#... straight forward means visually for me

[basu-shokikita]

people liking my drabbles and then following me makes me soooo giddy like, you liked my writing?? you liked my writing enough to follow? wowee…

[iamgonnagetyouback]

some things stay.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ spencer reid

you’re standing in front of the full-length mirror, carefully adjusting the straps of your dress as your heels click softly on the hardwood floor. it’s elegant, timeless, the kind of dress that makes you feel like you’re starring in some classic black-and-white film—only with better lighting.

the zipper is just out of reach, and so, in a soft voice tinted with playful affection, you call out, “spence, can you zip me up?”

from down the hall, you hear the soft rustle of fabric and the quick, familiar shuffle of socked feet on hardwood. moments later, spencer appears behind you, looking unfairly beautiful in his suit and slightly crooked tie, his hair falling a little messily over his forehead. he has his glasses on, which always makes your heart stutter for no good reason.

“i can do that,” he says gently, already stepping closer.his fingers brush your back as he slowly pulls the zipper upward, the motion achingly careful—as though he’s handling fine lace or some kind of sacred treasure. which, knowing him, you’re pretty sure he thinks you are.once the zipper’s secured, you expect him to pull away. but instead, his hands settle lightly on your waist, and his eyes catch on the chain around your neck. his brows knit together as he leans forward to inspect the pendant more closely.

“you’re wearing the necklace i gave you,” he says softly, a surprised note in his voice.

you glance down at it in the mirror. it’s a simple silver chain, holding a small glass orb with a tiny, pressed forget-me-not encased inside. the gift he gave you months ago—after one of those long, exhausting stretches where he was gone on a case for ten days straight. he had handed it to you, sheepishly, in the middle of your shared kitchen, mumbling something about permanence and flowers and how he hoped you’d like it.

“i am,” you say, your smile soft and content.spencer tilts his head. “but… it doesn’t quite go with the neckline. i mean, aesthetically speaking, it interrupts the visual line of the bodice, and—” he pauses, recognizing your expression of amusement in the mirror. “sorry, i was rambling.”

you giggle under your breath. “a little.”

he clears his throat, his fingers gently brushing against the clasp at the back of your neck. “i could take it off for you. just for tonight. i’ll put it somewhere safe, i promise.”

but you immediately shoo his hands away, your tone light but firm. “nope.”

he blinks. “what do you mean ‘nope’?”

“i mean no.” you turn to face him now, reaching up to fix his slightly crooked tie. “you gave it to me. it’s yours. i’m not taking it off.”

spencer stares at you, blinking slowly, like he’s trying to process the words but his brain short-circuited somewhere in the middle.

“i…” he exhales. “but it doesn’t match—”

“still,” you interrupt gently, smoothing your hands over his lapels. “it’s my favorite thing. you picked it out. you remembered what flower i said i liked when we watched that documentary about botanical symbolism and how they used to mean secret messages.” your eyes meet his, full of warmth. “it’s the most you thing i own. so yeah—obviously, i’m not taking it off. ever.”

and that’s it. that’s the moment spencer reid absolutely melts into a puddle of goo on the bedroom floor. his eyes go glassy, his mouth opening just enough to say something—anything—but no words come out. just a breath. a shaky, wonderstruck breath.

“you remembered i said that?” he murmurs, like he still can’t quite believe it.

“of course i did. you’re you.”

he laughs, quiet and breathless, before pulling you into a gentle hug. his arms wrap around you tightly, almost like he’s afraid if he lets go, the moment might dissolve. “you’re unbelievable,” he whispers into your hair.

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he chuckles, and you feel his lips press to the top of your head. “no. it’s the best thing.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

spencer walks into the bullpen looking like a man who just witnessed actual magic.

“someone’s glowing,” emily teases as he drops his bag by his desk. “did the gala have an open bar open bar or did your girlfriend finally admit she’s secretly a time traveler?”

“she wore the necklace i gave her,” spencer says, completely unprompted. he’s not even looking at anyone. he just says it with this dazed little smile on his face.

“oh?” jj glances over. “the pressed flower one?”

“yeah,” spencer nods, adjusting his satchel strap unnecessarily. “it didn’t match her dress at all. like, it was totally off. i offered to take it off for her, but she wouldn’t let me. she said…” he trails off for a moment, eyes unfocused, like he’s reliving it all over again. “she said it was my gift, so she’s never taking it off. ever.”

there’s a collective pause around the bullpen.

and then—“awwwwwww!” comes in stereo from garcia and jj.

“god, that’s so disgustingly cute,” emily says, sipping her coffee with a smirk. “how are you not married yet?”

“i love love,” penelope declares, dramatically clutching her heart. “you’ve got the heart-eyes going so hard, doctor reid.”

spencer just shrugs, a soft smile still pulling at his lips. “i guess i do.”

there’s a long pause. then, almost absently, he adds: “i think i’m going to get her another one. one for every flower she’s ever told me about.”

and just like that, emily squeals and garcia nearly falls off her chair.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[ddarker-dreams]

A Deal's a Deal.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, violence against minor characters, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol. Word count: 5k.

Next

“... Sorry. This one’s no good either.” 

Sighing dejectedly, you sink into your seat. 

You can’t tell if your companion’s disappointed. He maintains a neutral countenance, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. Still, you study him, awaiting some visual indication before moving the conversation forward. He must sense your intentions, for he catches your gaze and smiles. 

“Should we call it a day? You look tired.” 

“The hell? Isn’t it considered taboo to tell a lady she looks tired?” You grumble. “And here I thought you were Casanova incarnate. You’ve got to work on your charisma stats.” 

Chrollo shrugs halfheartedly. “What point is there if you’re immune to my many charms?” 

“Let’s be real — ‘many’ is overdoing it, a little humility won’t hurt. I commend your budding self-awareness, though. At least we’ve made progress on that front.” 

He hums, offering no rebuttal. You realize that you’ve perked back up, reinvigorated by his goading. He certainly knows how to get people going. Among his defining features, that’s one of the first you recognized; his uncanny way of orchestrating favorable outcomes. 

Sipping your preferred warm beverage, you canvass your surroundings. 

The café’s less crowded than when you came in. There are still a few students typing away on their laptops while consuming a concerning amount of caffeine. In the corner sits an elderly couple, whose order you overheard by virtue of the volume it was placed at — “Give me a regular coffee. Straight black, none of that ‘appaccino, grand venti’ nonsense. Decaf for my wife.” 

(You prayed for the barista’s sanity when he tried explaining the different ways ‘straight black’ could come). 

“... I am losing my touch, aren’t I?” Chrollo murmurs. You snap your head in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his existence. “You prefer older men?” 

You almost choke mid-sip. “Pleh…! That’s it, I’m retiring, good luck sorting your issues out.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“How I wish you were wrong,” you deadpan. Lifting his phone off the table, you scroll through its contents. There’s nothing new to look at. “An exorcist, huh? You’re positive that’s a real thing?” 

“They exist. They’re just rare, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

“I blame the Protestant Reformation.” 

The skin beneath his eyes wrinkles. “... Cute.”  

His compliment makes you frown. 

“Quit it with the flattery, already.” 

“Flattery implies a degree of insincerity, no?” He challenges. “You of all people should know when I’m being genuine.” 

“You make it sound like I’m a walking polygraph.” 

His lips part and close as he considers his response. “That isn’t how I view you.” 

This guy’s clever with his word choice, you think. Too clever.

Disliking where this conversation might go, you redirect. 

“This ‘Hunter’ site you’ve been using… is there any way for me to access it?”

“Feeling a bit impatient, are we?” 

There’s a patronizing lilt to this tone that has you inhaling sharply. Closing your eyes, you ball your hands into fists, willing your agitated mind to relax. Your goal feels so close. This future you never believed possible dangles above your head, only to recede as if you were Tantalus whenever you grasp for it. Needling Chrollo won’t get you any closer, but at least it gives you something to do, mimicking progress. 

“The Hunter site has various measures in place to prevent account sharing. You don’t want to end up on their radar,” Chrollo retrieves his phone and tucks it into his coat’s pocket. “While your enthusiasm’s admirable, I suggest you leave this part to me.”

You swallow thickly. “... Right.” 

“Are you upset?” 

“No, I’m not,” you rest your hands on your lap. “Just, y’know. Reminded that we’re from two different worlds.” 

Outside the café’s windows, individuals from all walks of life bustle about. Some are on their phones, others chatting with friends, or holding their partner’s hands. It’s a picturesque display of normalcy. They’re likely thinking about what to have for dinner, when to set their alarm for the following day, if they can squeeze out of plans they halfheartedly agreed to over the weekend; you know this because you aspire to live the same way. 

“You’re closer to mine than you think.” 

A fervent disagreement blazes then turns to ash on your tongue. There’s an unidentifiable quality to his stare — neither kind nor outright malicious — almost clinical in its effort to elicit a reaction. You stir in your seat. Despite your time together, he’s as much an enigma as he’d been upon your first meeting. Charming and courteous, yet lacking genuine warmth, like a faux candle. 

“Do you get some kick out of riling me up?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Your expressive nature is endearing. I can’t help myself.” 

His words resonate with such clarity that you can’t help but wish he’d been a little dishonest. 

“I’m not a toy for you to entertain yourself with.” 

His smile makes you squirm. 

“I know you aren’t.” 

“Then what—” you cut yourself off, fearing what might occur if you continue your original line of questioning. “Man, you’re exhausting to deal with. Has anyone ever told you that you have an awful personality?” 

“Few get to be around me enough to comment on its quality.” 

“I’m counting down the days until I’m no longer a member of that inner circle.” 

Before Chrollo can respond, his phone audibly vibrates. Newfound excitement overwhelms you at the sound. He glances at the notification and nods, confirming your speculation. He places it in your eager hands. While you prepare, he steeples his fingers and leans forward, intrigued as always with your work. 

You relax your breathing. This entire process is based on intuition, chasing after faint sensations until your desired outcome manifests. A pliable force thrums through you — what Chrollo refers to as ‘aura’ — awakening from its dormant state. Mindful of your public surroundings, you keep your dominant hand beneath the table. Where there was once nothing, a three-dimensional object rests snugly against your palm. Buttons of varying utility jut outward along its perimeter. This small item, shaped like a cassette recorder, stirs antipathy in your heart. 

Holding down rewind, the cassette whirrs to life. You prepare to record the latest audio note sent in for analysis. 

Instant Replay (One More Time!).

These past few months have seen your ability frequently leveraged. It was your personal conviction to refuse its use, lest paranoia eat away at you. However, freedom from this bondage necessitates further entanglement. You’ve parted with your long-standing morals, primed to pick through the syllables of others for your own purposes. 

Right and wrong no longer concern you. 

All you care about is surrendering this loathsome ability to the man sitting across the table. 

-

The night air is unforgiving in its chill. It infiltrates your layers of clothing with laughable ease, seeping into your marrow and demanding that you shiver as recompense. Gritting your teeth, you pick up your pace, cursing the parking garage’s elevator for being out of order. You knew parking at your friend’s apartment complex was sparse, but this is a new record. 

The heels of your shoes click against the concrete staircase as you rapidly ascend. A pale, yellowish hue illuminates your path, the lights occasionally flickering. The moon must be feeling shy tonight, for it hides behind thick, stationary clouds, refusing the world its silvery guidance.

Upon arriving on the third floor, you hear an ominous crackle in the distance. 

The consequences are immediate. Intuition tells you to pause, goosebumps erupting over your flesh from head to toe. Darkness swallows your surroundings whole in inky blots. Blinking rapidly, your eyes struggle to adjust. You feel around for your phone and turn the flashlight on. The sudden loss of power perplexes you, did the building’s breaker trip? From what you can see, the rest of the street is unaffected. 

You’re about to resume your journey when you feel something cold press against your temple. 

“Don’t move,” a deep voice demands. The roar of a car’s engine echoes nearby, as does the hurried screech of tires. “Not so much as a fucking inch.” 

Anxiety sets your every nerve aflame. You go stiff as a corpse, and perhaps you may have been mistaken for one, if not for the thunderous pounding of your heart. The moisture in your mouth dries up. Tortuous seconds drag on, devoid of any further commands. You’re ready to offer up your purse, wallet, or anything else he insists on, but he’s eerily silent. 

A pair of approaching headlights blind you. 

Is this more than a robbery? You struggle to comprehend the nightmarish events. The man holding you hostage radiates agitation, shifting his weight from foot to foot. In doing so, the barrel drags along your sweat-slicked skin. His apparent sloppiness has you weak in the knees — it’s your life hanging in the balance, why is he acting like the situation is reversed? 

Abruptly, the vehicle veers off course, crashing into a line of parked cars. A terrible cacophony follows. Glass shatters, metal debris shrieks whilst scattering, and car alarms angrily sound in disunity. What you’re witnessing doesn’t feel like real life. Your disbelief is mutual, for the man holding you captive spews curses.

You hear a click by your side; the gun’s safety being disengaged. 

“Shit!” He maneuvers you in the direction of the crash like you’re a shield. “There’s no way we were followed, no way, we did everything perfect—” 

The man never finishes his sentence. 

There’s a wet gurgle, then a wheeze, as something warm splatters on you from behind. Bile rises up your throat as the wretched noises continue. He must’ve fallen to the ground, for you no longer sense his lumbering presence, or feel the cold kiss of metal on your skin. Regardless, you refuse to budge. You squeeze your eyes shut and tremble wildly. 

“There, there. You’re safe now. ♥” A rich baritone speaks from behind. 

His declaration comes out discordant, belying the reassuring contents. You bristle at the new threat that’s presented itself. If what came before was a house cat, then this is an apex predator, the king of the jungle. The air around him feels oppressive, almost noxious. Even without a firearm directed at you, your panic reaches its zenith, soaring to heights untraversed. 

“Hm? Still scared? Ah, that’s right,” he muses to himself. “Chrollo said you’re sensitive to dishonesty. This could be troublesome.” 

“You… you know Chrollo?” 

“So you’re not in a catatonic state — how reassuring.” 

Slowly, you turn around, sensing a distinct lack of ill intent. Flashlight in hand, you try to make sense of what you witness. The scene that greets you is gruesome beyond your wildest expectations. The man who you assume held you at gunpoint has collapsed onto the ground, his jugular slit clean. Blood gushes from the wound like a geyser, forming a crimson puddle around his head. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, nearly bulging from the sockets. Liquids ooze from every visible orifice and a foul odor rises alongside them. This pitiful creature could’ve been your end. Instead, he met his, departing this world in abject terror. 

Unexpectedly, his muscles twitch. Out of reflex, you jump back and yelp. 

“Rest assured, he’s dead as a doornail.” 

“Why…” you wet your dry lips, “What… what just…?” 

While you stumble over your words, the building’s power makes a triumphant return. The lights flash intermittently, then go steady, allowing you an unobscured vantage point. Before you stands a tall, bizarrely dressed individual, with bright red hair. His beady, yellow eyes have a predatory gleam to them that he doesn’t bother suppressing. He holds a playing card in his claw-like hands, the three of spades. 

It’s coated in fresh blood. 

Your eyes fall to the fatal wound on your assailant's throat, the gears in your head turning. 

You take a step back. 

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” With a flick of his wrist, the offending card disappears, though its memory burns strong. “I’m Hisoka, Chrollo’s… colleague of sorts. Now, there’s no need to introduce yourself. I’m well acquainted with you. ♥” 

Is that supposed to make you feel better? 

You couldn’t hide your suspicion if you tried. At the very least, there’s no indication that was a lie. However, his familiarity with you is a double-edged sword. If he’s crafty, he can outmaneuver your ability. Dishonesty isn’t black and white, there are loopholes to avoiding your detection. For instance, one can remain purposefully oblivious, lie by omission, or speak in vague terms. These gray areas pass you by as if you lacked this ‘sixth sense’ to begin with. 

He was lying when he said I’m safe now, you recall. But he doesn’t seem interested in harming me…? Something isn’t adding up.

After much deliberation, you ask, “So you just happened to run into me?” 

“Nope. I’ve been following you,” he freely admits. Your aghast expression makes him laugh. “What’s the matter? You were baiting me for the truth, were you not? You’re welcome to have it. ♦” 

In your heightened state of sensitivity, you sense multiple presences converging nearby. Security guards, if you had to guess. You weigh your options. If you stay here, you’ll undoubtedly be harassed for a story that explains the chaos. Telling the truth would land you in a straight jacket whereas deception guarantees cuffs. Leaving in your car is off the table too, you’d be dubbed an important witness. There’s no way you can claim you drove by the carnage without noticing anything. 

“I can help get you out of this debacle,” he offers. “We’re both seeking the same end — the return of Chrollo’s Hatsu. The latest recording I’ve obtained is most promising. So, I’d rather we don’t continue this conversation in prison. ♣” 

Hisoka takes a step forward and extends his hand.

The security guards are getting closer, you think. There’s no time left.

And so you make your choice. 

-

You didn’t think places like these existed outside of the movies, or maybe you just don’t get around enough. 

You’ve found yourself in what you can only describe as a biker’s bar. The decor is old-fashioned, slightly worn yet authentic. There are pool tables, too many televisions to count, and a functioning jukebox nestled in the corner. Rough-looking men wearing leather jackets make up the main clientele. Fortunately, it’s Hisoka who draws the most attention, his gaudy getup acting as a magnet for the eyes. No one pays you any mind. 

For the second time this week, a weirdo treats you to drinks. The main difference is that this is a depressant and not a stimulant. 

You take hearty sips to calm your nerves. All that happened feels so surreal, like a collection of grotesque images that would be blurred out in a documentary. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You want to be normal, untethered by the oddity that is Nen, the ‘world’ Chrollo inhabits. You decided long ago that nothing good can come from it. Maybe if you were more adventurous, prone to taking high risks for high rewards. 

But you’re not. 

Endless money, power, and influence don’t sound appealing. Sure, there’s an allure initially, until you consider reality. Lots of money means either lots of taxes or lots of tax evasion. You barely know what a W-2 form is, much less the hoops you’d have to jump through if your income exploded. Power and influence aren’t all they’re cracked up to be either. All that scheming to stay at the top would take away from what makes life truly worth living — reading Wikipedia articles and watching eight-hour-long videos analyzing a video game from two decades ago. 

“Holy shit,” you press pause on the cassette recorder. “This Abengane guy’s the real deal.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s familiar with getting rid o’ Nen. During his… huh, what’s it called again… oh. Yeah. Audition. Durin’ his audition for Greedy Island—” 

“ —Greed Island.” 

You wave his correction off. 

“—Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, basically, he’s legit. How’d ya even come across this?” 

“Magic. ♥” 

You make a face. “Is everyone who uses Nen annoying?” 

“Some more than others.” 

Speak of the devil. Craning your neck, you’re met with piercing gray eyes. Unlike Hisoka, Chrollo isn’t dressed like he’s auditioning for the circus. Instead, he comes across as a guy who’s going to pitch the worst idea for a startup you’ve ever heard. He’s wearing a dark blazer with a gray turtleneck beneath it, along with white pants and black loafers. You’re about to make your joke known when something about Chrollo’s demeanor changes your mind. Intensity pours off him in waves, giving you pause. 

“Good news, boss. We found your exorcist.”

The title Hisoka uses to refer to him has you tilting your head. He did refer to himself as Chrollo’s ‘colleague,’ but the word boss implies hierarchy. 

“I heard,” Chrollo smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing back to Greed Island to track him down.” 

He slides into the booth beside you while never looking away from Hisoka. The tension brewing in the air perplexes you. Shouldn’t this news be a cause for celebration? You’ve helped Chrollo search for a Nen exorcist for months now. Chrollo’s been searching for a Nen exorcist for months now. You’re uncertain what reaction you expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

“All in due time. I’d hate to cut my time with your little assistant short.”

Hisoka makes a point of looking you up and down. 

Somehow, Hisoka has made Chrollo seem normal by comparison. Disliking the attention, you reach for your drink, only to notice how light it is. Have you already drunk that much? While inspecting the near-empty glass, you realize the room’s starting to feel warm. The stress of what you endured must’ve impaired your judgment. 

What time is it, anyway? Do I have work tomorrow? 

Your watch reads 2:05 a.m.

Shit. 

“I need— need to get going…” 

“Why the rush?” Hisoka questions. “Things were just starting to get interesting. ♥” 

You ignore him and stare Chrollo down, waiting for him to move aside so you can leave. Instead of getting up, he leans closer, pursing his lips. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Heat creeps over your face, from your cheeks to your ears. There’s no denying that the bastard’s handsome. Your friends love teasing you about him for that very reason. They never believe your insistence on having a ‘strictly platonic’ relationship, some even have bets for when you’ll end up together. 

Maybe you would’ve considered it if you didn’t know about his Nen proficiency. 

There aren’t any readily available statistics for Nen, but if you had to guess, you’d say most of the population is ignorant of its existence. People who do know about the Hunter’s Association consider it a private enterprise that specializes in exploration and taking on contract jobs. According to Chrollo, this is by design. You can barely go about your day pretending there aren’t superhumans roaming the planet, doing all sorts of crazy nonsense. 

Society would plunge into chaos if the knowledge reached them. 

You hear what sounds like your name coming from underwater. 

Blinking sluggishly, you discover Chrollo’s hand on your shoulder. “Hm? What?” 

“I’ve been calling your name,” he speaks languidly, likely for your benefit. “Are you alright?” 

“Well…” you trail off, pondering the question. “... Mm, yeah, probably not. I gotta get home, and— god, my car— it’s still back there. I don’t want… I can’t…” 

The anxiety you thought you buried resuscitates itself. It’s dull compared to earlier, yet your breathing grows shallow and your hands feel clammy. Your intenses churn like a parasite had been embedded inside. Everything feels far away, as if you’re in a dream, physically present yet mentally adrift. 

You could’ve died. 

You almost died. 

You’d fought desperately to scrub your mind of this knowledge, but the bottle can only do so much. 

“Say, Chrollo,” with a nearly imperceptible motion, Hisoka summons a playing card between his middle and pointer fingers. “If I were to slice her pretty neck, what would you do?”  

The old-fashioned glass Hisoka had been sipping from cracks. 

Pressure invades the air like a thick, heady fog, so tangible in its potency, that the chatter elsewhere dies down. The sudden silence allows for the clinging of billiard balls to reverberate throughout. Patrons glance around, vaguely aware that something is wrong, yet ultimately unable to identify the source. This primal sense of foreboding evaporates as swiftly as it arrives. The lively atmosphere reemerges, until all present seem to have forgotten anything unusual ever occurred. 

Hisoka absentmindedly cleans up the glass shards, piling them into the corner while Chrollo drums his fingers along the table. Chrollo’s jaw is set and the skin between his eyes is pinched in contemplation. 

Hisoka lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is turning into a bore. I was confident you’d lose your cool, even if just a bit…” 

“Pathetic.” 

The unexpected vitriol has them both turning their heads in your direction. Chrollo blinks, while Hisoka tilts his head, staring at you owlishly. 

He points to himself. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you! You’re like— one of those birds, those showoff birds… dancing with your colorful feathers… ‘nd stuff…” your speech isn’t the most coherent, unaided by the irritation that’s boiling your blood. You leer at him, fed up with everything, especially whatever schemes he’s roped you into. A rough picture is presenting itself, one stroke at a time. To Hisoka, you’re nothing more than glorified bait. You don’t know if he played a role in engineering the evening’s events, but it wouldn’t be a surprise. 

At the very least, he admitted to following you. Even if he was a third party, he could’ve disposed of the impending threat. Instead, he waited, exposing you to bloodshed for his own ends. You wish you could come up with a more scathing insult. Unfortunately, your temple is throbbing and clear enunciation grows harder as your body digests the liquor you inhaled. 

Hisoka looks at Chrollo. “I’m a bird?” 

“She’s calling your bluff,” Chrollo clarifies. “Had you intended to follow up on your threat, she’d know.” 

You’re glad Chrollo realized what you were going for. The diatribe sounded better in your head. Nonetheless, he’s communicated the essence of things, lacking as it is in panache. Hisoka hums, eyeing you like you’d make for a fine appetizer before the main course. 

“You must have kept that detail from me on purpose. What an intriguing ability. ♥” 

Chrollo brushes aside his comment and refocuses his attention on you. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“But my car—” 

“I’ll handle it,” Chrollo reassures. 

He slides out from the booth and stares at you expectantly. You get the sense that trying his patience isn’t a good idea; his encounter with Hisoka must have soured his mood. He helps steady you as you stand, securing his arm behind your back. Neither of you acknowledges Hisoka while making for the door, though you can feel his eyes tracking your every movement. 

Upon emerging from the bar, the cool air you deplored earlier feels like a godsend. You hear cars rushing up and down the street, indicating the presence of a highway. Other than that, you don’t recognize the area. It’s a small, decrepit outlet, featuring shops plastered with neon signs and bars over the windows.

Chrollo ushers you in the direction of a black, unmarked McLaren.

“If you’re gonna do all that, at least get a less basic color… like pink…” 

“I’ll give it some thought.” 

Once you’re in the passenger seat, he fixes the strap of your purse and then buckles you in. It isn’t long until you’re on the road. He stays in the slow lane, mindful to avoid abrupt motions. You recline back and rest your head, hugging your arms close to your body. At the next red light, he sheds his coat, draping it over your person. The cashmere fabric is soft on your skin, embedded with his cologne and warmth. This, paired with the low hum of the engine has your eyelids growing heavy. You try resisting the temptation. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hm? For what?” 

“... Are you serious?” you murmur. “For comin’ to get me.” 

“Of course.” 

Relief rushes over you as the surrounding area becomes recognizable. Traffic is nonexistent this time of night, it shouldn’t be but a few more minutes until you’re home. Then you can crash out on your bed and deal with the existential weight of reality in the morning. Work can fire you for all you care, you just want to sleep. If you were on your deathbed, you’re ninety percent positive they’d ask you to find shift coverage before you croaked. 

Chrollo pulls into your apartment complex, parking as close to the entrance as he can. 

You fiddle with your seatbelt, intending to make the rest of the trip by yourself.

He places his large, calloused hand over yours, preventing further progress. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He doesn’t respond. His thumb rubs slow, steady circles against your skin. You swallow a growing lump in your throat. He hasn’t been himself all night. Or, to be more precise, he’s showing you a side of himself he’s hitherto kept hidden. You always knew there was more to him than he let on. You never wanted to open that Pandora's box, lest your plans be jeopardized. Playing with fire has its risks, yet cauterizing your personal wounds took priority. You don’t know if you have the right to pray the rest of your being doesn’t go up in flames. 

“I assume you’re aware of my fondness for you?” 

“I— well…” you stumble over your words, then meekly ask, “Is now really a good time for this?” 

Chrollo lowers his head and smiles. “No, I suppose not.” 

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. 

“One more question, then I’ll let you go,” he looks up at you through thick lashes, an enigmatic gleam passing over his eyes. “Do I frighten you?” 

Your body tenses. He addresses you so softly, so sweetly, had you not witnessed his mouth moving, you would’ve mistaken his voice for belonging to another. Your facilities aren’t functional enough to properly process his query. Perhaps that’s the point — him cornering you at this vulnerable junction. You don’t get why. You don’t think you could even if you were sober. 

Chrollo, for his part, seems to acknowledge he won’t get far in your current state.

Or maybe he gleaned his answer.

He lifts your hand to his lips, where he presses a lingering kiss. You can’t bring yourself to be the first to pull away. He lingers a while longer, as if stuck in a trance. When he does part, the skin tingles in his absence.

“I’ll be in touch.” 

-

For the past week, you’ve carried on as if nothing ever happened. 

It’s easier this way. There are instances where your performance is threatened, like when you ran across a news article detailing the ‘grisly murder of two men at a parking garage on 9th St,’ yet these lapses can be smoothed over. Ignore, distract, forget. This cycle lends you a credence of normalcy and eases you back into everyday life. 

You haven’t seen Chrollo since that night. You suppose he’s preoccupied with his arrangements to meet the Nen exorcist. While you don’t know the specifics, you imagine he’ll have to meet this Abengane in person. In the recording, he addressed two men — named Battera and Tsezguerra — where he proved himself qualified to enter ‘Greed Island.’ Aside from a few anonymous forums, information on this mythical game is sparse. All you know is that the price is exorbitant and that Battera obsessively tracks down every copy available. 

Wherever there’s Nen, things inevitably get weird, you think.

You begin tidying up your apartment. First is drying off the dishes, which saw their first use all week for a much-needed home-cooked meal. While doing so, your phone vibrates. You throw the damp rag down in a hurry and check the screen. All you find is a notification about your upcoming menstrual cycle. Sighing, you put your phone down on the counter. 

Chrollo had been truthful when he promised to take your Hatsu for assisting in the return of his. A part of you is relieved by his absence; the other is frustrated. You want to get this over with. It’s like when you have an appointment later in the day and spend the time leading up to it in a limbo, not wanting to get involved in anything until the commitment is over. Is it possible he already took it? Curious, you hold your dominant hand out. You haven’t used Instant Replay since the night at the biker’s bar. 

Aura surges through you, concentrating at the palm of your hand. Much to your disappointment, the light pink cassette tape appears. Maybe it no longer works? As a test, you rewind the recording of the audio Chrollo provided at the café. Once primed, you press play, listening attentively for certain cues. 

“It is my great honor to profess that I, Lilith, can purge you of any ailment, even scourges derived from Nen — for a small donation of…” 

The self-proclaimed Mistress of Panaceas sounds increasingly garbled as her lies surface. Clicking your tongue, you deactivate your ability. Everything remains operational. You don’t know what you expected, you’ve overheard the telltale sounds of lying the past few days. It just hasn’t been directed at you, which weakens the effect. 

Will you really have to endure this the rest of your life? 

Shortly into resuming your task, there’s a knock at your door. 

You ignore it, not in the mood to deal with a neighbor asking for something. After thirty or so seconds, there’s another round of knocking. You suppress a groan. Why can’t the world sense that you’re moody and let you brood in peace? Trudging over, you try to put on a pleasant face, unwilling to lash out on others even if you’re in a terrible mood. Erring on the side of caution, you glance out the peephole. 

Upon doing so, you almost lose your balance.

…

He must’ve decided he kept you waiting long enough.

[anantaru]

alhaitham that forces you to look at him while he’s pounding into you,, please im in shambles—

cw. rough alhaitham, he's a little mean too, fem! reader

alhaitham taunts your every emotion and breaks the tension with the slight curve of his hand against your cheek and a playful squint of his eyes.

"look at me," he utters, and the breath you had been keeping in, the very one that had been deeply smouldering a pit in your lungs, finally releases when he grinds his hips back into you.

and yet, all alhaitham does is smile at you struggling while beginning to move himself within your walls— the hand on your cheek quickly coming down to cup your thigh in an almost encouraging manner as he pushes your leg above his shoulder, before giving it a kiss that immediately sends a leap straight to your sore cunt.

it's like alhaitham doesn't care about the the fact that you were struggling to keep him inside of you— his erection was impossibly hard tonight and the thick veins on the underside of his cock were consistently dragging over your silken flesh, turning the sensitive skin aflame.

safe to say it was becoming more difficult to concentrate on keeping the eye contact the more he pumped you full of him.

"easy there, you're not supposed to look away," he says between short breaths, his hips stuttering because he needs more, feels how you're whimpering as he brings your face back against his,

"gonna get you for that later, you understand?" 

oh well, this was indeed a cruel game— how alhaitham was forcing you to look at him, even with you attempting to break the eye contact due to feeling slightly embarrassed and flustered, he'd still tease your pussy so relentlessly over and over, watches how you'd get increasingly worked up as a slight pout visualizes on your lips.

the scribe continues to push you to that edge, wastes no time to press the heat of your wet cunt down against his cock until you're systematically falling apart under his muscular figure.

the tip of his length meets your pulsating spots with a little bump before his free hand guides along your stomach to add pressure on your clit, back and forward, back and forward, pinching and brushing against the skin that protects the little pearl. fuck, every single inch of alhaitham was in you, pushing deeper, pushing harder, reaching the places no one besides him was able to stimulate.

and he does it while you simply cannot look away.

one wrong move— and you're done for, one too many flutters of your eyes scrunching shut and your tears thrumming against your eyes and he swears he'll never let you cum tonight.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[nhmkhnh]

playgirl problems.

pairings: playgirl!ellie x fem!reader

preface: ellie williams has a bad habit of flirting like it’s a sport—and unfortunately for you, she just found her favorite opponent.

author's note: GYAHAHAHA IM BACK!! with our playgirl ellie <3

wrn: lowercase, messy (like the last one haha.)

navigation.

the library’s quieter than usual, save for the dull scratch of highlighters and the occasional throat-clear of a stressed grad student. you're at your usual spot, second floor corner by the window, headphones on and ankle bouncing under the table as you skim a dense psych article. you don’t notice her at first.

not until she pulls the chair out across from you and sits down like she owns the place.

you glance up. faded flannel. silver rings. that damn smirk. ellie williams.

ellie fucking williams.

you blink. “did i say you could sit here?”

she leans back like she’s been invited, legs wide, chewing on a lollipop stick with a gleam in her eye. “didn’t hear you say i couldn’t, babe.”

you pull out one earbud, slow and suspicious. “pretty sure this isn’t your usual section. lost?”

ellie taps her temple. “nope. just figured the smartest girl on campus would be worth studying.”

you freeze, then scoff. “seriously? that’s the line you’re going with?”

“i got better ones, but i didn’t want to scare you off right away.”

you stare at her. she stares back. no shame. no blinking. just those annoyingly pretty green eyes and the devil-may-care aura that has half the campus wrapped around her tattooed finger.

you go back to reading.

“studying psych?” she asks, like you're not trying to ignore her.

you sigh. “yeah.”

“cool. maybe you can psychoanalyze why i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your eye twitches.

she grins, sensing the crack. “c’mon, that was a little good, right? a solid 7.5?”

you slam your highlighter down. “ellie, what do you want?”

she shrugs, leaning forward now, arms crossed on the table. “maybe i like girls who hide behind earbuds and wear oversized sweaters like armor. maybe i think it's cute how you chew your pen when you're concentrating.”

you narrow your eyes. “you’ve been watching me?”

she smiles, infuriatingly soft this time. “only all semester.”

your heart stumbles. you don’t show it. “and you just now decided to talk to me?”

ellie tilts her head. “was waiting for the perfect opening line.”

you blink. “and that was it?”

she laughs, low and warm. “nah. that was just my excuse to get closer.”

you shake your head, trying not to smile. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re gorgeous. it’s a problem.”

you try to return to your paper. you fail. she’s too loud, even when silent. her foot taps near yours. her eyes don’t leave your face. her damn lollipop clinks against her teeth as she flips it lazily in her mouth.

you sigh again, resigning. “if i let you sit here… will you shut up?”

“sure.” she leans back, victorious. “only if i get your number after.”

you roll your eyes.

but you don’t say no.

your 8am lecture is your least favorite thing about college.

the room is cold, the professor speaks like he hates everyone, and your eyes don’t fully open until thirty minutes in. you stumble out, hoodie up, bag sliding off your shoulder, and nearly walk straight into a human wall.

or, more accurately—a plaid-sleeved, tattooed, mischief-eyed wall.

ellie. again.

she’s leaned casually against the hallway pillar, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, one foot resting back like this is her personal runway. she grins the second you notice her.

“you stalking me?” you mutter, clutching your coffee cup like a shield.

she pushes off the wall with a shrug. “maybe. or maybe i just figured this hallway needed some… visual improvement.”

you snort. “you mean you?”

“exactly,” she winks, falling into step beside you. “plus, i heard someone cute had an 8am here. had to verify.”

you roll your eyes, too tired to fight but too amused to stop smiling. “what, do you have spies now?”

“nah,” she shrugs. “just good hearing. and an unhealthy obsession with the way you say ‘fuck’ when you're tired.”

you pause mid-step. “you heard that?”

“every time.” she leans in slightly, voice dropping. “kinda hot, not gonna lie.”

you groan. “ellie.”

“what?”

“do you ever turn it off?”

her eyes flick to you, playful but soft around the edges. “only when you look like you hate it.”

you don’t. not even close. but she doesn’t need to know that. yet.

“so what, you just waited out here… alone… all morning?”

she shrugs again like it’s no big deal. “wasn’t all morning. got here like twenty minutes early.”

you stop. “ellie.”

“what?” she grins.

“why.”

“i told you. cute girl. bad class. i figured you could use some moral support. or a ride to your next one.”

you blink. “you don’t even know where my next one is.”

she pulls out her phone and taps the screen. “wanna bet?”

you stare. she grins wider.

“how—”

“you mentioned it once, like, three weeks ago,” she says, sliding her phone back in her pocket. “i remember stuff.”

your heart hiccups.

you keep walking just to distract yourself from it. “that’s creepy.”

“that’s thoughtful.”

“that’s borderline unhinged.”

she smirks. “you like it.”

you don’t respond. which is, of course, its own kind of answer.

as you reach the steps outside, she opens the door for you and bows dramatically. “after you, m’lady.”

you snort. “that’s terrible.”

“thought it might make you laugh,” she says, following behind with a lopsided grin. “i like your laugh.”

you glare at her sideways. “stop being nice. i’m tired and emotionally vulnerable.”

she gasps. “perfect. that’s my ideal dating window.”

you nearly choke on your coffee.

and ellie? ellie just watches you with that damn smirk like she’s got all the time in the world—and all of it’s for you.

“okay, if we divide up the chapters—wait, where’s the highlighter? did someone move—”

you’re mid–study group chaos when the door creaks open and a familiar voice cuts through the noise like it owns the damn air.

“yo. you guys got room for one more?”

your head snaps up. and there she is.

ellie fucking williams. standing in the doorway of your tiny library study room, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair messily tied back, grin as casual as her tone. like this isn’t the chemistry review session she has zero reason to attend.

you blink. “ellie.”

she winks. “hey, gorgeous.”

a groan comes from one of your group members. “oh my god, not again.”

someone mutters, “you’re not even in this class.”

ellie shrugs, strolling in like she was invited. “yeah, but my girl is. so.”

you nearly drop your pen.

“ellie—” you start, warningly.

she’s already sitting beside you, dragging a chair over so close your knees bump. “relax, i brought snacks.”

she unzips her bag dramatically, revealing a tragic amount of sour gummies, two protein bars, and… a capri sun.

you stare. “what are you?”

“a gift to academia,” she says solemnly, placing a gummy pack in front of you like an offering. “also? you left me on read last night. this is my emotional retaliation.”

you bury your face in your hands. “ellie.”

“what?” she says, way too innocent. “i missed you. thought i’d study. sit beside you. maybe gaze longingly in your direction until i’m kicked out.”

one of the others sighs. “can we please get back to the enzyme chart?”

ellie leans closer, whispering in your ear. “what the hell’s an enzyme?”

you whisper back, “get out.”

she grins. “not until you smile.”

you try not to. you really do. but she’s too close and too stupid and too her.

then, just when you think she’s finally focused (she’s doodling in her notebook, not actually helping), you notice her slide a folded post-it note across the table under your elbow. pink. childish handwriting.

you glance around before opening it.

“u look too cute when ur stressed. let me make it worse 💘”

you nearly choke.

she doesn’t look at you—but her smirk is criminal.

you nudge her leg with yours, biting your cheek to keep from grinning. she bumps your knee right back. like it’s your secret language.

later, when the session ends and people start packing up, ellie stretches with a fake yawn. “well. learned so much. enzymes are crazy, huh?”

“get out, williams,” someone mutters.

but she’s looking only at you now, cocking her head.

“you walking home, or can i keep pretending i know where i’m going?”

you sigh, grabbing your bag. “fine.”

she fist-pumps the air like a dork. “yes. nailed it.”

and as you walk side by side through the stacks, she reaches out, linking her pinky with yours.

no words. just that.

and somehow, it’s louder than all the flirting in the world.

you’re not even trying to flirt. you’re just being nice. the guy beside you in class—some charming pre-med with too much hair gel and not enough self-awareness—is joking about the group project and trying really, really hard to make you laugh.

and yeah, fine, he’s a little funny.

but then—

“hey, babe.” that low voice from behind you, dipped in just enough sarcasm to sting.

you freeze. the guy pauses.

you already know who it is.

ellie. standing behind your desk like she’s just coincidentally passing through this exact building, at this exact hour, despite having literally zero business in the language department.

she leans down, resting her elbow on your desk, posture casual—but her eyes? not even a little relaxed. they're fixed on mr. med school like he owes her money.

“didn’t know you were in this class,” you say, trying not to sound nervous.

she shrugs. “i’m not. just remembered someone said this building has good vending machines.”

you squint. “ellie, no one said that.”

she grins. “okay. i lied. i just wanted to see you.”

your desk partner clears his throat awkwardly. “uh, hey. i’m kyle.”

ellie doesn’t even blink. “cool.”

you cough into your sleeve.

kyle tries again. “you, uh, also taking spanish?”

ellie hums. “nope.”

“…okay.”

you press your lips together.

ellie shifts her weight, hand dropping onto the back of your chair. fingers grazing your shoulder like an accident. “anyway,” she says, eyes still not leaving him, “just came to drop this off.”

she pulls a crumpled napkin from her jacket pocket and places it in front of you. it has your name scrawled across it in marker, followed by: “don’t let weird boys distract you. – management 💋”

you glare at her. “you are so embarrassing.”

she just smiles. “but i brought gum too.”

she tosses you a pack of your favorite flavor like it’s a peace treaty.

kyle shifts uncomfortably. “well, i should—uh, i gotta go… somewhere.”

ellie watches him walk off.

once he’s gone, she slides into the empty chair beside you.

“jesus, ellie.”

“what?” she says, all innocence.

you arch a brow. “that was not subtle.”

she rests her chin in her hand. “didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“you mean talked to me?”

“same thing.”

you sigh. “ellie, you can’t just scare off every guy who’s—”

“he wasn’t even funny,” she mumbles.

you blink. “what?”

“you laughed,” she says, pout visible now. “i always try to make you laugh. and you just—gave it to him.”

your heart trips over itself.

“you’re being ridiculous.”

she leans in, voice low, teasing. “tell me you didn’t just a little want me to get jealous.”

you go quiet.

she smirks, reading your silence like a novel she’s read too many times. “mmhm. thought so.”

you cross your arms. “you’re still insane.”

“and you still love it,” she says, voice light.

and annoyingly? she’s not wrong.

it starts with the rain. the sky cracking open in the middle of your walk across campus, your notes almost getting soaked, and ellie—ever the menace—showing up just in time with her hoodie already halfway off.

“jesus, you’re soaked,” she mutters, tugging it over your head before you can protest.

“ellie—”

“shut up. you look like a soggy cupcake.”

you don’t even know what that means, but the hoodie smells like her—clean and woodsy, with a hint of spearmint gum—and you melt into it like a traitor.

she leads you into the library, claiming one of the study couches tucked away in the back corner under the mezzanine. you’re supposed to be reviewing flashcards. you are not supposed to be curled up beside her, one leg slung over hers, sharing earbuds, as she opens a random poetry book from the shelf and starts reading dramatically into your ear.

“‘your hand—’” she begins, voice a little low, “‘—touched mine and i swore i could hear the ocean.’”

you pause your chewing on a twizzler. “…that’s not what it says.”

she grins. “i’m improvising.”

you flick her knee.

she pokes your thigh in retaliation. “come on. it’s romantic. we’re in a library. it’s raining. you’re in my hoodie. you wanna pretend this isn’t a date but baby—” she gestures around you with one hand—“this is literally a date.”

your ears burn.

you try to bury yourself deeper into the hoodie.

she flips the page and continues, this time reading the real words—but her voice softens. slows down. like she’s starting to feel what she’s saying.

“‘i never knew silence could taste like sweetness until you looked at me like that.’”

you don’t respond. you can’t. she’s not even looking at the book anymore.

she’s looking at you.

and suddenly the air feels thick and golden and fragile. like something’s about to shift.

you glance away. “you’re doing it again.”

“doing what?”

“looking at me like that.”

she tilts her head, fingers brushing your wrist. “like i’m about to kiss you?”

“…yeah.”

she hums, smile lazy. “you always say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you blink up at her, heart stupidly loud in your chest. “ellie.”

she leans in, close enough that her breath warms your cheek. “i’ll stop,” she whispers. “if you really want me to.”

you don’t say anything.

she waits.

and then—very slowly—she brushes a kiss to your temple.

it’s soft. barely there.

but you still forget how to breathe.

she pulls back, just a little, watching you with that stupid smirk that says yeah, you’re gone.

you are.

the room’s too loud.

music thudding through walls, lights flickering like lazy fireflies, bodies moving in rhythm—clumsy, drunk, careless.

and ellie? ellie’s standing against the far wall, nursing a drink she doesn’t even like, jaw tight, green eyes locked on one thing only.

you.

you, in that dress. the one that clings in all the wrong-right places. the one she knows for a fact you bought after sending her three mirror selfies like, “too much?”

she should’ve known then. you didn’t want advice. you wanted her to lose her mind.

and it’s working.

you’re laughing at something some girl said, your head tilted back, eyes lit, hips swaying to the beat as if you’re not absolutely destroying ellie’s entire nervous system.

the girl beside you leans in a little too close. touches your arm. says something against your ear.

ellie’s drink nearly shatters in her grip.

she pushes off the wall.

crosses the room like a storm dressed in black denim and sharp purpose.

you don’t even see her until her hand’s already sliding around your waist, fingers digging in with quiet, controlled force.

“ellie—” you start, blinking up at her.

“come here,” she says, voice low. tight.

you blink. “i am here.”

she pulls you closer, mouth brushing your ear. “no. i mean—outside. now.”

you don’t argue. not when her tone sounds like a promise.

you follow her out the back door and into the quiet. the cold hits you instantly. so does the heat in her eyes.

“you were staring,” you say, teasing.

ellie doesn’t even blink. “i was watching someone touch what’s mine.”

your breath catches. “babe…”

“you think i don’t notice?” she whispers, stepping into your space. “the way you smile at people. the way you wear that dress like it’s a fucking invitation.”

you bite your lip. “and if it is?”

she exhales hard, frustrated and turned on all at once.

“you wanna play that game with me?” she murmurs. “you wanna make me jealous, baby? you think i won’t remind you exactly who you belong to?”

your heart stutters. you’re already nodding.

ellie laughs softly, darkly, pressing her forehead to yours.

“that’s what i thought.”

she kisses you—hard. possessive. hot enough to erase the cold. like she’s been waiting all night to ruin your lipstick.

it’s quiet when you wake.

soft light peeking through the blinds. birds chirping somewhere outside. the smell of something vaguely burnt wafting in from the kitchen.

and then—ellie. muttering curses under her breath, clattering pans, the sound of a cupboard slamming.

you roll over, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders, her hoodie drowning your frame.

she walks back in two seconds later, holding a plate that looks like… vaguely scrambled eggs? maybe?

“breakfast,” she declares proudly, even though one piece is definitely blackened beyond recognition.

you stare at the plate. “babe…”

“what? it’s edible.” she hands it to you and plops beside you on the bed, one leg slung over yours like it belongs there.

you blink at her through your lashes. “you nearly set the kitchen on fire for this?”

she shrugs, smug. “you like when i take care of you.”

you roll your eyes. “i like when you kiss me.”

she raises a brow. then takes the plate from your lap and sets it on the nightstand like it’s not the worst meal ever attempted.

“say less.”

she leans in, one hand on your thigh, the other brushing your jaw. she kisses you slow. sweet. like there’s no place she’d rather be.

you hum against her mouth. “you taste like toothpaste and smoke.”

she smirks. “you taste like you’re still mine.”

you roll your eyes again—but you’re smiling now, cheeks warm. “you’re sappy in the mornings.”

ellie leans back to look at you, really look at you.

hair messy. hoodie swallowed around your frame. bare legs tangled in the sheets. eyes soft. skin still sleep-warm.

“yeah,” she whispers. “can you blame me?”

you blink. she’s got that look again—the one she saves for when she thinks you’re not noticing. the one that says i’d do anything for you. and you realize—this is her favorite part of the day. not the kissing. not the eggs. just this. you. her. here.

you cup her cheek gently. “stay. just a little longer.”

she’s already pulling you back into her arms. “i wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

you’re in the student lounge when it happens. mind your business. drink your smoothie. scroll through your notes.

it’s chill. peaceful. until you hear your name—followed by a laugh that doesn’t sound nice.

you glance up.

two girls at the vending machine. one of them’s eyeing your outfit, whispering to the other, not very quietly.

“she always dresses like that? i mean, if i wanted attention that bad, i’d just hold up a damn sign.”

the other one giggles. “right? desperate behavior.”

you freeze. it’s not the first time. you’re used to this. people talk. you try to ignore it.

but today? today ellie’s here.

she’s rounding the corner before you can even stop her, hands shoved deep in her jacket pockets, jaw locked.

she doesn’t raise her voice. she doesn’t need to.

“what the fuck did you just say?”

the two girls look up—startled.

ellie’s standing a few feet away, eyes sharp as knives, muscles tense like a fuse about to blow. she doesn’t move closer. but the danger in her stillness is louder than any scream.

one girl stammers. “it—wasn’t about you—”

“no shit,” ellie snaps. “it was about her.”

you shift in your seat, trying to get her attention, to pull her back— but she’s locked in.

“i swear to god,” ellie says slowly, voice dropping like a storm, “if i hear either of you talk about her again, we’re gonna have a very different conversation. one that doesn’t end with you walking away.”

silence.

she doesn’t wait for a response.

just turns on her heel and walks straight back to you, fire still burning under her skin.

you’re wide-eyed. “ellie—”

“she’s lucky i didn’t slam her head into the vending machine.”

you almost laugh. “baby.”

“no one gets to talk about you like that.” her hand finds your knee, grounding herself. “you hear me? no one.”

you nod. your heart’s pounding, but not from fear. from her. her loyalty. her fire. the way she’d go full scorched earth just to protect you.

you lean in, brushing your lips to her temple. “you’re insane.”

she grins, all teeth and tension. “only for you, baby.”

you’re mid-chaos.

cardboard boxes everywhere. clothes half-folded, mugs still wrapped in newspaper, your cat hiding in the bathtub because the world is too much today.

ellie’s in your living room, sleeves rolled up, flannel loose around her waist, helping you move into your new place like she’s done it a hundred times before.

“this box says ‘misc,’” she calls out, already cutting it open.

“yeah, don’t bother,” you shout from the bathroom. “it’s just old junk i haven’t sorted.”

but ellie doesn’t listen. of course she doesn’t.

she peels the top open and freezes.

inside: a shoebox. faded. beat up. taped shut.

written on top in your messy scrawl: “do not open (or do, i guess—if you’re her)”

ellie frowns, intrigued. her heart starts drumming a little faster.

she pulls off the tape. lifts the lid.

inside: letters. dozens. folded-up pages, old notebook paper, ticket stubs, even little sticky notes. all of them addressed: to her.

she picks up the top one and opens it carefully.

"she smiled at me today. like really smiled. i think my lungs forgot how to work."

she reads another.

"if she ever kisses me, i’m gonna melt. i just know it. like actually disintegrate. she has no idea what she does to me."

and another.

"i think i’ve been in love with her since the first time she called me ‘sweetheart.’ i couldn’t sleep that night. i kept replaying it like a psycho. god, i’m so far gone."

ellie stares at the paper. it’s shaking in her hands.

she hears your footsteps behind her and turns, blinking fast.

you stop in the doorway, eyes going wide.

“oh—shit.” you freeze. “ellie, i—”

“are these about me?” she asks, voice rough.

you look down, embarrassed. “i—i wrote them before we got together. i didn’t think you’d ever—”

“they’re so about me,” she cuts in, stunned. “holy shit. you—you loved me.”

you nod, barely breathing.

her face softens like it’s breaking.

“you felt it first,” she whispers, stepping closer. “you were in love with me this whole time. and i didn’t even know.”

you look up at her slowly. “i didn’t want to ruin anything.”

she stares at you like you hung the moon. like you’re her whole timeline. she drops the letter, cups your cheeks, and kisses you like it’s day one all over again.

like she’s catching up to everything you already knew.

you’re lying on the roof of her truck, tucked in a blanket you both dragged up from the cabin. it smells like her. woodsmoke, pine, lavender from that shampoo she swears isn’t hers (it totally is).

above: a billion stars. below: her heartbeat, frantic and warm beneath your cheek.

ellie’s not talking much tonight. just stroking your back, thumb brushing slow circles like she needs to feel you breathing.

you shift slightly. look up at her.

“you good?”

she blinks. tries to smile. “yeah. yeah, just—thinkin’.”

you wait.

then you hear her inhale. deep. like she’s about to dive.

“i was gonna wait,” she says quietly. “for, like, a better time. or a cooler way to say it. i was gonna bring you somewhere fancy, maybe even try not to sweat through my damn flannel—”

“ellie—”

“—but i can’t. i can’t wait anymore.”

you sit up slowly.

her hands are trembling. her mouth is trying to form words that keep getting tangled in emotion.

“i need you to know,” she says, voice cracking slightly. “i’ve never felt like this. not for anyone. not like this. you—you scare me, honestly.”

you blink. “what?”

“you make me wanna try. like, really try. be someone better. be someone who remembers to buy oat milk because you like it even though i don’t. be someone who doesn’t shut down when things get hard because you deserve more than that.”

you just stare at her.

“i love you,” she finally says. “and not just like, hey, you’re cute, let’s make out. i mean like—sick in the head about you. want you in every version of my future. want your toothbrush next to mine. want to wake up to your stupid morning breath and make you pancakes that i’ll burn and still try to flip anyway. i want all of it. with you.”

you don’t even realize you’re crying until she’s brushing tears from your cheek.

“i want forever with you,” she whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “even if it’s messy. even if i screw it up a thousand times before i get it right.”

you kiss her like you’ve waited your whole life for this moment.

because you have.

and when you pull back, breathless, all you say is: “let’s make forever messy. together.”

she laughs, eyes glistening.

“god,” she groans, dragging you back into her arms. “you’re so fucking perfect it hurts.”

and under the stars—your stars—she kisses you again.

and again. and again.

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: Thanks so much for the love for the first six parts of this series! i wish i could kiss you all 💜 xoxo <<prev >>next

Morning came and you were alone. Goosebumps came easily with the morning, the air chilling your skin. You put on comfy clothes and step out.

Emily offers you something to eat but you’re only thirsty. You didn’t want to accept anything just to half heartedly eat it.

You return into the room and you try to draw. You couldn’t think of what to draw. You stare up at the ceiling, racking your brain for ideas. You let the pen fall out of your fingers due to defeat. You look straight ahead and decide to see what other things Paul likes to do.

Only one graphic novel and you flipped through it. It wasn’t something you would get into. You put it back. A couple of gaming cds and you look around for a gaming console. You feel a bag and it’s in there but there’s no tv. You put the cds back, meaning to just not mess with anything else. As you were, a medium sized book with white pages fall. You pick it up to place it back to where it belongs but you catch a peek at the visuals that are on the paper.

You start from the beginning. You couldn’t believe your eyes. There were sketches. You flip through them in amazement. The style was unique in its own way. You were pissed at first for him not telling you but it was hard to stay upset when you were looking at such beautiful visuals. It was such an innocent hobby.

You almost jump as you get deeper into the book. A portrait that looks oddly a lot like you. It was a peaceful version of you. You tried to draw your own portrait of yourself before but you never liked how they looked or came out. This was different. Then, more pages were flipped and the pictures were erotic. You tried to flip past but more and more kept coming. Your heartbeat racing past, now watching two figures explore each other’s bodies. Very realistic. It felt intruding to look at.

You hear sounds from outside of the door and you slam the sketchbook closed. Just as the door opened, you were sat on the bed with just your own sketchbook.

“Everything alright?” Emily asks you. You just nod.

”Let me know if you need anything.” she says and shuts the door softly and you smile back before turning serious. You close your own book before taking out the library book that you had read all the way through.

You make your way out the door when a tired Paul walks through the door with Sam. He ups his mood when he sees you. He gets to you before Sam gets to Emily.

You pull back, smiling and out of breath. You hold him at bay, with you preventing his hands from fondling you too much.

“Where are you going?” he says and pulls you with him.

“Taking this back.” you tell him and he shakes his head.

“Just do it later.” He says and you’re pulled into his room.

The door is shut and you’re trapped between it and the front of Paul. This kiss makes your knees wobbly and he transfers to your neck and his hands opens you up. On your sides, his hands take waist and makes you grind on his hard-on. When space is available, you move to the side.

“I’ll be quick.” You tell him, raising the book. He walks towards you with a content and relaxed grin and pulls it out of your hands. He sets it elsewhere.

“So will I.” he tells you and takes the directions of his hands up under your shirt. You sigh into his mouth as your body automatically move forward on him. Openly kissing your collarbone, his hands move down and feels all on your semi soaked underwear. You pull back. You wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“We shouldn’t. We’ll get caught. I can’t even keep my voice down.” you say and try to look elsewhere.

He stares at you for a moment and nods with acceptance. That meant he really couldn’t do what he wanted to do with you.

“You should sleep. I want to talk to you without you dozing off.” you tell him and rub his shoulder.

He gives you a look and you chuckle. He lays down and right before you turn, “Lay with me until I fall asleep.” He doesn’t even let you object before you’re held on tight to him. You reach and softly sooth his scalp with your fingers running through his hair. He slowly droops his eyelids and tries his best to jerk awake to be able to look at you. But, sleep ended up winning.

You move to slide out of bed but his grip is dead solid. Even the harsher attempts weren’t working. Lightly snoring, he wasn’t waking up any time soon.

Your face was smushed into the pillow and you blink your eyes open and the room was much darker. You hear a knock. With no answer, it creaks open and Emily tells you that it’s time for dinner. You look over and one arm is around you still and another arm is covering the top part of his face. You shake him. He looks at you with tired droopy eyes even though he slept.

He takes his time to sit at the table but he makes sure he holds some of your fingers. You put food on his plate for him while Sam and Emily trail off into their own small talk. Jared walks in looking stressed out. He has a seat and eats silently.

“You know you could’ve came back with us.” Sam says to him.

“Yeah. I went to Kim’s.” he says. You put down your fork.

“How did it go?” Sam asks.

Jared shrugs, “It’s not going anywhere.” he says and just leaves it at that.

“What’s wrong with Kim?” you speak up, genuinely wanting to know.

“Nothing’s wrong with her…I just find it strange that the wolf in me likes her but the man in me doesn’t. Without the imprint, she never had or would catch my eye.” he answers honestly.

You didn’t know what to say to that.

You wash the dishes, shooing Emily away since she cooked for everybody. Sam pulls Jared to the side and Paul decides to use this time to squeeze in more sleep.

In the morning, you woke up to Paul being gone again and you decide to go home and grab your laptop. You looked around at your room and noticed you’ve went from spending almost all of your time in it to always being away from it.

You go on your laptop to log into your email. After scrolling, a subject with important characters are displayed. An illustration feature opportunity in a magazine. You accept it all of the way.

Walking back, clutching to your laptop, you decide to stop past Kim’s. Her mother wasn’t home so it was Kim who opened the door. She was dressed in out clothes and you took a seat at your favorite spot, her window sill seat.

“Jared came by yesterday.” she says to you as she flat irons her hair.

“I heard.” you say solemnly. She just shakes her head as the hot device glides down a piece of hair.

“He talked about something about only feeling something for me on behalf of his wolf.” She mutters and scoffs.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to him? I can set him straight. I know how much you like him.”

Kim looks at you as if you burned her.

“No, Y/N. If he doesn’t want me on his own then it’s useless. It would feel forced.” she says and looks in her mirror that she’s sitting in front of.

“I understand. So, what are you going to do?” you ask.

“I’m going out. My cousin from Neah Bay is throwing a graduation party. I’m leaving a bit earlier because of the drive there.”

You nod. You hope it kept her mind off of the realities of what was happening here.

“You should come. When was the last time we hung out?” she says as she finished her hair.

“Erm..I don’t know…” you say and start thinking, that’s miles away from Paul and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

“Come on..You’re always with..them. I’m even leaving soon. Please?” she says and you ponder some more.

“I’m on for another project..this time in a magazine.” you say, but she just shakes her head.

“Not going for it. You’ll have it done in five seconds. Come on..Please? You’ll have a ride there and back. Plus, I’ll even let you play in my closet.” She offers. You sigh dramatically before smiling, “Fine.” She jumps up and squeals and pull you up.

“Let me just call first okay?” you say and she turns away to open her closet.

You step out of the room and sit on the steps.

“Hello?” a groggy voice answers.

“Hey are you back?” you ask and he clears his throat a bit.

“Yeah. Where did you go?”

“Kim’s. Look, I might come back late tonight. So-“

“Why?” he interrupts.

“Well, I’m going with Kim to her cousin’s graduation party.” you say and you’re met with silence. You pull back your phone to see if the connection was lost. The call is still ongoing.

“Hello?” you then say.

“Where?” he asks and you tell him and that’s when things shifted.

“You’re crazy.” he says.

“What?” you say getting a bit agitated.

“You don’t even know what goes on there. Trust me. It’s not going to be some innocent get together. They’re wild down there.”

“I know myself. I’ll be okay.” You try to tell him but he wasn’t having it. He sounds more awake.

“But you don’t know them. You would be a target just because they would know you’re not from there or hang there. If I wasn’t so beat I would be going with you. Y/N, seriously.” he says through the phone.

“I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Y/N, I swear to god-“

“Paul, I’ll call you I swear.” you hang up because Kim comes out of her bedroom and shows you what you could wear.

You blindly take it and feel a buzz on your phone.

“If you go , we’re done. I mean it.”

Your mood changed. You kept staring at it. You imagined going against the grain. A pang in your chest shoot sharply of the thought of letting Paul go.

“Shit. I have to start working for this deadline in a couple of days. I’m really sorry Kim. We’re going to hang before you leave. I promise.” you say and her face falls.

“Hope all goes well.” she says dryly, accepts her outfit back, and turns back in her bedroom.

You walk with more attitude as you walk back to Sam and Emily’s. You fly the door open, with a little bit more force than meant. Paul was nonchalantly at the table with his phone right there.

“Really? We’re done?” you then nod. “Fine.” you say and walk to his room.

“You’re absolutely crazy if you think I would let you hit that side of town.” he says and leans against the door frame.

You just shake your head and face the window not wanting to look at his face.

“No trust. What’s the point?” you mutter defiantly and shrug.

You feel a hand on you and you shrug it off. You wanted him to know how you felt so badly. He knew what you felt. He knew too much from his past experiences from just hanging around the people alone. They liked to take partying far most of the time. You having a boyfriend wouldn’t have stopped their pressure.

“I know what I’m doing, Y/N.” he just says.

“What? Be my father?”

“Would you stop being so childish? Obviously I’m trying to prevent bad news. That’s definitely not your crowd.” he says and chuckles with no humor.

”Afraid I’m going to run into many of your tramps?” you say harshly and face him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he says and you look away.

“You should ask that question to yourself. You don’t control me.” you say and walk to the front door, outside in the fresh air.

He halts your walk, “If I let you go and something does happen, then what? I’m the first person you’re going to call. I’m good enough to fix it but not good enough to prevent it?”

“Don’t worry, you won’t hear from me when I touch Seattle in a few days.” you retort back.

“You probably weren’t even going to tell me huh? So ready to fuck me over.” he says venomously.

“I would’ve had to listen to you whine about what I can’t do…Maybe..I think we need some space.” you say. You didn’t mean it but the emotion took over.

Jared comes out, and stands beside Paul with a look of concern.

“I told you. I fucking told you.” he says and shakes his head. You choose not to say anything. His gaze alone pierced through your heart. Jared tries to persuade him back in the house. You held your chest as it pounded with pain. Fighting with each other caused pain.

You two didn’t speak. You were around each other but you didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He didn’t speak because he would get angry all over again. You mostly stayed up under Emily. You helped her bake desserts before she went off with Sam.

“Trouble in paradise?” Jared asks as he bites into the sandwich he made for himself with a sweet treat to eat after. You sit down.

“Yeah. It’s my fault.” you say and look out of the window with your chin resting on your hands.

“Heard you went out with Kim. Did something happen?”

“Sort of. He warned me about the kids in Neah Bay. I was only going with Kim to her cousin’s party but…He was being controlling.”

“Not saying this because he’s my friend, but he did save your ass.”

“Kim really wanted me to go with her. She’s still messed up about the whole imprinting thing.”

Jared huffs a bit and looks off into space for a bit.

“What’s really holding you back? I mean, you can talk to me.” You offer. He seemed conflicted.

“I was honest when I said it’s only the wolf part of me who feels compelled to be around her and all. I’m not trying to be mean but…she’s plain..basic. And before you say I didn’t at least give it a try, making a simple conversation is like pulling teeth. She can’t even take a joke if her life depended on it.” he vents out and ends that with a bite.

You lean back and continue to look out of the window. He wasn’t finished.

“You two, you and Paul. You already fight like a married couple. You both liked each other before the imprint. It’s more believable for it to be “meant to be.” If I have to spend the rest of my life with someone, I want it to be fun and happy.”

Paul went with Jared to his house. You called Kim to see if she was okay but there was no answer. You were so bored. There was still youth to the nighttime. Emily and Sam were off into their bonding time.

You stayed up very late, almost morning when Paul comes through. You weren’t in bed, you were sitting on the floor with a book you brought. He still didn’t speak or look your way. He got into bed and turned over and went to sleep.

The next morning, you decided to give him some space. As he slept, you quietly took your bag and belongings and made your way home. You were listening to music when you got a call.

The person who orchestrated the illustration project for you, wanted to know if you could come to Seattle for a small interview two days from now. You accept. It’s only a drive away. Hanging up, a text from Paul appears.

“You left?”

”Yes I’m back home.”

You watched, but no text came back.

The next day, you call. No answer. You just decide to call over and over. He answers on the fifth try.

“Hey.” you speak out. He sighs a bit and mutters back a hey.

You went to him tell all of the details of your new project in Seattle. “Do you want to tag along?”

“I’m good. I’ll stay back.”

“Why not? We can wander around.”

“That moment is for you.” he just says.

“I want my moment to be with you.”

You’re met with silence again. Nobody was home, everyone had plans.

“Do you want to come over?” you suggest.

“I’ll see.” You two hang up with each other.

You dozed off, after waiting for some time. You woke up to the creak of your window being open and look over to see Paul swing himself in like he’s been doing it time and time again.

You get up and hug him. It takes him a minute to finally wrap his arms around you and when he does, it’s a very tight bear hug.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me. I messed up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” you say into his lower chest. He rubs you on the back and sits you down.

“I’m not mad at you.” he says quietly. You nudge him. “Yes you are.”

“No. I’m mad at the situation but not at you.” he says and you know that he’s telling the truth. He sighs and goes on, “I don’t think you understand how much it hurts me whenever I can’t protect you. Even when it’s 100% preventable.”

You nod and look the other way.

“Come back with me.” he says and gives you the eyes to prevent you from saying no.

“I don’t know… I kinda miss my own bed.” You say to tease him.

“Please. You don’t miss it that bad.” Paul comes back with and emits a laugh from you. He takes a hold of the nape of your neck and pull you to him. Instantly you’re melted into him. He glided his hand on your bare back underneath your shirt. After a moment you pull back.

“You’re coming with me to Seattle right?” you say breathlessly.

He lifts his eyelids just a little, “Mmm maybe.” He leans back in. You pull back with a smack.

“Please?” you say and he covers you mouth with his again. This time, he gets your tongue to follow his lead. His hand move to the side of your face and you hold his forearm, trying your best to keep up with him. Ending with a soft pop, he looks at you, “You sure you don’t need space?”

Your hand is now on the nape of his neck, “I will never say that again.”

“Show me you’re sorry then.” he purrs to you and you lean forward to capture him. You take his hand and lead it straight to the point. While kissing him, you pressed his hand to your mound and move sensually, to let him feel you. He raised his hand, never leaving your skin, and discard whatever was covering the bottom part of you.

You lay back as he melts in between you savoring the taste of your lips, the feeling of his poked out flesh was making friction with your underwear covered part. His hands slide up your sides and you followed the blueprint of discarding the shirt. With unspilled drool, Paul is latched onto your spilled breasts. Taking his time with circling them each with his tongue. Your stomach sucks in, gasping occasionally, forgetting how to breathe. He moves down and puts his nose down and inhaled before going on to lick his lips. Your legs are raised with your underwear being slide down.

“Are you flexible?” he asks sensually.

“I think..so.” you answer back quietly. You soon know why he asked when he pushed your legs back making your knees separated with them pressed side by side your head. You were on full display as he looked down. A high note raised from your throat when he leaned down and lapped at you. Your head moves side to side as you could only grip onto his hair and the blankets on your bed. You couldn’t help when your body moved towards his mouth. He was precise. You grab onto his hands as he felt you up, your head was titled back and you whined about.

He pulls back as soon as you feel yourself getting closer to the white light, he shoved his shorts down and a spring of skin bobs out. His eyes never leaving yours, he touched himself softly, admiring you flushed and spread out.

He moves and flip you over him and you can finally kiss him. It was hot. It was sloppy but you both didn’t care. He nudged you to sit up, straddling him upright. You looked down as he lined you up with him. He made sure to gather the sap between you, and you took him in little by little. Thankful for no one being home, you were able to get out your whines and moans of moving back and forth on him. Pure euphoria is what you both felt. Both wanting the feeling to last forever. Your hands laid flat on his chest. His hands cupping and gripping the bottom of you, you look down as you go up and down to see him biting his lip a little as he rakes his eyes on you.

The sopping noises mixed with the small squeaks of your bed is partly responsible for producing more natural sap between your legs. Halfway off of the bed, he looked down as he pounded a steady rhythm with him holding your feet to his chest. Your body arched and you felt the tingles running throughout your entire body. He decides to slow it down, making you lose your mind, wanting him to go faster. He retracted out slow and the thrust in made you shudder without fail.

“Paul” you whine out to him. You didn’t recognize your voice. His thumb traced your pearl to match his strokes. “I’m here baby.” he says erotically. He lets your legs hang on his shoulders, lift you up a bit from the bed as you hang onto him, he pumps fluidly in and out. You now understood the feeling of someone fucking your brains out. Gasping, shuddering and shaking on him, he pulls out and rides out his orgasm. You crawl back, your body still not done trembling. You lay to your side and you moan, letting the climax pass through. Naked and all, Paul pulls you to him, carries you to the shower and he washes you. Possessively feeling all of you. Your back is facing and pressed against him, you’re crumbling all over again. Open kisses are placed on the neck as he circles his finger on your second heart, you hang onto him.

Your legs feel like jelly as you walk down the stairs. Your newly packed bag is in Paul’s hands and he lets you in the car. You felt like a lovesick puppy.

As you sit on the bed, waiting for him to join you to sleep, he flashes a mischievous glance.

“What?” you say.

“I want to sleep skin to skin.”

Flushed skin makes another debut on you as you stutter. He just laughs and kisses you on the side of your mouth, “One day.”

You made sure to bring your best examples of your work. In the waiting area, it was stressing you out. Paul leaned back in the chair, seeming to be totally relaxed. You kept flipping the pages over and over. He has a hand on your knee now and you notice that he paused the bouncing of your leg.

“Just be yourself.” He says to you.

Sitting across from two people, flipping through proof of your work, your stomach is clenched. In fact, you feel so tense all over. You watched their poker faces anxiously as they observe each page.

You already talked. They already asked the questions. You were waiting for their decisions.

A white contract is placed in front of you. They give you a week to make your mind up.

You walk out with the white paper in your hands and your shoulders are dropped due to relaxation. Paul didn’t wait for you to say the words. Your feet are off the ground. Your arms are around his neck and he nuzzled your neck while holding you in a slow swaying hug.

“Thank you..Thank you for everything.” you tell him seriously.

“That was all you, woman.”

You couldn’t have done it without him. His support. His push. You didn’t feel complete without him.

[luvmahae]

masterlist — previous — next!

SM DOME how the fuck we feelin?

it’s motherfuckin rave day and guess where we are? sm dome baby!

what’s better than being surrounded by dudes rocking jerseys, half-buttoned shirts, or just straight up going shirtless? and the girls? they’ve got the looks on lock—tiny tops, bottoms barely covering their asses, and of course, the fishnets.

everywhere you look, there’s kandi stacked high on wrists, led gloves lighting up the crowd, and the unmistakable haze of cigarettes, weed, and a rainbow of vape flavors hanging in the air. mango, watermelon, blue razz… you name it!

outside the main doors leading to the floor, some people are already completely fucked up. the night’s still young... right? spoiler: it’s only the openers playing right now. the main section of the venue is pure organized chaos—lines snaking to the bar, the merch booth, the bathroom. and the longest line of all? you guessed it. the water stations.

and this? this is just the beginning of what promises to be one hell of a night. 

chenle leads the way to the water stations, his camelbak slung over his shoulders. you and the others follow, weaving through the swarms of people, the energy of the venue running through your veins.

“me, chenle, and jisung are in charge of water tonight.” renjun says, filling the pouch inside of his camelbak at the dispenser.

once the boys finish loading up their camelbaks, the group rallies together, heading toward the floor entrance. mark’s hands rest on Ningning’s shoulders while she clings to chenle’s hand, letting him take the lead. you fall into place behind jeno, fingers gripping his shoulders like a train of carefree, slightly chaotic college kids.*

the crowd is packed, a sea of people all swaying, talking, dancing, you name it. john summit’s final stop in seoul has brought out a massive crowd—more than you had expected, but it’s the kind of energy that gets your adrenaline pumping.

the group moves through the crowd, inching forward towards the middle, where you’ve learned from past events that the view from here is the best. as you get closer to the center, the sights become even more overwhelming—the neon lights, the lasers cutting through the air, the thumping bass reverberating through your body. the visuals are going to be insane.

“right here.” 

the group forms a loose circle, finally getting a chance to breathe for a moment before the madness begins.

“y/n you have the baggie right?” 

“oh right i do!” 

you glance down at your top, tugging on the fabric to pull out the small ziplock bag tucked in your bra. as you pass it to jeno, you notice everyone staring at you with a mix of surprise and amusement—especially the guys.

“you hid it… in there?!”

“i mean… it works out all the time. mark, do you really think security is gonna pat my boobs down?”

“honestly that’s smart as fuck.”

“i mean thank god y/n has tits!” jaemin adds, earning a playful shove from you as the laughter continues.

jeno scans the area, his eyes flicking around for any sign of security before unzipping the mini ziplock bag. 

“john summit’s set starts at 9:30, so let’s pop these now.” 

one by one, everyone pops their pills, and there’s something about it that feels weirdly intimate. you take a quick sip from chenle’s camelbak after, the cold water hitting just right against the growing warmth spreading through your body.

the opener’s set is still going as the pill starts to settle inside you, your body already humming in anticipation. the crowd roars with excitement, the opener throwing down banger after banger, turning up the energy in the venue.

thirty minutes later, the opening notes of “shiver” echo through the venue, crisp and electrifying, vibrating straight through your chest. the whole group erupts into cheers, their excitement blending seamlessly with the roar of the crowd. the lights flash brighter, neon beams slicing through the darkness as the music builds, and the energy of the night kicks up a notch.

and then, it hits.

at first, it’s a gentle wave of warmth that rolls through you, and then it intensifies—almost like the music is coursing through your veins, the euphoria spreading from your chest to your fingertips. the energy is contagious, with everyone belting out the words, hands in the air, bodies swaying to the beat.

renjun pulls out a pack of gum and starts handing it around. you take a piece, popping it into your mouth just as the familiar jaw-clenching begins to set in. the sharp, sweet flavor helps ground you, even as your body starts buzzing, every sensation heightened to an almost unreal intensity.

jeno waves a handheld fan at the group, his effort to combat the heat appreciated as the air thickens with the crowd’s energy. the sweat, the flashing lights, and the pulsing music all blur together, each sensation melding into the next. your skin sticky from the heat, the lights flashing too fast to follow, the music vibrating through your bones, every beat hitting harder than the last.

the group is fully in it now, rolling hard as ever. eyes half-lidded, jaws working on the gum, bodies swaying and bouncing to the music without a care. mark and ningning are practically bouncing off each other, moving together in perfect sync, feeding off each other’s excitement. 

“look at you guys gooooo!” chenle shouts, laughing as he jumps into the circle with exaggerated moves, making ningning double over with laughter.

you can’t help but join in, the sheer joy of the moment pulling you closer. the music, the lights, the people—it’s all blending together into one perfect, unforgettable night.

karina is the first to stumble, her eyes blinking rapidly as the effects of the pill settle over her. she stumbles back, her shoulders colliding with jeno’s chest.

“whoa, whoa- easy.” he says quickly, steadying her with a firm hand.

she looks up at him, her eyes wide and glazed over, chewing her gum aggressively. “i don’t feel so good right now.” she admits, her voice soft but shaky.

jeno, rolling just as hard as she is, grins at her, his face softening with concern despite his own euphoric state. “you’re good. i’ve got you,” he reassures her, his hands gently massaging her temples.

“renjun, water.”

renjun nods and immediately pulls the mouthpiece of the camelbak and hands it over. he flashes karina a quick thumbs-up, his attempt at lightening the moment.

“it’s all in your head rina. you got this! just have fun!”

she takes a long sip, the cool water washing down the rising heat in her chest, grounding her just enough to breathe easier. jeno fans her with one hand, his other still steady on her shoulder

“thank you.”

the overwhelming sensations start to mellow, and for a moment, she just leans into him, finding comfort in his presence.

his grin widens as he looks down at her, holding her close until she’s ready to move again. 

“anytime.”

the energy in the group builds as the music pulses through the venue, but ningning suddenly stops dancing, her eyes wide with excitement.

“can someone please give me a shoulder ride?! this is my favorite song! i need to record it NOW!”

jaemin’s grin is instant, mischievous and wide. he crouches without a second thought, patting his shoulders.

“get on!”

she doesn’t hesitate, her laughter bright as she hooks her legs over his shoulders. with a swift push, he lifts her into the air, her squeal of delight blending with the music. she wobbles for a second before steadying herself, one hand gripping his hair lightly for balance while the other raises her phone high to start recording.

“holy shit, john summit is REAL! i love you!”

“you better send me those videos later!”

“jaem don’t let me go okay!”

“i got you! just go crazy!”

“you’re seriously the best!”

he sways to the beat, effortlessly keeping her balanced as she waves her phone around, capturing the moment. his grin never falters, his energy syncing with hers as the track explodes into its euphoric drop.

jisung is completely captivated by the lasers, his eyes locked on the vibrant display, wide with awe. a grin stretches across his face as he chews on his gum, lost in the rhythm of the lights. a girl approaches him, her energy just as high as his, and they start dancing side by side.

she leans in, her voice playful. “you like the lights, huh?”

“they’re fucking insane.”

she laughs and pulls him by the hands, her body swaying to the rhythm of the music, effortlessly guiding him into the groove.

“dance with me, yeah?”

you, on the other hand, are feeling the effects a little differently. while the others are bouncing around and grinning like crazy, you feel lighter—almost like your body is floating. you sway to the music, eyes closed, your body moving with the beats like a feather in the wind.

it’s when you stumble backwards that you feel haechan’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you gently against him.

“you good?”

you smile, leaning back into him, your body relaxed in his arms. “yeah… this pill is strong as fuck, holy shit.” you admit, your voice slurring slightly, but it doesn’t even matter.

he chuckles softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver through you. his breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “told you.”

the music swirls around you, and in that moment, you lose your footing again. he catches you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head.

“i got you.”

you lean into him, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body grounding you in the otherwise dizzying world of lights and sound. 

“just feel the music y/n.” he murmurs, his voice soft, steady, and comforting in contrast to the chaos around you.

when the opening beats of “what a life” burst through the speakers, the group instinctively comes together, forming a loose circle. arms draped over each other's shoulders, pulling everyone close as the music sways in time with the electric euphoria filling the air.

“i love you guys soooooo muchhhh!” 

“best fucking night everrrrrr!” 

“guys i’m seriously rolling tits right now!”

“tell molly i love her too!”

“god i am literally so happy. let me kiss all of you… NOW!” 

you giggle as you stumble from person to person, planting a quick, sloppy kiss on each cheek, feeling the warmth of the crowd and the love flooding around you.

“that’s our girl. classic y/n.” chenle teases from the side, the group erupting in laughter. 

then it’s haechan’s turn. when you reach him, the kiss lingers—just a second longer than the others. you feel his skin grow warm under your lips, and when you pull back, his eyes are already locked on yours, their intensity cutting through the haze of the night.

♪ what a life, what a time to be free

as the night winds down, the group finally makes its way back to the cars. the buzz of the pills has faded, but the sense of connection remains. you walk side by side with haechan, your hands brushing occasionally as the faint hum of conversations floats between your group.

you glance at him, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “i’ve got something for you, by the way,” you say, pulling a small green beaded bracelet from your pocket.

“you made kandi just for me? cute.”

“i actually made some for the group... but i couldn't forget about you too.”

“you know what’s funny? i actually made one for just you.”

your breath catches slightly as he pulls a pink beaded bracelet from his jacket pocket. the way the beads shimmer under the streetlights makes your heart flutter, but it’s the glimmer in his eyes that really gets you.

“you know what to do,” he says, holding the bracelet out, his tone both teasing and sincere.

peace. you both raise your hands, forming matching peace signs and holding them for a beat before moving on.

love. your hands curve into hearts, the symmetry between you so natural it feels like second nature.

unity. your palms meet, warm and steady against one another. there’s an intimacy in the quiet contact that makes your chest tighten in the best way.

respect. your fingers interlace with his, soft and deliberate, but instead of letting go, he holds on. his grip is firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment as he slips the bracelet onto your wrist with his free hand.

you slide the blue and white kandi onto his wrist in return, the action simple but so much more meaningful than it has any right to be.

he doesn’t let go. instead, his fingers stay threaded with yours as he guides you toward the rest of the group, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand.

you know,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “this might be my favorite part of the night.”

you glance up at him, a soft feeling blooming in your chest as the night air wraps around you. “mine too.” you admit, the words barely more than a whisper.

and as you walk toward the others, your hand still in his, it feels like a quiet promise—something neither of you needs to say out loud.

♪ what a life, what a time to be you, and me

wc: 2.2k

notes: update on christmas day lets get it 😎 long awaited rave chapter and i am honestly.... living for it 100%. writing this made me relive the past events ive been to irl and ugh 10/10 feeling (not the comeup but everything past that YESSS!) plus im actually dying at the john summit twitter account LMFAO merry christmas and happy holidays to all of u lovely cuties!!! sending u all kisses muah. chapter is based off john summit's "what a life"! such a good song :D

taglist: @4amirwin @wonbin-truther @hearts4hee @jungaji @sundamariis @urlovelily @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @luvvhaechan @douqhnxtss @tynlvr @haesluvr @hcluvie @pinknjm @nanaxwi @catpjimin @slayhaechan @awktwurtle @myfavoritedelusion @stqrgr7 @t-102 @jianreadsaus @haechanhues @gomdoleemyson @hyuckmoon @haechology @mystverse @hyuckies18 @sunflowerbebe07 @jae-n0 @onlyforyoukook @yizhrt @gwookie @zzzmrk @kukkurookkoo @nightcat101 @tinyelfperson @haefelt @haechsworld @tenjyucat @worldwidecutiemaya @sunghoonsgfreal @snoopyjimin @ypoom151999 @meowtella @honeynanamin @haechanmybaechan @nctrawberries @nosungluv

[wei-ying-kexing-apologist]

Heesu in Class 2: Adaptations 3.0 Chanyoung, Astronomy, and Confessions

Tomorrow is going to be a bittersweet day for me because after episode 9 I am so desperate to see episode 10, but also that means tomorrow is the finale and I will no longer have this show to look forward to every week. I think this was my favorite episode of the series so far and it’s already been really incredible! 

First of all, I love the changes they made to Chanyoung from the manhwa to the live action. I am absolutely thrilled that they actually had Heesu confess to Chanyoung that he used to have a crush on him instead of having Heesu realize that his feelings had shifted and just not saying anything about it at all. Especially when Having A Crush on Chanyoung was so much of Heesu’s personality and youth. 

photo credit: @hughungrybear

Better than that, however, was the fight between Chanyoung and Heesu in the hallway at school. I will admit that I hadn’t fully picked up on the disparity in the level of intimate knowledge Chanyoung and Heesu have in one another. At the very least it settled in the background for me because I was chalking it up to Heesu learning all of this information about Chanyoung because he had a crush on Chanyoung. I fucking loved that Chanyoung is hurt by the fact that Heesu does not trust in him the way that Chanyoung trusts in Heesu. It paired really well with the conversation that Heesu had with his oldest sister about the most important pieces of a relationship to another person do not change even if romantic feelings might. 

Chanyoung was Heesu’s best friend, Heesu is Chanyoung’s best friend. Best friends should and do know so much about each other, and yet Chanyoung is freer in the information that he tells Heesu because he is straight and he did not grow up with that particular fear of the social repercussions of being queer in a conversative, homophobic society. Heesu has not trusted Chanyoung with information about himself because he is scared of losing the friendship that he has with Chanyoung when he realizes that he’s queer. 

gif by @jimmysea

But because Heesu has been harboring this huge black hole of secrets, Chanyoung also does not know how precarious of a situation he has put Heesu in by confronting him in the hallway. He accidentally set up a (potentially) very unsafe situation for Heesu if he had pushed any harder and forced a confession/outing. Chanyoung relies so much on Heesu, as do many people, and all he wants in that friendship is to be supportive back and Heesu simply has not let him get close enough to be seen. 

It’s working really well with the space metaphor imo, Heesu’s hobby involves being far away from the things he is studying intimately. 

And honestly, I like how the show’s revelation that Heesu is keeping himself closed off to the people he cares about is also supported by the conversation that Seong Won and Heesu have in Seong Won’s room. I know that scene is primarily a nod to the manhwa’s introduction to Seong Won, when Heesu complains that Seong Won is visible from the window buck ass naked. But, I am going to take it a step further and say that Seong Won and Heesu have had glimpses in to each other’s inner lives from the very beginning of this. Heesu can hide from Chanyoung all he wants, but he has (haha) bared himself for Seong Won without even realizing it, simply by existing in Seong Won’s orbit. 

AND he’s been making himself so transparently in his feelings for Seong Won that Seong Won is finally starting to realize that Heesu might not actually be crushing on Chanyoung any more. [Side note: the multiple head turns and catching each other looking at the bus stop was super cute]

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

They had a bunch of light and dark visuals going on in today’s episode that I really appreciated. Chanyoung turning the light on to confront Heesu in his own room. Chanyoung letting himself be kept in the dark when Heesu refuses to answer him and tells him to turn off the light. Chanyoung again, trying to illuminate himself in to Heesu’s inner life by confronting him in the hallway. But forcing that is not safe and will not work. Heesu opening the blinds and absolutely flooding himself in light when he starts talking to Seong Won, that singular bright spot of hope and longing for openness and honesty. Heesu prolonging his confession to Seong Won because his secret crush on Chanyoung has been a black hole inside him for so long that he can’t face Chanyoung with it. He has to whisper it in to the dark so that he does not have to see Chanyoung’s reaction to the news that Heesu’s been gay for him all this time. 

I for one cannot wait for tomorrow when one of them turns that light back on. And I am so excited that Heesu has finally overcome his fear and is getting things out in the open so that he is able to move on from his crush on Chanyoung and move in to a relationship with Seong Won. 

photo credit: @neuroticbookworm

I have to commend Ahn Ji Ho for his performance as Heesu. I could feel all of the emotions wafting off of this boy. I could feel the pit in his stomach when Chanyoung and Ho Sik start asking him about who he likes (especially after Ho Sik says ‘who is she’). I could feel the panic, the fear, the anger coming off of Heesu when Chanyoung confronted him in the hallway, could feel the butterflies in his stomach when he was inches from Seong Won. I could feel the rawness of Heesu telling Chanyoung it’s not that easy for him. 

And I loved how heartened that made Seong Won. It’s tragic that that is the case, that twin fear being a sort of comfort. But the reaction Seong Won had to hearing Heesu say literally the same thing Seong Won said to Jiyu about how it is easier for Jiyu or Chanyoung to confess felt akin to Heesu’s reaction to finding out that Seong Won had two moms. As if this is something only they can understand, as if that confession is something that is going to be safe and tended to between them. It is an understanding that Chanyoung or Jiyu can’t really have because they are heterosexual, even as the show has created other ways for Chanyoung and Jiyu to understand the fears that Heesu and Seong Won harbor as queer people (via Jiyu outing herself as Summer and Chanyoung leaving home). 

Extremely looking forward to tomorrow!

[cultkinkcoven]

How do you hear luci? I wish I could hear my patron because I really wanna do the rating nicknames thing lol (if she even has any for me.)

I've answered this a couple times in different ways. The tldr is that communication with Lucifer usually doesn't involve just once sense. It can be very abstract and fast. I may "hear" his voice in my mind along with an accompanying visualization, sensation, etc. Sometimes a single word conveys an entire novel of information. Sometimes entire conversations are silent, and sometimes context from the environment itself is a reply.

For example:

I enter into my room and wonder if I should spend some time at my altar. I ask him in my head, "Lucifer, do you want me to spend some time with you?" I feel a warmth slide across the back of my neck. As my eyes dance around the room they land on the page of an open book. The first sentence I read is "Please, come forward." I take that as a response. I sit myself on the floor before the altar. In my mind's eye I see an image of a little puppy wagging his tail. Ah, he's calling me a puppy. As I go to light his candle I feel a word emerging from the back of my mind, and on my fingers I can almost feel scales. "Dragon". and in my mind I see a red liquid, "blood." Dragon's blood incense? Yes, I have many. I fetch a stick from my drawer and light it on the altar. I feel a gentle pat on my head, in my mind's eye I see a green light. Green means go, he's saying that I can proceed. I ask him what else he may want. My tongue writhes in my mouth, dry. He wants water. I go to fetch him a glass and take a sip myself. As I stand in the kitchen I feel as though I can almost smell something sweet. Chocolate? I look through the cupboards to find a chocolate heart, I share it with him. His candle flame grows taller, and I feel a warm embrace around my shoulders. The word "thank you," comes into my mind as a whisper, and I feel as though he's pulled me close, possessive, "mine, my own", and in my mind I see a flash of baby blue, "boy." My boy. Thank you, my boy.

In more complex conversations about science or what have you, this whole process happens a lot faster. There is less time needed to process the meanings of disconnected things, and I tend to get the idea almost all at once. Sometimes it's like listening to a song, watching a movie, feeling brail, or tasting a code. Other times it's just like I've had an entire idea beamed straight into my brain with no delay.

Tldr: it depends. Energy reveals itself through context.

[moon7jay]

LISTEN subby needy virgin hee and mean dom reader 😫

VIRGIN HEESEUNG IS MY WEAKNESS OMFG LIKE

Imagine y'all just started dating and u r a very forward person. You want him and u r not afraid to show it to him. His shy nature is what attracted u to him. And God was he shy

He'd be so so shy, not knowing what is it that he's feeling or what he should do about it cuz everything is so new to him. And u're a fucking tease. U know how to rile him up to the point of tears. Heeseung was in love with u, like IN PUPPY LOVE. But all u can think about is how deep u want his cock in u.

Standing too close to him, rubbing your boobs against his arm. Sitting on his lap, subtly applying pressure on his crotch. Turning a sweet, fluffy kiss into a tongue sucking session, leaving him all sweaty and out of breath and so impossibly hard. Wearing skimpy clothes, slowly abandoning pants completely, just roaming around in your underwear whenever he came over, or changing in front of him, telling him to turn around, knowing full well that he can see u in the full length mirror.

You were made to torture this poor boy, he's sure of it. That's the reason why u slipped your panties in his jeans pocket when he was kissing u goodbye. And once heeseung reaches home, his throat goes dry as he stares intently at the lace fabric. A damp spot in the middle. He gulps. Did u just take it off? He swears he doesn't know what came over him cuz the next second he was burying his nose in your essence and humping his pillow like a dog in heat. God u drive him crazy. All your low cut tops, that ass, that sexy as fuck naval, your teasing smile, he wants to die in between your legs so bad.

The next day when he comes over you're throwing him on your bed and straddling on his lap, making quick work of his jeans while he watches u, mouth wide open, cheeks warm and red when you rub him from over his boxers. He whimpers.

"U liked my present? Tell me baby?" ur siren voice asks and he's looking at u with a hazy vision, the feeling of you groping his dick quite literally overwhelming his senses. He moans in the prettiest voice u have ever heard, hitting u straight between your legs, making ur panties wet.

You grab his face, fingers digging in his cheek while u situate ur self on his lap, ur panty clad pussy right above his covered dick. Your grip is harsh as u kiss his puckered lips, your gaze unnerving

"Answer me like a good boy" u whisper and he's quiet literally ready to bark, his dick twitching at your words. "Y-yeah, smell so g-good" he hiccups as u start a slow grinding motion with your hips.

Your hands come up to wrap around his neck, tangling in the hairs at his nape, gripping and pulling his head back

"yeah? Did u jerk off to my smell like a pervert? Lick on my panties?" u asked, now grinding faster, his cock was so hard underneath you, your pussy was drooling

He gasped at your actions, his hands coming up to grab your waist and he nodded, eyes rolling back in pleasure when u rolled your hips just right. "Did u imagine me naked heeseung? while u jerked off your pathetic virgin cock, did u imagine us naked? Together? Grinding on each other?" U asked, hastily pulling off your top, your breasts bounced out, no bra underneath. He moaned at the sight, panting with how much pleasure ur grinding sexes were giving each other, but visually too, he could feast his eyes on your body

"f-fuck yes. thought about you naked, wanna get naked p-please y/n, let's get n-naked" His desperate whimpers and grabby hands were making u drip. God u couldn't wait.

You pulled away from him to pull off his boxers, almost chuckling at how he was quick to discard his shirt somewhere.

His thick, long cock had u drooling. Pausing ur movements and taking his fat cock into your palm, rubbing up and down, a pained hiss leaving his throat, hips bucking into your hand, so desperate for your touch

you moved to settle on his bare cock again, running your hands up his chest, touching him, pulling on his nipples. He whimpered, eyes tearing up when u took his nipple in your mouth, sucking on them alternately, his own hands moving up to grab your breasts, groping and squeezing. U slapped his hands away. u cooed at how he fisted the sheets immediately, obeying your unsaid instructions.

"Now we're naked heeseung, now what?" u asked, sucking on his earlobe, starting to grind on him again. The sheer fabric of your panties was the only thing separating your leaking genitals from meeting and pleasuring each other.

"s-sex" he moaned and u sighed, moving back and forth on his dick, your wetness making the slide slippery and so pleasurable

"Yeah? that's why we got naked didn't we? to have sex? To make each other feel good?" u asked, sliding your panties to the side, rubbing his cock against your slit, ready to take him inside. He nodded desperately, his wide bambi eyes fixated on how your pussy met his cock. 'please, please, please' he was chanting inaudibly

"What is it baby? "

"i-inside, please please put it inside please I wanna, oh god- his words cut off with a pornographic moan as u finally took him inside u to the hilt, slamming down on his fuck meat, groaning in satisfaction

"Fuck yeah, gonna fuck that dick so good" u moaned, starting to bounce on his cock, so good that his head fell back on his shoulders, mouth open in a silent scream, losing himself in the pleasure of your pussy and the warm velvety walls.

"f-fuck me" he whimpered, tears brimming his eyes, too lost in the tightness of your cunt

"Yeah let's fuck baby, fuck into me while I fuck on u - Fuck-jesus yeah, just like that" u cried, grabbing his hairs harshly when u felt his hips thrusting upwards, meeting your every movement

The grinding and squelching of your genitals grinding was making a mess on his stomach, lustful pants and pleasurable sighs filling up the minimal space between your bodies. You rubbed your nipples against his sensitive ones, rubbing your sweaty bodies together, making a mess

"God fuck yeah, give it to me, give me that virgin dick baby, fuck fuck fuck- your lips met his drooling mouth, licking up his saliva and spitting into his hot cavern, moaning when he swallowed immediately, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy, the temperature rising and rising, your nails scratched his chest, digging and breaking skin

"Pussy so good u can't even fucking speak, sex so good u look like a pussy drunk slut baby" u panted in his mouth, tangling your tongue with his own, rubbing and grinding and slamming your hips down on his cum covered cock

He nodded, totally surrendering himself to you, tears falling down his eyes, face red and sweaty just like his body, fingers gripping and fisting the sheets, dirty pathetic moans falling from his lips at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, the feeling of your pussy jerking off his virgin cock had him seeing heaven

There was no one else and no other way heeseung would have chosen to lose his virginity to.

[maskedjolo]

So— Chapter 4, am I right?

Look, I wanna talk about one of the

many elephants in the room here

Kris

It’s like, I always kinda knew that something like the battle we find ourselves in with Kris was gonna happen, but now that it’s happening, it’s like, HOLY SHIT

And I’m not quite sure how to feel about it or think about it

Like, it’s starting to feel less like Kris is trying to break free from our control and more like Kris actually NEEDS us for some kind of plan they have and is just enduring the control for it to happen

Because, if Chapter 4 showed us anything, we are JUST as capable outside of Kris’ body, if not more so, than we are within Kris’ body. We can fly around, we can interact with things, we can probably do all the stuff that we could with Kris but now without limitations

We. DO NOT. Need. Kris.

It then became apparent to me that we actually have LESS control when we are inside Kris than if we were outside of Kris. Like, if Kris really wants to, they can act on their own without our input even if we are inside them

That’s when I realised…

We’re not controlling Kris… Kris is controlling US. Kris is CONTAINING US. More likely than not, this is part of Kris’ plan to lure us into some kind of illusion of control

Part of Chapter 4’s prophecy literally describes Kris as ‘the cage.’ We are inside ‘the cage.’ I don’t think it gets more straight forward than that

I mean- it makes sense, right? The visual and characteristic similarities between Kris and Chara are NOT a coincidence and Chara’s whole purpose in the genocide route of Undertale was to sort of give the player a reality check about how much control we really have and that, in the end, we really don’t have that much choice even though we are made to think we do

And is that not what Deltarune has been trying to tell us? That our choices don’t matter? That the ending will remain the same no matter what we do?

No… we aren’t controlling Kris. Kris is controlling us

What do you think?

[clonehighdoublehelix]

JUNE COMMUNITY POST

FIRST A QUICK UPDATE

The good news is that I bounced back my overblown headcold but I caught something even worse: A JOB

In addition to my commissions, I started a Manual Labour job (hello, fellow blue-collars) and am interviewing for an additional part-time position. I know; poor me, I'm soooooooo employable 🤧

And as if that weren't enough to keep me busy, I'm also going to be moving within the month. Normally, I wouldn't talk so much about my, frankly, pedestrian personal life on this blog but wanted to offer an explanation for my absence to anyone wondering. Looking ahead, the blog will start off dry in July but once my commissions are delivered (within the next two weeks 🤞) I'll have more spare time to get back into 'Genetic Experiments Gone Wild'. Okay, let's see if I can't remember what was happening-

This month on a very special Double Helix…

Let me just consult my notes*... Ah, here we go.

Cleo wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, Abes parents play favourites and JFK comes out as straight- again.

PATTY'S ROOM

Patty so fine she be making male-enjoyers stop and stare

'Dweeb' is a great word. In general but also to describe Patty.

No matter how many times I see the 'positive' tone indicator, my first thought is always 'piece of shit'. I like to imagines millennials using it the way people used 'stop' in telegrams. Greetings [piece of shit] I trust you are well [piece of shit] Say hello to your dear mother [piece of shit] Most Sincerely [piece of shit] Joshua [piece of shit]

GOOD COMMENT! Concise and accurate.

ABE COMES HOME

First off (all), how crazy to have a follower who used to go by Gabe!

Secondly, interesting that some readers felt that Abe's fosters were being homophobic. If anything, my intention was to make them shallow; prizing Gabe for his marketable good-looks.

One of my favourite veins of comedy is characters who mean well but say exactly the wrong things. Abe did this to Gabe a few posts back. Doesn't feel so good on the other side, eh Abe??

tfw your dad calls you a butterface and you can't even blame him because you're adopted

JFK REUNITES WITH FOSTER DADS

I think it's embarrassing when you're a teenager and your parents acknowledge your sexuality in any form, even positively.

lmao imagine being the token straight in the family

That tone indicator just saved your life, buster ( /silly) When you notice a detail missing like that, it's one of three things:

I deliberately left it out because it looked better (case in point)

I forgor

A wizard did it

MORE LOVE FOR TOOTS

But I have actually seen reference photos of below-the-knee amputees tying their loose pant legs into knots. What, are they gonna wear shorts all the time?

WELL-WISHERS

Thanks again for the messages while I was sick! Luckily I was staying with my Granny at the time who plied me with health food and her old-world remedies. Actual photo of my recovery:

FANART

My spirits were also greatly lifted by the fanart that's come my way during my convalescence! I'll reblog them all individually but for now let's regard them in an awed silence, the way art should be appreciated.

Abe/Gabe and Cleo/Patty by @moldyfridge

CJ and Paprika by @thatweirdstemrat

Darcy and Patty by @jayydeng

Patty by @cheresh-nya

ANOTHER CLONEY ISLAND MILESTONE

My animated short crawled to 200k but updating the thumbnail gave it a second life and propelled it to 300k in a months time! Where's the roof on this thing??

Anyway, I'm running out of visual ideas to celebrate but here's a little something I whipped up:

Oh and I forgot to mention it last month but you can now direct all your loved ones/bitter rivals/indifferent neighbours to our swanky new domain name: clonehighdoublehelix.blog

Isn't it so much tidier without that pesky 'tumblr' clanging around in the middle? Who needs to be reminded of that boondoggle.

And I wanted to give a special shoutout to my Ko-Fi supporter @dunkulkhan for their ongoing support during this irregular month. I'm looking forward to getting my groove back in July!

Next Month on a Very Special Double Helix…

I kid, I kid!

Joan and Gandhi have awkward family dinners and (time permitting) maybe Cleo's Mom will grace us with her presence?

Stay High everyone!

Thanks to everyone for your comments:

@neutrallyobsessed @gandhiclonehighlover @starpupinterlude @kimtiny @jaqlynwithaq @theabesimp @gspot-rocks-the-gspot @pijakofspades @siwwydingus @seila2310 @youdonelostyourmind @rubberhosetoons @silversword7000

*hastily scrawled on my sweaty palms in smeared sharpie

[infizero]

actually, silver's time traveling DID make sense... until sonic forces - an analysis

hello! this is a follow-up to my previous analysis post i made about why silver's time traveling is so weird.

everything i said in that post still applies, but upon looking at things closer (and creating an entire timeline map), i came to the realization that sonic forces actually kind of singlehandedly ruined everything. but hey what's new amiright

in all seriousness though, creating this timeline map helped me better visualize just what the hell is going on with silver's time traveling and various futures, and i hope it's able to do the same for you all as well! (full analysis under the cut)

FULL BREAKDOWN:

EDIT: i sort of forgot to take into account that sonic rivals and especially sonic rivals 2 DO seem to imply that silver's future is currently bad, though it's not stated outright. 06 also IMPLIES that silver's future is good at the end but it's not actually stated/shown to be the case. so in that case, it'd be future is still bad after 06 -> thus future is bad in rivals 1+2 -> rivals 2's resolution causes the good future mentioned in sonic colors ds. even in this scenario, it'd still be forces' fault for making the future bad again, but it wasn't AS crystal clear before forces as i may have originally made it seem like in this post. live and learn lol

so, let me explain what all this means lol (using different versions of this map)

silver is born into a timeline that's basically the bad ending of sonic 06 - where sonic is killed, elise cries, and iblis is unleashed, destroying the world. this is where silver starts:

the events of sonic 06 create a new timeline where solaris is never split into iblis and mephiles. thus iblis is never created and never destroys the world, causing silver to return to a future where everything is good.

silver starts in the 06 bad ending timeline, but he returns to the future of the new 06 good ending timeline, AKA the canon timeline:

(please excuse my shitty gifs lol)

this is where he remained for a WHILE, and where he should have remained. in all games between 06 and forces, the status of silver's future is either not mentioned, or is explicitly stated to be the good future. (specifically in colors ds)

so for a while, it was pretty simple and actually made sense. silver went from the 06 bad ending timeline, to the 06 good (canon) ending timeline, and then stayed there ever since. everything was fine. we could've just left it like this.

but then, sonic GOD DAMN forces decided to mess ALL THIS UP.

because when silver shows up for the events of forces, it's because his future... is taken over and polluted by eggman. as a result of forces. which doesn't make sense ANY way you cut it.

whether silver lived in a timeline where forces ended good or bad, EITHER WAY the events of sonic forces HAVE ALREADY HAPPENED. THEY SHOULD NOT CAUSE SILVER'S FUTURE TO ACTIVELY CHANGE BEFORE HIS EYES. THAT'S NOT HOW TIME WORKS

so because of forces, we then get this incredibly weird jump where silver LEAVES the canon good future... and goes to a random non-canon, bad ending timeline. for some reason:

from there, it's a bit more straight-forward. sonic forces happens and when silver goes back to his future, it's no longer the bad ending of forces, but the bad ending of the metal virus arc:

thus, silver goes back to the present to help stop that. the metal virus is eradicated, and we are EXPLICITLY shown that this is what directly causes silver's future to be saved:

and for now that hasn't changed. (and god willing, it never will)

ever since the end of the metal virus arc, silver's future is a good one and he's just been hanging out in the present, freaking out about not having a purpose anymore.

the literal SINGLE problem with all this is that silver was IN the good future before, but got yoinked OUT of it for some reason.

if after 06, he hadn't returned to a good future, but rather the bad ending future of sonic forces, then that would have made sense! that's the next point in the timeline where things can split off.

he fixes one problem, but it doesn't save the future. now the future is just ruined by something else. so then he has to go fix the next problem, and then the next, etc. etc.

that would've, y'know, made sense.

but you wanna know what's even more aggravating? they could've STILL done what they did with forces without changing silver's future!

it would've been so easy to have silver, in his good future, realize (through history books or something) that there is a point in the past where eggman almost fully takes over, and decide to time travel back to that point to make sure that things go as they're supposed to.

that would've made so much more sense! this goes back to the quirk of silver's time traveling that i pointed out in my first post, which is that silver tends to time travel to change the future, rather than make sure that the future happens the way it should (like a lot of other time travel stories do)

at this point however, silver's future IS capable of somehow changing at will. and i think there's really only two options to fix this.

the first and easiest is to just retcon stuff. either retcon silver's good future after 06, or retcon the forces + idw stuff about his future changing. this would be the simplest option i think.

the other is to try and come up with an explanation for silver being plucked out of his good future and shoved into other bad ending futures. i think it IS possible but it would still be incredibly convoluted.

i think you could spin it so rather than the good future becoming bad, it's actually just silver specifically as a person being transported from the good future to the bad future timeline. as to why, maybe whatever force sends him to time travel wants to... show him the consequences of that "canon event" getting messed up?

like, he's supposed to make sure that things go as they should for their good future to exist. and in order to make him understand why he needs to do this, he's like - shown a vision of what could happen if he doesn't? by him being transported to that bad ending timeline?

in all honesty, i really don't see a clean, easy way of explaining everything in one neat little package without retconning anything.

either things get way more convoluted and stupid, or things get retconned. and i dont know about you, but i would much rather take the latter. even if retcons can be frustrating, i feel like it's way better than the alternative.

but idk, what do you think? did any of this make sense? i hope it did. i quite like my silly little map.

anyways that's all for now bye <3

(bonus: here's the original version of the timeline map that i doodled in my notebook lol)

[superscrub323]

A Little Elaboration on why a certain Animatic does the Lovers section of God Games the best

Alright if you've been following me you should know that one of my favorite tertiary characters in Epic the Musical is Ares and it's primarily because there's no reason for any version of the God of War to go harder on a verse than the God of Music yet Earle Gresham Jr. did so anyway and most of us, including those who write Warrior Penelope AU fanfics, thank him for it.

It's also a challenge for animators because while Apollo's and Hephaestus's verses and scenes are fairly straight forward, the primary challenge with Hera and Aphrodite is which glammed the fuck outfits they're going to be wearing, and Zeus needs to be depicted with all the pomp and grandiose we'd expect after hearing him proclaim his greatness and power in 'Thunder Bringer'; pretty every animatic artist universally agrees that Ares and Athena have to fight and flyte* at the same time and while all of them usually do a good job depicting the basic gist on how said fight usually goes, Ares temporarily having an edge over Athena, Athena emotionally rallying after Ares insults Telemachus, and Athena beating and/or intimidating Ares and Aphrodite into releasing him.**

But there is one animatic that does the Lovers section of God Games the best in fact it's the only part they've done and while I desperately hope they do the rest of the song they did the Lovers section so good it...sticks with me in ways that never leave my brain cavity and that's @sixofclovers's version of that part of a scene which...oh geez were do I start?

First off, one thing to notice is that while the character designs are simple but no less striking, it gives a chance to do things different from how animatics go, for example it opens with Athena having a lyre string and a hammer and giving it to her owl which is explained in the description stating that Athena in this version has to collect tokens from all the participants in Zeus's game, which in this case is Apollo's lyre string, Hephaestus's forge hammer, Aphrodite's pearl ear ring, (most likely) a peacock feather from Hera, and the golden ichor from Ares, which is already an interesting idea on it's own but that last one is pretty interesting in ways I'll get to later.

Then it cuts to Aphrodite and, unusually, she doesn't look seductive, flirty, or playful, she looks pissed at Athena and in tears while surrounded by a purple aura that is rapidly growing and when it comes in contact with Athena it compels her to cry and share her grief. Which also as a bonus forces Athena to be put on her back foot especially since as she weakly defends Odysseus with 'he was busy fighting' she has to wipe away her tears as Aphrodite sings 'more like busy spiting, the cyclops' she takes off her ear piercing and holds it to her eye in a striking visual way that references said Cyclops and begins to crush it in away that lets Athena know she finds her argument uncompelling until Athena in tears has to beg for Aphrodite to 'please reconsider this' while shapeshifting out of her armor symbolically making herself vulnerable before Aphrodite which causes her to loosen her grip on her pearl ear ring until...

'Really Athena? These old tricks?'

BAM

'Ares!'

And then Ares charges in and back hands her to the floor while Athena desperately barely gets time to magically summon her armor and shield to shield herself as Ares steps on her while Athena, and by proxy we the audience, get a good look at Ares and we see that he's crying along with Aphrodite and Athena which means that not only is Ares unaffected by Aphrodite's forced empathy making him cry, he shares it and is empowered by it. But as Ares gets to singing he kicks Athena away to give her a chance to get on her feet so Athena can prepare to get her grisly token Ares's of approval.

Another thing to note is that while the other 4 gods have personal objects they can give away as tokens, Ares's token is his ichor. Ares explicitly wants to clash spears with Athena and the only way he'll agree to release Odysseus is if she can draw ichor, not beat, just get a single cut of his blood which in turn paints a version of Ares that is confident in his ability to fight Athena under Aphrodite's forced empathy wave.

Said confidence is further backed up as while Athena is still on the back foot despite having her shield and spear already drawn, Ares doesn't even have his spear drawn yet and Athena is still on her back foot, and when Ares does draw his spear he draws it so fast it extinguishes 6 torches behind him which symbolizes the 6 men Odysseus sacrifices to Scylla as he calls out Odysseus unwillingness to even try to fight Scylla (didn't even try to kill her.)

And as Ares continues fighting Athena while he laments his cowardness, he beats her pretty evenly before throwing her to the ground while calling Telemachus pathetic and weak. Which in turn gives Athena a chance to channel the rage she feels at Ares for insulting her friend and to emotionally rally past Aphrodite's empathy wave but what is usual is that even when Athena is using her owl as a distraction to get Ares to turn his back for a surprise attack, she still can't get a clean cut on his neck...so instead she points to Aphrodite as she tells him 'And tell your lover that a broken heart can mend' and charges at her to force Ares to intercept Athena and catch the spear head.

And despite having the pointy end of a spear firmly in his hand it's still not enough to get him to draw blood and while Ares could probably kick Athena away and continue fighting, Aphrodite, who has been watching them fight, smiles in approval of Athena's willingness to protect her friends and Ares's protective nature (another thing that rarely gets shown) and hugs Ares from behind as if to tell him 'it's okay baby, you can let him go' and Ares grips the spear tighter and willingly draws his ichor thanks to Athena's urging to give Odysseus a chance to prove he isn't a coward and Aphrodite's approval of his release. Which is further demonstrated when Ares looks at Aphrodite who gives a smile not and they both say 'ugh...release them' as Ares gives Athena's owl Aphrodite's pearl earring covered in his blood so Athena can move on.

It's an amazing animatic that lets all 3 characters be more than how they're usually depicted in these animatic, Aphrodite doesn't get to be the sultry seductress, she gets to be aggrieved at Odysseus for letting his mom die, Athena gets a chance to show her ability to experience empathy and how dirty she can be in a fight, and Ares...gets to unironically (at least with Aphrodite helping him) be the martially superior God of War in a straight up fight and show emotions beyond rage and demonstrate his protective nature, and as an added bonus it's one of the few animatics where Athena does beat or intimidate Ares and Aphrodite into surrendering, they both give up of their own will which is...wow!

I hope the guys at Epic do that scene in a way that's something similar because...I can't get over how breathtaking it is and I once again shout out at sixcloveranimations for doing a fantastic job and doing it debatably the best.

*scold or in this case quarrel

**Special shout out to Neal the Illustrator, @anniflamma, and @gigizetz for having some of the best full animatics for God Games.

[glowettee]

Hey Mindy!!! I love your blog. I was wondering whether you have any tips for giving good presentations?? I’m really shy and I have a mock trial soon. I’m a witness hahaha I’m so nervous ! 😬

hey lovely!! 🤍

omg first of all, thank you so much for the sweet message!! i'm so happy you enjoy my blog. mock trial witnesses can be super intimidating (i've been there too!!) but i promise you're going to absolutely shine once you get some confidence tricks in your pocket.

✧ presentation power moves for the shy girlies ✧

1. preparation is your secret weapon

   - memorize your witness statement until it feels like second nature

   - practice in front of a mirror so you can see your facial expressions

   - record yourself on your phone and listen back (yes it's cringey but sooo helpful)

   - create a little character profile for your witness ~ their motivations, personality, quirks

   - anticipate cross-examination questions that might trip you up

2. body language that commands attention

   - sit up straight but not stiff

   - keep your hands visible + still (fidgeting screams nervous)

   - make strategic eye contact with the jury when making important points

   - slightly lean forward when answering questions to show engagement

   - practice a calm, neutral face for when opposing counsel tries to rattle you

3. voice control techniques

   - speak slightly slower than your normal pace (nerves make us rush)

   - end statements with downward inflection to sound confident

   - pause before answering difficult questions (it looks thoughtful, not unsure)

   - vary your tone to emphasize key points (monotone = boring witness)

   - practice projecting from your diaphragm, not your throat

4. handling nervousness like a pro

   - arrive early to familiarize yourself with the room

   - do 4-7-8 breathing before you go in (inhale 4 counts, hold 7, exhale 8)

   - wear something that makes you feel powerful but still appropriate

   - create a pre-testimony ritual (mine is applying lip gloss + whispering "you got this")

   - visualize success the night before (literally picture yourself being amazing)

5. witness-specific strategies

   - stay in character even during objections

   - if you don't know an answer, it's okay to say "i don't recall" (better than making things up!)

   - listen to the FULL question before answering

   - if opposing counsel tries to put words in your mouth, politely correct them

   - remember: you're not only answering questions, you're telling a story

6. handling cross-examination gracefully

   - take a sip of water if you need time to think

   - don't argue with opposing counsel (it makes you look defensive)

   - if they cut you off, pause and say "may i finish my answer?"

   - maintain your composure even if they're trying to provoke you

   - remember that "yes" and "no" can be complete answers

7. little psychological tricks

   - wear something with a subtle confidence trigger

   - have a "power phrase" to repeat silently when nervous

   - visualize the jury as friends who are genuinely interested in what you have to say

   - practice with someone who intimidates you a little (builds resilience)

   - remember that literally everyone else is nervous too, they're just hiding it

8. day-of preparation

   - avoid caffeine if it makes you jittery

   - eat something light but sustaining

   - arrive with plenty of time to center yourself

   - bring a tiny comfort object that fits in your pocket

the jury will connect with authenticity over perfection every time!! your nervousness just means you care, and that passion will actually make you more compelling once you channel it properly.

you're going to absolutely crush this!! please let me know how it goes, i'm literally invested in your success now. sorry if this reply was a bit late.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

p.s. if you're super nervous the night before, try writing out your answers to potential questions by hand. something about the physical act of writing helps cement things in your memory better than just reading or typing!

[kelliealtogether]

I'm being an adult and not tagging this with anything other than #gn arc. I know people have filtered for that to avoid the pictures I've posted, but if you want to avoid anything related to The Raven Boys graphic novel, don't look at what I'm putting under the cut because it is going to be an unpopular opinion.

Expounding on a comment I left on another post:

I think there are lines that have become "iconic" in fandom, and while I understand people being upset they've been cut from the graphic novel, I think people are forgetting it's an adaptation. It can't be one-for-one exactly like the book, and I don't think people expect it to be. If it was, it'd be a million pages long (not that anyone would complain). Looking at my bookshelf, the typical YA graphic novel is around 250-300 pages long. The TRB graphic novel is 256. For comparison, the paperback edition of TRB is 408. That's a hell of a lot to adapt, and they had to choose what to include and what to exclude based on what would support the storyline and what would support the visuals.

While I too love the "I'm always straight" line and comeback, it's a character/relationship development line. It isn't plot-relevant (even if people want it to be). It doesn't push events in TRB forward. It's Ronan being a flippant asshole and Adam being a bitch in return. There is no information that furthers the characters on their journey in *The Raven Boys*.

Because this is an adaptation of The Raven Boys.

We still have three other books to go, and I think people are also forgetting that we all have the hindsight of reading the whole series and are now looking back with that knowledge we have. In the context of just The Raven Boys, this is a throwaway line. It doesn't carry real weight. Yeah, it's foreshadowing, but the real on-the-page queerness of the series doesn't truly kick off until The Dream Thieves. Imagine this is 2012 and The Raven Boys just came out. Does this line mean the same then as it does to us now?

If they dismiss/sanitize Ronan's sexuality in the adaptation of The Dream Thieves and the rest of the book adapations, I think there's way more of a reason to be upset. But for the adaptation of the first novel in a four-book series where they had to be smart about what they chose to include and exclude, I don't have too big a problem with leaving this line out. They couldn't keep every conversation. Every "iconic" line. The Raven Cycle has decent fandom, but we've hooked onto one-liners (that are hilarious and important to us, to ME) and we have to be honest with ourselves that some of them aren't relevant to the series as a whole/plot advancement and mean a lot more to us than someone who is potentially picking up the graphic novel as their first foray into the world of The Raven Cycle.