#technically I started at 11 pm

[bunibelles]

Currently making a tres leches cake (at 3 am) and I think I messed up the sponge :’D Like this milk is not absorbing that well. Putting it in the fridge I hope tmrw it’ll look alright 🫶🏼

[theygender]

Coming to terms with the fact that I may not be writing this essay

[invinciblerodent]

I might end up going with her, ngl. I think I ended up getting close enough to my idea for it to work, and I really like the thought of playing a character who says almost all the same things as the other, but her intentions are entirely different.

..... also I kinda can't get over this dorfsquad

Varric really DID pretty much start a collection of redheaded female dwarf rogues for a hot minute there, didn't he

[supahstarrr]

today has been the first day in like days i havent gone to sleep in the afternoon then continuously force myself to sleep throughout the night

[jewishcissiekj]

Started Mando season 1 today. Finishing it rn.

[catboyieejeno]

11:29 PM

jiung, who looks so good when his tongue is poking the inside of his cheek in concentration, fully immersed in the song he’s been working on for the last few hours. the two of you keep missing each other’s glances, only looking when the other looks away or pretends to be too interested in what’s on the soundboard in front of him, or in your case, your cellphone.

he’s tried to focus on the task at hand, he really, really has, but how can he when you’re laying on the little couch in his studio, jeans hugging your thighs, midriff exposed under your shirt that has risen up?

he’s not usually this easily distracted—a detail about him you know very well. countless times, you’d tried to tempt him to take a break from work and each and every time, your attempts had failed.

“i’ll take care of you when we get home, baby,” he’d insist with a sweet, wet kiss on your lips, “but i have to finish this now.”

even sitting on his lap and rutting against him while you kissed and whimpered into his neck had been useless. technically, not entirely useless, cause you could feel him get worked up beneath you, but even then he didn’t budge—his outstanding and stubborn self-control won every time.

naturally, you decided to give up your fruitless teasing and convincing, but perhaps, the absence of your advances is exactly why he’s so worked up today.

subconsciously, he misses the way your arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, palms smoothing over his chest and fingers trailing paths through his soft hair.

“please, i’m so needy,” he can practically hear the words dripping like honey from your lips, begging for him, needing his attention. and if he tries hard enough, he can feel your breath on his neck when you ask him to touch you, “just for a little.”

but instead, you’re quiet and still, laying back on the couch as you patiently wait for him to finish. and as much as he’d like to get this adjustment to the song over and done with so he can go home and treat you to the pleasure you so rightfully deserve, he can’t, because nothing he’s hearing in his headphones sounds good right now—not when his dick is so hard and swollen inside of his briefs that it physically hurts.

the melody is a mess, the lyrics are senseless, the beat isn’t right, and his head is leaking pre-cum into his underwear.

with a scowl on his features, he yanks the headphones off and spins around to face you.

you don’t look up from the phone, simply humming to acknowledge him as you shift onto your stomach. he swallows back a groan at the view of your pretty ass, now in perfect view.

“honey,” he starts, but you only hum again. “i’m gonna take a break.”

“good,” you mumble, “you’ve been going at it for over two hours. i’m starving.”

“i-“

“what do you wanna eat? i’ll order.”

“baby…” there’s a smidge of vulnerability in his voice, which is what finally makes you look up from the screen and at him. one of his hands is cupping himself over his sweats, the other reaching out for you desperately, “c’mere.”

your eyes widen as you glance down at his bulge and back up at him, the corners of your lips twitching up to form a teasing smile.

"what's wrong?" you play dumb. jiung rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back.

"please?"

"what ever happened to leaving that for when we're home?"

there's a strain on his voice when he answers, "i know, but... i can't. not this time."

"oh, but when i'm the one who's needy, it's fine?" you get up, walking over to him and stopping between his legs. instantly his hands come up to hold your hips.

when you grab his chin and tilt his head up to look at you, his dick twitches in his pants.

"i'm sorry," he whispers, lids heavy and lips drooling as his eyes trail down your figure, following every curve, every bit of exposed skin. "m'sorry," he repeats, speech a bit more slurred this time.

his index fingers hook onto the waistband of your pants, slipping along the hem until they meet in the middle where the button clasps your jeans closed. he tugs at them in a silent plea, and you nod slowly, running a hand though his hair.

jiung groans softly, leaning into your touch and making quick work of the button so he can work your jeans down your legs until you can step out of them.

not a moment later, he's shimmying his own sweats and underwear down until his angry tip is out, flushed and dribbling with clear pre-cum.

"come sit on it," there's a firmness to his voice, hands desperately tugging you closer until you're hovering over his lap. he can tell you're worked up—the way your lips are parted, the way your eyes are hazed. once you're close enough that he can feel the heat radiating between your laps, he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you in place.

as his hand guides his dick through your folds to coat it in your slick, his lips find solace in the crook of your neck where he whines and drools and bites, hiding his flushed face from yours. he's already worked up a sweat from the need to feel you around him.

"mmm.." every time he drags himself up and down your core, your grip on his shoulders tightens, beckoning him closer.

"relax for me okay?"

you quickly nod, bringing your hand over your mouth to muffle the way you gasp as he pushes himself in. he slowly moves to sink you down, his own eyes rolling back, until you're flush against his lap and whimpering softly at the feeling of being so full.

"you're too tight," he groans.

"maybe you're just too big." he chuckles breathlessly at your words though he can't deny the way they make him flush, bringing his palms down to grip your hips. he tries to encourage you to move, but you only whimper, mumbling "hold on, i'm so full, i-"

"fuck, darling, i need you to move." he hisses, feeling the way your walls flutter around him.

after a few seconds, you lift yourself up halfway and sink back down with a moan that he echoes the moment he feels his swollen tip poke at your walls.

he works you to a pace that has your legs trembling, unable to hold you up if it wasn't for his grip that steadies you. you hum, eyes squeezed shut, focusing solely on him, on the way he feels inside you—the way his tongue drags up your neck until he stops at your jaw, ending his trail with an opened mouth kiss.

he moans against your neck, grabbing your face with his hand to turn you so you're looking down and at him.

"that's it," he praises when your eyes flutter open, glossed over and dazed. "there's my girl."

"ji-"

"sweetheart," his voice is tight as you roll your hips into his, chasing your high. the way you cling to him, nails scratching lightly at his shoulders, mouth letting out the most beautiful and addictive breathy whines—it drives him crazy.

you gasp against his lips as he rolls his hips up to meet yours—a slow, deliberate motion that has your fingers tugging on his hair, "jiung—” your breath hitches, the way he moves, the way he grips you, it’s overwhelming.

“i know, baby,” he groans, his lips tracing along your jaw, down to the base of your throat. his hands move, skimming up your sides, sliding under your shirt, palms warm against your flushed skin as he squeezes your boobs.

the tension that’s been building finally snaps, the air filled with breathless moans, whispered pleas, and the sound of skin against skin. the wet sounds coming from where your bodies meet make his head spin, pushing him to fuck you harder as you gasp, walls tightening around him.

he mumbles the sweetest things against your skin as you go limp in his hold, as he sinks so deep into you when he finds his own release.

"fuck," he shudders, head falling back against the chair, arms keeping you in place, tightly tucked against his chest.

for a few seconds, neither of you speak. the only sounds are the faint hum of the unfinished track looping in his headphones and your synchronized pants as you both come down from your highs. jiung leans forward, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as if he can't seem to pull away.

“you okay?” his voice is hushed, tender. he brushes damp strands of hair away from your face, his other hand tracing mindless patterns on your back.

you nod against him, still catching your breath. “yeah,” you murmur, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “really good."

jiung hums in approval, his arms wrapping around you fully. he leaves a kiss on your head, but before you can get lost in his warmth, he's shifting, adjusting you in his arms. “come on, baby,” he says, his voice still a little hoarse. "let's clean up.”

you groan softly, nuzzling into his neck. “uh-uh. can’t move,” you whine. “you wore me out.”

he chuckles, smoothing your hair back with his hand, mumbling, “i did, huh?” before he sighs. “alright, sit tight.”

before you can protest, he’s gently lifting you off of him, setting you down carefully on the couch. his warmth leaves you, but only for a moment before he’s grabbing a clean towel from the studio's bathroom, using it to wipe the sheen of sweat from your skin and the mess he's left between your legs with soft, delicate touches. his focus is solely on you, unhurried, full of care.

“there we go,” he murmurs, discarding the towel before grabbing the oversized hoodie draped over his chair. "c'mere, baby." he helps your arms through the sleeves and slides your panties back up your legs, fingers ghosting your skin. "all better."

you nod, your heart swelling. “you always take such good care of me.”

jiung grins, cupping your jaw affectionately before tugging on his own pants. “of course. you’re my girl.”

for a moment, he pauses, glancing toward his screen where his unfinished song still sits open. “shit. i was supposed to finish that.”

you giggle, nudging his side as he drops onto the couch beside you, pulling you effortlessly into his lap. “maybe next time don't get so distracted.”

he half-heartedly scoffs, pressing a teasing bite against your shoulder before pulling you into a proper kiss—slow, deep, tongue swiping at your still swollen lips. when he pulls away, he doesn't go too far, nose still brushing yours. “how could I not?” he murmurs against your mouth. “you’re my favorite distraction.”

you instantly melt into him, curling against his chest, listening to the thump-thump of his heart as exhaustion begins to creep in.

"i wasn’t expecting you to give in so easily,” you tease after a beat, your fingers absentmindedly threading through his hair.

"yeah, well," he starts, eyes flickering closed as you scratch his scalp, "you were quite convincing." when you sigh contently against him, he whispers “rest for a bit, I’ll finish up later.”

"are you sure?" you mumble, but you're already half-asleep—he can tell.

he just nods softly, squeezing you in reassurance as your breath evens out and you fall asleep, tucked in his embrace.

🫐

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.

“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.

Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.

It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.

“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.

You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.

You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”

Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.

“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.

“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.

You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.

If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.

He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.

“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”

He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.

“Can you take me to my room?”

He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.

“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.

His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.

“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.

A break. You want a break.

The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.

Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.

Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.

“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.

“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost laugh.

“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.

You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.

Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.

‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.

While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.

This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.

Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.

Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?

Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.

You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.

“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.

“…What?”

“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.

“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-

Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.

You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.

And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.

…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.

Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.

You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.

Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.

The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.

You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?

You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.

The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.

This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.

Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.

There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.

This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.

The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.

Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.

Of all fucking… George.

You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.

Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.

He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.

You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.

‘You’: Why are you contacting me?

‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.

Stupidly, you reply:

‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’

You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.

No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.

You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.

You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.

You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.

You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.

‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?

Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.

You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.

“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”

There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.

Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.

And you can’t find your voice.

It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.

Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.

You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.

Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.

George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.

…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.

“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.

“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.

The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.

You included.

Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.

George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.

“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.

You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.

“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.

You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.

…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.

He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.

And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.

George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.

Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?

Well, of course, it started biting.

George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-

You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.

“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”

“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.

He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”

“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.

You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.

He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.

“I bought it. That’s mine.”

“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.

This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.

“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.

“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.

“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.

Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.

You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.

The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.

What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.

But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.

So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.

You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?

…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.

The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.

You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.

‘You’: I miss them.

‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.

You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.

You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.

And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.

What you settle on is simple.

‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.

‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[prettygirl-gabi]

20 looks good on you

Pairing: KK Arnold x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: You surprise KK at midnight with cupcakes, gifts, cuddles, love.

A/N: a birthday fic for the og girly pop

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @iwasbored-okay

It was 11:48 PM, and my back was killing me from hanging streamers with duct tape I found in the junk drawer.

KK’s 20th birthday was minutes away, and our apartment looked like Party City exploded in it.

Balloons were floating in every corner, and I had taped up pictures of her from the past year like it was a personal museum exhibit titled “KK Being the Cutest Human Alive.”

She had fallen asleep early, knocked out cold after a long day of off season workouts.

Insisting in keeping her “figure”.

I could barely get her to brush her teeth before she faceplanted into the pillow.

So I took that as my opportunity to sneak around and get everything ready.

I tiptoed into the kitchen, grabbed the red velvet cupcake I’d hidden in the back of the fridge (wrapped in two paper towels and labeled “LEFTOVER BROCCOLI” so she wouldn’t touch it), and stuck a little pink candle in it.

I lit it, took a deep breath, and checked the time.

11:59.

Game time.

I crept into our room, careful not to wake her too soon. KK was curled up under the blanket, her cheek smushed against the pillow, hair in a purple bonnet. She looked peaceful, and part of me almost didn’t want to ruin it.

But I was too excited.

Midnight hit, and I launched into the most dramatic whisper-song I’ve ever performed in my life.

“Haaaaaappy birthdaaaaay to youuuuuu…” I crooned softly, holding the cupcake like it was a Grammy. “Happy birthday to you… happy birthday to my love… happy birthday to youuuu.”

KK stirred, scrunched her nose, then blinked at me like I had just interrupted the best nap in history.

“What’s happening?” she mumbled, blinking at the candlelight.

I sat on the edge of the bed and grinned. “You’re 20, babe. And I brought cupcakes.”

She looked from the cupcake to me and smiled sleepily. “You’re insane.”

“Insanely in love with you,” I said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Now make a wish before the wax starts dripping into the icing.”

She giggled, propped herself up with one hand, and stared at the candle for a second. Then she closed her eyes, whispered something under her breath, and blew it out.

“Wish better not have been for a nap,” I teased.

“It was for more cupcakes.”

“I respect that.”

She took the cupcake and took a huge bite, barely chewing before she went, “Oh my God… this is so good.”

“You’re welcome. I’m a woman of many talents—planning, decorating, cupcake smuggling…”

KK looked around the room, finally noticing the decorations. Her eyes widened. “Babe…”

“You like?”

“Did you… hang up streamers?”

“I may or may not have climbed on the dresser for optimal angle.”

She laughed, mouth full of cake. “You’re ridiculous. And also kind of perfect.”

“Only kind of?” I gasped dramatically.

“Okay, okay—very perfect.”

I handed her the small pile of gifts I’d been hiding in the closet.

“I know it’s technically midnight, but I figured you could open a couple now. The rest is for tomorrow.”

KK pulled me into bed beside her, cupcake in one hand, gift in the other.

She unwrapped the first one: a custom phone case with our initials and a Polaroid of us at the beach.

“This is so cute,” she whispered, already swapping it with the boring black one she’d had for months.

Next was a hoodie that said “Y/n’s Girl” across the front in soft script. She smirked at it before holding it up.

“You are so annoying for this.”

“You better wear it to every away game or I’m revoking my girlfriend privileges.”

She laughed, then tossed it over her shoulders like a cape. “Done.”

The last early present was a keychain engraved with “20 looks good on you.” She held it up with a sleepy grin.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Duh. It’s a national holiday. KK Day.”

She leaned over and kissed me, slow and soft, like the kind of kiss that made time blur a little. “Thank you, baby. Seriously.”

“You haven’t even seen the waffle bar I’m making in the morning.”

Her face lit up. “There’s a waffle bar?!”

“There will be. With toppings. I bought whipped cream and everything.”

She pulled me under the covers with her and curled into my side like she always did, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my arm.

“Can we just stay like this forever?” she murmured.

I smiled and kissed her temple. “Absolutely.”

We lay there for a long time, just talking about the last year—her wins, her injuries, our inside jokes, that one time I tried to surprise her with a picnic but forgot the sandwiches.

KK laughed so hard remembering it, she nearly cried.

Eventually, we both drifted back to sleep—arms tangled, cupcake crumbs probably still in the sheets, but completely content.

Once the sun was shining bright, KK woke me up by blowing raspberries on my neck and yelling, “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!”

I groaned. “You’re so loud for someone so small.”

“I’m five-nine and you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” I mumbled, pulling the blanket over my face.

She yanked it back. “You promised waffles!”

“Fine, fine,” I grumbled, dragging myself out of bed. “Birthday girl gets her carbs.”

I shuffled into the kitchen and started on the waffle bar setup. Chocolate chips, strawberries, bananas, whipped cream, Nutella, syrup. KK stood nearby, watching me with hearts in her eyes and zero shame.

“You’re really making me feel like a queen,” she said.

“That’s because you are a queen. And you’re hot. So it’s kind of a win-win for me.”

She grinned and jumped on the counter like a kid. “After this, I demand birthday cuddles.”

“Demand?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me, ma’am. You get cuddles when you earn them.”

“I earned them by putting up with you all year.”

“Touche.”

We sat on the couch with our waffle creations, watching “Good Luck Charlie” reruns and stealing toppings from each other’s plates.

KK made me do the little whipped cream flower on her plate twice just so she could film it.

Eventually, I posted the mandatory birthday Instagram.

I picked a carousel of chaotic and cute pictures—from childhood to now.

Caption:

happy 20th to my absolute menace of a girlfriend. you may be loud, dramatic, and convinced waffles count as a food group—but you’re also the best part of every day. thank you for loving me even when I steal your socks and forget where I parked the car. here’s to more cupcakes, more cuddles, and more “where’s my charger” arguments. love you forever, birthday girl.

KK read it three times and hugged me like I had just proposed.

“You make me feel so loved,” she whispered.

“You are loved,” I said, squeezing her back. “Loudly. Proudly. Publicly.”

She pulled back, eyes shining. “I don’t even need presents. You being you is enough.”

“Okay, now you’re gonna make me cry,” I sniffled.

“Good. We can be emotional messes together.”

And so we were—emotional, messy, full of waffles and whipped cream, and wildly in love.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[https-bobreynolds]

six strings to save a god

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds x enchantress! reader

summary: bob nearly blew his cover in an undercover mission where you both absolutely cannot use your powers at, so you save him with metallica instead.

author’s note: rewatched stranger things and got inspired by THE eddie munson, you will be missed💔

UNDERGROUND CLUB BELOW THE VIENNA STATE OPERA HOUSE, WESTERN EUROPE - 11:32 PM

private auction night

the air tastes like ozone and old bourbon. velvet curtains cover cracked plaster. there’s an antique chandelier above the bar flickering with blood-red LED bulbs, casting shadows like broken glass across the crowd.

somewhere in the crowd: mercs, arms dealers, hydra defectors, and warlords who don’t technically exist.

and at a table just beneath the second mezzanine, is robert ‘bob’ reynolds, looking perfect in a slim-cut black suit, nerves unraveling by the second.

you sit beside him, swirling untouched whiskey, watching him come apart thread by golden thread.

“he’s looking at me,” bob murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “he knows. the madripoor guy in the corner, he keeps- he’s not blinking.”

you glance up.

the man in question tilts his head, one brow raised. hands drifting way too slowly toward the holster under his coat.

bob’s about to snap. you can feel it under your skin like the low thrum of the void stirring.

“we got what we need, we have to leave this place now.” you whispered, giving him a look.

you didn’t say anything more, but he understood quickly, giving a nod.

“under any circumstances, do NOT engage and do NOT use any of your powers.” you remember bucky say, right before the mission.

you cannot let sentry, void or enchantress lose it here.

this is not the place for sun gods or eldritch abominations, so you do the only thing that makes sense in a room like this.

you stand, smooth as static, and quickly vanish into the shadows behind the stage, where a two-piece synthwave duo just finished their eerie, looping set.

and waiting backstage, among broken amps and stolen crates, you see it:

a scratched jackson king v custom.

you pick it up. test the weight. check the strings.

you walk out slow.

the crowd goes quiet for a beat. spotlights flicker to follow.

you nod at the DJ, who knows not to mess with it.

then, you slam into the intro to “master of puppets.”

the distortion screams.

the riff punches through the smoke like a fist. dirty. loud. real.

people down on the floor cheer, some boo, some start laughing in disbelief.

the suits look confused. a few start pulling out phones.

one of the auction security guards near bob’s table mutters, “what the hell-“

bob exhales like he’s been underwater for five minutes, he slinks out with the crowd’s attention squarely on you.

and you?

you shred.

“end of passion play, crumbling away

i’m your source of self-destruction…”

you sing like it’s prophecy, like the world’s about to burn and you’re the one lighting the match.

heads are banging, drinks are spilled, the tech auction upstairs is forgotten.

that guy from madripoor? he’s now two whiskeys deep and head-nodding like you’re doing a private concert just for him.

your fingers blaze through the solo like they were built for this. the guitar’s raw, snarling. just perfect.

and in the dark corner of the second tier, where no one’s watching anymore?

bob slips through a side door. free and clear.

you hammer the final riff with one last scream of strings.

“MASTER! MASTER!”

silence crashes like a wave behind it. the crowd roars, half of them think you’re just the best part of the party, the other half are too dazed to care.

you bow low, tossing the guitar off-stage like a mic drop.

and walk out like you own the world, panting as you slam the door behind you.

“you-” he starts, breathless. “you just-”

“i shredded,” you say, breathless and smug. “and saved your ass.”

he huffs a laugh, still dazed.

“i was gonna blow it,” he admits. “i could feel it coming… like the whole thing was about to fall apart.”

“well,” you smirk, brushing your hair back. “good thing i know how to play the hits.”

he looks at you, really looks at you.

the city glows behind you, the music still ringing faintly from the club.

and he says, “you’re kind of unreal, you know that?”

you shrug. “takes one to know one, sunshine.”

you look at each other for a second too long.

and somewhere in the club behind you, the next DJ starts spinning, but nothing could top what you just did.

tag list:

@lovetoalll

[gf2bellamy]

Since we're doing head cannons, i KNOW spencer would get over his technophobia just to send little 'good morning'/'good night'/'home safe' texts and bite sized updates when he can. He's just so scared of anything that'll happen to you and he needs to know you're alright, even if its just a tiny lil 'just ate lunch REMEMBER TO EAT!!!'

this is definitely something he would do

i can picture him being concerned about you after one particular hard case and he'd text you:

"Hi. This is Spencer. Are you home safe?".

you nearly dropped your phone. spencer never texted. never. you'd immediately text back a

"Yes, Spence. Home safe. Are you?"

his reply would be quick as if he was waiting for you.

"Yes. Good. Okay. Sleep well."

after that it turned into a routine.

every night, exactly at 11:00 PM, he texts you:

"Good night. Sleep well."

every morning, at precisely 7:00 AM, you wake up to:

"Good morning. Have a nice day."

at both lunch and dinner, he'd ask you if you had eaten anything yet. and if you didn't reply in an hour, he's probably already spiraling ( even though you're probably just taking a nap or something )

over time, his texts stop being just check-ins. he just starts sending you the most random facts and updates.

"Finished a book today. Thought you’d like it. I can give you my copy if you want."

" I just read a study on how love improves cognitive function. Which means you're technically making me smarter just by existing."

sometimes, he just texts you for no reason at all.

"Hi."

"Hello?"

"I was just wondering what you were doing." ( a clear sign that he misses you )

[shoujosoulsite]

𐔌 .🪽 ⋮ things that make me excited in my home reality/waiting room !!

I felt hella mad because this fuckass reality is pissing me the fuck off so here is a little post that helps motivate me! …. honestly just me yapping about specifically stuff I love in waiting room

Having all the time in the world

having all the time to sleep, work on my scripts, or do whatever is the dream. Since it’s a “timeless” and eternal dimension where you can just be at peace, I can do anything without any stress of a deadline! I can learn new skills, even ones that take years or even a lifetime to learn!

Playing Roblox/minecraft and actually having fun

I want to play not only Roblox and Minecraft but just overall video games and genuinely have fun. (This is mainly targeted towards Roblox because it’s just isn’t the same no more. ) royale high, natural disasters, and feel the facility gonna be peak in my waiting room.

Eating and drinking whatever and whenever I want

Just the thought of having pretty much an infinite buffet of all you can eat and at any time. You wake up in the morning and you craving some hot dogs or noodles, you can quickly get some from the fridge or better yet summon it! I’m gonna be drinking a lot of strawberry lemonade and cherry sodas 😭✌️

Learning how to crochet and knitting

I ALWAYS wanted to learn how to crochet and knit so I can make the cutest of items and clothes! It’s looks so fun and relaxing and just an overall great hobby to have. Plus imagine crocheting plushies or sweaters, especially for your lover and watching some slice of life animes or films! That’ll be so peaceful and healing for me.

Finally starting to do tarot and channeling

when I was a “baby shifter” and finally getting used to the shifting community, I always wanted to learn channeling and divination. I thought it would be cool and fun, especially contacting people from my drs. I want to be that cool and mysterious divinator who seems to have all the answers of universe (and in technicality, pretty much does)

Catch up on bleach, one piece, and Naruto

there is SOO MANY animes and mangas that I need to catch up on, especially older ones. Plus, watching medias, especially in the environment of my home reality— it’s honestly just a huge vibe.

Read way more Shojo / josei manga

i do read a lot of shojosei mangas but not a lot compared to shonen ones. I wanna change that and have equal amount of shojo, josei, shonen, and seinen mangas and animes that I’ve watched or read.

Astral projection with my lover

astral projection honestly looks so fun (especially when you know what to do and how to protect yourself). Since my lover is an absolute natural in astral projection, having him show me the ways on how to do it and go on little adventures in astral plane seems so awesome.

Rewatching childhood shows

this is mainly Winx club, miraculous ladybug, and Pokémon that I’m referring too (but specifically Winx club cause that show has a special place in my heart). I would love to watch it again and experience nostalgia, especially in the comforts of my waiting room.

Painting Toru’s nails for fun (+ self care in general )

honestly doing self care with each other like washing each other’s hair, painting each other’s nails, wearing face masks gossiping (which is just us making jokes and shit talking ) stuff that happen either our drs or the astral realm, and much more.

Read / watch way more Chinese dramas and books

Chinese dramas, especially set into the traditional and ancient fantasies be so fucking wild and crazy. Like the suspense and pure chaos in those shows / films be so addictive that you can’t help but watch. Every evening in my home reality, it’s just gonna be chaotic and entertaining Chinese dramas from 6 pm to 11 pm.

Exploring my waiting room

even though the main part of my waiting room is just my floating house, there is a “world” outside of it, a worlds of many forms and mystery. Hell even my house be hella big and has many secrets. I like to call my house in a way labyrinth as they are many stuff that consists of my waiting room. The concept of Infinity has a huge part in my waiting room from not only just time but possibilities and creation, so there is something new everyday! Especially when exploring and having fun.

backshots 😈🙏

you know what I mean here so let’s not get into 💀

the beautiful view(s) I have in my house

I have this big as balcony that has the view of the outside world and skies and it’s one of the most beautiful things you can look at. Even the images in my imagination is nothing compared to the real deal. It’s most ethereal during the mourning and evenings.

[hardtofindeggs]

Cease and Desist Pt.2

❀ pairing: professor!levi ackerman x chancellor!f!reader

❀ genre: enemies(ish) to lovers, slow burn

❀ cw: light swearing, high tension situations (???), alcohol consumption, slight angst, fluff, jealousy, mutual pining (but levi is hopeless)

❀ summary: levi ackerman has been a professor at acadia hills university™ for almost 6 years now. levi ackerman has also had his eyes on you - the chancellor of this university - for 6 years now. he hasn't allowed himself to get too close to you, despite it being hard since your social circles are nearly identical. what'll happen now that he can't avoid you as much as he'd like? now that he's too close to you?

❀ parts: pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3 -> pt.4 -> pt.5

Entering your house, you place your keys on the little ceramic bowl you have placed on top of your shoe shelf. Locking your door twice, you start to walk towards your kitchen, excited to prepare the dinner you had set ingredients out for earlier when suddenly your mobile phone rings. Taking it out of your pocket with a confused look on your face because who even calls people at 11:07 pm? When suddenly your confused expression melts off because of course she does.

"Hey there, Hange," a smile lingering in your voice.

"My savior. My angel. My light. My very own personal je-"

"Which bar are you at again, Hange?" you cut her off to ask between low chuckles.

"Hmmm...let me think," a short silence engulfs the line before your best friend speaks once more "21....uh..21...M-mobli-"

"Bounce Street?" you ask while your phone is stuck between your shoulder and ear as you put on your shoes.

"THAT'S THE ONE!!!"

Hange's sudden scream makes you pull the phone away before speaking one last time "Be there in 15. Do NOT leave," she mumbles something of an incoherent agreement and you hang up; grabbing your keys, locking your door and entering your car as you see yourself on your way to the bar.

Once you arrive at the bar, your field of vision is flooded with freshly turned 21 year olds who can't seem to drink quick enough, large groups of older men flirting with the usual bartender and of course, your best friend singing karaoke to anyone who would listen. You stand watching her for a while before you decide on getting yourself a quick drink as she finishes her song. You walk up to the bar and order yourself an apple juice.

"Designated driver?" a low voice asks from beside you. You can't hear the person very well over Hange's singing so you turn to face them. A polite laugh leaving your mouth as you answer.

"More like- Levi! Excuse me; Professor Ackerman," you're surprised to see your friend at the bar he practically ridiculed you for considering to go to.

"Too late for that. Anyhow, you actually didn't answer my question this time, Chancellor," he says smugly.

You roll your eyes and smirk at his petty comment and answer "Such amazing memory. To answer your question, technically yes. See, I wasn't here at all tonight so you can't really call it 'designated' but I was called to come get Hange anyway. So... I suppose so,"

Levi nods and finishes the last of his water, "Taking her back to yours, then?" you nod your head and he speaks once again, however you can't seem to put together what he said.

"What?!" you raise your voice over the music. Levi rolls his eyes and moves closer to you, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and holding it there as he moves in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his warm breath fanning over it for a short second.

"I asked if I could also drop Miche off at your place. I don't really feel like having to clean his throw up tonight." he separates from you, taking note of how close you two actually were, and asks for another glass of water.

You tell him it's no problem and he nods as a silence engulfs the room, even though Hange can still be heard by everyone in this bar. To you it's deafening. Paying attention to the drinks in front of you and nothing else. You hope he doesn't notice how red your ears are, or how you held your breath when he got so close to you. You hope he doesn't notice you touching your ears in a feeble attempt to cool them down, or how your arm relaxed against his when he got so close to you. You really hope he didn't notice.

"Hange, sit up. Cuz if you throw up while laying down, you'll die," you signal right and turn, "And if you do, I wouldn't be able to fit funeral arrangements into my calendar right now," you listen to Hange's giggling while you enter your building's parking lot, finding two empty slots besides one another and parking your car neatly.

You exit your car and open the door for Hange, lowering yourself so you can help wiggle her out.

"Y/N!" Levi's voice echoes throughout the partially empty parking lot, grabbing your attention away from Hange's boots in your hands.

"Yes, Levi?"

"Mind throwing me your keys? I'll get Miche changed and on the couch while you get Hange out," Levi shrugs his head towards the sleepy man slouched over his shoulder.

You nod and let go of Hange's leg to throw him your house keys. Levi catches them with his free hand and begins walking towards the elevator. Once he's out of your sight, you continue struggling with Hange once more, until finally, 20 minutes and some negotiation later, her head's nuzzled up against your neck, legs around your waist as you step into the elevator. 9th floor.

Stepping out of the elevator to find the door to your apartment creaked open, you step inside and push the door shut behind you with your foot before walking up the stairs and to your room to get Hange changed and settled into your bed. After 15 minutes of shimmying her sleeping form into some pyjamas, you walk downstairs to look for Levi.

You check the balcony first and the living room next; that's where you find a snoring Miche in some grey sweatpants and a cotton black tank top, knocked out on your L shaped couch. Sound asleep. Smiling to yourself you walk out and begin walking to the kitchen, growing more and more certain of Levi's whereabouts as you continue to hear clattering and sizzling coming from there.

To your surprise, you stand leaning on the kitchen's doorframe, drinking in the vision that is your jet black haired friend. His sleeves rolled up as he expertly works between the salmon in one frying pan, vegetables in another and some sauce in a pot.

"Must be my birthday," you smirk and push yourself off of the doorframe as you make your way to your wooden kitchen island and seat yourself.

"You amuse me," Levi mumbles monotonously "I saw the ingredients set out after I'd put Miche to bed. Came in to fix myself a cup of tea and thought to have this be my way of thanking you for taking them both in,"

"There's no need to thank me, Levi,"

"I want to," His eyes flit up to meet yours for a short moment before he starts plating up your dinner.

A moment of silence consumes you both when you speak up, "I hope you're not intending for me to eat alone,"

Levi stares at you as he slides you your plate of food and a glass of water. Two ice cubes. He balls his hands into fists and pushes his knuckles into the wooden island; swaying himself back and forth, thinking of whether he should stay or go.

He takes a deep breath and speaks, "I'll eat with you, Y/N," you smile at him and raise your hands up in a victory pose. Levi chuckles softly at your playfulness before making himself a plate and sits down in front of you as you both silently enjoy your dinners.

You finish the last of the washing up and you walk out of the kitchen, once again looking for Levi. Nearing your living room you see him at the entrance of your home, putting on his shoes- you walk down the hallway to him.

"Why didn't you tell me you're leaving? I'll drop you off,"

"No need. It's what Uber is for, no?" cocking an eyebrow at you as he pulls his phone out to order a car.

"What? Levi- wha- no. Why would you do that? Just stay. I'll drop you home tomorrow with Hange and Miche. Save the planet and all," you attempt at bargaining with him. But why? Let him leave. You shouldn't get too close with him, anyway- he'll know otherwise.

Levi scoffs before answering, "And share a car with those morons? Y/N, be serious.. and besides; I can order an electric car. Save the planet," he finishes his point and orders a car.

You exhale deeply through your nose to which he looks up at you for.

"What,"

"You're forever arrogant, aren't you,"

Levi looks to the side, "I don't want to be anymore trouble,"

"That's nonsense, Levi," you move to look him in his eyes. It's quiet for a moment, both of you displaying your best poker faces waiting for the other to speak. Neither one of you does. His phone pings with a notification that his Uber has arrived.

"Great. Now I have to make him wait while I go down your shitty apartment's elevator. This is going to hurt my rating," he mumbles in annoyance as he walks out of your house and frantically presses the elevator button multiple times, as though that will make it arrive quicker.

You follow after and wait next to him. Once the elevator arrives and he steps inside, you manage to yell out to him just as the elevator doors close, "Let me know once you're home!"

The doors are long shut before he's able to respond and you go back inside your house. Your phone vibrates as you lock your door and you open it to see a text message.

Levi: 👍

Shaking your head, you lock your phone and make your way to your room to get changed before you sleep in the guest room for the night.

[tiedyeflannels]

Never Let You Go

Park Jimin x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Pt.1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 -- Masterlist

Genre: Angst to fluff

A/N: Yo! Not gonna lie, I thought this was going to be the last part, but I guess there'll be one more! Haha! Anyways... Enjoy!

“Hey, Chim! Though it’s the 12th here, it’s technically your birthday back home, so… Happy Birthday! I hope you’re doing well. Sorry I can’t be there for your birthday, but I did get you a gift so make sure to ask Hobi about that, lol! Anyways, stay safe and healthy. I love you!” Sent 8:07 am, October 12th, 2022.

“Congratulations on your Billboard #1!! I am so, incredibly proud of you!! I remember being with you when you were working on the album and all of those sleepless nights you spent in the studio and I’m so glad that your hard work is being recognized the way it should be! I also saw a performance of yours and you looked so cool! I’ll be rooting for you, fighting!!” Sent 12:42 pm, May 1st, 2023.

“Hey, I thought that I would send you message before you go into the military. I know you guys were dreading it, but it’ll pass in no time, so keep your head up! I texted the others to wish them luck in their service, too. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be there to see you off, but I’ll see you soon! Be safe, stay healthy, and do your best, which I know you always do! Good luck!” Sent 10:48 am, December 10th, 2023.

“Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Jimin! I hope you’re well. How’s life been treating you so far? Are you excited for the new year? I been doing well over here. I definitely am a little homesick, but I’ve made some really nice friends over the year, so it’s been fun. I’ve talked to the others, and they said that you’ve been doing well so that’s a relief to hear, but I’d love to hear from you. I’ll be here for you, just send a text, okay? Miss you lots…” Sent 11:11 pm, January 2nd, 2024.

“Hey, Jimin. Uh… I’ll be coming home in a week. I’m excited to see you guys! I-”

I stopped typing I looked at the last text I sent.

“I miss you…" Sent December 25, 2024”.

It had been a week since I sent that, and it was still unread. I scrolled through all of the texts I sent throughout the two years since we had the argument and I had moved, making me heavily sigh. 

I deleted what I was writing, figuring that I was starting to lose the energy to keep this up. I sat up and shook my head as I went back to packing my apartment up before going back home early next week. I really can’t believe him…

~

“Dude. I just got off the plane. I’m on my way to grab my bag. What do you need because you called me six times,” I asked as I approached the luggage carousel as bags started to appear.

“Oh, nothing! I just wanted talk to you,” Jin said happily and I could practically hear the smile in his voice. 

I quietly chuckled and shook my head as I watched others take their luggage and waited to see my suitcase.

“Anyway, we sent a car over to pick you up from the airport, so be on the lookout for our driver, okay?”

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me and approached the carousel once I saw my bag making its round. 

“That’s sweet, thanks- hold on,” I said, sliding my phone in my coat pocket before getting hold of the suitcase handle and hauling it out of the carousel. Standing it up and pulling the handle up, I started to walk toward the ‘ground transport’ area.

“Anyway, thank you! You didn’t have to do that. I could have ridden the bus home.”

“It was no problem at all! Actually Hobi wanted to make sure you got home safe, so the idea was mainly his.”

I smiled at the concern.

“Aww! Then I’ll make sure to thank him when I get home.”

I followed the crowd as I neared the doors and saw the line of cars outside. I looked around the area to see if I could spot their driver, Mr. Choi, and a man holding a sign with my name written on it with Hobi’s handwriting. I laughed at how unreadable it was, but approached him nonetheless.

Mr. Choi bowed in greeting as I smiled and he led me outside to where the car was stationed. “I should let you go. I found you driver and I’ll be heading home. I’ll stop by to see you you and Hobi tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay! See you soon, bye~” Jin sang before he hung up.

We approached the car and Mr. Choi grabbed my bag to put in the back as the side door of the black van opened and I got in and took a seat on the left side, behind the driver’s seat.

Once situated and Mr. Choi started the car, I turned on my phone and opened Hobi’s contacted as I started typing a ‘thank you’ for sending a car to get me before a voice in the front seat interrupted me.

“So, how was your trip?”

My head shot up as I saw Jin back with a smirk on his face.

I gasped, “You came to pick me up!?” I brought my hands up to cover my mouth in surprise while he laughed and nodded.

“Yeah… I wasn’t the only one that wanted to see you…”

He glanced to the side and raised his eyebrows, hinting at something. My brows furrowed before I heard a happy “Hey, Y/n” from the back seat, making me whip my head at the voice to see Hobi sitting behind me. 

“Hobi,” I happily squealed as he made his way forward and into the seat next to mine. I reached over and gave him an excited hug, happy that two of my friends came to pick me up.

“I was just going to text you! How are you guys?”

Hobi buckled him self in as the car started to move, “Good! We wanted to come surprise you.” 

I smiled, looking between both of them, “Thank you, that’s sweet! How was that military, by the way?”

They both groaned, which made me chuckled as it reminded me how much the dreaded enlisting.

“Ugh! It was boring and I couldn’t do anything I wanted,” Jin whined.

“Yeah, and I missed the members and ARMY,” Hobi agreed and I nodded. 

“Well, you certainly didn’t change at all,” I said.

“Of course we wouldn’t. It was just work we needed to do, but you,” Jin drawed out, pointing a finger at me and gestured to my hair, “Certainly have!”

“Yeah, you look different,” Hobi joined. I playfully rolled my eyes, “It’s just a different hair cut, guys. It’s nothing.” 

Jin hummed skeptical, “Was this little decision because of a certain someone?”

Knowing he was talking about Jimin, I sighed and fell back in my seat, “No. It was just something I wanted to try out.”

Hobi’s eyes softened as he looked at me, “Did you ever get to talk to him about what happened?”

I looked down at my hands resting on my lap and sadly shook my head. “No,” I sighed, thinking of everything I did trying to get him to talk to me. “Looking back, I, maybe, tried too hard to get him to talk to me.”

“He wouldn’t talk to us about the situation either,” Hobi, stated as he sunk into his seat.

Jin crossed his arms and disappointedly shook his head in the front seat, “Yeah. He wouldn’t budge anytime one of brought up that he should, at least, talk about what happened.” 

A sad smile graced my lips briefly before I rolled my eyes, emotionally exhausted by this whole situation.

“Maybe I should've given up the first time he said that we were over,” I mumbled as I turned to look outside the window and watch the cars pass.

“Listen, he could still come around. Jimin comes out of the military in June,” Hobi tried to look at the positives.

“Mhm. And if he doesn’t talk to you, we’ll hold it over him for the rest of his days,” Jin said, nodding securely as if that was the final decision.

I chuckled quietly and nodded at their statements, though I wasn’t sure how true they would reign. Would Jimin want to talk after the military? Could this be fixed or am I fooling myself?

I sighed, “I guess we’ll see…”

Part 3

[secretofblue]

25 • 05 • 25 11:55 pm

Week recap 🍃

This will most probably be a long update so if you want to skip please do, otherwise brace yourselves :)

This was a long week that leaves me with it a sweet and sour aftertaste. So much happened this week and i don't totally know how to feel

Starting strong with my wednesday, this time it was an special practice day for two reasons

1. It was exam day, second partial to be specific, for this one, we had to aply the treatment to one patient of the teacher's election; first tell her about the diagnosis of the patient, what is it?which precautions should we have with them?, then explain why we would aply that technic, what it consists of and what dosification we would work with and finally aply it with our patient, explain to them what would they feel, what should they do or how to do the excercice.

For some reason i didn't feel nervous about it, of course i studied beforehand but i didn't felt pressured i felt ready)?

When my turn came it took me totally off guard but maybe it was better that way because i didn't even have the time to enter in the nervous mind set, the teacher just came and told me 'you ready? :D' and i was like 'no, why for? :o' and she 'for your exam, it's your turn, here read the record of the patient and i need you to aply the treatment for this and this, let me just go really quick for a pen and i'll be right back :D' and then i just stood there like ':D'. But at the end it all turned of so well, i didn't get too nervous, the patient, Mr. J was so friendly and kind and we get to finish on time. On the feed back my teacher told me she noticed an improvement from the last time she aply a test to me (last semester), she also gave me some tips on things she would do insteand but that in general i did great, i got 9.5/10! :), i definitelly wasn't expecting that grade

She also asked me for feed back about her, but i didn't have anything i would like her to change, we may have not talk a lot, but she is always so kind and cheering for us, so i just thanked her for it. We need more teachers that inspire us and help us progress, not emotionally destroy us 🥹 (i've already had a handfull of those)

2. It was also the last practice day, not only of the semester but for the career as well. This has so many layers, and eventough i'm happy for reaching this far i can't help but also feel super nostalgic about it. So many years of feeling anxious waiting for the wednesday's practice's to come, end here .. it feels really weird

I really tried on not going too deep in this thought for days, but as i'm writing this is just inevitable

With this thought in mind i really enjoyed this last day, i tried to be less nervous, ask more to the physio in charge of me without being afraid if the questions was too dumb, listened more and tried to interact with the patients as if i were the most extroverted person. I really tried to do the most out of this day, and i did :)

And at the same time there was this feeling of finally getting one less thing on the list

(being honest i teared up a bit while writing down this)

The way back to campus felt really light, the atmosphere on the bus was cheerful because of this feeling of last practice day, and because every one in the rotation achieved a good grade on their respective test

The way back home was not as agonizing as other days, once i reached the bus station i got a call from my mom and told me she was already home from work that cheered me up even more

When i got home it was clear my social battery reached negative numbers so i unintentionally fell asleep on the couch, i woke up like an hour later and my mom and i ate together, then took my puppy on her walk, got back, went to the gym with my sister and back at home between other task i disconected one more time for like another hour before finally going to sleep

And that was basically all for the day..

I originally intended to write down the rest of the week, but i feel like all of this is already a lot and honestly i feel a little overwhelm so for now i will end the update here, maybe i'll write the rest later on the week

Thank you so much for reading this mess. Good night everyone, rest well and have a good start of week! 🌼✨

[dawnoftime22]

moments to never forget.

| T.S

Warnings: None!

Summary: It's your birthday, and Taylor has many plans up her sleeve. She gives you surprises one after another simply in one day, and it becomes the most special birthday you've had yet.

Word Count: 2.9k

Category: Fluff! All fluff!!

A/N: GUESSSS WHO'S BIRTHDAY IT IS??? MINE!!! happy birthday to me :DD so take this as a birthday special <33 I really really hope you'll love this because its one of my most fav fic I've written so far <3

| Started on 01/12/2023, 5:53 PM |

| Finished on 01/12/2023, 11:13 PM |

Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“Oh, all I'd ever do for you, and you only.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was a peaceful day. You were sat on the couch in the living room with Taylor, knowing today is your birthday, but you never really did much on it, except get a cake really.

"You know, I have something to show you." She says naturally, but with a mysterious tone in her voice. You piqued up slightly in her embrace at the sentence, curiosity taking over your features.

"What is it?" You ask as she moves to get you off of her and stand up, wanting you to follow with her from her hands tugging on yours.

"You'll see." Her voice was cheeky, her eyes following her smile. You get dragged over to the bedroom, making you all the more curious.

She sits you down on the bed before going off to the closet, where all her clothes are located. She opens it, and you gasp.

Your mouth was open at the set of cardigans in her wardrobe that you knew weren't there before. They were beautiful, and the side of the arms had little stitched in stars in them. You close your mouth as you took in the scene before you. Was this real or a dream? You didn't even know. You were about to ask her to pinch you.

They only weren't there before because Taylor had some of them stored in another house, and she didn't have a piece of each and every one yet, surprisingly, until her team sent her ones she didn't have yet, completing her collection.

"Which one do you want?" She asks softly, her hands waving over to them as a gesture of 'voila'. Her eyebrows raised with a smile on her lips.

"Tay, I love them all, I can't just choose one." Your shoulders slumped with your words, your mind thinking Taylor was asking you to choose only one that you could wear or add to your own wardrobe. Technically you could just steal hers, but that wasn't in your flow of thoughts with the shock, and how your mind was currently focused on her question.

"Well, you can have them all, darling, but right now which one do you wanna wear?" Her sentence comes out with a small giggle that vibrates within her ribs and echoes out to your ears, and you were about to melt into a pool of puddle on the wooden floor with all the love you had for her.

"You choose," you say quietly, not able to make a decision. She hums, half expecting you to have said that, perhaps. The blonde turns her head to look at the closet, her fingers brushing against the soft fabrics of the cardigans, and her eyes were extremely focused.

"How about this one?" Taylor reaches her hand out to one of the hangers, grabbing one of the seven cardigans from her collection. She chose simply on whichever she thought you'd love most, and she never fails in doing so.

You grab the hanger as she gives it to you, your eyes shining at the sight. You delicately take off the cardigan and put your arms in the arm holes, wearing it. It smoothly goes over your shoulders and went off to your other arm as you fully had it on you.

Taylor smiles, her eyes looking over the sight of you wearing something of hers. Well, she has before, considering you stole her hoodies and clothes, but this was especially different. Her own merch.

"You look lovely," she whispers, her voice endearing as ever. A slight red tint appears on your face, and she tries her hardest to get a clear picture of it in her head to store away and remember for years later to come.

"It's warm. It feels like whenever you hug me." You move your arms as if to hug yourself slightly, the comfortable fabric making itself feel like home upon you.

"Well, I'm warmer, but I'm glad it's comfortable." You giggle at her sentence, but she wasn't wrong. Although she is warmer, the cardigan fits you perfectly, and it's soft against the skin of your arms.

She closes the closet doors and walks over to you, putting her arms out to hug you and sit on your lap. She places her arms around your body that was layered in a shirt and the cardigan.

"Are you warm enough?" She asks playfully as she puts her cheek against your shoulder, looking up at you adorably, her blonde hair spilling over your shoulder. You swore you were gonna die happily right then and there.

"You're basically gonna make me melt from all the warmth." You're lucky the room was cold enough for it all to be cozy, and oh so perfect of a temperature.

She giggles, and then gets off of you, standing up and taking your hand into hers, tugging you to follow along.

"Where are we going now?" You ask curiously, your arm pushing you up and your legs straightening to a standing position to follow her. Your hands were intertwined with each other like a perfect puzzle piece.

"Someplace you'll love." She says, grabbing her keys out her pocket and going to the living room, making her way to the front door.

Once she opens the door, the sun was greeting high above the clouds somewhere, but it wasn't awfully sunny. She closes and turns the key into the door behind you. The sky shows a nice and gentle weather, no gray clouds.

The car beeped in the distance to your left, making you turn your head towards it. Taylor tilts her head while she walks to the car, as if to signal you that she was done making sure the house was all safe and locked.

You trail behind her, watching her get in the driver seat to turn on the engine. You thought she'd stay there and close the door, but she goes over to the passenger side and opens yours for you.

A dopey smile was on your face, her small gestures of love being everything to you. You went ahead and walked by her to go sit in the seat. She checks that you're fully in the vehicle before she closes the door.

When Taylor got in and clicked her seatbelt on along with you, she settles her hands on the steering wheel, driving off to the main road and start the journey to your destination, wherever that may be.

You got comfortable, unknowing whether it'll be a short one, or a long one. Before doing so, you turn on the radio and adjust the volume so it'll be good background music. You smile when you hear your favorite song playing.

Her eyes went to watch you every now and then, your head nodding along to the music and some lyrics coming out your mouth. She was so in love with you and everything about you.

When it went on to being half an hour in the car, you had settled down in your seat, watching the trees pass by and looking at the view outside. It seems you were going up a few mountains, and you couldn't wait to see what she had planned.

Taylor was smiling adorably as she drove. The sun was setting already, the two of you having left the house in the evening, and it left an iridescent line on her face, the rearview mirror reflecting the sun.

This was a precious day and a precious moment. You stare at her, admiring her for a second before pulling out your phone, your teeth catching your lip as you took a picture of her.

She notices you in the corner of her eyes, and her smile grew wider with a soft look. "I saw that," she says, knowing you loved to take pictures of her before she sees. But you didn't just take it for that reason.

"There's a rainbow on your face." You point out, and she looks into the mirror, her eyes brightening at the many colors of light visiting her cheek down to her neck. It was as if you were to travel upon a rainbow and find a stash of gold, to which, she practically is one. But she's more valuable and special than a simple pot of gold. Oh, so much more.

"I guess it's true how they say I have a bit of magic running through me." She focuses back on the road ahead of her, joking about the fans to you. You shake your head with a small laugh, but almost agreeing with her and the people who's talked about it. Far too many coincidences with the plane matching her lyrics, and mother nature following her with strikes of lightning.

Soon enough, you arrive, and it was a place somewhere on the side of the road, but there was a small path that could be seen at an angle. You follow Taylor's lead when she got out and locked the car, the wind breezing gently through your hair as you moved.

The sun had gone down by now, and the sky was dark, but the pathway had small lamps lighting up the way. You wondered if that was Taylor's doing, or perhaps they had already been there and this was a spot some people visit.

But it was her doing. She found this place a while ago, and no one else had taken it thus far. It was hers, and your spot now. The grass was green, and there were beautiful trees with leaves flowing and smoothly falling down here and there.

Taylor eventually stops walking, and you see a small picnic set up below an apple tree. She smiles your way, and your lips reflected hers. You couldn't have found anyone better.

She goes to sit down on the fabric, beside her a basket with some food. You sit down with her, shuffling to sit in between her legs with your back against her front.

It was a place where not much light pollution covered the place. You stare up at the night sky. It glimmered with stars, brightly glowing along with the gibbious moon high up the sky. You could see venus and saturn somewhere.

The sight shined off to your eyes, and hers stared down to them, admiring the speechless but happy look on your face. You were staring at the stars, she was staring at you.

You had your hands resting in your own lap, and she went off to the basket to grab a container that has a a slice of cheesecake. One that was delicious, and one from your favorite shop.

There was a small birthday candle, and the blonde gently places it atop the cake, lighting it up with a lighter.

She grabs a fork, opening the lid and handing the fork to you. You didn't see it until she waved it slightly, making you look down. A small gasp makes it way out your mouth when you realize what was on the picnic blanket just beside you.

"Tay, you didn't have to do all this." You say, your voice barely above a whisper from the surprise of how much she's been doing for you just in one day. And she planned all of it by herself. You look at her over your shoulder, your eyes full of emotions.

"But I wanted to. And you deserve every inch of it," she says, so very softly. Her free hand reaches up to caress your cheek with her thumb gently. She then lays a light kiss on your lips, her eyes holding only care and her embrace only holding safety.

Your lips turned upwards, and you gently take the fork from her hand, going off to grab the cheese cake container.

"Make a wish." She whispers gently. You stay quiet for a second, before blowing out the candle. Her face has a smile as she watches you.

"You're not gonna tell me what you wished for are you?" Taylor asks as you dig your fork into the cake, taking a small size before putting it in your mouth.

"Nope. It won't come true if I do." But in honest truth, the wish was her. To be with her forever and always.

The cake melted in your mouth. It was sweet, but not awfully sweet. Just the right amount, as it always had been. Taylor watches your movement from behind as she held you.

You then take another piece, but you didn't put it in your mouth. Instead, you lean back slightly and turn, putting the piece of cheese cake in the air, just near her mouth.

Her eyes flickered down to it, then back to your face. She opens her mouth and eats it, humming with the delicious taste filling her mouth.

She grabs another fork from the basket, wanting to share with you. You let her by putting the plastic container beside the both of you once more, turning back around to rest against her and stare up at the sky.

As the cheese cake was being finished, and the crickets made sound somewhere in the trees, she had thoughts floating in her mind, her eyes wandering over to you every now and then rather than the cake, or the sky.

"Okay, I have one last thing for you today." She spoke up softly, and you look at her, curiosity filling you as you wondered what else she could possibly have in store.

"What is it?" You ask, eager at this point from the sleepiness that might be coming onto you, and how she's been going at you with surprises left and right today. But it is a special day, after all.

"Can't tell you yet. Close your eyes first." She whispered near your ear as if to give off a mysterious tone.

"It better not be a snake like last time." You said as you closed your eyes and raised a brow. She had her mouth open in an act of getting offended even though you couldn't see.

"No! It's your birthday, silly. Of course I'm not gonna scare you." You can hear her smile in her voice, and some movement somewhere near you. She looks at you closely, making sure you had your eyes fully closed.

You then feel one of your arms being tugged up slightly to be put in the air at the same height as your chest, your palm facing upwards. A what felt like a box, with a soft exterior was then placed on your hand.

"Okay, you can open your eyes," she says, and the both of you were filled with anticipation. Hers, of your reaction, and you, of what you're gonna see when you open your eyes. When you did, it was a beautiful black box in your hand with a shiny metal latch.

"You better not have gotten me something far too expensive." Your eyes went off to hers, and she has a smile growing on her face once more.

"Just a reasonable price for something special," was all that she replied with, and you couldn't really say anything much to that, and so, your hand goes off to get the latch and open the lid, revealing a metal necklace that has a heart in the shape of how she draws it, and her initials on the sides of the heart. There are also small charms at the side of your favorite albums of her, not far off from the center of the necklace.

"Taylor. You did not." Your voice was in pure shock, knowing this was definitely custom-made. You had talked before about a necklace that should have certain charms that you would love to see together. But there wasn't one that really existed like that specifically, so you never thought of ever getting it. But she managed to get one specifically for you, and only one exists in the world.

"Yes, I did." She looked down at you, seeing how your hands very gently touched the chain and charms on it, loving that you were awestruck, and also absolutely in love with her.

"Happy birthday, baby." She kisses your cheek softly, hugging you and squeezing slightly from behind. Even a squirrel perhaps that isn't yet sleeping, is looking at the two of you from above a nearby tree, seeing the love you held dear.

"Thank you, Tay." You whisper, your free hand that wasn't holding the box going off to take her hand that was around your stomach in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as she did with your body earlier.

"Help me put it on?" You ask, looking at her. She was looking at you with a soft gaze, like a fawn looking at someone.

"Of course," she replies, taking ahold of the necklace with a gentle grip to not let it fall, and clasping it around your neck, checking it was on properly.

"You look gorgeous," she says, her voice filled with honesty. Her eyes were all focused on you and the necklace on your neck.

"Do you like it?" She asks as if with hope for you to love it, but she already knew the answer to come, she just wanted to hear it coming from your own mouth than her head.

"I love it!!" Taylor adored the pure joy on your face, every second with you making her love you even more somehow, if possible.

The rest of the night was spent with adoration and love, and you sleeping in the car on the ride back home, with her staring at you at some red lights.

It's a whole day of memories to remember, and you aren't ever gonna forget it.

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Ask for f1 drama

i shall continue my tales of regaling you all

this edition: las vegas

so as it currently stands (november 14, 2023) there are two races left in the 2023 f1 season. one is this weekend in las vegas and one is next weekend in abu dhabi. we already know who has won the drivers and contractors (team) championship (max verstappen and red bull) but theres still some loose ends in the form of second third fourth etc place that need some tying up.

and the standings for the lower places of the championship are all quite tight:

theres still a whole lot of action that can come there

which brings us to las vegas

vegas is a new race on the calendar, meaning no one has ever raced there on this track before (and likely no one will again based on how its going) and it is a street circuit, so they are literally racing on the las vegas strip.

now, prior to all the new stuff that came to light for this weekend, f1 royally managed to piss off las vegas by (probably) making tax payers (the people of vegas) pay for the strip to be repaved (several million dollars), wreaking absolute havoc on their town, shutting off the fountains, blocking things off, making traffic a nightmare and most terribly, saying that they would block off/put blackout on any stores or windows of stores or hotels who didnt want to pay a several thousand dollar fee to f1, basically making the race not viewable to anyone for free. (note that they have several other street circuit races in the calendar and they don't do this there). so it was already a nightmare.

now it gets more fun!

the race is in the middle of november in las vegas (which, for all intents and purposes, is a desert) and they decided for some unholy reason to make this a night race. i think it starts at 11 pm local time. and low and behold, the organizers just happened to forget (and they admitted that they did indeed forget) that it gets very cold at night in the desert. right now its projected to be 44-47 degrees f ( about 4/5 degrees c). f1 cars are fragile little machines that get grumpy in the wrong conditions and boy let me tell you, this is absolutely the wrong conditions. if it is indeed This Cold at the race, it will make it the coldest race in f1 history. last i heard people weren't entirely sure that the cars would work or that the tires would cooperate.

the track set up is woefully abysmally. to get the tires warm, the lads would need some good corners to zoom around to get the tires up to temperature where they can go vroom zoom fast, but, there are not too many corners. below is the track. as you can see, theres a lot of straights, and thus, not many good opportunities to get the tires nice and hot, further affecting car performance

the pit lane (you know where everyone usually goes at least once or twice to change their tires) is quite possibly in the worst spot it could be. it is on the tiny straight right before turn 1. when you go into the pitlane, the tires lose a good amount of heat (or all of it if you're going in to get fresh tires) and they need to warm the tires back up. problem is, they're going to be zooming out of the pitlane basically directly into turns 1 2 and 3, on cold rubber, in a cold race. but it gets better, because of the way the track is set up, this positioning of the pitlane, if the exits are not timed correctly, will cause collisions because the pitlane exit it basically right where the cars on the track need to go in order to get the most speed (its more technical than this and someone else can fully explain the pitlane disaster better, but this is it in very simple terms i think). the pitlane is around where that arrow is.

so not only will it be cold and the pitlane cause accidents and the cars won't work, they don't have names for any of the corners and straights. so right now the map of the track looks like this which is batshit hilarious

and to top it off!! no one has raced here! no one knows how the cars will perform!! its going to be a shit show! god save the poorest little meow meows!!

and unrelated but there is a chapel in the paddock at the race, just for some spice, called race to the alter