#I don't like her music but she's SO pretty

[madamechrissy]

When the JJK men bust quick

PWP- MDNI- JJK men x F!reader- featuring Choso, Gojo, and Nanami ( Sukuna, Toji and Geto didn't even get like 10 votes all together so they don't bust quick IG lmaoo)! CW: Explicit content, dryhumping with Cho, dirty talk/oral (f recieving) w/Gojo, drunk sex and oral (both recieving) w/Nanami- 2k WC

A/N- Based off the poll I made, there was NO competition, Cho busts QUICK, Satoru was runner up, the others? not even close aside from Nanami (still rly far back) <3

Choso Kamo busts while makin out

'Y'feel s'good... s-so pretty...' Choso's whimpering as you're straddling him, hidden upstairs at some party, tasting the sweet drink off his lips as his tongue ring clicks your teeth. Choso's looking at you with big glittery eyes, his lips all glossy from your kisses.

'Cho, I want more baby, please' you're crying out when he pulls you further down, and you feel his thick length against you, making you both gasp. Choso pulls your top up, revealing your pretty titties, which make him even harder, precum on his tip oozing out against his boxers, making them sticky.

'You're so perfect, c-can I?' You nod nervously, you're both virgins and Choso is very inexperienced, but he sucks your nipples in his hot mouth like a pro, as his big hands press into your hips, making you soaking wet against his pants as you grind. 'oh my god'

'S'this okay, Cho?' you whisper nervously, he nods eagerly, sucking your other titty, hand slipping up your skirt, he whines when he sees your wet spot in your panties.

'She's so wet, can I touch her?' he looks up under dark lashes, you nod and then have to hold back a moan when he presses his thumb against your clit over your panties, running in gentle circles, all while you're soaking his clothed cock. 'do you like this?'

'More, please Cho' Choso will give you anything you want, looking so pretty for him, your brows together, mouth parted in an o when he slips his finger under your panties, thumb finding your engorged clit and pressing as he looks with wonder at you, so slick and drooly.

You're grinding more on him, rolling your hips now, his breath catches, he's too hard, he feels your heat, you're soaking his finger, and he can't take much more, but your head is thrown back he wants to make you feel good. 'what do you want, pretty? tell me'

'Just lemme... just... m'close, please...' you're not making any sense now, cunt making squishing noises as the bass of the music reverberates in the room. You're too pretty, you're too wet, you're too...

'Gonna... gonna...' Choso feels it then, his cock throbbing, as he feels it starting, you're too pretty, you feel too good, he's spurting cum then, rolling your clit faster and faster and feeling you fall apart over him as he cums so hard tears fill his violet eyes. 'oh m-my god... you're so...'

'Cho!' you're trembling now, looking down and feeling your cheeks heat up 'I got that wet, I'm s-so sorry...'

'Some of that's me...' he admits shyly, and you smile just a bit as you both catch your breath, and you take in his sticky mess he's made, you're shaky then as you pull off him, he desperately clings to your waist 'No, don't go...'

'Should I clean you, Cho?' you ask softly, he flushes when you start unzipping him, revealing his thick, veiny cock, coated in white trickles of cum.

'but I should...'

'you can after' you are giggling now, feeling the high, nodding when you get down on your knees, when your tongue laps on his tip he jerks, hands going in your hair, and when you suck him in your hot mouth his whimper just makes your cunt throb again. 'are you sure you should go that deep!? are you... ah!'

Satoru Gojo cums from rubbing the tip

Satoru Gojo and you have been making out for twenty minutes almost, he's finally so hard he can't stand it, laying your back down on the bed, his dilated blue eyes devouring you when he shoves up your top, hungrily drinking in your breasts. 'T-Toru...'

'Want something, sweets?' he teases, you nod desperately, a soaking wet fucking mess from grinding on him, Satoru slides down your panties then, pressing a kiss on the hood of your pussy, your hips jerk as he parts your lips, watching arousal pool out of your little hole. 'you're this wet already? so desperate?'

'Toru... please... want you...' you whine out, Satoru Gojo grins now, leaning up and bracing himself on one arm, slipping two insane long fingers deep in your gummy walls, curling them and hitting your spot. you're blinded, gasping and arching you back, thighs trembling, hearing your squelching wetness as he fucks you with them.

'god, just look at you, you're so slutty, baby girl. Hear her?' you barely manage a word as he starts going faster, thumb circling your clit as blue eyes watch under snowy lashes, a wide grin on his face. 'gonna cum, huh? ya this easy?'

'Toru, shut up my g-god.... there, please!' you're so close you can't take it, Satoru knows your body like he's been fucking you forever, you both couldn't stand each other but this was so good, you didn't care how much of an ass he could be.

'there, baby?' he's slid another long finger in your cunt now, you're sobbing at it, how fucking good it is to be so filled by him, cumming all over his fingers, then. 'that's it, look at you, so fuckin' easy' you can't even mention shutting him up, not when he's got you a twitching, drooling mess.

Satoru slips his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth and groaning. 'ya taste so fuckin good, mmm...'

'please, please fuck me' you whine, Satoru wants to lick your pretty cunt, but first he has to feel you, especially when you're pleading for him, your eyes glimmering with tears. 'So desperate? you cryin' for this?'

'Satoru please shut up and fuck me' you're trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, Satoru finally leans up, and you see his lengthy cock, curved up just so, pretty pink tip oozing pre cum now, you stroke him with your little hand that barely covers him. 'f-fuck... you're s'big'

He whimpers then, when his tip presses between your soppy folds, he had no clue you'd feel this good, his pretty blue eyes flutter shut then, he's pressing his tip just against your heat, and then he can't stop it, he's spurting cum all over you, he doesn't even make it in, he's just rubbing it, whining now 'oh my god, you feel s'good, f-fuck...'

You're breathless then, looking down and still trembling as you watch him cum, as you feel his hot white ropes on your pussy lips, wishing they were in you. He blinks rapidly then, cursing and shaking his head. 's'okay, Toru...'

'no, no, let's... try again?' you nod with a little smile, he's kissing down your breasts, down your tummy then, and you gasp.

'Toru, what are you-'

'gonna clean up this mess, baby, then try again' Satoru starts licking your pussy clean, devouring all his cum off you, your hands enwrap in his silky white locks as he fucks you with his tongue, cock already hard again, hoping this time he gets in.

Nanami Kento a couple whiskey strokes deep

Nanami Kento is your fiance, and fuck does he love to please you, he's currently got his face buried against your pussy as you're against the door, you're both tipsy from being out tonight, you're giggling breathlessly as his soft honey eyes look at you, all dilated, while he swipes a tongue up your slit.

'K-kento... feels s'good...' you whine out desperately, and he moans against you, slurring his words, drunk off your pussy more than any whiskey.

'darling, cum on m'face, please lemme drink it' he moans, and you nod eagerly, your leg wrapped over his broad shoulder, over the starch dress shirt, he shoves your skirt up your hips then, fucking you with his tongue, velvety walls pulsing around the wet muscle. Your hands grip his sandy blond locks, head smacking the door then as you start climaxing so hard you can barely stand.

Nanami wraps a strong arm around your hips, holding you up as he moans and drinks you, until you're a whimpering mess for him 'Ken, please!' he groans now, licking you off his lower lip, you eagerly unbuckle his belt, his thick girthy cock so heavy as you release him, you drop to your knees now, sucking him so deep 'darling, ah!'

you're too good at it, your mouth is so hot and wet, you're looking up at him with those pretty eyes 'can't wait to m-marry you... you're so pretty... f-fuck...' you're sucking him deeper, he pulls your hair then, yanking you up, his moments of dominance fucking end you, you're a mess when he slams his lips on yours, and yu both make out so sloppy, tasting each other's arousal.

'need to be in you, now darling, can't wait' he huffs, lifting you like you're nothing now, your legs wrap his thick waist, nodding eagerly now.

'please, fuck me, wanna f-feel you' your whine ends him, he's shoved his thick pulsing cock in your eager hole then, you drip down him, crying out at how good he feels, echoing in your quiet little apartment. Nanami groans when he feels you, already fluttering your slick walls around him, and he pauses then, dizzy and buzzed off you and the drinks.

He can't move, he'll cum if he does, and he never, ever finishes quick like that. He tries to take a breath, kissing down your throat, your chest, and you're wiggling your goddamn hips now, whimpering for him. 'please, fuck me- K-ken...' you're aching for him, pussy drooling so much you're dripping down the floor.

Nanami's sucking in a breath, burying his face against your neck, hands firm on your ass holding you up with ease, he moves then, fucking into you, you're too tight, it feels so fucking good he's already close, his cock is twitching as you grip him like a vise, making him stop again. 'I'm close, please! Need you...' you're rolling your hips, and he sinks in fully, stuffing you full of his cock now, moaning your name in your ear.

'you feel too good, darling... I'm sorry... I...' Nanami busts then, deep inside your little hole, you're crying at it, at the sensation of feeling so full of him, and so much cum. Nanami's moaning into your lips, pumping his cum deeper, grinding inside of you 'shit I'm so sorry, fuck...'

'No, it's okay, mmm it's good' you're giggling now, and see the blush run across your handsome fiance's cheeks, cupping his face, thumb brushing over a high cheek bone. 'I still loved it'

'unnaceptable' he grumbles, easing you down then, you're both making out and you're giggling, until he turns you and unzips your dress, pressing kisses across your back, your giggles turn to moans when you realize his cock is already hard again.

'Ken, already?" you whisper, looking back at him as he cups you between your thighs, fingering the cum pouring out, he nods with a lazy little smile, and you yelp when he picks you up, bringing you to your bed now, humming as he contemplates taking off your stockings, fingering them now.

'I'll blame these, they're too sexy' you feel your cheeks heat, as he bends over you, lining an already thick cock against you again.

'I'll wear them all the time then'

I think Geto had ONE vote for busting quick, and Toji and Sukuna maybe had two lol, but lmk the next jjk men x reader you all want!

Perma tagss: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric gojo tags: @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @chiyokoemilia

[rubyvhs]

who’d believe? | dean winchester

summary. dean finds you six years after you ‘died’. tags. wc 2.3k, car sex (just fingering), angst, mentions soulless sam. lailas notes. this is for my ‘stuck on you’ by meiko square for @jacklesversebingo + actually got inspired by @little-diable ‘s not a ghost fic. so so beautiful and i think everyone should go read it! ++ for my 500 celebration, so happy i got to it so quickly && the title is the translation of the song title. and most importantly, beta’d by the incredible @copperboom82 who made it much more readable and enjoyable.

You were never really a bar type of person, mostly because of the loud noise and smell, other than that, you liked a good party. But you decided you needed to celebrate getting your dream job, or, okay, whatever, your friend is forcing you to. 

"I'm not taking no for an answer," she said, handed you your outfit and went outside to get the car started, not even giving you time to reject the idea. Though the second you stepped foot in the lively place, you were glad you came.

The drinks and music were exactly what you needed; a nice night out with no responsibilities. And especially no men (at least none like those you work with, you're honestly over them). 

An hour into dancing with your friend, two more strangers join you. When the last song ends and another less 'pop' and more 'rock' one starts, they suggest going out to smoke for a second. Despite not once in your life trying it, you agree. 

You should really work on saying no.

Thankfully you're sensible enough to refuse when they try to hand you one, just standing next to them, linking your arm with your friend's. "Where do you work?" You ask one of the girls. She has shorter red hair that almost reaches her shoulders, black eyeliner and a septum piercing. In other words? Fucking sexy.

"Police." Your eyes widen and you stand up straighter. "Oh, stop it! You're fine."

You laugh but shake your head, "No, no, that's not what I meant, you're just so— cute, I guess. Wouldn't have taken you for the assertive cop type."

"Yeah, well," she shrugs, dismissing the thought. It's obvious she gets it a lot. "Saw the hottest guys today, by the way—"

Her friend interrupts, beautiful brown pin-straight hair, pale skin, a gorgeous smile; "God, he was pretty. And his brother too…”

"Oh yeah. Agent something and Agent whatever, I don't remember, I was too busy looking through the shorter one’s shirt." You all laugh, a sway in your demeanor. You're pretty sure it's the alcohol that's got them saying all this but it's funny either way. 

"Yeah, he was amazing. Like, those green eyes, honestly—" Your smile drops fast. Green eyes had always been somewhat of a trigger for you ever since Dean, especially that specific beautiful shade. Then again honestly everything's been a trigger: hunting, black cars, vintage cars, food, pie— you could go on.

"Oh and the way he walks? The little outward bounce of his leg, so cute!"

You shift, a little uncomfortable. How many guys do you know with bow legs, green eyes and are cops? They're probably not allowed to tell you he's FBI. 

The red-haired girl touches your arm making you jump. "Shit, you okay, honey? You seemed out of it."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, just reminded me of someone. Old…" Dean. 

There he is. Alive and in the flesh. You don't become a hunter and not hear about the Winchesters, you, on the other hand, fly under the radar. Especially since you try to stay away from any and all hunters.

But you heard nothing of how gorgeous he has grown up.

The girls catch your drift mid-sentence and look back to see what you're staring at. A dumb-struck Dean. "Oh! Agent…" Her friend elbows her stomach and Dean doesn’t peel his eyes off of you to speak.

"Right, yes. Hi, Officer." 

She blushes under the dim light but Dean apologizes before breezing past them and holding your arm roughly to drag you away behind the bar. Your friend makes sure to motion to you if you need help before you let her know she should just get back inside. It’s pretty damn obvious you know the guy.

"Are you fucking serious?"

You let out a shy smile, "Dean, hey, how are you?"

"'How are you?'" He mocks, letting go of your arm aggressively, "'how are you?'"

"Is that not what they say anymore?"

"Are you serious?" He seems to enjoy repeating sentences much more than when you last saw him. "I looked for you, I mourned you." You mourned him too, in a way. 

You and Dean were acquaintances, occasionally hunting together until you stayed at Bobby's place for a week and he came to visit coincidentally. You both started talking more that night, exchanged phone numbers and became somewhat friends. 

Sam left for Stanford and you guys stayed together more frequently. Sam came back and you 'died'. Not on purpose, obviously, but Dean thought you died. You did, for a second, before you were brought back for some twisted, fucked up reason. Not that you knew it but if you did you're sure it would be fucked up.

By the time you woke up Sam and Dean had been long gone and your body had been buried. Didn’t burn your bones like he should’ve, no. He buried you. You're not sure which is worse.

"Look, I don't know what happened—"

"What does that even mean? You magically come back to life; you fucking call me! Ever thought of that?" A thousand times. 

But Sam had finally decided to come back and hunt with Dean, Dean buried you, and so, you'd reasoned he was fine. You knew that if you were Sam, your body would've been preserved in the Impala for months before he'd ever allow himself to do that, to put you six feet under. The fact that he didn’t hold on to you had to mean he was okay.

But neither of you deserve more guilt. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"That's really rich. Real rich comin' from you. Grieved you for goddamn years. Six." Huh, that's a lot longer than you’d have thought. You were sure it would be six minutes. You knew he cared about you, but Deans also a 'what's done is done' kind of man.

"I'm—"

"If you apologize, I'll kill you. Again." You're about to crack a joke but his glare sets you off. Oookay, tough crowd, whatever. 

"I wanted to call, I swear I did," how do you explain to the king of 'I don't deserve good' that you don't deserve him. He'll think it's a cruel joke. "I didn't know if you'd want me to reach out, I thought you were moving on with Sammy, okay? Going on with finding John. Me calling wouldn't have made a difference."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "I went to hell." You bite your bottom lip between your teeth. He sighs, a mix of emotions on his face. "You knew?" Your nod makes him turn around in anger (disappointment? hurt?), kicking the cardboard box as far as it'll go, another plastic one breaks and you flinch at that one. 

In your defense, everyone knows.

"I couldn't do that to you and Sam, you moved on, Dean, I heard about you and Lisa and Ben—"

"Where the hell did you hear that?" Hunters talk. And he knows it. He turns around in an angry haze. "I didn't fuckin' move on, alright? I did what Sam wanted me to do when I didn't have you. Because my goddamn brother was in a cage with Lucifer, and now he's walking around without a soul!" He raises his voice until it gives out and so does his breath. You can't help the way your heart clenches, not even because of the words, but the tired look behind Dean's eyes. 

Subconsciously, you move forward until you can hug him, and like he always used to: Dean throws himself into it, his head in your neck as he breathes you in. "I missed you." He whispers. 

You don't believe how easily he's adjusted to this. If you were in his place you wouldn't hesitate to kill him, thinking he's a demon or a shifter.

He chuckles, his whole body rubbing against you. "Haven't hugged anyone like this in— ever. Was waiting for you." 

He's never been safe, always made everyone else feel protected, you could only hope you built a safe place within yourself for him. You're at least close.

"I missed you too, De. Every single day, I swear."

You don't know what about the sentence sparks anything in him, but it does. He pulls away to smirk and push you against the hard wall. You gasp, doing nothing but turning him on more and giving him an entrance to your mouth. 

He kisses you like he's lost his mind. He has.

His touch is electric as he pulls you closer, the heat of his body searing your skin, the raw intensity of desire saying more than words ever could. The kiss evolves, turning feral, almost carnal. He holds you, firm but tender, and rediscovers your mouth like a starving man. He is, he hasn't tasted you in… ever. 

This is your first kiss with Dean, but the explosive chemistry between you makes the blood scream in your ears. It was never a secret that you and Dean were more than just hunters to each other, and it seems you dying was his last straw. 

"We— Dean, can't here—" 

He agrees. Or he doesn't. He's still kissing you and you're not sure if either of you are breathing. 

Eventually he lets go. "Yeah," he whispers against your lips, moving for another kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, leaving a peck and panting out, "right." 

"'M sorry." God, why are you apologizing? Why are your bodies so far away?

He shakes his head, moves away (even if it looks like he's struggling to do so), "it's fine, what— you were here with friends? Are you staying?"

"Are you asking me to not stay?" 

He smiles, leans down for another kiss and you decide to say goodbye to your friends now or else you're never getting the chance. 

"De, someone can see—"

"Don't overthink it." He says, burying his head between your breasts, kissing, biting, licking and loving all the noises you're making. He groans into your skin, nipping at a particularly sensitive spot that has you moaning out loud. "God, sweetheart, love that sound."

He moves his hands to your waist, thrusts his hips once, checking your reaction. A little tremor passes through you. Eyes hood over. 

"Can't believe you're here, and all for me." 

"Yes," you breathe, resting your forehead against Dean's, overwhelmed by his words and how close his hand is to your inner thigh. "Please."

"If I slide my hand up your skirt, will I find you dripping wet for me?" Another shudder shakes you gently. 

"Yes."

When he grips your knee and your neck, closing your lips with a kiss while his other hand travels higher, you start feeling your pulse hammering in your ears. The windows start misting over, giving you privacy— not that you particularly believe Dean cares. 

Dean moves his seat back, then pushes you until your shoulder blades hit the steering wheel so you're more comfortable, your legs bent on either side of him, hands braced against the door and his chest. 

"Dreamed about this," He says, his voice low and husky. The way his eyes are raking over your body, you're not even sure you're supposed to hear him. "Thought about this everyday for six years, sweetheart. Now I get to have you." 

He glides one finger between your lips, sliding up and down slowly. “Such a pretty pussy,” he groans, eyes focused between your legs and you fall over, your head on his chest, before he pushes you back against the steering wheel, "nu-uh, wanna see it. Wanna see how wet you are for me, baby."

You have so much to say— a lot of apologies and 'I miss you's’ and so many more beautiful words and kisses and you want to tell Dean that you care about him as much as he does you and why you left—

He dips two fingers inside you. Curls them immediately, and just like that, he finds your most sensitive spot. 

You half pant, half moan, the words 'Dean, oh my god, please' a jumbled drowned-out mishmash because he starts torturing your clit, his thumb rubbing perfect circles, hard and fast, reducing your bones to liquid. But when you're right there, he eases away, lazily pumping two fingers in and out. 

He smiles, exhaling a content breath as his gaze zeroes between your thighs, ignoring your pleas. "Yeah? you wanna come, darlin’?" the pet name and the question both bring out a loud moan you didn’t know you were holding, your hips involuntarily moving against his fingers until he stops you. you’re about to whine again but he increases the pace, crooking his fingers inside you while his thumb rubs your clit, and that’s all it takes.

The orgasm rips through you, powerful, relentless, so intense you think you might just black out. You’ve never felt so boneless in someone's arms, until your head falls right into his chest as he works your pussy, the sensation easing off and then coming again like waves crashing against the shore.

Dean doesn't stop. His fingers are rough, his thumb still being put to good use, and the release lasts so long. So fucking long you think you have an out-of-body experience. 

It takes a minute until you're able to breathe anything but his cologne. When you can, you sit up slightly and move into the seat next to him, thankful for the lack of a console to separate you since you don't get very far, just lay your head on his chest. 

He kisses your head. You can even feel his smile against the kiss until you notice the bulge of his pants and frown. You quickly get up and Dean's entire face falls. "I'm sorry, I didn't think—" 

Dean grabs your wrist before it makes it halfway to his dick. "This isn't an exchange, sweetheart." Your entire body is like jelly, you can't move and you're pretty sure if you try sucking Dean off, you’ll pass out. But it feels… rude. "You're spent. I'll get you home so you can take a hot shower, and we'll pick this up again when you're ready. How about that?" 

You can't fucking believe your luck. Dean wants an 'again'. 

[bookishdreamer28]

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓'𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 ❣

Happy new Year everyone! May this new year bring new goals, new achievements, health, happiness and a lot if inspiration to your life!!

And here's my poly!marauders x reader fic! I had no idea what to write or what was going to be the plot in this one, but since it's new year, I thought of writing something sweet and a bit funny to match the vibe! Hope you'll like it, cause I'll post more fics with these boys ^3^

"Oh, she fell asleep?!" Sirius approached your sleeping form on the comfy couch of your dorm room, and kneeled down next to Remus, which he softly brushed your soft hair through his long fingers.

"Yeah..." Remus replied in a dazed look, as he continued keeping his eyes on you. You didn't even had to do anything and he was already hypnotized by you.

"But it's already 23:30! I was waiting for my new year's kiss!" Sirius all pouty, crossed his arms over his strong chest and James laighed lightly at how childish Sirius could be at times. These boys were just obsessed with you. You are their precious little thing and they can't ever get a minute without wanting your love and affection. Just like you do too with them.

"Sshh! Don't you dare wake her up guys or else I'll punch your guts." He said sternly at them and the instantly turned to you again when he heard a soft whimper. When he made sure that you were still asleep, he got up slowly from his crouched position next to your sleeping form, and went to bring your favorite fuzzy blanket to cover your body.

"She's really something else huh?" James said adoringly as he watched you.

"Our precious little thing." Sirius kissed your forehead and held your hand in his, caressing it gently. Remus came back again and covered you with the blanket.

"Can't believe it's been already a year since we met her. It feels like i was just...supposed to happen, you know? We were meant to be together." Sirius continued and Remus smile softly at his boyfriend's words, placing a kiss on the raven haired boy's lips.

James joined them and all three were there with you, like a strong shield to protect you even in your sleep. Sirius placed a comforting arm around Remus shoulder.

Suddenly your body moved making the boys stop talking.

"Look what you've done! You've woken her up!" He furiously told them and he then changed his angry look into a softer one when his eyes fell on you again.

"But we didn't-"

"Sh."

"Oh don't shush me-"

A groan left from your lips.

"Sweetheart? Are you ok?" His voice low and soft, trying not to scare you in your sleepy state with loud noises. When you didn't replied, Remus got nervous. He knew he was overreacting again, but the nonstop scenarios in his head could calm his nerves.

He shook slightly your body, not caring about ruining your sleep now, since his only concern was to see your beautiful eyes open.

"Remus, just a minute ago you were about to chop our heads off for waking her up! Don't tell me that you start maling scenarios that something is wrong because as you can clearly see she's fine! She probably got a bit tired-" He tried to push his hand away from your shoulder but then a sudden movement caught him off guard as he almost lost his balance.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Your head knocked on Sirius forehead and you both groaned at the impact.

"My goodness you're ok?!" James approached you, with a worried look on his face. You looked up at Sirius touching his forehead and instantly climbed on his lap. His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist and held you.

"I'm so sorry Sirius. I thought-"

"I'm ok pretty baby don't worry about me. Are you ok though?" His fingers traced on your forehead to see if there was a pump forming.

"I'm fine." You chuckled and the sound was like a music to his ears. Not being able to resist, he cradled your face and kissed you like you were the oxygen he so desperately needed.

"Did you have wine before us or something?" James teased and you rolled your eyes at him, which made him pinch your cheek in return softly.

"No! I just felt a bit tired." You yawned and Sirius let you lay your head on his chest, as he placed one hand on the side of your face to keep you close to him.

"Remus? What is it?" James voice broke you from daydreaming with Sirius and turned to look at him. Hsi hand was on his chest and you instantly got up from Sirius lap and went to his side.

"Remi what-"

"Can you please stop scaring me like this?!"

"But i didn't-"

"You'll sleep on my bed tonight."

"Hey she'll sleep on mine tonight!" Sirius angrily said but James pushed him to the side.

"Nope it's me. She's sleeping on mine."

"What I say goes. She'll sleep on mine and that's final." Remus placed you on his legs and hugged your waist tightly. You laughed at how ridiculous he sounded but he pinched the soft skin of your thighs slightly making you flinch and glare at him playfully.

"Stupid dorm rooms having so many beds." Sirius murmured but instead of arguing more, he laid his head on your thighs, placing a kiss on them.

"Remi there's no need to be this dram-"

"Don't make me repeat myself baby." He breathed against your neck, making you squirm in your seat, pulsating with need for more affection.

James sat next you, ans held your hand in his giving it a small lingering kiss.

"I think it's my turn to kiss you now." He mumbled against your lips and you sighed at how perfect felt against yours. Too busy kissing and hugging your boys, you didn't notice how it was already midnight. But that was until the noise of the fireworks outside the room's window could be heard, making you all stood up to take a better look at the magnificent sigh of colorful lights filling the sky.

"Happy New Year my loves!" You happily said as you all shared more hugs and kisses. But in the moment of exchanging wishes and love words, Sirius grabbed your hand and pulled along his side to his bed.

"Sirius what-" the other two boys had now a frown on their faces, and you tried to hold back a laugh.

"Nah ah. She's all mine now." He said and laid you ont top of him making you yelp, as Remus and James rushed in to "save" you. It was all perfect.

[lunaandco]

hide and seek

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: roxy hides a football star from some fans that were overwhelming him.

warnings: panic attack

taglist: @htpssgavi; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

Roxy loved her job. She loved music, she loved vinyls and she loved talking to people as passionate as her. The music store was near a crowded street of Barcelona, which meant that they had a decent influx of clients without the small local getting overcrowded.

She had found the job to be able to earn some money during her Erasmus year in Barcelona, before she had to return to London to finish her musicology degree. Roxy knew that her knowledge and language skills were the reason she got the job in such a gentrified city.

It was a slow hour when it happened. A boy came rushing into the store, big eyes wide open and breathing uneven.

"Can you hide me somewhere?" He asked with a thick accent. It took Roxy a few seconds to decipher what he was saying, the same time it took her to notice that his face was not only familiar, she had a name to link to it.

And that was enough clue as to what was going on.

"There's space beneath the counter," she blurted, taking a step back and pointing to the ground.

The boy did not hesitate, rushing to kneel and then sit in the place she had pointed out. And it was just in time, because a group of men around 25 to 30 years burst in next, and Roxy had a feeling they were not searching for any specific vinyl.

"Hi, how can I—" she began but they cut her off.

"Have you seen Gavi?"

"Excuse me?" She felt the boy beneath the counter, Gavi, hold on to her ankle.

"Gavi, the footballer? From Barcelona?" Insisted one of them. She did not like the tone one of the men was using with her.

"Yes, yes. But. why are you asking about him?"

"We're pretty sure we saw him come in here." The grip on her ankle tightened. Roxy dropped her hand beneath the counter to tangle her fingers on his hair in what she hoped would be a reassuring manner. Gavi pressed his forehead against her thigh.

"You're the first to show up in a while, I'm sorry. We've been empty for like, an hour," she tried to remain polite and not look down to see how Gavi was doing. That could give them away.

"Are you sure he's not here?" They insisted. "He could be hiding."

One of the guys was checking through the shelves, in case Gavi was over there. Roxy licked her lips annoyed, and grabbed the box of La Liga surprise cards.

"We don't sell footballers. We sell vinyls. If you want Gavi, buy one of these. Maybe you'll get his card." She slammed the box on the counter, eyes blazing.

"Damn, there is no need to be rude."

"You started it."

"Alright, we're sorry, whatever."

"Let's go, lads, maybe he's still in the street."

The men finally left. Roxy waited for a few minutes more, checking that they wouldn't come back.

"They're gone," she muttered, dropping to her knees in front of Gavi. He looked pale and his breathing was shallow. His hands were clammy and his skin had a thin layer of sweat. "Are you okay?"

"Thank you," he mustered. "Thank you."

"It's okay. They seemed quite abrasive. They scared me too." It wasn't hard to figure out what happened, but Gavi seemed shaken still. Roxy recognised the symptoms of a panic attack, from all the times she had witnessed her sister have their own. "Breathe with me, okay?"

Roxy took a deep breath, and watched as Gavi copied her. She left the air go, and so did he. They remained like that for a while, Gavi regaining his breathing and claiming down little by little.

"I'm sorry," he said then. "I usually... I can deal with it pretty well, you know? I'm used to it." Roxy sat next to him, their shoulders touching. "But there were so many of them today... and they were so loud and all of them wanted ot touch me and talk to me at the same time and I..."

Gavi covered his face with his hands.

"I could see. I wanted to kick them out the second they started talking. If they were that rude to me, I don't want to imagine how they were with you," she said, seeing how his shoulders relaxed at the understanding.

"Thank you," he said again. "And I'm sorry for getting you into this mess."

"It's okay," Roxy repeated. "I'd rather have you here than having a panic attack out there without help. I know it can be scary."

She kissed his temple and stood up. offering a hand for him to do the same. Gavi did, and they stood in front of each other for a moment, hands still joined. Roxy wondered what he was seeing then. A girl with her hair in a messy bun, dark skin and thick lips, plain clothes.

She gulped when she noticed how his big brown eyes mapped out her face.

"Thank you," insisted Gavi, squeezing her hand and kissing her temple too, before exiting the counter to make a quick run for his home.

"It's nothing, she told him with a smile.

And if he became a recurring client at the store, that was their business only.

[jarvewrites]

team seven & their ideal dates!

characters : naruto uzumaki, sakura haruno, sasuke uchiha

gender neutral reader

make sure to like, reblog and follow if you enjoyed the post!

naruto uzumaki

— he's such a sweetheart, he would try his best to make sure that his s/o is comfortable and enjoy the date as well

— but he's so spontaneous. if he feels like this is the perfect moment to have a date, then he will have with his s/o.

— unfortunately he doesn't have much experience nor knowledge, so sometimes he can get quite clueless about "traditional" ideas of romance

— he would probably take his s/o out somewhere nice and homely.. like ichiraku! but that choice would be too obvious for anyone, so let's head into another direction

— i actually think he would enjoy picnics a lot! he likes the fact that you can bring your own food, enjoy the scenery and spend this amazing time with his s/o

— he would also bring some board games so that you guys wouldn't get bored. some cards at least.

— after a few good sessions of games i think he would love to cycle or feed the ducks near the lake, cuz that's fun and energizing (the ducks would run for the bread so that's some sport)

— and in the end of the date he would treat you both with ice cream, since it's the best way to relax after a long hot day

— also bowling or some arcades sound fun too. i think naruto is definitely this type of person to get lost in time and spend a little too much money on games like these. he got some competitive soul as well, so if his s/o ikez to join "who plays better" challenge then this is the man for them!

sakura haruno

— she is a romantic soul that overworks herself, but she never forgets about her s/o, so she is definitely the one who plans the dates and makes sure everything goes perfect.

— i can see her baking something for her s/o before the date and imagining how they enjoy the sweets

— she's quite artistic, so going to make some bowls together and decorating them definitely suits sakura. this is also the perfect time to just talk with each other and discuss different matters of the world without worry

— her bowl would be so pretty and aestheticly pleasing as if it came out straight from pinterest.

— after that a cup of tea or coffee at the local café would be perfect!

— sakura is very outgoing, so concerts would definitely take a special place in her heart. she is a big fan of music, so i don't think she would be too picky about choosing an artist, it could be a local band/singer and she would still enjoy the vibe with s/o.

— if her s/o is a musician, she 100% would join their concerts!

— they date would wrap up with a little walk in the park or nature. her and s/o don't even have to talk, sakura would definitely enjoy the comfortable silence of lovers. also, sakura is definitely an advocate for healthy life style, so she would love to do some "x steps" challenge with her s/o!

sasuke uchiha

— reversed kind of fella who at first glance doesn't show affection at all, but if you are someone who knows him well then you can notice all the little things he does for his s/o, that includes dates

— i don't think he is the fan of active dates such as clubs, karaoke, concerts. it doesn't mean he won't enjoy them with his s/o, he definitely would, but he would feel out of place at times

— sasuke is a busy guy, so he would want to make sure to appreciate every single moment with his s/o

— walks in nature, training(if his s/o is a ninja as well), going out to cafes, movie nights. it doesn't matter what he does, the most important thing is that his s/o enjoys it and they spend time together on a date

— as for his ideal date, i actually think he's a pretty simple guy. his ideal date would be him and his s/o in nature, be it camping or just walking in the forest as they spend some time together.

— he would definitely make some food, as a ninja i'm sure he had to learn how to hunt and make sure to never stay hungry in case of enemy alert

— if there was a lake/sea around, his s/o might enjoy swimming in there as he would just chat with them on the shore. bonus points if his s/o splashes him with water

— as it gets cold sasuke would make fire and give his coat as a gentleman he is!

— so in sasuke's eyes, the most ideal date is a private one where no one is here to disturb him and his s/o, so romantic

[ch0llies]

REVIVAL | CHRIS STURNIOLO

A story in which a messy breakup lands you in your best friend’s Boston apartment a year after high school, and you find yourself face-to-face again with Christopher Sturniolo—your first love. As your paths cross again, the bitterness of how you left him still lingers, fueling every hated glance. But with your best friend dating his brother, you know is there’s no escaping Chris—or the tension that refuses to die. Is this revival destined to reignite, or will it crumble under the weight of your unresolved past?

story warning: filthy smut, angst, swearing, underage drinking, underage drug use, abusive behavior, morally skewed choices, toxic relationships, and overall mature themes. if any of this upsets you... don't read!

word count: 7.7k

CHAPTER TWO:

A week passes in a blur of days spent shopping and late nights half-heartedly scrolling through streaming platforms. You and Ava have mostly been lying low, letting the dust settle after the chaotic party where you first ran into Chris again. Still, life trudges on—your breakup wounds scab over bit by bit, and Chris remains a frustrating fixture you occasionally see, thanks to Matt’s involvement with Ava.

Tonight, though, you’re supposed to forget about all that.

Ava bounces into your bedroom, brandishing a bottle of cheap vodka like it’s her prized possession. “Guess who scored a last-minute invite to that frat party?” she singsongs, tapping her foot in excitement. “You and me, babes. I heard it’s super fun—though it might be more about the free booze than anything.”

You glance up from your phone, arching an eyebrow. “Isn’t this the college we were thinking of applying to after our gap year?”

She grins, tossing you a crop top of the school’s logo. “Exactly. Consider it… research.”

Thirty minutes later after you prettied up, you’re in a cramped Uber, weaving through Boston streets toward the campus. The plan is simple: have fun, dance a little, maybe scope out the scene for next year. Even so, you can’t help the tiny flutter in your stomach. A new environment, new faces. It feels like a reset you didn’t realize you needed.

The frat house is exactly what you’d expect: loud music vibrating through the floorboards, red Solo cups strewn over every flat surface, sweaty clusters of students dancing as if finals don’t exist. Ava wastes no time finding the makeshift bar—a battered folding table stacked with punch bowls and half-empty liquor bottles.

“Cheers,” she declares, handing you a neon cup of something fruity and suspiciously strong.

One drink turns into two, and by the d of college jungle juicethird, the lights start to blur around the edges. You can’t remember the last time you let loose like this, your head pleasantly spinning as you sway with Ava to whatever pop remix is thundering through the speakers.

At some point, you both end up on a sticky leather couch, howling with laughter over absolutely nothing. An extremely tall, extremely confident frat boy attempts to flirt with Ava by demonstrating his “epic” ability to chug from a funnel—only to spill half of it on his shirt. You nearly fall off the couch laughing, tears streaming down your face.

Then Ava tugs you outside to the porch for some fresher air, the two of you leaning over the railing like you might topple right off it. Her hair is stuck to her forehead, and your phone is dangerously close to slipping from your back pocket.

“This is so fun,” Ava squeals, throwing her arms around you in a giggly hug. “I needed a night like this.”

A warm, liquor-fueled glow blooms in your chest. “Same,” you admit, hugging her back. “No drama, no messy ex situations, no—”

A shrill ringtone interrupts you, and Ava fumbles for her phone. She squints at the screen, then tosses it aside to the porch bench in favor of gulping more punch straight from your cup. “Ugh, telemarketer,” she mutters, ignoring it.

Unbeknownst to either of you, the phone somehow butt-dials Matt, whose name flashes on the screen before the call timer starts ticking.

You’re both oblivious to this as you keep giggling and shouting random observations about the party, the music, the questionable bathroom lines. Ava’s volume goes up a notch with every passing second.

“Dude, I swear—this is the best night!” Ava yells, dancing in place with no music outside. “I love you, girl—best friend forever, woo!”

Inside the phone pressed awkwardly beneath her leg, Matt’s eyes are probably widening in alarm at the yelling. He can only hear snippets of your conversation—loud shrieks, bursts of laughter, and occasional words like “dangerous,” “drunk,” or “someone fell over.”

Meanwhile, Matt is in the passenger seat of his car, scrolling through social media as Chris drives back from them dropping Nick at the airport. He was going to visit a film college in LA. It’s already late, and they’re stuck in some mild traffic near the outskirts of the campus you and ava were partying at.

Matt’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen: sweetheart. Heart kicking up in concern, he answers.

“Ava?” he asks. But instead of a coherent response, he hears yelling, heavy bass, and what sounds suspiciously like you two shrieking.

“Hello? Ava?” Matt’s voice grows urgent as he picks out phrases like “Oh my God!” and “We’re so hammered!”

He pales. “Chris, something’s up. Ava’s in trouble, or, or I don’t know—they’re screaming and…”

Chris cuts in “Y/N is there too?” 

Matt just nods.

Chris frowns, gripping the steering wheel. “What do you mean, trouble?”

Matt toggles the screen to see Ava’s location. “They’re at some frat house at the college campus only a few miles from us right now. If they’re drunk and something went wrong…” He doesn’t finish, anxiety threading through his voice.

Chris curses under his breath and flips the turn signal, pulling a uturn. “Fuck. We’ll go check it out.”

Ten minutes later, you and Ava are back inside, rummaging for jackets you drunkenly tossed somewhere. The world tilts with every step, but you’re not worried—this all feels like good, harmless fun.

Then the front door bursts open, and Matt’s familiar voice booms through the chatter: “Ava? Y/N?”

Ava whips around, nearly tripping over someone’s foot. “Matt!” she cries happily, stumbling toward him. “Oh my God, you came to party too?”

He catches her, relief and frustration mingling on his face. “I thought you were in danger. You butt-dialed me, screaming your head off.”

“Huh?” Ava tilts her head, eyes unfocused. “I… butt-dialed?”

Behind Matt, Chriss hovers in the doorway, scanning the chaotic living room with furrowed brows. You lock eyes with Chris briefly, your buzz making everything feel a little surreal.

Chris looks halfway between annoyed and relieved. His gaze flicks over you—messy hair, glazed eyes. He shakes his head. “You two sure know how to get yourselves in trouble.”

Ava only giggles, patting Matt’s chest. “We’re not in trouble, you big worrywart! We were having fun.”

Matt sighs, then glances at Chris. “Let’s just get them out of here, okay?”

In a blur, you’re ushered out of the stuffy frat house and into Chris’s car. Ava clings to Matt in the back seat, slurring apologies and jokes in equal measure. 

You decide not to sit shotgun with Chris. That leaves you squished in the middle of the back seat, half-leaning against Ava, half avoiding Chris’s side glances in the rearview mirror. The closeness and the alcoholic haze mix into a swirl of heightened awareness.

“Next time you decide to party, maybe don’t dial Matt in the middle of it,” Chris mutters, catching your eye in the mirror again. “We thought you were being attacked or something.”

You bristle at his tone—he sounds equal parts concerned and reprimanding. “We’re fine,” you snap, words slightly slurred. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, well,” he huffs, tightening his grip on the wheel, “you scared the crap out of him. And me.”

Matt’s arms are wrapped around Ava, who’s busy giggling into his shirt. “You guys have no idea how panicked I was,” he mutters, relief evident now that he sees you’re both physically okay.

As the car zips through the city streets, passing bright storefronts and bars, your eyelids grow heavier. The combined warmth of the car’s heater, Ava leaning on you, and the vodka in your veins weighs you down.

Finally, you pull up in front of your apartment building. The moment the engine shuts off, Matt twists around in his seat. “Nick’s gone, by the way,” he says, a touch abruptly. “Dropped him at the airport earlier to go visit some colleges. So, it’s just us tonight.”

You’re too buzzed to question the timing of that info, and Ava seems unfazed. She basically tumbles out of the car, laughing when her heel snags on the curb. You follow, pressing a palm to the cool exterior of the car for balance, while Chris and Matt exchange glances—equal parts concerned and amused.

Inside your apartment, Ava makes a beeline for the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets until she triumphantly produces a stack of plastic cups and the battered ping-pong balls you’ve both used for impromptu “drinking games.” She smirks at you, eyes bright with mischief.

“Let’s turn this night around,” she announces, leaning dramatically against the kitchen counter. “You guys up for some pong?”

Chris scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Pretty sure you two have had enough drinking for a lifetime,” he mutters, eyeing the way you’re still swaying on your feet.

You roll your eyes, tossing your jacket onto a nearby chair. “Relax. It’s not that late—and we’re not that drunk.” You catch yourself on the edge of the table and give Ava a pointed look. “Well, mostly. Plus you two can just crash here if Nick’s not home.”

Matt sighs but cracks a small grin. “I’ll play only to make sure you two don’t, I don’t know, pass out mid-throw.”

Ava’s face lights up, like she’s just hatched the best idea in the world. She leans in conspiratorially. “I say we raise the stakes: strip pong.”

You blink at her, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Strip pong?”

“Hell no,” Chris interjects immediately, but there’s an amused tilt to his mouth that betrays he’s not totally opposed.

Matt runs a hand through his hair, eyeing the increasingly giddy look on Ava’s face. “What do you mean, ‘strip pong?’”

Ava bats her lashes with dramatic flair. “Every time your opponent sinks a shot, you either drink or remove a piece of clothing. Drink too much, you’ll probably lose anyway—so it’s a win-win.”

Chris snorts. “That is a terrible idea.”

“Which means it’s the best idea,” you counter, the alcohol loosening your tongue. A reckless thrill buzzes through your veins. “C’mon, don’t be a buzzkill.”

Ava claps her hands, beaming. “Right? Let’s do it!”

Before anyone can mount real objections, she’s already clearing space on the kitchen table, setting up two triangles of cups. The environment shifts from the earlier tension into something mischievously charged. There’s a giddy sense of inevitability—like you all know this is reckless, but you’re too caught in the moment to stop.

It starts off almost tame—Matt pairs with Chris against you and Ava, cups half-filled with cheap liquor you still have leftover from last weekend. The first couple of rounds go smoothly enough. You miss a shot, Ava misses a shot, the guys miss a shot. A few drinks go down.

Then Matt sinks one with surprising finesse, and Ava clutches her head. “Ugh, I’m still so drunk already.” She flicks a glance at you. “Should I strip or drink?”

“Your call.” You giggle, swaying into her shoulder.

Ava shrugs and peels off her crop top with zero hesitation, leaving her in a skimpy bra. Chris stiffens across the table, flicking his gaze away, while Matt tries really hard—and fails—to keep his eyes respectfully diverted. You can’t help but laugh, your cheeks flushing in the stuffy air.

Game on.

One shot after another, the pile of clothes on the floor grows. Your shoes. Ava’s shoes. Matt’s socks. Chris’s hoodie. Ava loses her jeans next, and you see Chris suck in a breath, determinedly not staring at her toned legs. You can’t decide if it’s hilarious or strangely hot, but the alcohol swirling in your bloodstream makes the whole thing feel surreal.

Your turn comes, and you land a perfect shot right in the center cup of Matt and Chris’s formation. “Ha!” you crow triumphantly, swaying a bit on your feet. “Chug or strip, boys.”

Matt groans, tossing back a shot instead. You see the grimace twist his lips as the cheap liquor burns down his throat.

Chris goes next. “Fine,” he grumbles, lifting the hem of his T-shirt and tugging it off in one fluid motion. Your gaze flicks over his chest. Something low in your stomach clenches, and you tear your eyes away before he catches you staring.

Another round passes in a blur of sloshing cups and fumbling giggles. Ava calls out your name, but you barely register it—too busy trying to line up your shot and not topple forward. You miss, and the ball bounces right into your own side of cups.

“You know what that means,” Chris teases, voice threaded with amusement. “Strip or drink.”

You weigh your options, biting your lip. “I’m basically out of clothes,” you mumble, glancing down at your half-zipped skirt and your bra. “And I’m not chugging more, or I’ll be on the floor.”

Biting the bullet, you slip out of your skirt, leaving you in panties and your bra. Ava cackles, hugging your side like you’ve just achieved some glorious victory. Chris just rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes, but you see the flush creeping up his cheeks. Matt tries to busy himself setting the next ping-pong ball in play.

Before you know it, the table is down to just a few cups on each side. Ava, also stripped to bra and panties, shoots you a giddy grin.

It’s the final round of the game. You’re both swaying on your feet, flushed from alcohol and adrenaline.

“Oh my God, we lost again,” Ava groans, pressing a hand to her forehead. “We’re out of clothes to lose, unless…”

Her eyes dart to you, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. You catch on immediately, your own cheeks already burning from the booze. “Right,” you say, heart thumping. “We could distract them.”

Ava shrugs with exaggerated nonchalance. “Strip or drink, right?” Without missing a beat, she reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra, letting it slide off her arms.

Your pulse quickens. Glancing at Chris trying not to stare—trying and failing. Matt however looked like his eyes were going to fall out of his head as they made direct contact with avas tits. With a reckless smile, you reach for your own bra clasp. “Oh, what the hell,” you mutter. One tug, and it falls away.

Matt chokes on air and Chris rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flicking anywhere but your bare skin—until he finally sneaks a glance he can’t quite hide. It’s obvious he’s caught between exasperation and attraction.

But you and Ava decide to up the ante. You trade a look that says, Let’s really throw them off. Giggling under your breath, you loop an arm around Ava’s waist, tugging her closer until your mouths meet in a slow, tipsy kiss.

Ava’s free hand comes up to your tit, and the warmth of her lips lights a spark of shock and amusement through your chest. The boldness of it, the gleeful madness—it’s enough to make your head spin, even without the alcohol. You hear a sharp intake of breath from the boys’ side of the table.

“Oh… fuck,” Matt manages, blinking rapidly.

Chris stands stock-still, ping-pong ball forgotten in his hand as it drops to the floor, eyes locked on the two of you as if he can’t decide whether to look away or lean closer.

Your kiss with Ava lingers just long enough to ensure the boys are thoroughly distracted. When you finally break apart, you shoot her a triumphant grin, adrenaline surging. She laughs, resting her forehead against yours.

“Guess it’s your turn,” Ava purrs, turning her attention to Matt and Chris. “Are you two gonna throw, or what?”

Matt’s throat bobs; Chris glances at him, and they both snap to attention, suddenly remembering the game. But the shot is rushed—Chris lobs the ball, and it bounces wildly off the table, nowhere near any cup.

You and Ava exchange a gleeful high five. “Distraction success,” you declare, still breathless.

“That’s so not fair,” Matt blurts, cheeks tinted pink. “We—uh—didn’t exactly expect that.”

Ava shrugs with mock innocence. “I don’t give a fuck.”

“Your turn to strip or drink,” you remind them, placing your hands on your exposed hips.

Matt and Chris exchange looks of defeat. With a resigned sigh, Matt takes off his pants, stepping out of them in just his boxers. Chris follows suit, hooking his thumbs under his waistband and tugging his own pants off.

You steal a glance—yep, they’re both standing there in boxers, and it’s pretty clear they’re more turned on than they’d like to admit. A flush crawls up Chris’s neck as he tries to hide the telltale outline of his arousal. Matt stares holes into Ava, as if he can’t wait to get his hands on her once the game is over.

Ava bites her lip, stifling laughter as she leans into you. “I’d say that’s game over,” she whispers conspiratorially, both of you grinning like you’ve just pulled off the biggest prank in history.

Matt finally grumbles, “Yeah, we’re done here.”

Matt’s eyes dart between Ava—topless, flushed, and giggling—and the mess of clothes and cups on the table. Something in him snaps, like he’s done waiting. In two strides, he closes the distance, hooks an arm around Ava’s waist, and hoists her off her feet with a growl of mock exasperation. She squeals, clinging to him as he marches toward the stairs.

“Matt—!” she protests through laughter, but she’s not really protesting at all.

Neither you nor Chris misses the way Matt’s fingertips dig into Ava’s side, or how Ava’s lips find Matt’s neck before they even reach the second step. Then they disappear upstairs, leaving you and Chris alone in the aftermath of the wildest game of strip pong you’ve ever played.

You stand there for a moment, heart still hammering. You’re topless, wearing nothing but your underwear, and Chris is in nothing but boxers. His chest rises and falls with each breath, tension radiating off him in waves. It’s strangely silent without Ava’s giggles and Matt’s banter—just the faint thump of the door closing above and the pulse of your own blood rushing in your ears.

Finally, Chris’s gaze lifts to yours, and there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “So…” he drawls, voice a touch raspy, “you just gonna kiss Ava like that, or… what?”

A tiny spark lights in your chest, fueled by the lingering buzz of alcohol and the reckless rush of the evening. Instead of answering, you cross the room in a few unsteady steps. There’s a daring glint in his eyes—like he half-expected, half-hoped you’d call his bluff.

Your hands find his shoulders. “Or what?” you echo softly, leaning in.

He doesn’t get the chance to respond. You press your lips to his with a sudden, heated urgency, adrenaline spiking at the feel of his bare skin against yours. His fingers curve around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth of him—his scent, the faint taste of cheap liquor still on his tongue—sends a shiver racing down your spine.

Chris drops onto the couch first, eyes full of an urgency you haven’t felt in ages. You swing a leg over his lap, bracing your hands against his shoulders as your mouths collide in another feverish kiss. His hands roam over your waist, sliding up your sides as you melt into him, grinding against his bulge, pulse thrumming with reckless desire.

You moan softly when he tilts his head, lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. Each warm press of his mouth sends shivers rippling down your spine. He grazes your collarbone next, taking his time, and then dips lower, brushing his lips over the swell of your breast. You gasp, fingers curling into his hair as the heat between you both intensifies.

His breath is warm against your skin when he murmurs your name, voice tinged with want and just a hint of disbelief. You answer by tugging him closer, letting him kiss his way back up to your neck, losing yourself in the dizzy rush of being half-naked and tangled in Chris’s arms after years.

Just as his hands slide up your back, mapping every curve of your body, a sudden, jarring crash rattles the ceiling. It’s immediately followed by a startled yelp—loud enough to slice clean through the haze of lust enveloping you both.

You tense, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with Chris. His chest heaves under your palms, and there’s a flicker of concern mixed with reluctance in his gaze—clearly, he’s torn between checking on the commotion and staying right here.

“Did you hear…?” you start, breath ragged.

He exhales sharply, forehead brushing yours. “Yeah. We should—”

Another noise, like something being knocked over, leaves no room for debate. Whatever’s happening upstairs, it can’t be ignored. You slip off Chris’s lap, both of you scrambling for balance while you catch your breath. The heady mixture of heat and urgency remains, thrumming in your veins, but you know you have to push it aside—at least for now.

With one last shared look of frustration and lingering want, you and Chris take off toward the stairs, bracing yourselves for whatever mess might be waiting up there—heartbeats still pounding from the kiss you just left behind.

You and Chris take the stairs two at a time. The second you shove Ava’s door open, the sight inside nearly stops you in your tracks:

Ava’s sprawled on the floor beside the bed, clutching her forehead and moaning in exaggerated agony. Matt is kneeling on the mattress, stark naked, dick hard and out, one hand covering himself while the other hovers in shock near his mouth. His eyes dart between you, Chris, and Ava, unsure whether to rush to her side or dive under the covers.

“Oh my God,” you exclaim, rushing over. “Ava, are you okay?”

She sucks in a shaky breath, wincing. “No, I’m not okay!” she yelps, tears of pain and laughter mingling in her eyes. “He went too hard with the backshots! My forehead slammed right into the headboard! And then I fell off the fucking bed!”

Chris stops in the doorway, takes in the scene with wide eyes, and then—without a word—he meets Matt’s gaze and smirks. Matt, sheepish and half-panicked, still can’t hide the flash of pride in his eyes. Chris crosses the room, offers him a quick fist-bump-turned-handshake, and murmurs, “That’s my boy.”

You stifle a disbelieving snort at their little moment of bro solidarity, then refocus on Ava, who’s groaning dramatically, clutching her temple. “Oh, Ava,” you sigh, gently brushing her hair aside to check her forehead. “We heard a bang—are you bleeding? Does it hurt really bad?”

Ava nods, tears in her eyes, though you can’t tell if she’s more embarrassed or in pain. “I swear, if I have to explain a concussion from Matt’s… enthusiasm, I’m gonna lose it.”

Matt, flushing scarlet, finally crawls off the bed. He grabs the nearest shirt to toss on, but then abandons it in favor of helping you lift Ava to a seated position. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he says earnestly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, well,” she mutters, pressing a hand to the side of her face, “now I’m pretty sure my head has its own heartbeat.”

Chris, arms folded across his bare chest, shakes his head—though there’s a faint grin curving his lips. “Let’s just get her some ice, some water… maybe a helmet next time.”

Ava huffs, half-laughing, half-sniffling. “Funny,” she groans, letting you help her stand. “So fucking funny, Chris.”

You guide Ava toward the hallway, Matt trailing right behind, still apologizing under his breath. Meanwhile, Chris lingers for a second, surveying the rumpled bed and smirking to himself like he’s savoring a secret joke.

He catches your eye before you all head downstairs, the ghost of a smile on his face—a silent reminder of the steamy moment you shared just before this chaos. 

The four of you make your way downstairs, with Ava leaning on you and Matt hovering close behind, still wracked with guilt over her throbbing forehead. Chris trails behind, looking more amused than alarmed, though concern flickers in his eyes each time Ava winces.

You guide Ava to the couch and gently lower her, then scurry off to grab an ice pack from the freezer. Chris follows, rummaging in a kitchen drawer until he emerges with a clean dish towel. He wraps it around the ice pack and hands it over to you. Together, you return to the living room and settle the makeshift cold compress against Ava’s swollen bump.

She hisses at first contact but eventually sighs in relief. “Okay,” she mumbles through still-watery eyes, “this is helping, I think.”

You rub her shoulder softly. “Better?”

Ava nods, blinking away the last of her tears. Slowly, that mischievous spark returns to her gaze. She glances from the ice pack to you and Chris—who are both still in your underwear—and lets out a dramatic groan. “Wait, I’m still naked. Now y’all need to ditch your underwear, too. I feel exposed.”

You snort, cheeks warming. Chris smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t think so,” he says, voice tinged with amusement.

When neither of you moves to strip further, Ava sputters a laugh then pauses, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Wait, did I interrupt something earlier?”

For a moment, the silence in the living room is deafening. You and Chris exchange a look, neither of you wanting to address exactly how close you’d been to going all the way.

Chris clears his throat, shifting his stance uncomfortably as he adjusts himself in his boxers. Ava takes one look at that and squeals in horror and glee all at once. “Oh my God! I did interrupt you!”

“Relax,” Chris mutters, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. “It was just a… horny mistake.”

Something in his dismissive tone sets you off. A spark of anger flares in your chest, snapping you out of your tipsy haze. “A horny mistake?” you echo, voice sharp.

He lifts his hands, like he’s not sure what he did wrong. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

But you’re already on your feet, body buzzing with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. Without another word, you storm toward the stairs, heat pooling beneath your skin. As you stomp up the stairs, Ava spins on Chris, her eyes blazing.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” she snaps, ignoring the throb in her forehead as she points an accusing finger his way. “Calling it a ‘horny mistake’? Seriously? You couldn’t be more of a dick if you tried.”

Chris rubs at the back of his neck, clearly taken aback by her sudden fury. “Ava, I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off with a venomous glare. “You do not get to stand there, practically half-naked, and act like she was just some afterthought.”

Matt steps in, hands raised in a soothing gesture. “Hey, hey—let’s calm down. It’s been a crazy night—”

“Oh my God, Matt, do not start,” Ava snarls, turning her wrath on him. “You nearly gave me a fucking concussion upstairs! And now you’re gonna defend him, too?”

Matt winces, guilt etched all over his face. “I’m not defending anyone, babe, I’m just—”

“Just what?” Ava scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Trying to ‘calm’ me down like I’m some hysterical child? Newsflash: I’m pissed for a reason!”

Chris opens his mouth, maybe to apologize, but Ava shuts him down before he can get a word out. “No. I don’t wanna hear it right now. You said something shitty, you hurt her feelings—so congratulations. You did something dumber than Matt ramming my forehead into the headboard, and that’s saying a lot.”

Matt make a face somewhere between embarrassment and frustration. “Ava, come on—”

“Don’t ‘come on’ me,” she snaps. “And don’t fucking follow me, either, because I need to check on my girl, and both of you need to learn how to stop screwing everything up for five minutes.”

With that, she whirls around, leaves the boys downstairs, and marches upstairs after you, ice pack pressed to her head, muttering a final, “Assholes,” under her breath before disappearing into your room to find you while Matt stares at her ass. 

Moments later, you hear a soft knock at the door. Then Ava slips in, still swaddling the ice pack against her head, sporting the same disheveled look from all the chaos.

“Hey, babe,” she murmurs, voice laced with concern. She closes the door gently and moves to sit beside you on the bed. “I totally chewed him out, by the way. Don’t know if he’s still alive downstairs.”

Despite yourself, you can’t help a small, reluctant laugh. You roll onto your side, making room for her under the covers. She settles in, cuddling up with you as if it’s second nature—because, really, it is.

You sigh, pressing a hand to your face. “I just… I don’t know why I’m so mad. It was fun, it was stupid, it got interrupted, and now—”

Ava hushes you gently, tucking her arm around your waist. “Hey, it was a lot. You’re allowed to be upset.”

You exhale, tension draining from your shoulders. Having Ava there, warm and comforting, soothes the swirling mess in your head. “Thanks,” you whisper, nuzzling against her just enough to feel supported.

She chuckles softly, pressing the cold pack to her own throbbing forehead. “No problem. Just keep me from getting a concussion, yeah?”

You both share a tired laugh. Eventually, the apartment grows quiet again. Somewhere below, Matt is likely still hovering worriedly, and Chris… well, who knows. But for now, Ava’s presence gives you a moment’s peace—wrapped in a blanket, side by side, nursing your bruised hearts and heads in equal measure as you fall asleep next to each other.

Morning light streams through your bedroom curtains, rousing you from a restless sleep. Your head throbs faintly, a not-so-subtle reminder of last night’s drunken chaos. Ava, sprawled beside you under a tangle of blankets, groans softly, pressing a hand to her bandaged forehead. Neither of you notices the quiet right away—until you pad into the living room in search of water and see that the boys are gone.

“What the hell?” Ava mutters, blinking blearily around your apartment. “No text, no note…” She checks her phone and scoffs. “Nada.”

You rub sleep from your eyes, mind still foggy. “Maybe Chris and Matt went home before their parents noticed they were gone all night?”

Ava’s jaw tightens. “Screw that. They could’ve woken us up or something—especially after what went down.” She tosses her phone aside. “Get dressed. We’re going over there.”

You’re too groggy to protest. Five minutes later, you’re stuffing yourself into the baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants Ava thrust into your arms while she drives—white-knuckled and furious—through the morning traffic toward the Sturniolo family home. Her eyes stay fixed on the road, jaw clenched like she’s ready for war.

The Sturniolo house stands in a quiet neighborhood, the driveway empty except for Matt’s car and Chris’s familiar ride. Their parents must be at work, leaving the place wide open. Ava parks haphazardly at the curb, kills the engine, and practically launches herself out of the driver’s seat.

“Ava, wait—” you call, scrambling to keep up as she beelines for the front door. She doesn’t bother to knock, just pushes it open and stomps inside, her slippers squeaking on the tiled entryway.

The living room comes into view: Matt is leaning against a side table, sipping coffee, while Chris is sprawled on the couch, eyes on his phone. Both look up in unison, equal parts startled and guilty, as Ava storms in.

“Well, good morning,” Chris says slowly, arching a brow. His gaze flicks over to you, lingering just a second longer, before swinging back to Ava. “Didn’t expect you here so soon.”

Ava plants her hands on her hips, ignoring the twinge in her forehead. “You two took off this morning without a single word—after everything that happened last night. Seriously? You couldn’t even leave a note?”

Matt sets his mug down with a sigh. “Ava—”

“Don’t you ‘Ava’ me,” she snaps. “Look at my face!” She lifts the cloth pressed to her injury. “I practically have a concussion from your dick and Y/N got humiliated because Chris decided to call it a ‘horny mistake.’ Yet you just sneak out and think it’s all good?”

Heat flushes your cheeks at the mention of Chris’s words. Meanwhile, Matt glances sheepishly at you, then Chris, clearly unsure how to diffuse this. “We weren’t exactly sneaking out,” Matt tries. “We just figured we’d let you both sleep it off. You were wasted—”

“Shut up,” Ava hisses, turning her glare on him. “You’re the one who practically slammed my head into the headboard, and now you’re defending him for being an ass to my best friend? Come on, Matt.”

Chris sets his phone aside and stands, hands slipping into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Okay, I get it,” he says tersely, meeting Ava’s anger head-on. “We messed up. We should’ve said something.”

Ava’s eyes blaze. “Damn right, you should have.” Then she whips around to face Matt again. “Or a text—something.”

Matt rubs the back of his neck. “We’re sorry, babe. Really. We know we screwed up.”

Ava scoffs, lifting her chin. “A little courtesy would be nice. I have a possible concussion and you guys just bounce? Unbelievable.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, remembering the tension, the moment you and Chris nearly shared. He glances at you again, something akin to regret flickering across his face. You swallow hard, hugging yourself. You’re not sure if you want to confront him or disappear.

Matt reaches for Ava’s arm, voice softer. “We didn’t mean to make things worse. Last night got so crazy… we figured space might help.”

Ava yanks her arm away, “I don’t need space. I need communication you fucking idiot!” She tilts her head, leveling a glare at Chris. “Especially from you. You have anything else to say about my best friend and your ‘horny mistake’?”

Chris exhales slowly, shoulders sagging. “I shouldn’t have called it that. It came out wrong.” He looks directly at you. “I’m sorry.”

Ava rubs at her eyes, taking a long, shaky breath. She suddenly looks more worn out than furious, and you realize the weight of her hangover might be as heavy as her anger. With a small groan, she presses a palm gently to her sore forehead.

“You know what,” she mutters, sagging into the couch, “maybe I’m just—” She sighs. “I’m just hungover, cranky, and my head still hurts. That’s all.”

Relief flickers across Matt’s face. He steps forward, resting a cautious hand on her shoulder. When she doesn’t shove him away, he leans in, kissing her head softly. “I’m sorry about… everything,” he murmurs. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll go grab breakfast—my treat. You, me, Chris, Y/N… we could all use some food right now.”

Ava looks around the quiet living room—Chris with his hands in his pockets, you standing off to the side and finally, she nods, a faint, tired smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah,” she relents. “I could eat.”

Matt exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. “Great,” he says, relieved. “Let’s go. There’s a Denny’s not too far from here.”

Chris glances your way, a silent question in his eyes—You good? You nod, trying to move past your lingering annoyance. Breakfast might be the first step toward smoothing things over… or at least not making them worse.

Fifteen minutes later, the four of you are crammed into a booth at Denny’s beneath too-bright fluorescent lights. There’s a collective slump in your posture, as though the whole table is nursing hangovers or leftover tension. But the aroma of coffee and frying bacon starts to lift the mood.

Ava flops an elbow on the table, reading the menu with one eye open. Matt, sitting beside her, rubs slow circles on her back, whispering apologies here and there. Across from them, you and Chris hold your menus like makeshift shields—unsure if you’re truly ready to talk yet, but at least the scents of hash browns and eggs ease some of the awkwardness.

“Ugh, I can’t decide,” you mutter, eyeing the pancake combos.

“Waffles,” Chris counters immediately, glancing up from his own menu.

You arch an eyebrow. “Waffles?”

He flips the laminated page toward you, jabbing a finger at a picture of crisp, golden-brown waffles drizzled in syrup. “They’re superior in every way. Texture, flavor pockets, structural integrity—waffles win.”

“Structural integrity?” you repeat, a disbelieving scoff escaping you. “I don’t care about ‘flavor pockets,’ Chris. Pancakes are fluffy and comforting.”

He snorts, setting his menu down like he’s ready to present a thesis. “Fluffy is just code for ‘soggy if you don’t eat them in five seconds.’ With waffles, you get these perfect little squares to hold your syrup. Pancakes are basically sog-biscuits.”

Your mouth drops open. “They are not sog-biscuits! You can’t beat a stack of warm, buttery pancakes.”

He leans forward, eyes narrowed in mock challenge. “Oh, I can, and I will: a stack of warm, buttery waffles, plus that satisfying crunch on the outside.”

You’re about to retort—something about pancakes being the foundation of every breakfast place in America—when Ava peeks up from her menu, looking a bit more alive. “If you two start a food fight over which carb is better, I’m going to need another ibuprofen. And Y/N is right. Its pancakes.” she warns, though there’s a ghost of a smile on her lips.

Matt slides her a small grin, then turns to you and Chris. “You know what’s better than waffles and pancakes?”

All three of you look at him skeptically, and he chuckles. “French toast.”

Ava rolls her eyes but pokes his side playfully. “You’re so extra.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admits, raising a hand for the waitress. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll get the pancakes to show solidarity with Y/N’s taste buds.”

Chris feigns a horrified gasp. “Traitor.”

“Uh-huh,” Matt deadpans. “And Ava can get waffles so she’ll stop having to listen to you two bicker.”

Ava groans dramatically. “Why the fuck do I have to eat waffles,” she teases, resting her head on Matt’s shoulder. Despite the jab, there’s relief etched in her features—like the tension in her shoulders has finally lifted a bit.

You catch Chris’s eye across the table and, despite yourself, a small smile creeps up. The argument feels less about pancakes and waffles and more about exhaling the stress of the last twelve hours.

“Fine,” you concede, flipping your menu closed. “But only because I’m starving.”

Chris huffs out a soft laugh, doing the same with his menu. “Yeah. Me too.”

And for the first time since last night’s chaos, you and Ava and the boys breathe a little easier—sitting in a too-bright diner with questionable coffee, letting the warm promise of breakfast slowly piece things back together.

After Matt paid the bill and grabbed your leftovers, the four of you step out of Denny’s into the brisk midday air. Breakfast felt like a temporary truce—banter over waffles and pancakes masking the undercurrent of unresolved tension. But as you all pile into Matt’s car—him behind the wheel, Ava in the passenger seat, you and Chris in the back—there’s a sense the peace won’t last.

Matt starts the engine, carefully guiding the car into traffic. Ava scrolls through apple music for music, and for a few minutes, the only sounds are of the passing cars. You stare out the window, head still pounding from a mix of caffeine. Beside you, Chris sits with his arms crossed, gaze fixed on the seat in front of him, as if waiting for the right moment to speak.

Eventually, Matt hits a pothole so deep it rattles the whole car, and Chris nearly loses his grip on his takeout container. He mutters a curse and shoots a glare at the back of Matt’s head. “Could we not hit every crater in the road?” he growls.

“Sorry,” Matt says flatly, clearly not in the mood to argue. “Boston roads aren’t exactly a smooth ride.”

Ava twists in her seat, rolling her eyes at Chris. “You want to drive instead? Be my guest,” she challenges, though her voice is weary.

Chris exhales, as if already fed up. You can’t help but notice he keeps casting sidelong looks your way. Finally, he shifts toward you, opening his mouth like he’s been holding back words that can’t wait any longer.

“So,” he says, his tone deceptively casual, “you ever gonna explain what happened after senior year? Because last I remember, you were all set on college—then you vanished.”

A spike of tension hits your stomach. “Things changed,” you say curtly. “It’s none of your business, Chris.”

He lets out a short laugh. “Funny. You made it everyone’s business when you wouldn’t stop talking about your big future. Then out of nowhere, poof—you’re gone.”

Heat flushes your cheeks. “I didn’t vanish. I took a gap year. Not that it matters to you.”

Chris’s jaw tightens. “It matters because you ghosted me. One minute we’re talking, the next you’re off with someone else like I never existed.”

Ava glances over her shoulder, wanting to intervene, but Matt shakes his head slightly. He keeps his eyes on the road, tension etched across his features. You feel the interior of the car tighten as Chris’s accusation hangs in the air.

“Are we seriously doing this right now?” You laugh in disbelief.

He cocks his head to the side in complete seriousness. “I don’t know, are we?”

“Fuck you, Chris. You know that’s not why I stopped talking to you,” you snap, though the guilt of lying twists in your gut. “I didn’t ghost you because of some other guy, so drop it.”

“Right,” he spits back. “Because that’s totally how it looked when you got a boyfriend and never bothered to call again.”

“That’s not what happened,” you hiss. “Can we not do this right now?”

Chris ignores your plea, leaning closer, voice low and charged. “I think it’s really convenient how you had all these big plans—until you bailed on them, and me. Don’t act surprised, I'm still pissed.”

Anger flares in your chest. You clench your fingers against the seat. “Don’t rewrite history just because you’re mad. You think you were a saint? You barely acknowledged me half the time besides when you wanted your dick sucked. Don’t act like I was the only one who messed up.”

Chris’s eyes blaze. “You know that's not true. I was obsessed with you. And we were kids. We didn’t know how to handle—”

“Stop acting like that excuses everything!” you cut in, voice trembling with the force of your emotion. “You never asked what I wanted. You never said if you wanted more. Then you blame me when I moved on?”

He sucks in a breath, looking ready to throw another barb, when Matt’s voice finally cracks through the tension. “Hey!” he barks, sparing a quick glance in the rearview. “Cut it out. Both of you.”

Chris grits his teeth, but you can see he’s holding himself back. You’re vibrating with leftover fury, blood pounding in your ears. Ava twists again, her gaze darting between you and Chris. She looks torn between yelling at you both or letting Matt handle it.

Chris exhales, folding his arms. His voice is a bitter mutter. “Guess we’ll never know if you’d have stuck around if you hadn’t had a backup plan.”

Your anger surges anew. “Don’t you dare imply I was just waiting for something better to come along!”

Before Chris can retort, Matt hits the brakes harder than necessary at a yellow light, causing everyone to jolt forward. “That’s it!” he snaps, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “We can talk about this when we’re not moving at 40 miles an hour, okay? I’m not letting you two kill each other in Avas car.”

A taut silence falls, your chest heaving with unsaid words. Chris slumps back in his seat, staring out the window with a thunderous expression. You rub your temples, frustration and guilt churning in your stomach.

By the time Matt pulls up to the Sturniolo house, the tension in the car is suffocating. Chris throws open the back door and practically leaps out, not sparing you a second glance. Ava sighs and unbuckles, eyeing you and Chris warily. Matt parks, shoulders rigid, then steps out to follow his brother.

You remain in the back seat for a moment, heart still hammering. Ava glances at you, sympathy flickering across her features, but she doesn’t say a word. She simply gives a weary shake of her head, then trudges after Matt.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, you climb out. You catch a glimpse of Chris disappearing inside, posture tense. Your anger hasn’t cooled, but beneath it lies a pang of something else—regret, maybe. Of course, you’re both too stubborn to admit it.

Ava returns to the car and slides behind the wheel. She waits, eyes on you. “Ready to go?”

You nod numbly, slipping into the passenger seat. As she drives away, the echo of your own shouting plays on repeat in your mind, mingling with Chris’s accusations. It’s as if the old wounds have been ripped wide open, and neither of you knows how to stop the bleeding.

tag list: @mattsobvimyfav @sturnsvelocity @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002

[cr4yolaas]

WHIPLASH — LOOK BACK

work is horrifying. men are horrifying. the whole world is horrifying, and horribly against her. she tries not to let her structure crumble — but there are limits to everything.

002. that's the industry, baby! / masterlist / 004. distractor

"I hate him," she mutters under her breath. It's barely a whisper beneath the noise around them, but the anger laced in it is pungent. He watches her take one, two, three sips from her drink before slinking down onto the wooden counter.

"You still haven't told me why."

Her head slowly rotates, shifting around in the nook she's created with her folded arms, to face him in all his midnight glory. The music is nothing but white noise, and all she can hear is the subtle thumping of her heart against her ribs.

(She doesn't really remember how he looked that night. All she recalls is his signature hat and the pretty jewelry he wore.)

There's only a string of restraint left in her. Her rationale — fine-tuned and perfectly curated after just a few years of surviving through this industry — tells her to keep quiet; that any details about her irritation and regret, no matter how long they may fester in the pools of her stomach, cannot slip out. But when he lays down to match her position and whispers a question, one she barely misses, the little string snaps.

"I'll just listen, if you want. No advice. No input. Just an ear."

(What happens between that and the moment they find themselves outside is a blur.)

It all spills out, the reservoir that she's been carefully maintaining up until then bursting at the seams. She rambles on about shitty coworkers, who can't seem to stop relying on her, shitty editors, who don't have any sense of proper management, and a shitty ex, who used all of it to get his way. All of her — the people pleasing, the work obsession, the ease in which she let things happen under the guise that something good would come out of it all. She tells him about it all in chronological order (because it's the only way she seems to remember things these days), from the opportunities he'd stolen from her grasp and the arguments and the pure, bubbling humiliation she feels just from thinking about it.

And he listens. Like he'd promised.

A part of her finds solitude in the knowledge that her chances of seeing him again are slim to none. Another part longs to see him again — how can she resist when he looks at her like she'd hung up the stars over their heads?

(The rest of the night is gone to time. She can't recall anything — she actively tries not to, a subconscious decision made the day after. What she does know is that she regrets it — regrets baring her soul, wide open, for someone gone so quickly.

It's a necessary evil. She knows she can't grow attached. But part of her wishes he'd stayed, just for another hour.)

★ super short filler/interlude :) a little background on megs' and yn's history

★ this took place when yn just transferred publishing companies -- she wasn't a sport editor at the time, hence why she didn't recognize him

★ i'll leave this chapter up for interpretation buttt there is an actual plot behind it, mainly w/ what happened @ yn's old company

★ in the main tl, the aespa fangirls don't know abt this night nor anything that yn shared </3 they r under the assumption that she transferred js for the fun of it

★ they minus toge

★ i rlly don't like how this one came out but i couldn't figure out how else to write it without it getting too detailed. this night is meant to be a memory that yn tries to force down, which is why it isn't as in-depth

★ hope u all enjoyed :)

TAGLIST: @kameyyy @s777athv @solecitoszn @1l-ynn @valvoria @standcom @kissunday @hqnge @applepi25 @fushiguruuzzzz @reveurdoll @anotherwriternamedclara @sh0ot1ngst4r @starrysho @lizbix @diearama @cherryredribbons @asuritam @tiramizuloz @saltypuffin1040 @burnishingbagels @beepbopzlorp @reezerdotcom @tibibibi123 @carneries @gumims @chososcamgirl @anngelllla @fefesooli @anngelllla @tiramizuloz @vrxouei @s3ns4ti0n4l @lucentwings @sentifua @in-the-marina-trench

divider creds @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[scandalaciousintentions]

Absolutely agree with the above, but I'd go a step further. (And I liked the movie, but my preference is the musical and it is what I will refer to now and forever.)

That said.

Potentially unpopular opinion and incendiary sentence approaching.

I don't actually think Act 1 Fiyero would have gone with her.

At this point, Glinda and Fiyero are still pretty aligned. In the musical, he's saved the Lion cub because he is the only person in that room her magic has not completely incapacitated and this is his girlfriend's friend in distress. Fiyero is a bit of an ass, but he's never cruel. (Further essay on "Perhaps the driver saw green and thought it meant "Go" to follow.) This person is dear to someone dear to him, she needs help, he can give it, so he will. So far, so surface level complexity, so Act 1 Fiyero.

I have always imagined that interval to cross years. And during that time, everybody has grown up. Everybody has seen things they wish they hadn't. Glinda's response to it has been to hide it under a winning smile and Fiyero has grown resentful; ultimately, a sympathiser to Elphaba's resistance.

Which, to me, makes him one of the most interesting and complex characters in the show. Something happens to Fiyero and I think it starts with Elphaba and the Lion cub, but that is not the whole story. I'm not sure we'll ever fully know it - let's see what happens in Part 2. I don't think I even need to know it. In the book, it would be the violent death of the Bear cub and I have no desire to see anything of the sort play out on screen.

And, let's not forget, he's the crown prince of the Winkus. (And both the movie and the musical tell us he's featured in the society pages of the media, which to be fair, might not make him Elphaba's companion of choice in the circumstances.) But I mention this because he does have responsibilities and he does have something to lose. In order to prioritise Elphaba and her cause over the role he has been raised for since birth, he has to see what the alternative is and that alternative has to completely appal him.

Look, tl;dr, Act 2 Fiyero is a completely different beast to his Act 1 counterpart. He's an analytical thinker, absolutely a politician, a double agent before I think he even realises it for himself, a captain sent out to capture the most dangerous fugitive in the country and for how long can a person be fed that narrative before they start to believe it? For the first time, he's forced into a narrative he doesn't control.

But he's not Elphaba. He's never been restricted like this before. Act 1 Fiyero has taken control of his narrative and while he learns it is limiting him when he rescues the Lion cub with her, there is no indication that he's going to act on it outside of a bunch of flowers at the train station, which does not a Defying Gravity duet make.

I think all the signs point to Elphaba flying off into the sunset alone either way. Because Fiyero is complex and he needs to be forced into that cage before he can even see it has bars.

Fiyerabas love to get on Twitter and tumblr and say stuff like “well fiyero would’ve went with Elphaba in a heartbeat” and act as if that’s a groundbreaking statement. We know what happens in act 2. We know he leaves everything behind for her. The reason why Glinda can’t do that is because she’s an actual nuanced character that has depth to her. She has something to lose. We see how she was brought up in the world. We know that she is a coward. Why WOULDN’T fiyero go with Elphaba? Nothing about his character is complex enough for that to be an option.

Fiyero’s whole character is built on a single characteristic (pretending not to care when he actually does) that is so underdeveloped it’s actually laughable. Why does he pretend not to care? There is not a single thing about him that actually tells us why he acts like that. It just comes out as him being an annoying jerk, even in the movie. His whole character arc is pretending not to care and then caring because of Elphaba. OF COURSE he’d go with her. That’s what his whole personality is based on.

Not to mention the fact that even with him being Elphaba’s ride or die, he’s still boring and his decision to be with her is incredibly unmoving. No one would expect anything else. And even with them ending up together, Elphaba still longs to be with Glinda. She still longs to tell her she’s alive. Fiyero is a boring annoying consolation prize that is a flat and undeveloped “what if” twist on Glinda if she wasn’t as much of a coward as she is. Idgaf

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

Hi there! Sorry if you've gotten this type of ask before, I searched your blog first and didn't find anything, but we all know about the tumblr search algorithm. I was wondering what you think of Elisabeth das Musical, like its portrayals of the historical figures involved, or its general historical accuracy? I love that musical but I'm no historian, and from my Wikipedia research it does take some liberties. Just curious if you're familiar and have thoughts! Have a good day :)

Thanks for the ask. I don't know if I have ever really made one post addressing the historical accuracy of the musical.

To a degree, I don't know if historical accuracy is a fair metric for a musical that is clearly stylized. Death being a character makes it pretty clear that it is leaning into surrealism. I like to meet media where it is at in terms of what it is trying to be.

And I do personally enjoy the musical quite a lot. Songs from it still regularly appear on my writing playlists. In the current landscape of Sisi media, I think it remains one of the most interesting and compelling explorations of her as a difficult woman with a complex internal life instead of a girlboss or 19th century Princess Diana. She is selfish and sort of inconsistent and perpetually flirting with her own death, and I think that's closer than making her the feminist hero.

There are some key points that it does better than other pieces of media: It also does not portray nationalism as liberation, which I think it important. The Hungarian coronation is not an unmitigated triumph with Lucheni singing the secondary part about rising nationalism as a warning for the unstable times that are coming. The rise of Lueger and Schoenerer as a direct antecedent to Hitler is a bit too linear to be completely historically accurate, but I think the point the musical is making is ultimately a good one. The collapse of the empire unleashes violent nationalism and the musical is pointing that direction ominously.

I also do like that it includes Rudolph's politics and his conflict with his father, since some other things are quick to minimize that. The musical isn't necessarily about him, but I like what it does to explain his disillusioned liberalism.

I don't like other things in it: For example, it moves past the early 1860s in one song, which is a period of constitutional experimentation and the last gasp of absolutism. I wish that wasn't so flattened. That's more personal for me since that is the period I am the most interested in.

My biggest frustration about it is the portrayal of Archduchess Sophie. For all the complexity that the musical grants Elisabeth, Sophie is still just the overbearing, intrusive mother-in-law. Historically, this is a disservice to her and her relationship with Elisabeth. Yes, she could be overbearing, but it was for the good of the monarchy. She's not wrong to be concerned that a teenager doesn't know the gravity or importance of being empress and isn't prepared for it. I just want my girl to get her due without being reduced to an archconservative or nightmare mother-in-law.

On the whole, I still think the musical does more than most media to portray Elisabeth as she was in spirit if not completely in substance. I just wouldn't look to it for accuracy, and I don't think the surrealist elements are really trying for that anyway.

[joocomics]

wild cherry: christmas special

read part one here | read part two here

pairing: bf!hyeongjun x fem!reader x bsf!jiseok

genre: smut, slice of life wc: 2.3k

summary: attending a christmas party with your boyfriend han hyeongjun and your best friend jiseok who's back in town for winter break is followed by getting cozy in your apartment only the three of you; just the way you like it

a/n: this wild cherry spin-off was initially planned to be released on dec 25 as a little christmas gift from me to you, my lovely readers and enjoyers of the wild cherry trio, but because my health condition got worse i didn’t get the chance to put it out. but here it is! i hope it’s still enjoyable for all of you! love you <3

contains: established monogamous relationship, sub!reader, threesome, fingering, orgasm denial (f!rec), orgasm control (f!rec), spanking, begging, restraints

[ xdinary heroes masterlist | general masterlist ]

Familiar and unfamiliar faces are already mingling in Jooyeon's apartment when you arrive. Your boyfriend Hyeongjun is holding your hand as Jiseok walks in first with excited eyes roaming in search for the host of this party. He told you beforehand that Jooyeon is known for throwing the best parties no matter the time of the year and despite you've never met the guy you can already tell it must be true.

The place is packed. Filled with laughter, chatter and twinkling lights.

"The decoration is so pretty!" You exclaim, not expecting to see such beautiful Christmas tree in the corner of a college boy's apartment.

"He definitely had someone to do it for him," your boyfriend comments not dropping your hand.

"You caught me!" Somebody shouts over the blasting music before appearing out of nowhere behind you. There's a wide grin on his sharp face as his eyes sparkle joyfully. They make him look not so intimidating as he introduces himself to you after giving Hyeongjun a big hug. "Make yourself at home." He winks at you and to that you reply with an appreciative smile.

You're glad to see a familiar face approaching as you put your jacket away and remain only in the dress you carefully picked out for tonight - Hyeongjun isn't here to see it though because Jiseok was quick to drag him in another direction.

The girl, a childhood friend from your neighbourhood, wraps arms around you in excitement as you haven't seen each other in a hot minute.

"So you know Jooyeon?" She raises a brow as she walks you to the kitchen counter where all the drinks are.

"Oh, I just met him for the first time," you explain, taking your first sip of alcohol, "Jiseok and my boyfriend are close friends with him."

"Ohh, you have a boyfriend? Sweet." She smiles, but you can tell she's more interested in something else you said. "I'm surprised to see Jiseok in town. I really want to talk to him, but we haven't spoken in like... years. I follow him on Instagram though, he's gotten so fuckin' hot."

You shoot a glance over at the circle where Hyeongjun and Jiseok are chatting with few other guys then guide your eyes back on the girl in front of you. She's staring while holding the red plastic cup against her chin, lost in thoughts - about Jiseok you can guess.

"He's still the same silly guy you probably remember." You attempt an encouraging smile.

"You're like besties with him, right?" Her gaze fixates on your face with determination. "Do you think I'm his type?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't really date so I have no idea who he's hooking up with." You shrug shoulders, looking away. For some reason you're struggling with your words a bit and you don't like that. "Go for it." You shrug again.

"I will!" She squeals, overexcited with the idea and walks away.

Your gaze peers through her back as she distances herself and you feel something bitter on your tongue and it's not from the drink you're having.

You catch Hyeongjun leaving the overcrowded sofa and heading towards you. His presence immediately makes that unsettling thrill vanish and now it's only the special affection you feel for him that's flowing through your veins.

"Apparently everyone gets one of these." He reveals what he's been hiding behind his back - a pair of reindeer ears headband and a santa hat. "So, which one you're picking?"

"The hat obviously." You chuckle, stealing it from his hand and putting it on.

"Alright, no need to fight me over it."

Hyeongjun's sarcastic expression slowly starts to fade as he drags his gaze up your figure.

He finally noticed; that makes you smile with satisfaction and you take a step closer.

"It's just that you will look adorable with these." You grab the headband and place it in his dark brown hair.

The corners of his lips curl upwards, tempting you to kiss him.

"I've never seen you in this dress before," he comments using the opportunity to place hands on your waist. His adulation is evident even in his voice that's turning lower. "You look so pretty."

"Thank you, baby." You almost whisper, hanging arms over his shoulders.

You breathe in his scent before shutting your eyes as your lips meet in a slow kiss. You can effortlessly melt in his warm embrace if you stay for longer like this; especially when your mouths are perfectly connected too.

After you separate, still aware of your surroundings, you take your boyfriend's hands and pull him towards the living room that has transformed into a dance floor thanks to Jooyeon's punk rock playlist.

You have to give it to him - it's a good one.

"C'mon!" You pleade as Hyeongjun's head shakes in refusal. "Just one dance, please!" Your lips purse into a pout meanwhile his face continues to scrunch up sulkully.

His brain hates the idea, but clearly his body cannot deny you a thing, because his legs allow to be dragged in the centre of the room after he tosses the headband on the counter.

He’s not dancing and keeping those on at the same time.

"You can just hold me like this," you lower his hands on your waist as your back is pressed against his chest. Your hips sway side to side following the rhythm of the song while your fingers rest on top of his. "And I'll dance for you."

Hyeongjun laughs silently at your demeanor, but he admits that he enjoys the feeling of this - of your body rubbing gently against him while your perfume helps him shut his mind off as he focuses only on having you in his arms.

For a little while you get lost in the moment and once your eyes open you notice something new - Jiseok has turned his back on the people he's been communicating with and is giving all his attention on the girl from your neighbourhood that he hasn't seen in years. The one you encouraged to go talk to him.

You don't know what's happening to you; seeing this shouldn't be making you feel this way. Yes, you love Jiseok and you always will - differently from how you love Hyeongjun, but still just as strongly. Maybe what you feel when you look at them is in fact jealousy. One that's deriving not from him possibly spending the night with a girl, but him possibly choosing somebody else over you and Hyeongjun.

And that’s stupid. But then... you barely get to see him anymore.

As your mind fogs up from thinking and from your boyfriend's lips getting in warm contact with your neck, you and Jiseok lock eyes across the room.

His gaze peers into yours, and judging by the way your mutual friend remains sitting still, she doesn't notice a thing yet. You can only see her back and how her hands fly in the air as she yaps to him, but he doesn't seem to be listening anymore.

Not when you provoke Hyeongjun to kiss your neck by discreetly, or not so discreetly, grinding your ass against his crotch.

"Mmm, kiss me again," you say and he fulfills your wish - with an open mouth that goes for another kiss straight away. Pleasant warmth rises in your veins when Hyeongjun’s grip tightens on the sides of your body as his lips travel to your jawline in front of Jiseok’s eyes; a small airy sound escapes his throat from your ass slowing down against his dick.

Jiseok’s face forms a half-smirk as if he actually heard that. The tension in his gaze, glowing at you in the form of a mischievous spark, remains strong and evident as he forces it back on the girl in front of him.

You miss out on this, but not even a minute later he looks at you again. But you already turned around, placing hands on Hyeongjun’s neck who’s staring lovingly at your mouth.

The three of you crash on your bed or more concretely you and Hyeongjun meanwhile Jiseok sits on the edge of it because it’s too small for the three of you to lay comfortably.

He’s sleeping on the couch tonight, but for now he’s still here as you’re chatting about the new skateboard decks he’s been working on. It’s way past midnight, but waiting in the cold weather for your cab to arrive kind of erased the tiredness from your bodies.

You sit up so you’re in the middle of the two boys as the conversation eventually comes to an end. You’re between Hyeongjun’s legs meanwhile Jiseok is next to you, laid back, with hands sinking into the mattress as he stares blankly into the wall in front of him.

Once he acknowledges your gaze on his side profile he turns to face you.

It’s not that easy to look away from Jiseok; especially when you share memories like the ones you do, and you haven’t seen each other in person in six months.

And when you’re both slightly tipsy.

Your eyes peek at his familiar plump lips and Jiseok can swear that running his tongue over them is not an intentional act. He just cannot ignore the rush that’s awakening in him as he reminisces about your taste.

He looks away and sighs, but his eyes return to you quickly after when you pull him closer by his shirt.

“It’s very sweet of you that you left the party with us.”

You tug the clothing slowly in your direction and Jiseok feels a strong adrenaline wave invading his chest.

“Of course,” he replies breathlessly; seconds before you invite your lips onto his own.

He lurches forward, unsteady by his posture, but also by the kiss that magnifies in a matter of seconds. The way your tongue swiftly turns it into a sloppy making out catches him aback and for a quick moment he finds himself weakening under your control.

But just for a moment.

You pull back and your eyes smile at him, approving of his glossy stunned gaze before you turn your back on him.

You crawl onto Hyeongjun’s restful figure, and lean over his face, wanting to kiss him too. You keep your spine arched, your thighs spread out to provide Jiseok with a tempting view.

Soon enough, you earn goosebumps from his hands sneaking beneath your dress with lazy motions. They roam around your ass, sinking rough fingertips into your flesh, but not for long as you let out a soft moan in your boyfriend’s mouth and that provokes them to pull your panties to the side; then spank you once or twice.

He always needs so little from you for his self control to crumble.

“Tsk,” he snickers at the wetness his fingers slip into, “already wet, holy shit…”

Hyeongjun tastes your sounds of pleasure one by one, so sweet on his tongue that he finds himself humming along with hands in your hair; intoxicating himself more by swallowing them all through your eager kisses.

The arousal Jiseok forms inside you heightens rapidly though - his bold arched fingers eventually start to aim against your deepest spot furiously as your walls now pulse harder around them.

“Baby,” you pant in Hyeongjun’s face that heats up from your breathing, “I’m so close—“

Your one hand grips his shirt for support as he only smirks at your gradual change of state until your head drops in defeat and that makes him chuckle softly.

Jiseok emptied your stimulated walls and left them to clench around air.

“Close?” He asks behind you with devilish tilt in his tone before landing another slap at your ass. “Maybe not close enough.”

You rise up and his hands cannot resist the temptation to travel up to your boobs when your back is practically pressing against his chest.

Hyeongjun watches the two of you with lustful eyes - how his friend’s teeth graze against your neck, promising scattered violet marks all over your skin, meanwhile his palms are full with your breasts. Your eyes flutter shut as his mouth sucks greedily below your ear until a moment later they open to look at him.

After he sits up, you impatiently grip his shirt as a sign for him to get even closer. That results into Hyeongjun dragging your dress up your hips and tugging your underwear down so he can finally touch you.

“Make me cum, please, baby…” You hold onto his shirt, begging with your fragile rushed voice and with every little flinch of your body.

His lips tug lazily at your obvious neediness, but he doesn’t seem like he’s about to fulfill your wish right away.

“Patience, doll.” He runs his fingers up and down your slick with zero force.

“That means you cum whenever we say,” Jiseok adds onto his friend’s words and his erotic laughter clashes with the sound of his metal belt getting undone behind you.

“Please!” You mewl again, twitching at the way the rush elevates every time Hyeongjun’s digits get closer to your clit.

His fingers are cold and that only adds to the nice thrill lingering low in your tummy instead of repressing it.

“So needy tonight.”

“Should we tie her hands maybe?” Jiseok shoots a glance over his friend, removing his belt completely. “She’s getting very touchy.”

He’s referring to your desperate attempts to keep their hands where you need them most. They keep sneaking away though; Hyeongjun's cold touch withdraws entirely as he gives a response that makes your heart skip a beat from excitment.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Jiseok seems to effortlessly pull out your boyfriend's domineering side in ways you haven't yet.

You wonder what other things could they come up with because of you.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[redpill-tfs]

Red Wave

January 1st, 2025

Yo, so I started this Red Wave trial thing today. The docs said it’s supposed to, like, make your brain work better or something. Was told to track my thoughts in this journal thing. Honestly, I’m just here for the cash. I’m not buying into any of their science-y shit. Took the first pill this morning. Feel normal so far. Guess we’ll see if this stuff actually does anything.

Since I was told to describe myself a bit, I guess I might as well if I want that cash they promised. Name's Blake. I'm 26 and work at a local manufacturing company in the finance department. It's a pretty chill gig. Don't gotta wear a suit either which is good. Didn't even wear one to my graduation and I don't plan on starting now.

Anyway bro, I'm also a proud atheist. Never got into politics, but I guess I'm more liberal. I mean, just let people do what they want, right?

February 10th, 2025

Alright, not gonna lie, I’ve been feeling kinda sharp lately. Like, my head’s clearer, and I’m getting more stuff done at work. My boss Emily even said my presentation didn’t totally suck, which is rare. Oh, and I actually ironed my shirt today before work. Don’t know why—just felt like I should look decent. Weird, right? Maybe these pills aren’t total BS. I don't know why, but I've been thinking of wearing a tie to work...

March 12th, 2025

So get this, man: I bought a suit over the weekend. A whole grownup suit and a tie to go with it. I dunno know why, but I just felt like stepping up my game for my presentation at work today. And man did I look good. I got so many compliments on my fit. It honestly felt really good. My bros thought it was weird and so do I, but now that I have it I guess I'll use it at another presentation in the future.

April 15th, 2025

Something weird is going on. I heard some chick at work talking about her church today. Instead of scoffing and rolling my eyes, it made me, like, think a little. Like I got curious about it. I don't know what's going on, but I might have to check it out sometime.

Speaking of work, I've been wearing a tie more and more. It feels... right. People seem to notice too. I get so many compliments about them. I went back to the store and pick out a whole bunch of different colors. I may be the only guy in the department wearing one, but standing out isn't a bad thing I guess.

May 18th, 2025

Alright, so… I went to church today. Yeah, me. Blake, the proud atheist. Walked past St. Mark’s on the way to grab Starbuck's, and something just made me stop and go in. The music was kind of awesome, and the pastor’s talk about purpose hit me harder than I expected. I don’t even know what’s happening to me, but I’m starting to think there’s more to life than what I’ve been living. I might go back next week to see what I've been missing, but I'm not sure yet.

June 30th, 2025

This morning, I prayed. Like, actually prayed to God. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, but it felt… good. I’ve also started reading bits of the Bible over the past week. There’s some deep stuff in there. Work’s going great, too. I’ve been mentoring one of the new guys, and Emily says she’s impressed with my leadership. Suits are now my everyday thing. Who knew dressing sharp could feel so right?

July 23rd, 2025

I’ve been pulling away from my old friends. Their whole sarcastic, edgy vibe just doesn’t sit right with me anymore. Instead, I’ve been hanging out with people from church who share my interest in self-improvement and faith. I’m even thinking about joining a volunteer group at the church. Life feels more meaningful now. My mind still feels so clear too. I don't know what this pill is doing to me, but it's working.

August 11th, 2025

I’ve been reflecting on some big ideas lately: responsibility, tradition, family values. They make so much sense now. I’ve also started watching a few commentators online who align with these views. Their logic is compelling. Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. It’s like a veil has been lifted. Why should abortion be legal? Why should we violate the second amendment with gun control laws? Why do gays think thy can decide how the rest of us live our lives? So many questions I'm learning the answers to. I never paid much attention to politics, but maybe I should.

September 7th, 2025

Sunday service has become the cornerstone of my week. I’ve officially joined St. Mark’s and volunteered for their community outreach. Pastor Williams’s guidance has been invaluable. I’m entirely committed to this new path. My wardrobe, my habits, even my worldview have all transformed. I’m proud of the man I’ve become. I've said this a million times already, but it just feels right.

October 20th, 2025

Today is my birthday, and reflecting on this past year astounds me. My former self seems like a stranger. I’ve embraced faith, order, and purpose, and it just feels right. I got my hair cut to be a lot shorter than I once had it as a special birthday gift to myself. It feels more appropriate for my new image.

I had some friends from bible study over for a small party. I wore my best suit for the occasion. We played games, ate good food, and prayed of course. There was a riveting debate on the role of faith in politics. All in all, it was a good time. I can't believe how much my life has changed just in 10 months.

November 30th, 2025

Today was the final day of the trial. The scientist leading the study asked me all sorts of questions, from my conservative views to my faith in God and my new sense of style. I'm not sure what it all has to do with a mental focus pill, but I didn't feel like asking questions. I'm sure they know what they're doing. Anyways, I better get going. St. Mark's is having an event today to celebrate God and all of His glory. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

December 1st, 2025

The Red Wave trial has concluded with a 100% conversion rate among participants. Subjects exhibited profound and permanent shifts in personality, behavior, and worldview. Pre-trial skepticism and liberal inclinations were entirely replaced with conservative, faith-based identities. This case highlights the pill's efficacy in aligning individuals with structured, traditional conservative values. Further research will examine long-term societal impacts of widespread application. More subjects needed.

[snorlaxlovesme]

my problem recommending Link Click to people

clearly, i love Link Click. i find the show emotionally compelling, the characters are well-written and interesting, the complex/convoluted plot is very crunchy for my adhd brain to chew on. LOVE that. however. i have yet to find a person irl who Sees My Vision when i recommend the show to them, and i think it's the fandom's fault.

not in bad way! but i think this show is a good example of media that exists for FANS and not casual viewers.

season 1 is by far the most accessible. a straightforward story about two guys solving crime by time travelling in photos. don't mess up the past, it could mess up the future, etc etc. everything is linear, the character motivations are pretty clear, the plot is seriously gripping. the only accessibility hurdles are the piss poor subs we had to deal with and the lack of on-screen text translation. and i suppose if you don't like shows that are episode-5-level heavy then this probably isn't the show for you.

season 2 already starts off on a very niche foot with the fact that there was a pretty big spoiler (or a hint at one) in the XETROVERTHINK music video that released before the season aired. fans who knew about that video were already speculating, and by the first 30 seconds of season 2, theories were running RAMPANT. NOW everyone was intentionally looking for hints of time travel mid-season. they were predicting how and when cheng xiaoshi might die. it made an extremely confusing season FUN because even when we didn't know what the hell was going on, we could always fall back on the lu guang timeloop theory to chew on.

but if you didn't see the XETROVERTHINK video? well, you probably weren't paying as close attention to what lu guang was saying in the first 30 seconds. the shot of cheng xiaoshi dying lasted for only a second or two. blink and you miss it. if you didn't rewatch the episode, you probably wouldn't notice. in a show where so many things don't make sense, that could have just been one more to add to the pile.

cut back to all the people that I've forced to watch the show, I can say that they did NOT have the same watching experience that i had as a fun following along on tumblr. which is fine, but they do look at me like i'm insane when i try to explain that this is the most fun show ever created.

after one of my friends finished season 2 i sent him a draft of the fic i was writing for some feedback and when he got to season 2-spoiler specific part, he didn't fully understand that lu guang had gone back in time to prevent cheng xiaoshi from dying, and therefore didn't understand what i had written. he didn't have the fandom, who had been speculating about that for 12 full weeks before the reveal, so as a casual fan, the first time he received that info was in that last 2 minutes of the season, and he didn't full understand it

my younger sister has made it to yingdu, and every time i try to talk to her about it when get to talk about shiguang a lot, but i don't have much time to sit her down and show her frame by frame analyses of why the lu guang vs vein interaction in episode one looks like it might be in two different timelines. she's not seeing that there's morse code in the books or interpreting sonnets or pausing to check the eye color of characters, so when i talk to her about it we're scratching maybe 3% of what the show is truly communicating with us.

and again, it makes me look like a total headcase when i try to explain to people that this is the best show ever and so much fun because if you're not INTERACTING with the show and with the fans, mulling over the minute details in a scene or asking for a more accurate translation of something, it's like you're missing out on most of the show

i once tried to recommend my sister one of my favorite pokemon fanfics of all time. she'd read some others and seemed interested, so i sent her the link and then told her that to fully understand it she'd need to have knowledge of basically every major character in the entire pokemon anime, from kid trainers to gym leaders to Champions to villains to rivals to professors. she'd also have to know how they all relate to each other, PLUS some game characters. i sent her a list of episodes she needed to watch for character and plot relevance and links to wikipedias for other main characters. after she absorbed all this information then she could truly understand why this was the greatest fic ever!!

that's what recommending Link Click is feeling like, currently. like i want you to like this show, i want you to understand this show like i do, but that means you HAVE to be insane about it. there's no other way to appreciate it if you're not in the fandom.

[smutszn]

loml (part 2) - Luigi x y/n

No Luigi, but we need the build-up... I thought this was a one-shot but here we are with a potential love triangle.

You and Luigi are 19 and seniors in college. You two aren't close, but share the same major and extracurricular, being on the Robotics Team. Things are about to change. !slowburn !college !grumpysunshine !luigimangione

loml (part 1) "...You're right, the love of my life might just be a frat bro at this party!! you spit out sarcastically. "Anyway, good seeing you, Mangione" You salute the Robotics prez goodbye as you make your way to join Jamie.

You get to Jamie, and at this point, she'e alone on the dance floor. Looks like her Wednesday Addam's dance scared off the frat boy she was with. Her arms still were swinging violently, and you spotted a few sorority girls snickering against the wall at her.

"Jamie," you yell, "I'm back! I was thinking maybe we should go? I'm getting tired, and you look pretty wasted."

"Y/N nooooooooooo," she slurred. She slung her arms around you. "I'm not drunkkkkkkkk. Can't you dance with meeeee?"

You really wanted to leave, but you would never abandon your friend. Might as well hunker down so she could sober up more.

"Fine," you smile, as you start swaying awkwardly to the music.

You're lost in the music and rolling your hips cheekily at Jamie, but then Thriller comes on. Jamie stops everything and runs to a far corner of the dance floor. She jerks towards you in time to the music, shrugging her shoulders up. You giggle and start doing the Thriller dance towards her, stepping left and right in sync with your arms pawing the sky. In your periphery you see a bunch of sorority and frat dudes staring at you two, but it's all too fun and you don't care.

The song ends and you throw your arms happily around Jamie, giving her a big hug. "Okay, that was so fun," you scream.

"Ughhh Y/N, you smell sooo good," Jamie breathes into your neck. "OMG I really need to pee. Also, can you get me water?"

Oh Jamie.

"Sure, meet in the kitchen after you're done and I'll have some water for you," you tell Jamie. Before you finish speaking, the girl is already zooming upstairs towards the bathroom like a horde of zombies are chasing her.

You make your way to the frat house kitchen. No one else is there. It's relaxing in a weird way being alone and cooling down, while still hearing the bass and muted voices. You get a cup of water for Jamie, then hop onto the kitchen counter to rest your legs and text Jamie to see if she's okay.

"What's a lady doing sitting alone?"

You look up at the voice by the door.

"Jake, hey," your eyes widen. "Do you want to come sit with me?"

Jake is - well, Jake is a specimen of a man. 6'1", dirty blonde hair framing dark eyebrows and dark brown eyes. Smart, a fellow engineering major in your class. Editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. President of the frat your butt is sitting in. Charming womanizer and of course, you've heard the rumors - big down there. Incidentally, your Robotics Team President Luigi's roommate and best friend.

You first got to know Jake because he would sometimes visit Luigi during Robotics Club meetings when the team was building stuff since he wanted to help out. The last time he visited, Luigi told him to fuck off from helping him, so Jake wandered around to your work station and ended up being your assistant while basically flirting with you. You thought nothing of it. This man would flirt with a squirrel. He was fun and insanely charming, a great helper, and you hoped he would come back more.

Although it felt like your relationship with Jake was light-hearted, sometimes it felt... strangely deep in specific moments. The Robotics Club chaos where you two stayed for 4 hours bantering. Him making a passing comment to you last week in the library (you two liked studying in the same Hogwarts-like library in the same room) when he spotted you reading Pride and Prejudice. "Ah, there sits Elizabeth Bennett and her bright eyes in the Upenn library..."

Jake accepted your invite to sit on the counter, and plopped right next to you.

"You didn't answer my question," his dkar eyes pour into yours. You can smell his musky cologne since he's so close. "Why are you here alone? You don't like my party?"

Luigi will be back very soon, but what did we think about Jake? If you can't wait until Part 3 and crave some Luigi, you should play with him on your own and tell me how it goes . Btw you have my permission to take my story ideas or writing to remix on RQ ;)

[sweetstrawberrygladiator]

When the phone rings finale thoughts

- I don't think they made evil mom cry to make us sympathize with her, I think they needed to fill in episode time and the actress ate down a little too hard for them to edit out all of it. You did great making me hate you queen!

- I think it still managed to wrap itself up a lot better than other finales out there. Second leads, villains, victims of the narrative, main leads all got their little bow, though some bows were bigger than necessary and others too comically small(I'm exhausting this metaphor but you get what I mean)

- that being said, I kept trying to skip through this Argan nonsense, in my opinion we will re-watch this episode only from the part where they roll around in bed thanks.

- this was still in character for them, all things considered. I just wish he didn't leave when she was unconscious. Beautiful noble self sacrificing idiot. But Heejoo going to a war torn country in a pretty outfit with no clue where her man is simply because dying in pursuit of him is better than dying without him? Checks out.

- I was still so annoyed by this fucker leaving I had to pause and replay the whole sunset conversation cuz I was so annoyed and rolling my eyes so hard with Sae-eon/Yu Yeon I was like you need to stfu for a minute first you're such a man you're such a fucking man GOD!!!!! DIE!!!!!!!! and then I calmed down cuz it was cute and his hands were pretty.

- also y'all his arms????? Fucked me up I was too annoyed to appreciate it initially but thank God for his arms.

- Park Do Jae out of jail 10 years too early to serve a life sentence of hearing his boss and wife have their honeymoon phase nasty roleplay phone sex

- when will dramas stop this stupid wedding photoshoot nonsense and spend 2 minutes of good music and some cheap white dresses and black suits to give me proper weddings. WHERE WAS THE REWEDDING. Their wedding photos were so cute :(((( .

- Heejoo telling her mom to chill was very funny actually. I know Koreans have a whole thing with forgiving shitty parents, and I know westerners or people exposed to more western culture but not from the west exactly would be like???? Cut them off????? But I guess I see the Asianess of it all- you're evil but u didn't kill me! So I guess it's okay.

- I could watch another 10 minutes of their awkward dinner table laughing and being happy with all their friends and family. I don't care how awkward the different dynamics of everyone all together play out, it was cute and I wanted more of those two being surrounded by loved ones.

- Would've actually wept if that last scene had a little kid between them. Two leads, a product of such terrible parenting, so gentle and so loving, giving their own child a life so perfect and precious. I know they'd be so good with kids. Oh or a dog? They had a dog in one of Heejoo's fantasies????? I JUST WANTED THEIR HOUSE LIVELIER TOO

[kasen-do-not-interact]

That post got me thinking about what characters would listen to Taylor Swift? Most characters I find interesting I can confidently say would not, but there is probably at least one?

I'm thinking about IWTV and how the vampires are, for the most part, bad artists. They want to make art, they want to be in artistic spaces, but they're ultimately not particularly talented, or in Armand's case, get by mainly on novelty and the allure of taboo rather than skillful acting. Armand and Louis surround themselves with all these great big masterpieces, so I think he has a pretty good eye for at least physical artwork, even if he doesn't have the skill to create it. Ultimately I don't think he would actually like her songs or listen to her, but he would really respect the chokehold she got over the pop music industry without even having to make good music.

Louis, I never saw him actively picking out decor, so idk about his aesthetic taste so much. We saw him appreciating the opera when he went with Lestat. I'm remembering a scene where Lestat kills a young man for singing poorly, but Louis didn't notice the difference? I'm not certain if that's canon or from a fic, but it would imply that he wasn't really that into the intricacies of high-brow music, but just liked to hear what was popular. That could've changed over the centuries since then, but I'd say he's a solid maybe.

All of that said, I can see Lestat de Lioncourt enjoying Taylor Swift a lot, because I think he has bad taste. This would change in his pop star era, because he'd be incandescent with jealous rage that his music is just as good as hers, but her songs still top the charts over his, every single time.

[justplainwhump]

Nobody is Coming

Bradley isn't picked up from school.

Both canon in the later arcs of Pet Safety and Angel, set shortly after Pirate Lady.

Content / warnings: Recovery, loss, the feeling of being left behind, implied parental neglect. An unlikely pair of hurt people maybe about to grow together. Implication of BBU setting.

Bradley was perched on the little stone wall by the school's music wing, his guitar case next to him. Class was over, but he wasn't going to be picked up.

"Your pet is never late," Mr Oliver, the music teacher, commented after a long stare at his watch.

Wrong on so many levels, Bradley thought. But he didn't say it. He didn't ask him to call Rosa by her name instead of her status, either. He had done so, hundreds of times. Stood up for her, or at least tried to. And she hadn't even turned around when she left him.

"She's not coming," Bradley said.

Mr Oliver frowned. "Well. Who is?"

Bradley shrugged. "Nobody."

"I'm going to call your Da-" He stopped with a sudden flush of redness burning on his cheeks. Bradley gritted his teeth. He'd internally dared him to say it out loud.

Dad. Dead. Mom. Refusing to answer her phone. Probably drunk on mimosas in some day spa. Sister. Ran off to California first chance she got. Rosa. Rosa. Left with a stranger without turning around.

"Nobody." Bradley repeated stoically.

"Well, I'm going to call someone to pick you up."

Bradley shrugged again. The police, he wondered. Social services?

"Isn't your uncle in town, too?"

Tim.

Bradley shot his teacher a long look. Was Mr Oliver the only one in town who hadn't excessively read every single detail about the drama that had left both his father and uncle killed?

"Dead," he said shortly.

"Aunt?"

I don't have an aunt, he wanted to say. But he did, he realized. Angelina. The woman his mother blamed for literally everything that had happened in the past horrible months. The one who 'destroyed the family'.

She hadn't, Bradley thought. Their family had been rotten within. Angelina had just brought all the rot to the surface.

His mother would hate it.

"Um." Bradley said. "Yeah. I guess."

He didn't have her mobile number, but he found a landline in Uncle Tim's contact.

Mr Oliver turned away as he called, but someone did seem to answer, because he started to quickly speak into the phone.

"She's coming," he said to Bradley, after he hung up. And then, with a sudden gravity to his voice, as if he'd just now realized that Bradley had indeed had some pretty not great weeks, he added "I'll wait here with you."

-

Twenty minutes late, Angelina Harris turned around the corner in Uncle Tim's sleek black Mercedes. When she got out, the wind played with her long blond hair, billowed into the light blue coat and exposed her white silk blouse and tight blue jeans.

Next to him, Mr Oliver sucked in some air. Bradley grimaced. Yeah. Some men did that, when they saw her.

"Ms Harris," he said and strode forward to clasp her hand between both his. "So sorry for your loss."

Angelina tilted her head politely, her mouth curved into a tiny, pained smile.

She was better at the act than himself, Bradley figured. Whenever someone offered him condolences he couldn't do anything else but shrug it off rudely.

He jumped from the wall and pushed himself and his guitar through them, breaking off his teacher's grasp of her hand.

"Thank you for waiting with me, Sir," he said. "My aunt has got it from here. Bye."

Almost embarrassed, Mr Oliver stepped back, as Bradley stowed his guitar on the back seat and slid onto the passenger seat.

Angelina got in at the same time, pulled the door shut, but didn't turn on the ignition.

Instead she turned over to face him, hands in her lap, one eyebrow raised.

"Do I?" She asked.

"What?"

"Have got it from here? It sure doesn't feel like it." She frowned. "Why me, Bradley?"

He didn't look her in the eyes. He tried to count the freckles on her cheeks instead. "Rosa left," he mumbled. "Everyone left."

"Why me? Your mother hates me. She-" Angelina paused, suddenly pale under her freckles. "Wait. What happened to Rosa? Did your mother do something? Did she send her -"

Bradley shook his head. "Mum doesn't even know yet, I think." He stared down at his fingers. "Rosa just walked out."

"Pets don't -"

"Call her Rosa," he snapped. "She's a person, the only person who ever -" Cared about me, he thinks. Loved me. But she didn't. He had seen what love looked like on Rosa's face, when the stranger rang at their door. She'd never loved him.

Something cool wrapped around his wrist and only belated did he realize it was Angelina's hand. "Don't." She said. "Don't hurt yourself."

Numbly he started at his knuckles. They hurt. A little blood welled up from a small cut. He'd punched the window.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Sorry, I-"

"Can you drive?"

The question was so strange, it stopped him from rocking in the seat.

"I'm fourteen," he said plainly.

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm not allowed to drive."

"Can you?"

He remembered hours on the parking lot of the closed convenience store, Sloane by his side, patiently guiding him. Their plan had been to take the care and just drive West steadily. Change drivers, when one of them would have to sleep, Sloane had explained. Get away from their parents influence as quickly as possible, and build up a new life somewhere else.

She'd done it, in the end. Without him.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I can."

"I can't," she said, just as plainly. "You drive us home."

"You got here, somehow."

"Barely." She dropped the key on his lap.

"It's illegal."

"Fuck the rules." She seemed startled herself by her words, but also somewhat... delighted.

Stunned, Bradley took the keys.

They didn't get out to change seats. On some silent agreement, she slid over onto the passenger seat under him, before he shifted to the driver's seat.

"Rules that only enforce oppression need to be broken." She bit her lip, and the matter seemed to important to her, that Bradley didn't see fit to tell her that traffic rules had been implemented to safe lives. It probably wasn't the point here. "Rosa broke your mom's rules and I hope she found freedom." She looked at him from clear brown eyes, a stare so intense that he couldn't break free. "She broke your rules, too, Bradley, didn't she? But if she's a person, as you say, and as I think she is, too, these rules ate wrong. Have been wrong, for all your lifetime. The rules were her prison. And she left it."

Her smile was soft. "It's good that you called me. You were wrong, thinking that I've got it from here. But I think I'm a step closer to figuring it out."

She didn't say So are you.

He heard it anyway. And maybe, she was right.

"Tell me where we're going," he said, and turned the key in the ignition.

Angelina leaned back in her seat, squinted at the blue afternoon sky.

"The sea," she suggested. "What about that?"

Bradley smiled.