keep your eyes open but do it to hold onto eye contact. it makes you look dizzy.” he simply chuckles and then slowly starts thrusting into you. “drives me fucking insane.”

…

why would he say this now

he used to say he just loved fucking you

no matter how he could have you he’d have you like that

why is he going into detail now??

he knows all the things you like

is it genuinely bc he just wanted to do all of your favorite things?

you do remember how much he loved kissing you in missionary

and you loved it just as much

especially when he did as he came inside. it genuinely made you think that giving birth to a whole sports team was worth it in that moment

(until the post nut clarity hit of course)

he keeps thrusting, dick rubbing your walls so fucking good that it makes your knees buckle

but he’s so close to your body and he’s still pinning your wrists against your lower back which causes you to stay pinned to the table whether your legs give out or not

“wha… what else do you like?” you manage to get out without sounding overly sexual

“hm,” he hums as he rubs your asscheek with his other hand. “i was never big on the daddy thing but hearing you on the phone earlier–”

“i am not calling you daddy.”

he laughs in response at how quickly you declined

“i don’t know, babe. you’re making a mess on the floor. i think you like that idea, if anything.”

fuck

you don’t know whether he’s lying or not

and with your hands restrained

hips caged in between his own and the edge of the table

you grunt in response

not much else you can do

and in the corner of your eyes you can see him licking at his thumb before bringing it to your asshole

rubbing the rim

you mewl quietly. he rubs all over your puckered hole, something he knows you used to enjoy

“fuck,” you mumble as his thrust pick up in pace, hips slamming into your asscheeks and recoiling against his skin

“i need to look at your face when you cum,” he whispers as he begins to slow down until he fully pulls out

he pulls you off the table by your biceps and turns you around in one swift motion, pushing you back onto the table and instantly spreading your thighs for him

you barely have the time to register what’s happening when he grabs ahold of his shaft and guides it back into your pussy

he slides in so effortlessly, proving your arousal

and if that wasn’t enough proof, the loud squelching sounds should be

he starts thrusting into you again, eyes staring down at you with such intensity that it makes you feel like you’re being stared down by a starved lion

he holds your thighs apart with his hands, hooked under the back of your knees as he snaps his hips into you

you can’t help but moan as you stare back, mouth falling open and brows furrowing together

exactly the way he likes it

he knows you do that once he speeds up and slams his hips into yours like he’s got something to prove to you

“rub that clit for me, y/n.”

FUCKKKKK

you could cum simply from hearing him say that

you mewl as you reach between your bodies and allow your hand to make it’s way down to your clit, the stickiness instantly coating your fingers as you start rubbing yourself

“how does it feel?” he asks, hairs sticking to his forehead because of the sweat that started forming there

you let out a sob that you hope is enough of an answer about how fucking good you’re feeling right now

unfortunately he shakes his head

“use your words, sugar.”

fuck fuckfuckfurkcudkcud

sugar

sugar.

it used to be his go-to nickname for you

:))

..

:(

and him saying it right now is both orgasm-inducing

yet bittersweet

it almost makes you stumble over your words

said you looked cold on the outside yet tasted and smelled so damn sweet

and he liked the irony

because your personality was the opposite of sweet

you suppose he was right.

“feels… feels so good,” you sniff, bringing your fingers up to your mouth, licking your own arousal off it whilst keeping eye contact with him

his eyes momentarily drop to your lips as he watched you wet your fingers with your saliva before you dive back to rub at your clit

he nods as he makes eye contact with you again

but his eyes are starting to occasionally drop down to your lips

and it’s getting harder and harder not to kiss him

maybe just once–

“cum on my dick, dizzy.”

oh

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

you don’t need much more

a few more circular motions on your clit and the consistent pounding of his hips, tip of his dick kissing your cervix repeatedly has you coming undone

your body shakes as your hands come up to squeeze at his biceps and chest, incoherent words and sentences falling from your lips in cries and ragged breaths

he simply nods as he watches you. “i know, i know.”

your entire body shakes, pussy repeatedly clenching around his shaft which you know is pushing him to the edge as well

“fuck,” he whispers, one hand coming up to gently tug your robe off your shoulder, exposing your breast to him

kneads it

rolls your nipple in between his fingers

does it again after wetting the tips of his thumb and index finger

you sniff again, tears rolling down your cheeks from the amount of pleasure he’s giving you

you haven’t had an orgasm whilst getting fucked in so long

you’d almost forgotten how fucking insane it is

mindboggling

insanity-inducing

“fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he whispers as his hips start snapping into yours at a quicker pace, indicating he’s getting close too

you simply continue to watch him with the biggest doe eyes you can muster, bottom lip trapped between your teeth

fuck. FUCK

it’s not even healthy how badly you want him to cum inside

pump you full

mark his territory

remind you who you still belong to

what are you saying? snap out of it!

“i’m gonna,” he pauses, “cum.”

your hands dip down the back of his shoulders, one up the back of his neck and you do it to pull him closer

your eyes drop down to his lips before you say, “put that baby in me.”

you say it with such a tone in your voice and a look in your eyes that makes yoongi almost feral

his thrusting only gets rougher yet sloppier, inconsistent

until he completely unloads inside of you

with a few more thrusts, he comes to a halt, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath

and now

when everything is more clear

you almost want to scream at the top of your lungs

you know you should’ve never broken those rules

you know you wouldn’t be able to resists for much longer

why are you bummed that it’s already over for this weekend and probably until you’re ovulating again?

…

???

or maybe not even until then? it couldve already happened.

exactly what you wanted

a baby.

pregnancy.

it could have happened already.

🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

and it’s precisely why

you almost

asked him

to pull out.

to be continued.

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[cupidsyndrome]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ THE OTHER WOMAN.

🏹 HURT / FALSE COMFORT, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP. 675 WORDS. 💌 it's easy to forget the ring on his finger whenever the two of you are together. 🩷 cw. suggestive. mentions of cheating. ran being manipulative, reader being delusional.

ran haitani has a wife.

you’ve known it since the beginning– he told you all about her. marital struggles laid bare before you– heated arguments, desire for divorce, you’ve heard it all. ten months have passed since the day you’ve started fooling around with him– ten long months where you’ve continuously believed in his words. you know it’s a bad thing to do, a bad thing to wish upon another woman; you can’t help it. not when he’s always so gentle, so nice with you. 

you’ve met his friends. you’ve even met his brother. you’ve seen how their gazes shifted from ran to you– full of confusion, perhaps even a little bit of judgement. but as he makes you sit on his lap, looking all proud of his possession– you find it hard to care. ran haitani is nothing if not an enigmatic man. it’s easy to get lost in him– trying to solve the puzzle of his words, searching for hidden meanings behind each promise. clandestine meetings and poisonous gifts become a routine you’ve grown accustomed to.

he’s always there. when you leave work, ready to pick you up. when you’re on your day off, ready to whisk you away on yet another one of his rendezvous. 

the lines between an affair and a relationship got blurry some time ago, when he introduced you as his girlfriend (you were always his ‘friend’, before that day)-- your heart had skipped a beat that night. it’s a foolish thing, falling in love. delusions eat your mind away, offering your heart on a platter for a man you could never truly have. 

the nights shared with him are the worst. the divine ecstasy shatters when your eyes open, and the ring dangling around his neck taunts you. jealousy tugs at you, begging you to do something– and you succumb to its order. your teeth sinking into his neck, imprinting a scarlet mark of your own. it doesn’t faze him– nothing ever does. does he know the meaning of it all ? you’re unsure– it’s hard to tell with him. 

i love you.

everything comes crashing down on a random friday. you’re getting home from work– sitting next to him while he silently drives. the confession spills from your mouth before you can even stop yourself. you’ve thrown up the words, your body purging itself of that sinful secret. 

ran doesn’t answer– doesn’t acknowledge you. 

it’s hard not to notice the way his body had stiffen, hands flexing as his jaw hardened. you want to take it all back, you want to beg him to forget about what you’ve said. you’re just as frozen as he is. vision blurring, hands tightly gripping onto the seatbelt. the air is thick with tension and you’re dreading the moment you’ll have to get out of the car.

the engine stops.

you’re home.

“what do you know about love ?” the bite in his voice makes you jump. it makes you feel like an idiot– like a child, and maybe that’s what you are. you’ve never seen him like that– fox eyes that you’ve grown so used to feeling suddenly oh-so foreign. it’s humiliating. “don’t ever say that shit again.” your throat tightens and tears start streaming down your cheeks– it’s only when you hiccup that you realise just how miserable you are. you hear him sigh, and you’re preparing yourself for whatever he has to say.

his hand reaches out for your face, slender fingers gently wiping your tears away. “don’t cry, baby,” there it is again– that softness reserved for you. “that was mean of me, uh ?,” he asks and you shake your head. it’s an automatism– no, you’re not mean, you’re right. as you uncontrollably sob, you find yourself wishing to comfort him. “it’s just– don’t make this weird, okay ? we’re good, let’s keep it that way.” 

you agree. 

ran haitani has a wife and your heart aches for the day he’ll finally keep his promise. until then, being the other woman isn’t as agonising as not having him at all.

© CUPIDSYNDROME, all rights reserved.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fanfic chapter banner in the style of the achievement icons. The RED Spy, depicted in solid orange, is standing around a corner, holding up his knife. Meanwhile, the BLU Spy, depicted with orange outlines, is approaching Pyro, preparing to backstab it. Pyro is depicted in solid orange and is preparing to fire its flare gun. The characters are against a gray background. In the bottom right corner in white text against a gray box is text reading "CHAPTER FOUR: SPIES LIKE US." /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Medic, Heavy, plus some of the other mercs in smaller roles Warnings: General references to trauma, TF2-typical violence, panic attacks, self-harm Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason. Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve

---~~~---

Chapter 4: Spies Like Us Summary: In which Spy does some digging.

---~~~---

Spy knew he was being stared at as everyone stepped out of their vehicles and headed out to the next day's match. He pointedly did not meet their gaze until a flash of white caught his eye and he realized it was not Pyro, but Medic fixing him with a look. "What?" Spy snapped.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but usually I am the one to make the cuts," Medic replied, holding up his bonesaw.

It took a moment for Spy to realize what he meant, and he lowered his voice. "It was attacking me, if you must know."

"Oh, interesting." Medic rubbed his chin in thought. "Was it merely a side-effect of its pyromania, or was it actively attacking?"

"It set one of my items on fire and then attempted to grab me," Spy muttered, then gave a start. "Wait, how did you know that was me?"

Medic gingerly felt over the teeth of his bonesaw. "Not all blades cut the same way. I know the cuts your knife can make."

Spy frowned; it wasn't like it was the first time any of them had fought with each other. But something struck him, and he looked the Medic in the eyes. "You know some things about... that creature, do you not?"

"Somewhat. Why?"

Spy held his tongue for the moment—what would he even ask? It didn't matter—they were nearing the site of their next match anyway. "Nevermind," he grunted, and followed the others to spawn.

Much to Spy's irritation, he found the Pyro already there, and already staring at him. Not this again. He stared back at it, and when it did not waver, he activated his Cloak and Dagger and crept over to another part of the room. The Pyro seemed to have expected this as it crept around, searching for him, but Spy kept his distance.

Well, it seemed his momentary lack of calm hadn't deterred it. He wished he could figure out a way to communicate with it—he made a mental note to ask the Engineer for advice later.

Speaking of, Engineer was approaching Pyro. He patted it on the back to get its attention, and it whirled on him in surprise, but made no sound.

...Sound.

Spy's mind drifted back to the day prior, when he thought he might have heard a faint sound when he defended himself. Had that come from Pyro? He hadn't been entirely sure... but if it had been Pyro, it had made the noise when he'd attacked it.

Interesting.

He wasn't keen to repeat that—Medic would notice again and grow suspicious. But maybe...

"Begin!"

The mercs rushed out into the fray, Pyro following Engineer. So it was going to defend the gadgets again—it would probably be fine while the Engineer was still there, but Spy made a note to check on it later.

The match progressed as usual, and Spy of course did not twist his knife when stabbing the back of an enemy sniper that was aiming at Scout. Once he was sure Scout was able to slip into the enemy base, he turned around to check on the Pyro.

Sure enough, Pyro was defending the Engineer "nest" as fiercely as ever, if not more so. The sentry caught an enemy scout, while an air blast sent an enemy sniper's arrow sailing right back. Spy sat back, cloaked, and watched the Pyro for a moment. Ordinarily he would have been impressed at how efficiently it was defending the Engineer's gadgets and their team's intelligence, but as it stood, he found himself annoyed that no enemy was landing a hit on it, and was then annoyed at his own annoyance.

Spy heard a faint noise behind himself, looked to find nothing there, and knew what that meant.

He should have tried to attack the enemy spy himself. He should have at least called out a warning. But for the moment, he held himself back.

And the Pyro, occupied with firing its flare gun at an enemy soldier, was backstabbed by the enemy spy. It let out a strangled, muffled yelp, and dropped to the ground.

Spy wasted no time in backstabbing the enemy himself before their intelligence could be grabbed. As soon as the enemy fell, Spy bolted back to spawn. He was certain he would find Pyro pouting or throwing a tantrum, and he was already planning a snarky remark to throw at it for finally catching it.

The scene at spawn, however, made the words die on his tongue.

Pyro was kneeling on the floor, hands clutched near its own throat. Its body was shaking, its chest was heaving, and its filtered breathing was rapid.

Was it... panicking?

Before he could be noticed, Spy cloaked himself, but he only continued to stare, dumbfounded. He could not recall an instance of Pyro acting this distressed, ever. Even when they had been attacked by the blood-sucking robots before, Pyro had not panicked. Why now?

The match was still progressing, but Spy found himself rooted in place. What was he even supposed to do?

Fortunately he didn't have to wonder for long. In a flash of light, Soldier burst into existence next to Pyro, stumbling as he recovered from the respawn.

The Pyro immediately drew in a sharp breath, shakily rising to its feet as Soldier got his bearings.

"Blasted sniper shot me right out of the air," Soldier grumbled, turning to glance at Pyro. He gave a double-take when he saw it still breathing heavily and trembling slightly. "Now's not the time to be quaking in your boots, Smoky Joe! Move out!" With that, he charged out of spawn.

Shaking its head, Pyro followed Soldier. It ran past Spy's hiding spot, but paused just at the doorway, leaning a hand against it as it fought to catch its breath again. Its breathing had calmed, but it was still shaking.

For the briefest of moments, Spy considered saying something, but held himself back, and Pyro moved on.

Well... this would certainly be something to keep in mind. As it was, however, Spy crept back out into the fray, looking to place some sappers on the enemy sentries. It was time to focus on the match, and he wasn't keen to see... whatever he'd just seen again anytime soon.

—-

Rather than retreating to his smoking room, Spy immediately headed for the Medic's lab, activating his cloak as he did so. Medic had not yet arrived, as he was preoccupied with celebrating with some of their fellow mercs. Spy didn't know quite how long he'd be away, so he would try to keep it quick.

His cloak wore off as he reached the doors to the lab, but that was fine. He'd be alone in here, so—

He opened the doors to a flutter of pigeon wings and immediately winced. Ah, yes, the pigeons. Well, he'd have to watch that they didn't leave droppings on his suit, but he should be fine otherwise.

Turning to the desk, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of gleaming fangs in a set of red jaws open wide. But then Aristotle closed his mouth again with a contented sigh, and snuggled deeper into the spare coat that Medic had left draped over the desk.

Wonderful.

Well, at least he was still asleep. Spy checked his watch, but it hadn't recharged just yet. He'd have to be careful around that stupid baboon.

Creeping over to a nearby filing cabinet, Spy checked it over before selecting the middle drawer. It opened with a soft rattle, and a quick glance at the birds and the ape assured him that he hadn't attracted their attention. From there he flipped through the folders and smiled as he came across one marked with a flame symbol.

Perfect.

Spy slid the folder out of the drawer and began to skim the papers within. They were all medical documents, of course. Several were injury reports detailing gun and knife wounds and their treatment, almost always involving a simple application of the medi gun. These interested him less, though he did briefly skim the report the Medic had written after they'd returned from Gray Mann's base. It was a report detailing the process of the emergency blood transfusion that Pyro (as well as multiple others) had gone through. It wasn't a procedure Spy cared to dwell on, having gone through it himself, but he did take note of a scribble toward the bottom of the sheet that mentioned Medic had had to clean the soot off of the tools he'd used after he'd operated on Pyro.

His mind yanked him back to the smell of blood mixed with soot from last night (and a more distant smell of blood and smoke), and he quickly moved on to the next few papers.

Still very little yielded information that was relevant. Spy already knew that the Pyro could be injured and could bleed just like the rest of them, though there were frustratingly few notes on its physiology other than the soot, and nothing about its mental state. If there was any injury that had left Pyro shaken, Medic had not noted it.

Something else was missing as well. While the file listed many injury reports, there was no medical profile, which might have yielded more answers. Why would it not be in Pyro's file? Surely it would be kept here, unless it were—

Spy paused, and looked at the desk again. There, on the right side, just barely poking out beneath the coat the monkey was sleeping on, was a stack of papers.

Grimacing, Spy put the file away and gently shut the drawer, keeping quiet so as to not wake Aristotle or aggravate the pigeons. The baboon merely sighed, his tail twitching in his sleep.

Spy crept up to the desk, watching the baboon all the while. When it did not stir, he grabbed the edges of the papers, slowly easing them out from under the coat. After a small eternity, they came loose, and Spy was finally able to search through them.

It didn't take long to find the Pyro's class symbol, and he began looking over the papers. One was an injury report. Spy skimmed it, realized it was detailing a knife wound in the arm, and quickly set the paper aside. The next sheet, meanwhile, profiled the Pyro.

...Or attempted to.

Name, age, gender, and country of origin were all listed as "unknown." Spy had expected as much. The height and weight were listed, with a caveat that the weight included the clothing. A blood type was listed as well. The notes that followed, however, were far more interesting:

Species: Unknown.

Patient would not submit to a standard physical.

Higher body temperature than standard, often exceeding 100 F. Patient shows no signs of illness, so this is taken to be normal.

Patient's body is perpetually covered in soot. Body emits a faint glow beneath.

Internal anatomy roughly comparable to humans. Megababoon heart replacement was successful. Patient was awake for surgery and behaved in a threatening manner when further examination was attempted. (Someday...)

Fascinating, but not exactly information that would help him. He was nearly tempted to crumple the paper in frustration when he noticed a small "1 of 2" at the bottom. So there was more information, but another quick search of the papers he'd pulled out did not yield an answer. He looked back at the lab coat, and noticed one last paper sticking out from beneath it. Eyebrows raising, he began to lift up the coat again, only to pause.

...Wait.

He stared at the white coat and the brown hairs dotting it, and slowly turned his gaze to the left.

Aristotle stared at him, then gave a quiet ook.

"AGH!" Spy cried out in spite of himself, jumping back, and immediately the baboon began to shriek. The pigeons startled from their roosts, flying every which way, and Spy scrambled to avoid them.

Aristotle was leaping around the lab erratically, shrieking and howling and beating his tiny fists against every surface he encountered. Papers scattered everywhere, and a few vials were knocked to the ground and shattered.

"Merde!" Spy hissed through clenched teeth. Grasping his watch, he activated his cloak, and cast one last look at the chaos behind him as he bolted out the door—

—straight into the Medic, who subsequently crashed backward into Heavy. Spy's cloak flickered at the collison, but it was enough.

"Ah, Spy," Medic said, an unhappy smile crossing his face. "I didn't hear you come in, but I certainly heard you leave."

As Spy turned off his cloak, Aristotle scrambled out of the lab and leaped up into Medic's arms, chittering and pointing at Spy.

"Yes, thank you, Aristotle, I noticed."

"What is Spy doing in Medic's lab?" Heavy asked, brow furrowed.

"Nothing, now," Spy muttered, and brushed past them, only for Heavy to grab his arm. "What—"

"I don't appreciate people snooping around my lab," Medic said, staring directly at Spy and petting Aristotle. "What were you trying to get into?"

"I was merely performing an investigation. It has nothing to do with you!" Spy struggled to pull his arm away, but the Heavy held tight.

"I see! Nothing involving me... in my lab."

"Spy is acting strange," Heavy said, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "Maybe is not our spy."

Spy went still for fear the Heavy would break his arm. "I'm not, I—" He faltered. "I used my disguise kit to turn into Bela Lugosi when we watched that terrible movie a couple Halloweens ago."

Heavy immediately let go, while Medic gave him a look of bewilderment that was shared by Aristotle. "You what—"

"Spy is our spy," Heavy said simply, and crossed his arms. "Still acting funny, though."

"Yes," Medic agreed. "What are you up to?"

Brushing off his sleeve, Spy heaved a sigh. "I was just looking into some files."

Medic eyed him for a long moment, while Aristotle fixed him with a judgmental stare. Then the Medic's eyebrows raised in recognition. "Ah, you were peeking into Pyro's files, weren't you?"

Spy looked away, idly lighting a cigarette. "That is classified information."

"Indeed!" Another unhappy smile crossed the Medic’s face. "Those documents are classified."

He bit into the filter. "You're one to talk about ethics, Monsieur Working-for-the-Other-Team."

"We were fired," Heavy cut in. "It was only team at the time."

Spy opened his mouth, faltered, and let out a stream of smoke through his nose. "Fine. Yes, I was searching the Pyro's file for information."

"Information that you were about to ask me for this morning." Medic looked him in the eyes.

Sighing, Spy turned away, his feet itching to retreat back to his smoking room, or his bedroom, or literally anywhere else. "Oui. I just decided to take matters into my own hands."

"Why?"

He paused. Slowly he turned to face Medic and Heavy again. "What?"

"Why take matters into your own hands?"

Heavy nodded. "Spy's hands are tiny. Cannot hold much."

"You are not a doctor," Medic went on. "Why not ask one, if you are seeking medical information?"

"Because..." Because why would you want to help? "Because it is my mission."

Shrugging, Medic allowed Aristotle to hop down from his arms. "Well, I'm not part of this mission, so I suppose I will not pry." He then crouched down to address the monkey. "Come now, Aristotle. Help me clean this mess."

With a snort, Spy turned to leave, only to jump back when Heavy's arm blocked his path. Spy glared up into the Heavy's face. "What?"

"Spy's hands are tiny," he repeated.

Spy's teeth ground against his cigarette. "Yes, compared to your monstrous mitts."

Pulling his arm away, Heavy held out his palm. "Heavy's hands are much bigger. Can hold more, help carry."

Freezing, Spy looked between Heavy's hand and face a few times. Finally he gave a derisive snort. "What would I need help carrying?" he grumbled, and stormed off.

[lorewriter]

Aizawa/Oboro first date prompt please!

Hope you like it!!

It was raining the day Oboro had asked him out. He’d been holding an umbrella over a box of abandoned kittens when Oboro had come up behind him with an umbrella of his own. It was sky blue, like his hair. He’d looked up at the other, the only sound around them being the small mewls of the kittens and the soft beat of the rain against their umbrellas.

“Go out with me.”

It was so sudden that Shota had needed to do a double take before simply replying; “Sure.”

He’d never seen Oboro smile so bright as he did that day. Of course Hizashi was ecstatic, hopping up and down repeatedly as he asked for details in school the next day. Oboro had told him to let him do all the planning and to just be ready this upcoming Saturday for their first date.

He’d sighed as Hizashi’s patience seemed to completely diminish causing the boy to all but tackle him for answers. He explained what happened, but his mind still drifted off to what he’d need to prepare. Just what exactly was etiquette for someone’s first date. Finishing off the school day, Aizawa headed home to his one bedroom apartment, his parents having long since abandoned him to live on his own, but they at least sent him an allowance every few months.

He began with what he wanted to wear, looking through his closet in hopes of finding something suitable for his first date. Upon finding nothing but his UA uniform and a few cat sweaters, he decided a trip to a local clothing store would be needed. Next he checked his hair, did he need to style it? How dressed up did he need to be?

Deciding he was getting nowhere with his lack of knowledge, Shota turns to the internet to solve his problem.

SEARCH ENGINE:

“What does one wear on a first date?”

“Do I need to style my hair?”

“What topics would be good to bring up on your first date?”

“Funny cat video compilation.”

*

Hizashi ended up being his savior as his previous online search led him nowhere. The excitable blonde rushed him around Musutafu mall, grabbing whatever he could force onto Shota before finally stopping at a small cafe for some coffee.

“Is all of this really necessary?” Shota spoke, fidgeting with his now styled hair.

“Of course, you need to look your absolute best to woo him. Who knows, he might even ask you out again the moment he sees you.” Hizashi replied, laughing to himself as he did.

“You’re ridiculous.”

*

Soon Saturday was upon him and his nerves had ended up keeping him awake all night. He’d been told to meet Oboro at their normal crossroad where they met to head to school together. He’d picked out a plain black t-shirt along with a long gray jacket that went down to his knees. His hair had been half way tied up, leaving only a few strands left to shadow his face.

With one final glance into his bathroom mirror, he decided he was prepared enough and set off.

Walking up to their meeting spot, Shota could already see a fidgeting Oboro messing with his fingers. His hair was the same as always with those clunky goggles pushing up his bangs. He wore a brown jacket over a navy blue shirt with black pants.

“Beautiful.”

A blush rose to Oboro’s face, matching his own as he realized he’d said that out loud. Not wanting to make the situation any more awkward, Shota coughed a little before asking where they’d be going. Seeing the Oboro’s eyes light up like starlight, Shota knew he was in for a day full of surprises. And surprised he was as Oboro dragged him around Musutafu. Their first stop had been a small hole in the wall bookstore that held his favorite author's new book, which he’d thought had already been sold out. Next was a hero exhibit on his favorite underground hero Smoke-Eater. He’d been wanting to go see it for a while now but hadn’t had the time due to all of their training at UA.

Next came a small lunch at his favorite ramen shop followed by their final stop at his favorite cat cafe.

The day had been perfect but from the beginning Shota had had a knot in his stomach, a feeling he couldn’t help but focus on as Oboro returned with their coffees in hand. Sipping his coffee, Shota finally gained the courage to ask the question he’d been replaying in his head all week. “Why do you like me? Don’t get me wrong, today was perfect. This was honestly the best day I’ve ever had in my entire life, but, why? Why me?” He asked quietly, eyes firmly fixed on his coffee in hopes of not meeting the others' eyes.

“Well that’s simple, it’s because I like you. I’ve liked you since I saw you fighting your hardest in the sports festival. You’re incredible, you face odds that most of us don’t have to and you still come out stronger. You fight for what you want, I admire you for that. But you’re also kind, you look after others in your own way and that makes me want to work harder to be a hero just like you.” Oboro responded, shattering Shota’s view of himself so completely that all he could now was gape.

“I’m glad to have met you Aizawa Shota, and if you’ll have me, I’d very much like to be your boyfriend.”

Gold eyes met red and for a moment, Shota felt like he could do anything, if only Shirakumo Oboro was by his side.

*

“So, did Nemuri get to you too?” Oboro asked, walking him back to his apartment at the blue haired boy’s insistence.

“Huh? No, but Hizashi helped me prepare for today. Told me I needed to look my best so we just spent a day at the mall picking out an outfit and getting my hair done.” He responded, feeling more relaxed as the knot in his stomach had disappeared.

“Wha? Lucky, Nemuri was like a wild animal, she spent this past week drilling me on what to wear, how to act and what to say.” Oboro replied, a small whine in his tone as he lamented on his past hell week with Nemuri.

Laughing quietly, Shota thought; there’s nowhere he’d rather be, than by Oboro’s side. And he hoped they’d stay together forever.

Lore: Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.

[declanlikesmusic]

A Taster Sample of My Favourite Album of the Year

CW: Flashing Lights, Notification SFX

I have so many things that I want to say right now that I simply don't have the time to put out there right now. I'm going on holiday for the next week and I'm going to want to catch up to the rest of this year's music before committing to any year-end posts. But before we potentially get there, let me give you a taste of just how good this record is.

This is 👁‍🗨📲. What? You don't know how to pronounce that? Well, that's a skill issue, but I mean, Eyeclick works for now. They are an up-and-coming vaporwave duo hailing from Seattle and this song comes from their brand new fifth album titled 👁点击と👁, or if that's too good for your mouth or keyboard to communicate, I Click With My Eye. I do mean it, this is brand new, it came out on the 1st of this month. It's a magnum opus of experimental vaporwave that's a true-to-form statement on who they are as a pair of artists collaborating on music together.

Across the board, the results are spectacular, but I want to highlight one specific song just for now, the newly premiered music video for the album's fifth song, titled (and I hope you're prepared to comprehend this):

台​湾​SWAG​『​Princess​』​外​约​网​（​k 7 7 9 9 . c n​）​遇​到​以​前​同​班​跩​跩​的​校​花 想​干​她​很​久​了 见​面​一​定​要​好​好​教​训​她

Yeah, I can't even pretend that one's an easy title. Swag Princess works in search engines. Either way, this is a beautiful deep cut. From the moment they hit you with that Pharrell-esque four count, straight into this incredibly psychedelic slushwave beat… My god, it just never fail to floor me every single time. It samples this weird deep cut from a random soundtrack that consists purely of scatting vocals and contemporary R&B production and they make it work tremendous wonders with their amazing sontaneous edits & effects. Highly recommend this album full stop, especially if you end up loving this track.

[my2klife]

Forward my mail and calls to: c/o the decade 1998-2008

As I was thinking about how my neighbors have been on a 2 week vacation in both Hawaii and Alaska (best of both worlds I guess??) this past week, a feeling welled up from inside of me. Mourning. I was saddened by the realization that my next door neighbors were living my dream life; steady dual incomes, regular weeks long vacations (I think this is like their second one this year and it's only July), going out to brunch weekly, etc. A very "normal" life.

Now, let's not forget the famous words from one Aunt Frances Owens:

"My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage!"

And who could forget the wonderful Aggie Cromwell's magical quote on the matter!

This emotion wasn't directed towards the "normalcy" they had so seemingly acquired more easily than I had. It was more directed towards how I was less disciplined in making it for myself. I'd also like to note that it also did not have a twinge of jealousy in it (I'd know, I personify my emotions like Inside Out taught us to).

It was definitely and exclusively mourning. Mourning for a life in a world so different from the reality we're living in. Non-politically, but is anything these days "non-political", I was raised and prepared for a life where home phones were a thing and cellphones were only for emergencies. Where the internet was a tool for learning and relaxation, like computer games and search engines. Where MySpace was the only social media network and even then we weren't posting pics of our food, posting videos of ourselves navigating life, or posting death threats to strangers (at least my friends and I weren't doing that). I remember never being bored because if that thought ever entered my mind, it quickly supplied it with an activity: playing outside, reading a book, doing arts and crafts, playing with barbie dolls, etc.

Now if I'm even the slightest bit "bored" (bc usually I'm really not), TikTok, Instagram, Facebook or X(Twitter), are there for a good disassociating doom scroll, that makes you think and feel like you're doing something but when you finally get free from its claws you feel even more bored and empty than when you began! Also, remember watching TV and movies without also scrolling on your phone? Yea that was a thing and it was marvelous.

I was not built, nor prepared, to participate in a world where a screen, or two!, is constantly in your face or at your fingertips. Even when I was in high school and the iPhone had just come out (circa 2007), it was just an all-in-one device: a phone you could take pictures on and listen to your music with. Youtube was on there but that too was still in its infancy and we weren't all having a channel and watching it all the time. Similarly, we had computers and laptops but for me I used it for Google and then in 2007/8 for Facebook bumper stickers and flare posts to my friends. Computer time had a curfew just like video game time did, because don't think that I wasn't slaying at Ocarina of Time on the Cube constantly because I was! But everything was in moderation.

Well, WHY CAN'T I LIVE LIKE THAT NOW?

*ahem* Sorry, I got a bit heated there.

All I mean is, why can't I choose to turn back the clock in my daily life? Like, go back to when smartphones post iPhone had 16ish basic apps?

Or how about using a site like Tumblr as the "new" Myspace, Xanga, or Wordpress ("" because all of those sites are still around, just different), to post my thoughts without worrying about monetization or vitality?

(omg this was a thing?! ^ 😅 what a time)

And what about taking videos and photos with actual cameras and camcorders? Then uploading and editing them on a different day than when you took the photo or video? OR EVEN....Posting them to your blog space DAYS later! *GASP*!

I think I may just do that...

Live as authentically close to how I was raised between the years of 1998-2008 (give or take a year or two on either end).

I've already begun the purge on my phone of all apps that I can access via my computer (minus of course the REALLY on the go important ones like banking, health, and wallet apps). I also am weening myself off of TikTok and Instagram. I've deactivated my accounts for X (Twitter), Snapchat, and Reddit. In the coming weeks I'll get up the courage to deactivate TikTok and Instagram when my brain doesn't freak the f*ck out at the idea lol. (and no I will not be downloading the Tumblr app, because that wasn't a thing until 2009 and I choose not to use my phone that way even if it is within the outer bands of the range I'm going for)

I can't claim all the credit for the idea. I was inspired by Sarah A. Chrisman and her husband who live an "authentic" Victorian life and blog about it. (Sarah gets as authentic as she can without cutting herself off from society and the outside world).

I recommend checking her blog out ^, their life is pretty fascinating and her book is good too!

I'll make another post on how I will be implementing a lifestyle reminiscent of the decade spanning 98-08. So far I'm excited at the prospect of reverting back to a time when my hand didn't automatically reach for my cell phone and automatically click an app to scroll through, seemingly on its own (we all know we do it and its spooky as hell).

I'm also excited to talk about it on here because I would be a hypocrite if I said that I didn't want to post about this experiment somewhere for the communal connectivity. I am also a product of the infancy of the social network, so I still have a longing to be seen and connected with others on the world wide web (I just don't want to feel pressured to monetize it or consume it constantly).

So this blog will be my chronicle of implementing a more 2k lifestyle! I hope you'll follow along and join in the fun of the nostalgia!

xoxo,

Faethy

[fireflyhwufanficwriter]

My thoughts on Dr. Stone’s S03E03 (“First Contact”)

(Safe to read for anime-only folks.)

My thoughts after watching Season Three, Episode Three:

01. It's cool the way they showed the black-and-white aerial photographs as squares next to each other, like a map! And everybody's helping! :)

02. That's a lot of work, looking for oil in so many photos... :O But It's great that the photos are helping so much with their winter food preparations! :D

03. Ryusui is dreaming of luxury food, and Francois can deliver... with the help of the learned expert, Suika! And Chalk, of course! :) Kohaku looks so happy to see Suika! :D

04. Hahaha! Kohaku caught so many boars, just like that! XD Poor little babies, though... :O

05. Wow, even Chrome, who's known Kohaku for years - and Senku, who knows how difficult it would be - doubted her, but Gen thinks it's possible she might be able to spot truffles from aerial photos! :)

06. Although in this case, the latter two are the correct ones XD But, instead of truffles, she found oil, and she looked so happy about it! :D I love how they're so excited that they're all just running out of the laboratory together to search right away! :O

07. I can't even blame the boar for eating that truffle... after all, finders keepers! XD And this way, we get awesome close-up shots of Chalk! We've never seen him this close before! Look at those paws! :)

08. That cliff is the cliff in the opening song! :O

09. This is just like the tungsten moment, and the final battle moment, where Senku REALLY needs to come up with a new plan. Suika helped him the first time; Kohaku started a siege for him the second time; and now, Kohaku's discovery and Suika's new friend helped him find the oil they all needed! :D

10. "Don't simmer him!" Hahaha! XD

11. Suika, the boar whisperer :O And, "You gotta start with a name if you want to make friends." VERY insightful! :O

12. Sagara found the oil field! :D Senku was SO eager to see the oil that he was the FIRST one to see Sagara enjoying it :O

13. I wonder how Senku made matches... What is the flammable thing at the end of matches, and how do you make those in the stone world? I'll have to research that when the time comes! :)

14. Senku and Kohaku and the others have oil now! :)

15. Uh-huh, reward for morale purposes, SURE, Senku. As if it didn't make you happy to see Suika happy! :D

16. Sagara has joined the party! :D

17. Senku, we all think you're awesome, but... we are NOT asking for engine details right now XD

18. Taiju helped identify the oil! :) Ah, we love a callback, especially to the very first episode of the very first season... :D And that's a great observation made by Ryusui about exceeding the science in the old world! :)

19. They didn't wait for Ukyo before starting the engine? Guys! :O

20. Now, instead of swallows, we have seagulls! :)

21. This is, like, the five wise generals' equivalent of a road trip! Or a sea trip? :D

22. Those look like some very powerful radio waves... :O Hahaha, looks like Ukyo's into roughin' it when it comes to sea navigation :D

23. Say whatever you want about Ginro, but when he's not going against his allies in an effort to be crowned village chief, he really supports his friends' potential romantic relationships! XD

24. And come to think of it, Ruri and Chrome must have been the village's equivalent of a soap opera. I can see why even the elderly folks are excited about the idea of her confessing her feelings to Chrome! :D

25. The Morse Code transmission, at last! As a manga reader, I've really been looking forward to this! I thought it would make an awesome season finale, but everybody's minds might have simultaneously exploded from the mystery and speculation... and the timing wouldn't have been right anyway :D

26. Ukyo receiving the signal with the antenna; Ryusui's plasma suggestion; Chrome's curiosity; Senku's insight about the radio waves; Gen's realization that it was a message in Morse Code... :O

27. Back then, I really wondered which word, "naze" or "doshite," would be used for this "why." I think I favored doshite, but it looks like it was naze after all! XD And the unsettling music and sound effects during this scene were particularly good details to include! :D

28. Senku, for somebody who preserved his thinking mind for three thousand seven hundred years, your self-preservation instincts in this episode were... uh... WHY would you taunt the "WHY" message sender like that?! :O

29. The voice saying that in English kind of threw me off. I wasn't expecting that, for some reason. I was expecting, "Doshite? Doshite? Doshite?" :O

30. The first two lines of the ED... "Sometimes, I wonder, again and again... Sometimes, I wonder, again and again..." In other words, "WHY, WHY!" Arrgh, I read the manga! WHY didn't I make the connection earlier?! :O And there are also noticeable things in the ED! :D

31. This episode, at last! :) The future isn't exactly a mystery to me, because I read the whole manga, but it's so great that the anime is finally at this point! (And beyond it, actually, since I'm really late in watching these episodes, haha!) Imagine talking to the one who petrified all the inhabitants of your entire planet (except for six people)... and the FIRST think you hear is them asking YOU "Why, why, why?" It's just so wrong and weird on so many levels! And Senku is being just like himself, wanting to know everything there is to know - ESPECIALLY everything about the one behind the petrification! :O This anime series is so exhilarating! :D

https :// fireflyhwufanficwriter . tumblr . com / MyDrStoneEpisodeMangaThoughts

[usmlestike]

How to use Chatgpt for Studying

Struggling with dense textbooks and endless Qbanks? You’re not alone. Many USMLE aspirants now turn to smarter tools like ChatGPT to simplify their prep. In this comprehensive guide on how to use ChatGPT to study for USMLE, you’ll discover how to transform this powerful AI into your daily tutor. Whether you're brushing up on biochem or decoding clinical cases, ChatGPT could be the secret weapon that makes the difference.

What is ChatGPT?

ChatGPT is an advanced AI developed by OpenAI, designed to understand and generate human-like text. Unlike traditional search engines or static websites, it can hold interactive conversations, break down complex topics, and act like a study partner who never gets tired. For medical students, especially those preparing for the USMLE Steps 1, 2 CK, and 3, this means real-time clarification, instant question generation, and concept reinforcement—on demand.

Why Use ChatGPT for USMLE Preparation?

Medical students and international graduates (FMGs) often face challenges like limited mentorship, resource overload, or difficulty understanding USMLE-specific content. Here’s where ChatGPT comes in:

✨ Key Benefits:

Instant Clarification: Stuck on nephrotic vs. nephritic syndrome? ChatGPT can break it down with analogies, diagrams, and examples.

Tailored Learning: It adapts to your level—whether you're just starting Step 1 or polishing Step 3 CCS cases.

Speed + Simplicity: Ask it to summarize, quiz you, or create visuals. It cuts through hours of reading.

Once you learn how to use ChatGPT for studying, you’ll find that it not only saves time but also builds deeper understanding through interactive dialogue.

Using ChatGPT for USMLE Step 1

Step 1 is foundational, testing your knowledge in subjects like physiology, biochemistry, pathology, microbiology, pharmacology, and more. It’s often viewed as the most intimidating phase. Here's how ChatGPT helps you power through:

🔍 Best Ways to Use ChatGPT for Step 1:

Explain Concepts Gradually: Prompt it with “Explain the citric acid cycle like I’m in high school,” and then follow up with, “Now explain it for USMLE level.”

Generate Mnemonics: Ask, “Create a mnemonic for cranial nerves and their functions,” and ChatGPT will return creative, memorable hooks.

Practice with Questions: Request, “Give me 10 high-yield MCQs on microbiology with detailed answers.”

Using ChatGPT for USMLE Step 2 CK

Step 2 CK emphasizes clinical reasoning and decision-making based on patient vignettes. It requires more than just recall—it tests how well you can apply knowledge in real-world scenarios.

🩺 ChatGPT Tips for Step 2 CK:

Simulate Cases: “Give me a patient case with HPI, vitals, and labs,” and then ask, “What’s the most likely diagnosis?”

Build Differentials: Provide symptoms and request a differential list. Follow with, “How do I rule each out?”

Clarify Diagnostic Steps: For topics like pulmonary embolism or diabetic ketoacidosis, ask for diagnostic workups in a flowchart format.

Example Prompt: “Simulate a 28-year-old female with RUQ pain. Include history, labs, imaging findings, and ask me to decide the next step.”

By repeatedly practicing this way, your reasoning becomes more structured, and vignettes stop feeling like puzzles.

Using ChatGPT for USMLE Step 3

Step 3 tests clinical management and your ability to prioritize care. It also includes CCS (Clinical Case Simulation) scenarios, which can be tough to practice without dedicated software.

💡 How to Use ChatGPT for Step 3:

Walk Through Full Cases: Prompt: “Walk me through a 15-minute CCS on DKA,” and follow its guidance while asking “Why?” at each step.

Treatment Algorithms: Use prompts like, “What’s the stepwise management of unstable angina?”

Prioritize Interventions: ChatGPT can help with decision-making questions: “Which is the most urgent next step?”

Pro Tip: Add a timer when running these cases with ChatGPT to simulate exam pressure.

ChatGPT Study Hacks: Smarter, Not Harder

Beyond the core prep, ChatGPT offers some game-changing hacks to accelerate your learning:

🚀 Proven Hacks:

Act Like a Professor: Prompt: “Pretend you’re a professor explaining cardiac physiology. Then quiz me.”

Flashcard Generator: Say, “Create 10 flashcards on renal pathology,” and get ready-to-use Q&As.

Condensed Notes: Use: “Summarize this First Aid page into 10 bullet points,” for fast revision sessions.

Interactive Recall: Try “Ask me 5 rapid-fire questions on antibiotics. Then explain what I got wrong.”

These tactics keep your mind active and make studying less passive and more engaged.

Limitations You Should Know

While ChatGPT is an incredibly useful companion, it isn’t a perfect replacement for all resources.

⚠️ Caution Points:

Outdated Info: Always verify answers using First Aid, UWorld, or official guidelines.

No Visuals (Yet): For now, it doesn’t show diagrams or histology slides—supplement with resources like Pathoma or Sketchy.

Exam Format: It won’t fully replicate the NBME or UWorld style unless you prompt it specifically.

So, think of ChatGPT as your tutor, not your test simulator.

Ethical Use for Medical Students

As future healthcare professionals, ethical usage is key:

✅ Use ChatGPT to enhance understanding, not bypass learning.

❌ Never use it during exams or assessments.

✅ Combine it with trusted resources and mentorship.

This helps build habits aligned with the values of medical professionalism.

Conclusion

Preparing for the USMLE can be overwhelming—but it doesn’t have to be. When you learn how to use ChatGPT for studying, you're unlocking a dynamic, personalized, and time-saving study tool. Whether you’re revising for Step 1’s foundational concepts, drilling clinical vignettes for Step 2 CK, or walking through emergency scenarios for Step 3, ChatGPT adapts to your needs.

Used ethically and strategically, ChatGPT isn’t just a chatbot—it becomes your daily tutor, quiz master, and study buddy. Add it to your prep toolkit, and watch your confidence—and scores—grow.  For more details visit https://usmlestrike.com/total-cost-of-usmle-journey/

[kavinderrawat]

Struggling to Find the Right Tutor? The Best Home Tuition Near me Might Be Closer Than You Think

Imagine this: your child comes home from school, frustrated and confused. You ask what’s wrong, and they say they didn’t understand the math lesson—but there was no time for the teacher to explain it again. Sound familiar?

In today's fast-moving academic world, many students silently fall behind, not because they’re not capable, but because they’re not getting the attention they need. That’s where the value of personalized learning comes in.

If you’ve ever typed “Best Home Tuition Near Me” into a search engine, hoping to find the right academic support for your child, you already understand how important individual attention is. But how do you separate average tuition services from truly exceptional ones?

Let us make that easy for you.

Why Home Tuition is More Than Just Extra Classes

In a world full of tuition centers, why are more and more parents choosing home tuition over everything else? The answer lies in one word: personalization.

Home tuition isn’t just a repetition of school. It’s a space where:

Concepts are explained as many times as needed

Students can freely ask questions without fear

Teaching methods are adapted to suit the student’s pace

And most importantly, every child gets undivided attention. That kind of focus is almost impossible in a classroom with 30 or more students.

Why Searching “Best Home Tuition Near Me” Is a Step in the Right Direction

When you search for the best home tuition near you, you’re not just looking for convenience. You’re looking for quality, accountability, and results.

You're looking for someone who:

Understands your child's academic needs

Knows how to make learning enjoyable

Can build confidence along with competence

That’s exactly what we offer at Saraswati Tutorials—a team of highly trained, compassionate, and result-oriented tutors who come to you, wherever you are in Dehradun.

What Makes Saraswati Tutorials the Best Home Tuition Service Near You

We get it—every other tuition provider is making big promises. So what sets us apart?

Tailored Learning for Every Child

No two children learn the same way. That’s why our tutors first assess your child’s strengths, weaknesses, and learning style, then design a study plan that’s completely personalized.

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[elisysd]

25. Would you know my name If I saw you in heaven?

Summary : Kyle Dawson would never be more than a childhood crush to Romy Schumacher and she had made her peace with that fact a long time ago. But when a drunken night leads her waking up next to him, new and old feelings come back to the surface and what started as a mistake quickly becomes an habit. Even if she swore to herself that she would never fall again for the world champion, her heart has other plans. After all, the heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.

Masterlist - Previously - Next

TW : Miscarriage

Chapter soundtrack : Tears in Heaven - Eric Clapton

The morning at Spa was electric. The paddock buzzed with activity, a palpable tension in the air as teams made their final preparations. Above, the clouds loomed dark and heavy, but the rain held off, just as the weather forecast had predicted. Romy could feel it, the excitement, the nerves, the weight of the weekend. The entire race was hers to take. She had qualified well and expected nothing less than a victory.

She adjusted her racing gloves, flexing her fingers. She had fought so hard to get here, and today would be the culmination of everything. The plan was simple: keep her head down, stay aggressive, fight for every position.

Kyle was across the paddock, his eyes catching hers for a brief moment. She barely returned the glance, too focused on the task at hand. The lingering tension from Nürburgring was still there—unspoken but evident in the distance between them. He understood her look—determined, fiery, and, at times, reckless. Romy had a way of shutting everything else out when she was in the zone, but Kyle knew her better than anyone.

The formation lap began, and Romy gripped the steering wheel with purpose. The cold air filled her lungs, her mind racing as she mentally ran through her strategy. But there was something else simmering beneath the surface—an unsettling sense of nausea she couldn't quite explain. She chalked it up to adrenaline, the pressure mounting with each passing second, and the unyielding weight of expectation.

The lights went out. The race began in a frenzy.

Romy’s instincts kicked in. She accelerated, defending her position aggressively, weaving her Audi through the tight corners of Eau Rouge and up the hill toward Raidillon. The speed, the precision—it felt like she was in perfect harmony with the car. Kyle was just ahead, locked in a fierce battle with a Mercedes, and Romy’s eyes flicked between the two cars, searching for any opening.

Her engineer’s voice crackled in her ear. “Stay focused, Romy. You’ve got pace, but watch your lines.”

She barely registered the warning. She was in the zone now, pushing harder. Approaching La Source, she spotted an opening—a small gap between Kyle and the Mercedes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. She went for it.

But then it happened—everything went wrong in an instant.

Kyle swerved slightly to avoid the Mercedes pinching him. His movement cut into Romy’s line. Her car clipped his rear tire, sending her into the gravel. Her heart pounded as she tried to regain control, but it was too late. The gravel took her, and she slid toward the barriers.

“Yellow flag. Romy, are you okay?” her engineer’s voice broke through the static, urgently.

Romy’s hands clenched the wheel tightly, her breath ragged as she assessed the damage. The car had skidded into the barriers, the front wing a mangled mess. Her vision blurred, but she knew she was intact. Just shaken, and angry.

“What is he doing?!” she snapped over the radio, her frustration bubbling over. “Swerved right when I was about to overtake! Unbelievable!”

Kyle’s onboard replay flashed across the broadcast. His voice was calm but irritated. “Didn’t see her. Blind spot. Is she okay?”

“She’s out of the car,” his engineer replied. “She’s fine.”

Kyle sighed, clearly frustrated. “Copy. Damn it.”

Romy stormed back into the garage, her helmet under her arm, face flushed with anger. Her fingers were still trembling. Her stomach churned again, the nausea creeping back, sharper this time.

“What an ass!” she spat, throwing her gloves onto the bench, her voice thick with bitterness.

Julia handed her a water bottle, trying to offer comfort, but Romy’s gaze was distant, her breathing shallow. “You okay?” Julia asked softly, noting how pale Romy looked. Her skin was clammy, her hand trembling as she reached for the chair.

Romy waved it off. “It’s nothing. Just the shock.”

But her legs betrayed her the moment she tried to stand. They buckled, and Julia barely caught her in time, steadying her.

“Romy…” Julia’s voice was firm. “You’re not fine. Sit down.”

Romy’s face flushed with frustration. “I said I’m fine.” But as she tried to push away from the chair, her legs wobbled again. She felt faint. Her vision blurred, and panic rose in her chest.

Julia’s expression hardened. “That’s it. We’re going to the hospital,” she declared, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t need to go—” Romy began, but Julia wasn’t listening.

“You’re hot and pale, and you just nearly collapsed. Don’t argue.” Julia’s decision was final.

The room felt suffocating, the sterile air pressing down on her chest like a weight she couldn’t escape. Romy stared at the floor, her hands white-knuckling the edge of the bed, trying to ground herself. The low hum of medical equipment was the only sound breaking the heavy silence, punctuated by her uneven breathing. She felt like a stranger in her own body, like something was terribly wrong, and no matter how she tried to shake the feeling, it kept coming back, louder and more insistent.

The crash. The adrenaline. Her racing heart. She had pushed everything out of her mind, telling herself it was just the shock, the impact, the pressure of the weekend. But now, sitting here, the weight of it all was undeniable. The exhaustion in her bones, the aching in her chest, the strange emptiness that she couldn't explain.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat when the door opened, the cool presence of the doctor cutting through her thoughts. He was young, his expression carefully neutral, but there was something in his eyes that made Romy tense. She could feel it in her gut before the words left his mouth.

“I’m afraid you've experienced a miscarriage," he said, his voice measured, clinical. "Given the circumstances, it’s important you rest. We’ll need to monitor you for a while."

Romy’s chest clenched. The word miscarriage echoed in her ears like a foreign language. She felt numb, a fog descending over her mind, as if she were watching someone else’s life unfold before her.

Miscarriage?

Her thoughts fractured, her pulse thudding in her ears. She tried to find the words to respond, but nothing came. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as she tried to process the weight of what he’d just said. Her hand, which had been gripping the mattress so tightly, now felt loose and hollow.

A miscarriage.

How could that be? She wasn’t even aware she was pregnant. There had been no signs, no early morning sickness, no changes in her body. She hadn’t even been late. Romy tried to remember, tried to think back to when it could have happened, but it was all a blur. The races. The training. The constant pressure of expectations—her family’s expectations, the team's expectations—had consumed her. Everything had blurred together. Had she been too distracted to notice? Had she missed something?

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her stomach twisted, not just from the emotional shock but from the sharp, gnawing pain in her abdomen. She hadn’t realized how much it had hurt until now, the discomfort in her lower belly too familiar but not quite recognizable.

The doctor continued speaking, explaining the medical side of it—the physical effects, the bleeding, the cramps that were part of the body’s response. He mentioned how her body would need time to recover, how the stress of the crash could have contributed to what had happened. The words drifted past her, disjointed and muffled, like she was submerged underwater.

The dizziness came next, a wave of nausea that swept over her as the doctor listed off symptoms to watch out for. She couldn’t focus on his words. All she could focus on was the emptiness, the void that had opened inside her. It wasn’t just the loss of what could have been; it was the loss of something she didn’t even know existed. Her body felt like a traitor now, like it had been hiding something from her all along.

The doctor’s voice grew softer, and Romy realized he was waiting for a response. Her hand shook as she finally lifted it to her forehead, her skin clammy, the faintest tremor in her limbs.

"Is there... is there anything we can do?" she whispered, her voice breaking. She hated how small she sounded, how fragile. The question seemed so futile now, but she needed something, anything, to make sense of this, to make it stop.

The doctor hesitated, his gaze sympathetic. “We’ll monitor your physical recovery over the next few days. You’ll need rest, both physically and emotionally. There may be a follow-up procedure if the miscarriage is incomplete, but we’ll wait and see how your body responds.”

Romy nodded absently, though the words didn’t quite register. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She didn’t know how to process this, how to accept it.

As the doctor finally turned to leave, Romy was left alone with the overwhelming silence. Her chest felt tight, like the air itself was too thick to breathe. The emptiness inside her only seemed to grow. She had no name, no face, no memory to mourn. It was just a gaping hole, a loss she didn’t even know existed until it was gone.

And then the tears came—tears that she hadn’t expected, hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now. They came in quiet waves, hot against her skin, mixing with the shame, the confusion, the helplessness. She wanted to scream, to throw something, but all she could do was sit there, paralyzed by grief she couldn’t fully understand.

Romy wiped her eyes, trying to steady herself, but nothing felt real. Nothing felt like it belonged in her world anymore. The race, the team, the endless grind of competition—it all felt trivial in comparison to the gnawing emptiness in her chest.

Her body had failed her. And now, the weight of everything she had been carrying for months—the pressure of living up to a legacy, the expectations of everyone around her, the constant push to be better, faster, stronger—felt unbearable.

For the first time in years, Romy felt like she had nothing left to give.

The sterile hospital corridor was dimly lit, the buzzing of fluorescent lights filling the silence. Kyle paced, unable to stay still, his hands running through his hair as he muttered under his breath. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.

Julia stood by the door, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was trying to keep her composure, but her eyes kept darting toward the hallway, scanning for any sign of Romy or an update. She had already argued with the doctor about not being able to get any information—after all, she’d spent almost as much time with Romy as her own family, but the rules were clear. She wasn’t blood, and that meant she was left in the dark.

“What’s happening, Julia? Why isn’t anyone telling me anything?” Kyle’s voice was strained, a raw edge to it that was rare for him. He shot a desperate look her way, his frustration palpable.

“I don’t know, Kyle,” Julia said softly, trying to keep her own panic at bay. “I told you, I don’t have the answers. They won’t tell me anything because I’m not family.”

Kyle ran a hand down his face, looking like a man on the edge of a breakdown. His breathing was shallow as he tried to process the situation. “This is insane! She’s my girlfriend. I’m supposed to know what’s going on with her.”

“You know how this works,” Julia replied, her voice tight. “We have to wait.”

“Man, calm down,” Ethan said, his voice sharp. “You’re gonna make things worse.”

Kyle shot him a quick, venomous glance, his eyes wild. “How am I supposed to calm down when I don’t know if she’s okay?”

Just then, a doctor emerged from one of the rooms. He was wearing a crisp white coat, his expression professional, but there was a subtle tension in his demeanor. Kyle froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped forward.

“What’s going on? How is she?” Kyle asked, his voice strained.

The doctor held up a hand, signaling for him to calm down. “Please follow me,” he said quietly.

Kyle felt a rush of cold wash over him as he trailed behind the doctor, his every step heavy, as if the weight of the unknown was pressing down on him with each stride. They moved down a white corridor, its bright lights overhead casting long shadows, making the whole place feel more like a labyrinth than a hospital. Kyle’s mind raced with questions, each one more desperate than the last.

Once they reached a private consultation room, the doctor closed the door behind them, and Kyle’s anxiety spiked. The silence that followed felt suffocating. The doctor looked at him for a moment, a pause that stretched on far too long.

“She’s stable,” the doctor began, his voice steady but clipped. "Physically, she’s okay for now, though she’s still at risk for complications."

Kyle’s chest tightened. “What do you mean, still at risk? What happened?”

The doctor’s expression softened slightly, though it didn’t ease the heaviness in Kyle’s chest. “She suffered a miscarriage. A spontaneous one, likely triggered by the stress of the crash.”

Kyle felt the room spin. The words didn’t sink in at first. Miscarriage? Romy was pregnant? His mind fought to process the news, confusion clouding his thoughts.

“She—she didn’t know?” Kyle’s voice cracked, more a question to himself than to the doctor. He couldn’t believe it. How could this have happened without anyone realizing?

The doctor nodded solemnly. “It seems that way. There were no signs until the crash—no obvious symptoms. The stress of the impact, the sudden physical strain, could have triggered it. But... it’s complicated. There could have been underlying factors that we won’t fully know until we monitor her over the next few days.”

Kyle felt his heart drop into his stomach. His first thought was of Romy—how she must have felt, how this news would devastate her. He knew the weight she carried, the expectations, and now, this.

"Is she... is she okay?" Kyle asked again, his voice softer, the fear creeping into the pit of his stomach.

The doctor sighed, glancing down at his clipboard. “Physically, we’re keeping a close eye on her. She’s in pain, and there’s bleeding, but for now, it’s manageable. Emotionally, that’s another matter. She’s in shock, and there’s no telling how she’ll react to all of this once she fully processes it.”

Kyle closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. He wanted to be strong for her. But how could he? How could anyone help with something so devastating, so silent, yet so profound?

“Can I see her?” Kyle asked, already knowing the answer.

The doctor hesitated, his eyes heavy with unspoken truths. “I’ll allow you a few minutes. But be prepared. She’s not herself right now. This isn’t something she can just bounce back from.”

Kyle nodded, his stomach a tight knot of dread and helplessness. He didn’t know how to prepare for this. He just knew he couldn’t leave her alone, not now, not after everything.

The doctor led him back to Romy’s room, his hand gently pushing the door open. Kyle stepped inside, his heart in his throat, trying to swallow down the panic that was threatening to rise.

Romy was sitting on the bed, her back straight but her eyes distant, staring at the blank wall across from her. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed from the tears that had fallen earlier, though there was a strange emptiness to her gaze now. Her hands were folded in her lap, fingers barely moving.

She didn’t look up when he entered, and the silence that enveloped them was crushing. Kyle’s throat tightened, and he moved slowly toward her, his steps tentative as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile stillness between them.

He stood at the edge of her bed, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to approach her. Romy hadn’t said a word since she’d been brought in. She was quieter than he’d ever seen her before, a far cry from the fiery determination she usually exuded.

“Kyle...” Her voice broke the silence, soft and hoarse, a fragile thread of sound. She didn’t meet his eyes, but the way she said his name made his heart ache. “I didn’t even know…”

Kyle knelt beside her, his hand hesitating before resting gently on hers. He didn’t know what to say. There were no words for something like this. But he couldn’t stand the distance between them, the invisible wall that seemed to have grown the moment the doctor spoke those dreaded words.

“I’m so sorry, Romy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea.”

She shook her head, still staring down at her hands. “I didn’t either. I didn’t even know…”

The rest of the words died in her throat, and Kyle didn’t push. He just held her hand, offering the only comfort he could in that moment.

Her body was still, but the tremors were there, just beneath the surface. She was trying to hold herself together, but he could see it—the cracks in her walls. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to make it better. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not after everything she had been through.

And for once, Kyle allowed himself to be the support. He stayed there, silently beside her, his presence the only thing he could offer her in the wake of the storm.

Kyle’s breaths were shaky, coming in uneven gasps, and Ethan could hear the tremor in his voice. He sat beside him, watching him try to steady himself, but it wasn’t working. Kyle was a mess, every bit of the bravado he usually wore stripped away, leaving nothing but a raw, exposed version of himself.

Ethan shifted, uncomfortable, unsure whether to say anything. The silence between them felt heavier than it had any right to be.

“Talk to me, man,” Ethan finally said, his voice low but firm, trying to break the tension. But when Kyle didn’t respond, Ethan could feel his insides twisting. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the grief, or the sheer overwhelming guilt weighing on his friend.

“I killed it,” Kyle whispered, the words so faint Ethan barely caught them.

The weight of that admission hit Ethan like a freight train. He blinked in disbelief, his mind scrambling to catch up with the gravity of Kyle’s words. He leaned back, almost physically recoiling, stunned by the crushing sincerity in Kyle’s voice.

"Oh wow… Okay, I clearly didn’t expect that. Rewind, please," Ethan managed to say, trying to lighten the mood, but his words fell flat in the oppressive atmosphere.

Kyle’s face twisted, eyes dark with pain. He looked at Ethan, but it wasn’t the same confident, sharp gaze Ethan was used to. It was hollow, clouded with guilt and grief, something Ethan had never seen from him before.

“We would have had a baby. And I killed it,” Kyle said again, the pain in his voice raw and unfiltered.

The words hit Ethan harder than he wanted to admit. His stomach dropped, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. It was as if the room around them faded away, leaving only the two of them—Kyle, broken, and Ethan, trying to comprehend the depth of what he was hearing.

“Romy is pregnant?” Ethan’s voice shot up in volume before he could stop it, and the sharpness of his surprise made Kyle flinch.

Kyle’s gaze burned into him with a fierceness Ethan wasn’t prepared for. The hurt in his eyes made Ethan shrink back, but Kyle didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled a long, shuddering breath, his hand rubbing over his face, like he was trying to rub away the guilt that seemed to cling to him.

“Not anymore,” Kyle said, his voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of his words. “Because I bumped into her. Because I didn’t see her.”

The confession came out like a whisper, a surrender to the guilt that had been consuming him. The air in the room felt suffocating, the burden of what Kyle had said hanging between them like an insurmountable wall. Ethan stared at him, trying to make sense of it all, but nothing felt right. It didn’t seem possible.

“Come on, bro. You know it’s not true. You said it yourself, she was in your blind spot. There’s nothing you could have done.”

Kyle shook his head violently, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "Maybe if I hadn’t been so focused on getting out of the traffic… taking risks. Maybe if I’d been smarter, if I hadn’t made that stupid move… maybe she wouldn’t have been forced to make a reckless decision, and maybe, just maybe, our baby would still be alive."

The words cut into Ethan like a blade, and he instinctively put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, as though he could stop the flood of self-loathing that was threatening to drown his friend.

“Dude,” Ethan said softly, trying to make eye contact, but Kyle wouldn’t look up. His eyes were trained on the floor, his chest rising and falling in sharp, jagged breaths. "It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. You didn’t want this to happen.”

Kyle’s face twisted in anguish. “I didn’t give us a chance. I wanted to win so badly, Ethan. I put everything else aside—her, us... I didn’t even realize she was pregnant until it was too late. If I had given her more time, if I hadn’t been so reckless, we could have taken responsibility together. We could’ve... we could’ve figured it out. But I didn’t. I ruined it. I ruined everything.”

Ethan could feel the weight of Kyle’s self-blame crashing over him. The guilt was palpable, an almost physical thing, and it made Ethan’s chest tighten with his own helplessness. He wanted to say something—anything—to make this better, but he knew there were no words for something like this.

“I’m sorry, Kyle,” Ethan said, his voice tight with emotion. There was nothing more he could offer, but the apology felt necessary, even if it didn’t feel like enough.

Kyle let out a ragged sigh, his face crumpling as tears welled up in his eyes. He swiped at them, but the tears kept coming, his shoulders shaking with the release of emotions he had been holding inside for far too long.

"I’ve always known I wanted to have kids with her. It’s always been so clear to me," Kyle’s voice trembled, thick with tears, as he let his head fall into his hands. "She’s the one I want to grow old with, to raise kids with... And now... I’m not even sure we’re still together after this."

Ethan’s heart ached as he watched his friend unravel before him, the weight of the situation threatening to swallow him whole. Kyle had always been so strong, so driven, so sure of himself. But this... this was different. This wasn’t something that could be fixed with grit or determination. This was something far deeper.

“You guys need time,” Ethan said softly, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. "This... this is too much to deal with all at once. But I know you, Kyle. You’ll get through this. You will. I don’t have any doubt about it.”

Kyle looked at him, his face twisted in pain, and his eyes raw. “But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll lose her, Ethan. I can’t lose her. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Ethan’s heart clenched as he saw the raw vulnerability in Kyle’s face. He had never seen him like this, and it terrified him. He couldn’t imagine the kind of pain Kyle was in.

“You won’t lose her, I promise. You won’t. You just need to give her time, and you need to give yourself time, too.” Ethan’s voice was steady now, reassuring. “You’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you, Kyle. We’re family. Remember that.”

Kyle let out a shaky breath, looking away for a moment, as if trying to make sense of everything swirling around him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, and for a moment, Ethan thought he might break down again. But instead, Kyle let out a long, quiet breath, his eyes meeting Ethan’s again.

“I just wanted to be the kind of man she deserves,” Kyle whispered, his voice breaking. “And now I’m not even sure I’m that man anymore.”

Ethan leaned in, his hand resting on Kyle’s shoulder once more, the weight of the moment grounding him. “You are the man she deserves, Kyle. You just need to believe that yourself.”

Kyle nodded slowly, though doubt still lingered in his eyes. The road ahead was unclear, and the pain wasn’t something that could be erased overnight.

The sterile hum of the hospital room was deafening in the silence that hung between them. The nurses had come and gone, the rest of the team had left, and now it was just Kyle and Romy. The room felt smaller, the space between them heavier than it had ever been.

Romy sat on the bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The hospital gown was loose around her, but it didn’t offer any comfort. She could feel every bruise, every ache, and the emptiness in her chest that she hadn’t known how to fill. The loss was suffocating, an ever-present ache that made it hard to breathe.

When he came back to the hospital room, he stood by the window, his back to her, his hands gripping the edge of the sill like he could hold himself together if he just kept holding on. He hadn’t said much since the doctor’s visit, his guilt hanging around him like a thick fog. He hadn’t looked at her since—he couldn’t bring himself to.

For a while, they stayed like that, the silence stretching on, neither of them able to break it.

Finally, Romy spoke, her voice a fragile whisper that still carried the weight of everything they’d been through.

“I never wanted this,” she said quietly, the words tasting bitter even as she spoke them. “I never wanted to feel this... this empty. I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

Kyle’s back stiffened at her words, and he exhaled sharply, his voice tight when he spoke. “You think I wanted it? You think I wanted to hurt you?”

“No, I don’t think that, Kyle,” she responded quickly, though there was a tremor in her voice. “But you… you were the one who—” She broke off, closing her eyes, swallowing hard.

Kyle turned around, his face etched with pain, guilt so thick it was suffocating him. “I know. I know it’s my fault. I—” He stopped, choking on his words. “I didn’t see you. I didn’t mean to... I should’ve been better, I should’ve paid attention.”

“No.” Romy shook her head, her voice sharp, a defensive edge creeping in despite the grief that twisted inside her. “You don’t get to put it all on yourself. We’re both in this together. It’s not just you.”

Her words were like a slap, and they stung, though she didn’t mean them the way they came out. The pain, the anger, and the frustration were all tangled up in her, and it felt like it was spilling out of her all at once.

Kyle flinched as if her words physically hurt him. “I put us here, Romy. I’ve been so focused on winning that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I didn’t take care of you. I didn’t protect us.”

Romy’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she thought she might choke on the emotion that flooded her chest. She didn’t want to be angry at him. She didn’t want to blame him. But she couldn’t help it—couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“Why did you have to do that?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and her hands clenched in frustration. “Why did you have to push it so hard? We were fine, Kyle. We were fine. And now... now everything’s falling apart.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog. Kyle opened his mouth to speak but found no words. He had nothing left to say that could fix this.

“I didn’t know,” Romy continued, her voice quieter now, the anger giving way to raw, aching sadness. “I didn’t know I was pregnant. I had no idea... until it was too late. And now I have to carry that, Kyle. I’m hurting, but I’m also... angry. Angry at you. Angry at myself. Angry that everything got out of control so fast.”

Kyle took a step toward her, his hand reaching out in a desperate, instinctive movement. He stopped himself before he could touch her, though, his fingers hovering in the air, as if unsure whether she would accept the gesture.

“I never wanted you to go through this, Romy,” Kyle whispered, the guilt heavy in his words. “I’d do anything to take it back. I swear.”

Tears welled up in Romy’s eyes as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to blame you, but it’s hard not to, Kyle. It’s so hard not to.”

Kyle’s eyes softened, the hurt in his gaze unmistakable. “I know. I get it. You have every right to be angry with me. I ruined everything.”

Romy blinked, fighting back her tears. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know who we are after this. Everything’s changed. It feels like I’ve lost something I’ll never get back.”

The words were a confession, a revelation she hadn’t even known she was ready to admit until now. The loss wasn’t just the baby. It was the loss of their future, of the life they could have had. The loss of herself in a way, too.

Kyle finally sat beside her on the bed, his hand carefully brushing against hers. He didn’t say anything for a long time, just let the silence sit between them. But his presence, his quiet understanding, was all she needed in that moment.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Kyle murmured, his voice small. “I don’t know if I ever can. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”

Romy squeezed his hand, her own voice barely a whisper as she said, “I don’t know if I can forgive you, Kyle... not yet.”

The words sliced through him, but they were the truth, and he accepted them. For now, that was enough.

Romy shifted slightly, her head resting against his shoulder, and he let her stay there. They sat in the silence together, the weight of everything heavy between them, knowing they had so much to work through. But in this moment, it was enough just to be there for each other.

They couldn’t fix the past, but maybe, just maybe, they could begin to rebuild what was left, one piece at a time.

Author's note :

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist: @smoooothoperator-admin

[skylarstark4826]

"No matter how far I go, no matter how long I'm gone, remember I still love you," Zorii said, because it was true.

Her son's expression was serious. He knew these words by heart, and along with all the words she would say after. She always said them in some form before she left. It was becoming a ritual between the two of them.

"When I go out there, I will always come back for you, every time." She said it to his face, knowing full well it was a lie. Too many people never came back. It might be her next time. So each time she left, she held on to the sight of his face like he might be the last thing she ever saw. Jessii's blue eyes anchored her to this world more securely than gravity. She hugged him and twined her fingers into his silky blonde hair, and had to make herself let go quickly in order to resist the urge to cling. "I will never leave you behind."

"Stay inside, and keep the door locked. Don't answer to anybody when I'm not home, not even the crew." Zorii stood and put on her helmet, but didn't close the visor, allowing herself a last unfiltered look at him. She'd had twelve years with him, and those years hadn't been enough. No matter what happened, she wouldn't make her words a lie. Twelve years wasn't old enough for a kid to go on without his mother.

He watched her, solemn and reassuring, her little soldier, right up until she got to the door. "Mom? Can I watch holos while your gone?" Jessii asked, ready to be a kid again.

"As many as you want," Zorii said. She pushed down her reluctance and made herself turn away to leave. It was only a spice run, and she could use the credits. A little mouth needed a lot of feeding. All the same, her heart twinged enough to make her wonder if there wasn't some better way to raise her son, some way to get him away from this world of thieves. She might even turn honest for him.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Already loaded. Ready to go?" Poe's eyes shone a bit too bright, eager to reach the stars.

She came aboard to find the cargo secure and the engine hot, despite it only being the two of them on the run. Poe was trying harder than usual to impress, to do all the pre-flight work on his own. Maybe he was planning to make another try at asking to kiss her. Maybe she would even let him this time, if this trip went well enough for her to finally start Jessii on a better life. Poe throttled up the engine and pushed the ship into the air at high speed. There was something jittery to him she decided to ignore. Instead she cast her mind to the deal ahead, and let Poe take them away from the pull of gravity and into the darkness of space.

A Star Destroyer loomed above the glowing cresent of atmosphere, her bay doors open and disgorging an entire fleet of small transports. Poe twisted their own ship sharply away and then rolled back up again, searching for a clear path into open space. "There's a lot of First Order in my skies. Do you think they're on to us?"

Since when had the First Order ever cared about spice running? Zorii clambered out of her seat and raced down to the gunwell, but by time she had her hands on the turret controls the fleet had already broken up on approach to the planet. She yanked the headpiece over to her face. "It looks like they're landing troops. Their approach puts them on for all the large population centres, and I hate to say it, but I think our town is one of them."

The targeting scanner lit up as something passed close to the viewport, and she caught a glimpse of a ship on a flyby. It looked like a Republic snub-fighter, but she could have sworn they'd all been retired since the end of the rebellion. If it was one, it would be the first time the Republic made an appearance in this sector.

A strange voice came over the comms. "We got your six, Pilot. Transmitting coordinates to rendezvous. Prepare to jump on my mark."

"Poe? What the hell is going on?" Zorii called back to him, but Poe when answered it was to someone else.

"Coordinates confirmed. Ready when you are."

All of a sudden she felt like leaving Poe alone at the controls had been a very bad idea. Zorii climbed back up as fast as she could. "You set this up on me?" She demanded when she saw the navicomputer active under his hands, a course laid in and ready for the jump to lightspeed.

"Come with me," Poe rose from his seat and came up to her, his face earnest, like she didn't have anyone she'd be leaving behind.

She only needed two words. "I can't."

"In that case, so long Zorii." He raised his blaster, and as she watched it come up, as she reached for her own, he pivoted and kicked her in the stomach hard enough to knock her flat. His blaster was at her head before she could stand.

"I'd rather not shoot you, but if it'll make things easier," Poe said.

She decided to let him push her into an escape pod without a making fuss. The hatch slammed shut, and a warning light flicked on. She felt a thump as the pod detached. For a moment the ship loomed large in her viewport, and then pulled away to vanish into hyperspace. The transports started coming back up, and she was in an escape pod tumbing to the surface, surrounded by First Order who were more likely to blast her out of the way than maneuver around her. Poe hadn't even waited to finish the job before he betrayed her. He'd left her behind, without even the credits to her name, to try feeding her son while carrying the debt for the lost spice.

Once the pod touched down she stepped out onto the same dark streets and the same cold wind she'd only just left, and yet she'd come back to find it an entirely different world. Agonized noise rose up around her, so twisted she barely recognized it as the voices of sentients. Wails chased each other as she walked through town, the sound pushing her faster toward home. The sight of her own front step brought her just as sharply to a halt. The door stood half-open and warped in its frame. The blackened lock shot sparks. Her blaster was out of her holster and in her hand, and she gripped it so tightly her fingers started to turn numb. She squeezed herself through the opening, searching for danger, listening against the background noise of holos, and found nothing. No intruders. No Jessii. She stepped back outside, where she grabbed hold of the first person she found wandering by, a woman walking about aimless and crying.

"What happened here?" Zorii demanded.

"They took them. They took all of them. Why would they take my children?" She clutched at herself, shaking with the force of her sobs.

Zorii turned away from her to look down other streets, to try to convince herself this wasn't happening. Ravaged families stood in their doorways, bereft parents hanging off each other and staring out with hollow eyes. It wouldn't have turned out like this if Poe hadn't tricked her into coming along. If she stayed behind she would have been here to protect Jessii. She walked past the bodies lying in the dirt, blaster wounds still smoking, and refused to believe the same would have happened to her. Even as others began shutting themselves away to dwell on their grief she kept going, searching for an answer even as she knew her steps wouldn't bring her any closer to her son. Twelve years of trying to get him out, and this was how it happened. She tried to hold her Jessii's face in her mind, but all she could see was the blasted doorpanel. He'd kept the door locked, and it hadn't made a bit of difference. Jessii was gone, she was left behind, and Poe was racing off into the stars. Maybe if she was really lucky, Poe would get himself killed out there.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jessii lay on his stomach in front of the holoprojector and giggled at the shrieks of the cartoon rancors as they battled against a flock of mynocks attempting to invade their sacred grove. His laughter stopped when the next cry didn't match up with the video. Even as he turned his head toward the sound more screams rose up, too near and far too real. Someone banged at the door. Jessii scrambled up and ran to the back room, searching for a place to hide. The short burst of an exploded lock and the groan of stressed metal sent him diving into the storage cupboard, thrusting aside food packages as he went. A bag of dried legumes burst underneath him and spilled across the floor. Footsteps worked a circuit around their home, slowly coming closer. Bits of dried food crunched underfoot. Someone tore the hatch off the cupboard, letting dim light spill onto his face. Jessii sprang out from hiding, using his momentum to propel himself forward into one of the high kicks his mom taught him. Pain shot up his leg as his foot bounced off unyielding armour. A stormtrooper caught him at the waist and spun him around, lifting him off his feet.

"You've been chosen for conscription for the First Order stormtrooper corps. You get to leave this dump and join the best academy in the galaxy. It's going to be great." The distorting quality of his helmet didn't hide his boredom.

Jessi pounded his heels against the trooper's shin plate, grunting with effort.

The trooper actually laughed. "Keep it up. A spirit like that, and you might make officer rank. If you live long enough."

He turned sideways to wedge himself back through the half-open door, using one hand to lead his blaster ahead of him and the other to drag Jessii behind. Jessii clung to the edges of the frame, and yelped over his scraped palms when the trooper yanked him out anyway. The sound of the holo carried through the open door as the rancors loosed another comical shriek.

"I got one over here," The trooper called to his companion. "How'd you make out?"

"Ah, just a bunch of aliens where I checked," The other stormtrooper grumbled. "Good for nothing but target practice."

They wanted him alive, and that meant they wouldn't hurt him, not really. All he had to do was outrun them and find somewhere to hide, maybe where the crew planned their jobs. Maybe his mom would be on her way back by now, and he would find her there. First he had to get away. Jessii tried to remember what his mom said about their armour. It was weakest where the joints exposed the black bodyglove beneath, and the gap at the neck. Jessii stacked his fingers toward into a narrow wedge and thrust his hand above the trooper's shoulder as fast as he could. He screamed in pain as the trooper caught his arm and twisted. The pressure forced him to bend double, his knees buckling. Suddenly it eased up again, a little. He could straighten his legs enough to walk, and raise his head high enough to see where he was going. When he lifted his gaze, he found the trooper staring down at him.

"You'll learn." He said, and pulled Jessii along again without another word.

Jessii thrashed against the trooper's grip as they forced him along the street, further and further away from his home. Something moved in the shadows, and then burst out as a family tried to run with their little girl, her arm stretched over her head as she clutched her father's hand, her feet barely skimming the ground. The mother carried a boy too small to walk steadily on his own. She had one hand free, and Jessii glimped a blaster hidden against her side.

"Halt!" One of the troopers shouted.

She looked back at the troopers, and then she met Jessii's gaze. She stopped, drawing her weapon. The stormtrooper blew a hole into her, and then into the man, in rapid succession. They both collapsed, and the blaster tumbling away unused. Jessii stood rigid, unable to look away, his breath coming in little squeaks.

"Relax kid, you're fine."

The boy lay howling, trapped under the body of his fallen mother. His sister dragged him up and tried to flee with him. The trooper switched his blaster to stun and fired after them. He groaned as he picked up a kid under each arm. Jessii watched their limp bodies sway in the trooper's careless grasp. The pain in his arm didn't seem so bad in comparison, not in exchange for the power to walk on his own, for one last chance to make a clean break. He watched every blind corner for room to run, every bit of rubbish they passed for something to use as a weapon. What he saw instead was a transport where more First Order had already converged. They were shoved inside and made to kneel between the row of troopers. The stunned children were thrown on the deckplating to bounce around between their feet.

"Not a bad haul for a miserable scrap of ice."

"I know, it's about time this place got culled."

The transport sealed up, and he felt the pull and shift as it lifted off and switched to artificial gravity. As he left his life behind, Jessii held on the words of his mom's ritual, and wished he could do it over again. He hadn't said the words back. He hadn't told his mom he loved her.

XXXXXXXXXX

A captain's medallion was a little talisman that could ward off all hardship. Zorii turned the medallion over and over between her fingers. This thing could take her so far away she could forget the rest of the galaxy even existed. Maybe if she went far enough and stayed away for long enough she could forget... No, she could never forget Jessii.

The trouble was, nobody ever told her that memory hurt. She couldn't embrace her son, so she embraced the pain, and it a way it was easy, because the memory of him lingered everywhere. He was in the taste of every meal. She could hardly stomach a bite, because she didn't know a single dish she and Jessii hadn't cooked together, so she gave up all together and started living off ration bars. The smell of him blended into the spice burning on nearly every street as parents turned to drugs to bury the pain of their missing children. She could have gotten rich off it, if anyone would ever trust her on a decent run again.

Everywhere you looked there were people trying to avoid or bury their pain, but this world lacked the one thing that might have truly lightened their suffering: there were no new babies. It seemed like everyone had the same thought she did, in unspoken agreement. Why have another kid, when they would only get taken from you? She turned the medallion over once again, stroking it the way she once stroked her son's hair. She couldn't pull Jessii back to her, so she was going to leave him behind.

Then Poe showed up. It was those same moments from years ago all over again: all the reasons she wouldn't go with him, all the reasons he wouldn't stay. Only this time, whatever Poe had gotten himself caught up in, he wasn't about to abandon his friends. Those friends weren't her, they weren't even her son, but they were someone, and she wasn't going to stand here and play a part in leaving them on their own. The medallion left her hand to aid those who still had a chance to be saved, so long as someone got to them in time, like her son might have been saved if she'd been there at the right time. She couldn't take Jessii with her, so she was going to stay here and let Poe and his rebellion leave her behind.

In the end, she couldn't hold on to even the traces of her son. There was no more Kijimi, just as there was no more Jessii. She drifted through the darkness of space, homeless but for her ship, when she heard the call. "We are out here, and we need your help. Don't leave us to fight alone."

The transmission included coordinates guiding them to a Sith stronghold ready to join with the First Order, a place that could end the war for one side or the other. Maybe she wouldn't let herself get left this time. Maybe this time she would rise up to join them.