#I guess if i had to call you one or the other it would be TME

[spiderbitesandvampirevenom]

I mean, I think you partially answered your own question there. Because you're right, If we treat TMA/TME as a binary it can't include intersex issues. And you're right, it is often applied without any consideration towards intersex issues. However, my point with the original post is that TMA/TME isn't and shouldn't be a binary.

First of all, lets talk real quick about the terms themselves. Transmisogyny Affected/Exempt. These are deceptively simple labels, and I think that's where a lot of the confusion comes up for people. Transmisogyny can refer to specific interpersonal acts, but it's also first and foremost a term describing the societal system that is designed to oppress transfems, i.e. people who were Assigned Male At Birth and no longer identify with that. And at a systemic level, that is the deciding factor. Transmisogyny picks its targets based on that assignment at birth. Individually, people who were not AMAB may find themselves the target of interpersonal transmisogyny, just as any individual can be mistakenly targeted by bigotry that doesn't apply to them. I get misdirected anti-hispanic shit thrown at me all the time, it doesn't make me hispanic. Likewise, being subjected to transmisogyny as someone who was AFAB does not necessarily make one TMA.

You're right, though, being intersex means you're not necessarily going to fall neatly into either a TMA or a TME bucket. Which means unfortunately when perisex people get to spend some time adjusting to the concept in Transmisogyny 1001: Transfemininity for Babies, you've been forced to skip ahead a bit to Transmisogyny 2001: Critical Thinking & Intersectionality. I don't know you or anything about you, so I'm not gonna talk too specifically here, I'm just trying to give you the lead to make your own analysis. SO. Here we go.

On some issues, you might be reasonably considered affected by transmisogyny. Depending on where you live and how legislation is written, you might find yourself targeted by transmisogynistic legislation. On many issues, however, as someone who was AFAB, you will find you are not going to be affected systemically by those issues. Because Transmisogyny's primary target is (primarily perisex) people who were AMAB and are now transfem. Regardless of whether or not you're TMA/TME though, this overlap in the treatment of transfem people and intersex people means we get to do something really cool called Intersectionality, where we focus on discussing the shared problems our communities face. Like personally, I don't particularly care whether or not you're TMA/TME. The fact that we have shared experiences matters more than the labels at that point. Transmisogyny and Intersexism have very similar playbooks and a lot of the time, one is going to include some level of the other. I'd rather discuss the intersection of our experiences than try to delineate where one starts and the other ends.

you folks realise TME isnt just a new synonym for transmasc right. like you realize when trans women are talking about TransMisogyny Exempt Individuals that includes, like, for example, cis men and women, right?? if you're gonna throw a fit over TMA/TME being "a new binary" i think you are a) purposefully misrepresenting these terms for the sake of delegitimizing them or b) being taken advantage of by those who do so. check your transmisogyny and do better lmao.

[luveline]

would you be able to do hotch’s adult daughter meeting the team?

—Hotch introduces his daughter to the team. 1.3k

“Aaron?” 

He’s grateful you didn’t call him Mr. Hotchner, but dad might not hurt. “Everything okay, honey?” he asks the phone. 

“Sure, um. This might be presumptuous and, like, embarrassing for me, but my last class got cancelled and I was wondering if I can come to your office today?” 

He feels his brows rise of their own accord. He checks his watch. You’ve picked a good day to want to come. “Sure, it’s quiet here.”

“You don’t want me to explain why?” 

“Presumptuous and embarrassing for me, I thought it might be to see your dear old dad.” 

You laugh funny on the other side, like Jack when he’s surprised. “Kind of. I do want to see you, but I was wondering what it’s like. In the FBI, I mean.” 

“You’re interested?” 

“In working there?” you ask. 

“It’s fine if you were, you don’t have to worry.” 

“It looks too intense for me, but… yeah, I guess I want to know what you do all day. I don’t know anything about that part of your life, and it’s such a big part of it.” 

He’s trying hard to say Yes to you at every opportunity, and this yes is easy. He sends a car to get you because he can, preparing himself for a lot of fawning and surprise. The BAU team, namely, Spencer, Derek, JJ, Emily, Dave, and Penelope, know who you are, but the office itself has little knowledge of you. There was chatter the day you turned up here unannounced. You haven’t been to the office since. 

He exits his office and finds Spencer, Emily, and Derek in the bullpen doing their paperwork, among other things. Derek’s peeling an orange. Spencer has his nose in a book despite a hand on the computer mouse. 

“Are you ready?” he asks them. 

“For what, the round table?” Emily asks. 

“Y/N’s coming into the office.” 

Three backs straighten in unison. “The kid?” Derek asks with a grin. He’s the only one who’s actually met you, and it drives the others mad with jealousy. 

“My kid, yes,” he says. He can’t help smiling. “She wants to see what we do. Please don’t show her anything with blood or gore, though. Please.” 

“Scout’s honour,” Emily says, standing from her desk to brush herself down. “Out of everything that’s happened when I started here, is it strange that this is the craziest?” 

“It’s up there,” Spencer says. 

“It’s certainly the nicest surprise I’ve had,” Aaron says, not quite missing the look Emily and Derek share even as he spots you at the office doors with your visitor’s pass clipped to the belt of your skirt. 

He walks to meet you, lest the sheer sea of faces intimidate you. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

You pull your jacket tighter around you, but it’s not a warm thing —if anything, it seems to be a stiff cardigan, grey and white plaid with ornate buttons. “It’s freezing out there.” 

“You’ll feel much warmer in a minute. The heat has been on high all day, JJ’s orders.” He slips his hand behind your back and shepherds you to the bullpen. “Honey, these are some of the members of my team. Supervisory special agents Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid.” 

“Emily,” Emily says, thrusting her hand forward to shake. 

“Spencer,” Spencer adds, managing to escape a handshake as Derek steps in. 

“Derek Morgan,” he introduces himself, shaking your hand with a warm smile. “I can see now why you were reluctant to tell me what you were here for.” 

Your smile goes sideways, like you’re startled, but pleased nonetheless, “I– honestly, I thought you’d make me leave if you heard what I had to say. It’s still not believable.”

“You sound like him,” Spencer says. “Not masculine, but–”

“Mellifluous,” you and Aaron say at the same time. 

“Exactly.” 

“Freaky,” Emily says, though her smile is brilliant. 

When Aaron sat the team down to tell them, it wasn’t because he necessarily wanted to. He loves you as any man loves their child even if he still has mountains to learn about you, and the urge to brag about you doesn’t go away, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to answer so many questions about you at the time. As far as anybody in Aaron’s life knows, he and Haley haven’t ever split, it was a private parting, and so the first thing he sensed from everyone was a shift in image. “I didn’t cheat on Haley,” he’d said quickly, with a suffering sigh, “we were broken up at the time.” 

“Like, on a break?” Emily had asked, cringing. 

No, not really. Aaron assumed he and Haley were broken up permanently when he slept with your mother, but that brief relationship cemented for him that he loved his now-wife. Now that the team know he’s not an adulterer, the only thing he has while presenting you to them is pride. 

“Y/N’s class was cancelled today, so I’m going to show her around the office and give her some insight into what we do here,” he says, catching your attention with a grin. “It’s not as though you need today's lecture, hm? She’s nearly the top of her class.” 

You shake your head at him, beaming but mortified, “Don’t.” 

“If she didn’t work so hard–”

“He’s trying to get me to quit my job,” you tell the others. “He’s overbearing.” 

“We know,” Emily says. 

“I just think that now is a time for studying, and you’ve worked hard enough already.” 

You shift marginally closer to him. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Aaron does, and he suspects his team do to. “I’m fine doing both,” you say. 

He’s sure he’ll win the argument one day. For now, he escorts you through the office to the round table, then his office, pulling you into Rossi’s office for a charming hello and then to JJ’s, where you’re greeted with excitement and a disarming amount of love. Aaron forgets sometimes how much he and his team have been through together. You really are a good surprise. 

“Where are we going now?” you ask, following Aaron down a long corridor. 

He smiles. “You don’t have a sensitivity to high-pitched noises, do you?” 

Your confusion is plain on your face. Aaron takes you to a familiar door, placard reading in big, black letters: PENELOPE GARCIA, BAU TOP TECH AND DATA ANALYST. It’s surrounded by pink heart shaped stickers. 

He knocks the ajar door politely. “Garcia?” he asks.

“Sir?” Penelope says back. 

He eases open the door with his foot. Penelope turns in her chair, blonde hair in windswept curls, her lips painted a pink-orange. 

“Garcia, this is Y/N, my daughter.” 

Penelope’s mouth falls open. “I know who she is,” she says, nearly monotonous. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I’ve heard so much about you. I love your trinkets,” you add, nodding at her wild desk. 

Penelope gives Aaron a pleading look. He nods. 

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Penelope says, rushing forward to throw her arms around you. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

You laugh and bow gently under her weight. “Me neither,” you say sincerely. 

“Oh my gosh. Oh my god,” she says, pulling away to smile at Aaron, “she sounds like you, you weren’t kidding! How is it possible that she sounds like you?” 

“Strong genetics?” he suggests. 

“I’ve never been this happy in my life,” Penelope says. 

He watches you take Penelope’s excited hand and thinks, that makes two of us. 

“You’re so adorable, I’m looking for Hotch in your face but you don’t look like him at all. But your clothes! You’re so cute, like a baby politician!” 

“I’m almost twenty three.” 

“So young,” Penelope fawns. 

[elodieunderglass]

Having dug out the Unfinished Tales to reference a conversation Tolkien wrote between Gandalf and Pippin (but didn’t publish) I thought I’d share it. Gandalf is talking to Pippin about the history of Thorin’s company, hobbits and why he chose Bilbo.

This is evidence for the grand statement I just made about how Bilbo was intended to be a catalyst that changed his society, and that hobbit society was indeed significantly different after his journey, with large social changes occurring between The Hobbit and Fellowship. But it’s also a very funny passage to me so here it is:

‘And then there was the Shire-folk. I began to have a warm place in my heart for them in the Long Winter, which none of you can remember.

They were very hard put to it then: one of the worst pinches they have been in, dying of cold, and starving in the dreadful dearth that followed. But that was the time to see their courage, and their pity one for another. It was by their pity as much as by their tough uncomplaining courage that they survived. I wanted them still to survive.

(😭😭😭😭. Also the theme of having pity for each other is what redeems both Bilbo and Frodo re: Gollum.)

But I saw that the Westlands were in for another very bad time again, sooner or later, though of quite a different sort: pitiless war.

(This is possibly one reason why this passage didn’t make it to publication - Gandalf shouldn’t have had this much foreknowledge of the upcoming war of the ring.)

To come through that I thought they would need something more than they now had. It is not easy to say what. Well, they would want to know a bit more, understand a bit clearer what it was all about, and where they stood.

(It’s also explaining that Bilbo’s role in Thorin’s company was predetermined both by a more omnipotent Gandalf and by Fate; that Gandalf selected Bilbo to be a social catalyst, to return and provoke hobbit society into a more adaptable, resilient state; therefore increasing their chances of surviving.)

They had begun to forget: forget their own beginnings and legends, forget what little they had known about the greatness of the world. It was not yet gone, but it was getting buried: the memory of the high and the perilous. But you cannot teach that sort of thing to a whole people quickly. There was not time.

(Thus Bilbo was supposed to be changed, and return changed by his journey, to teach his people.)

And anyway you must begin at some point, with some one person. I dare say he was “chosen” and I was only chosen to choose him; but I picked out Bilbo.’

‘Now that is just what I want to know,’ said Peregrin. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘How would you select any one Hobbit for such a purpose?’ said Gandalf. ‘I had not time to sort them all out;

(He is SO funny)

but I knew the Shire very well by that time, although when I met Thorin I had been away for more than twenty years on less pleasant business. So naturally thinking over the Hobbits that I knew, I said to myself: “I want a dash of the Took” (but not too much, Master Peregrin)

(This is brilliant we are always BODYING pippin constantly. NOT TOO MUCH TOOK 👀. We were ROBBED not having this in canon )

“and I want a good foundation of the stolider sort, a Baggins perhaps.” That pointed at once to Bilbo.

(Eugenics! Observing them like laboratory mouse lines! Call him a Charles River BILB/o the way you’re genotyping these poor little bastards for your purposes)

And I had known him once very well, almost up to his coming of age, better than he knew me.

(??? Hiding in the bushes spying or…?)

I liked him then. And now I found that he was “unattached” – to jump on again, for of course I did not know all this until I went back to the Shire. I learned that he had never married. I thought that odd, though I guessed why it was; and the reason that I guessed was not the one that most of the Hobbits gave me: that he had early been left very well off and his own master.

(Was it cos he’s gay as fuck, Gandalf)

No, I guessed that he wanted to remain “unattached” for some reason deep down which he did not understand himself – or would not acknowledge, for it alarmed him.

(I 100% now and for always love a narrator in a constant state of Just Fucking Lies To Everyone All The Time, Giving Us Nothing, Acknowledging Nothing Including Himself. NOPE NOT PROCESSING ANYTHING TODAY THANKS. WE’RE CLOSED. COME BACK TOMORROW. just A Massive Liar about everything and for what!!! Bilbo Baggins my beloved you were born wrong.)

He wanted, all the same, to be free to go when the chance came, or he had made up his courage. I remembered how he used to pester me with questions when he was a youngster about the Hobbits that had occasionally “gone off ”, as they said in the Shire. There were at least two of his uncles on the Took side that had done so.’

You can see why I love this! And I can see why Tolkien didn’t include it, too. Still very fun passage and near enough to canon to be used if you ever want to.

[astralis-ortus]

guess i missed you too much

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— that's what being in love does to you.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warning → reader referred to as baby and my love, 2 (two) chatroom screenshots a.n → based on this request! ngl i was like '!!!' as soon as i read the request bc i can just imagine how it would go i'm—ㅠㅠㅠ also, i have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop—i would really appreciate it if you'd check it and help a girl out♡ ⋆ see masterlist

to put it simply, chan is dumbfounded.

he's pretty sure he had mentioned to both han and changbin that you're coming here, to seoul, in a exactly week and chan needs to have all the urgent project revisions to be done prior to your arrival. he's absolutely sure the two promised they will only be gone for a little while to get some coffee to wake them up, and chan is now certain that the two are definitely not only heading out to grab those goddamn coffee.

"if you two aren't back here in 5, just know this is your one and only warning," chan muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to sound too pissed before sending the voicenote in their '3racha only' groupchat.

it's not that chan didn't understand—he knows he's been pushing both changbin and han more than he usually does, and chan is very much aware that the duo are bound to be a bit more rebellious than usual once they reach their point of exhaustion, but he really is looking forward to the time he's about to spend with you, and he's not about to let anything come and ruin that.

it's been a while since you've last spent a considerable amount of time together with chan. sure, there are stolen dates here and there whenever a holiday would match up and you could take some time off to visit chan's version of paradise (which is unironically everywhere within the bounds of japan) together, but those visits always ends as quickly as it starts and left the two of you with a longer list of regrets by the time you had to let your hands slip away from chan' warmth.

so this time, when you finally were able put your responsibilities on rest for two whole weeks, it didn't take much of a convincing for either you or chan to finalize the dates when you would finally be able to be within each other's reach. chan even went the extra mile to immediately book your flight coming in, though you had to basically threaten him with no video calls for a week if he went through with his other plans to spoil you rotten.

well, you could only hope that chan won't pull any uno reverse card on you once this plan came to an end.

a bell sound from his phone quickly distracts chan from the lines of lyrics he's trying to edit—an action he came to regret when the notification in view were merely a singular line of emojis sent by changbin, consisting of the same teasing faces and a pink ribbon both changbin and han been sending chan for days now on end.

"oh, he's done," chan groaned, head tilted back in annoyance as he threw his poor beanie back at the sofa where changbin was supposed to be seated right now. to be frank, chan didn't understand what changbin has been implying with the string of emojis at all. presumably changbin and han had seen the way chan saved your kakao talk profile—hence the pink ribbon, but why now? exactly when chan's the most sensitive of the topic? the fact that chan couldn't contact you drives him even crazier—you had told him you haven't been feeling well and you'd text him again once you feel better, but that was like, what, an eternity ago? chan didn't want the risk of waking you up either especially with your trip coming up, so…

he's basically helpless.

another set of annoyed groan became chan's initial response when his phone came alive with a new notification. reluctantly grabbing the device, chan was mentally prepared for a text bubble sent by the youngest of the three, containing of the same string of emojis changbin had just sent—only for his heart to jump out of his chest when he saw the pink ribbon next to your name.

before chan could type another reply, his attention were robbed by the knocks on his studio door—which is a little weird considering neither han or changbin would bother, and the fact that it's nearly midnight meant that almost no one that chan knows of should be looking for him around this time of night.

"manager hyung?" chan cautiously called out, instinctively grabbing his discarded beanie before he went to reach for the door. "did you leave something? or are you—"

the words on chan's tongue dissipates soon after the door swung open—but even with the way his eyes just doubled in size, chan still couldn't believe what he's currently seeing right in front of him now.

"hi, my channie," you finally spoke, a wide grin decorating your lightly flushed face from all the adrenaline you've been feeling; and only then, chan seems to wake up from his trance.

"wha—baby?" chan could hear how voice had skipped an octave higher, but he couldn't care less—did he fell asleep? is this a dream? chan had to pinch himself before he even pulled you in his arms, tightly wrapping the giggling mess that you are in his warmth. "you're actually here? wasn't your flight next week? did i got the dates wrong? how—"

"whoa whoa, calm down there, racer," you quickly stopped your boyfriend's wild train of questions, still with your smile plastered across the span of your face—your plan is a massive success.

"it was supposed to be next week," you confirmed, eyes still taking in chan's perplexed face while your brain etched the memory in its hall of fame, "but i miss my boyfriend too much to wait another week, so… i asked for bin and jisung's help to change my plane ticket!"

suddenly, everything that's been happening to chan in the past week just clicked—the time he caught changbin and han meddling with his laptop, the nervous chuckles, the way they become way to secretive with their phones, the phone calls, and those lines of goddamn emojis. it all finally makes sense.

"is that so?" chan shook his head despite the clear view of his dimpled smile, arms tightening around your waist, "so you three little naughty being has been cooking up plans behind my back, that's what you're saying?"

the sound of your sweet laugh fills chan with an overwhelming sense of warmth— you might spend the majority of your year apart from each other, but for chan, it's moment like this that makes all the dark nights of longing seem worth to be worth his patience.

after all, you're everthing chan ever wanted in his life.

"my my," clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, chan gently fixed the strands of hair falling over your eyes—ones ever so tender whenever you fixed your gaze on him, "what am i gonna do with you, hm? you naughty little baby?"

"not sure," you cheekily replied, lightly scrunching your nose the way chan usually does. you're just happy that you're finally in chan's arms again, to hell with any of the 'repercussions' chan might be building in his head for your little misdemeanor.

"but can you kiss me first?" you continued, trying your best to stay nonchalant despite the sudden spike of your heartbeat due to your own silly attempt at being witty and chan's surprised laugh, "i think i need my boyfriend's kiss so i could face my punishments later."

frankly, chan's head is still plagued with tons after tons of questions of your little successful stunt—he can't help it, you're someone he love and cares about after all,

but who is he to deny your sweet little plea?

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[lovelytayforce]

I agree with this comment here so hard, I remember getting blasted for calling readers who don't comment "leeches" on R/Fanfiction and I'm glad people are seeing that for what it is even if it's four years late

So, I'm gonna share my own little story here because discord has actively ruined communities for fanfic (and art too I'm not gonna leave y'all out cause my bestie @zoetiger-1106 is an artist who deserves way more praise than she gets!!) The reason why authors and myself see the "I'm shy" shit as an excuse is because the same people will type long ass tirades on Discord without a single thought. YOU CAN EDIT AO3 COMMENTS PEOPLE! If you make a mistake, read it back over and edit it. I've watched it happen in real-time with one of my favorite commenters on my one-shot where they left a short gushing comment and then came back and wrote more, you have no excuse much less reason to go "Man fandom keeps telling me to not critique and I might make a mistake so I will say nothing and consume like the average TV and Streaming consumer who thinks there doing something!" YOU have a lot of power with comments and even those bookmark tags hell just copy-paste what you put into those bookmark tags as a comment I DON'T CARE AT THIS POINT USE THAT LIL BOX TO VOICE SOMETHING!!!! God this is all over the place idc but I read back at those bookmarks, and saw people call my works the best and super cool and I APPRECIATE THAT but tell me! Stop taking the easy route, I been blasted for misunderstandings over comments multiple times cause people take my "tone" terribly cause it sucks being black and emotive online yay and for some reason people think !!!! Is bad? yes, I've been hit with that but I keep on trucking cause fuck whatever some weirdo thinks about exclamation points! Anyways back to discord and why I hate it now, I was in a small fandom, KFP got invited to a discord cause ONE person commented on my works and saw they talked about my fic, and at first, I was happy and people TALKED about my chapters at length in the fanfic channel. I basically was the ONLY ONE posting consistently in that channel and it was great but also I wanted that on my fic to show I improved so guess what I did? I went all in trying to one-up myself to be noticed, to have the acclaim my peers did so it would evolve outside of discord channels but it never happened. And Imma tell y'all now; it never will. Readers prefer convenience over your hard work, they are not gonna take time for you no matter how much you improve. People told me over and over while I looked for solutions for this; "We can't make commenting look like an obligation." "Add more prose, space these paragraphs better" all this just for no one to take the initiative and say something SINCERE towards a work they love on it. I've had to tell my own ex-friends now to go leave comments on works they called Masterpieces while ignoring me. Despite the fact they wanted Gen content in which I WROTE. Or met people who have very weird "I don't review" rules for themselves despite getting motivated by reviews themselves!! We're in a shitty time for creatives much less community cause we don't see each other as humans much less want to treat each others as we desire to be treated. Fanfic readers want to treat authors like showrunners and I hate it. But then your peers will tell you 'not to worry about engagement" and no I am because why is my hit count going up every day but ain't no one saying shit? Make it make sense!! I sat in that community commenting as much as I could, especially on long fics; it wasn't all perfect but I TRIED. I didn't expect shit back but hey it would have been nice but it never happened and again I learned; it never would. That's the real issue, no one wants to give no more; just take and take and take til you're sucked dry of passion worse than any corpo out right now. It's why I thankfully switched fandoms. I got ONE consistent commenter and they are better than that ENTIRE SMALL CLOSED COMMUNITY!! So, to any discord reactor for fanfic you better skip on to that message you made and copy and paste it in this box right here and never utter "I'm shy" ever again cause we see you, our friends tell us about you. You are not as anonymous as you think! 🫵🏽

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[kamaluhkhan]

WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE, MY LOVE.

pairing: vi x firelight!reader word count: 2k summary: after years of thinking her dead, ekko brings vi to the firelight base. you don't really know how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. warnings: arcane level angst + lesbian yearning. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. reader has tattoos and a star-shaped birthmark behind her ear (y'all know vi loves a nickname and i thought 'stargirl' was v cute so i had to make it work). fic gets slightly suggestive at the end ;) author's note: happy act iii release day!!! i wrote this instead of working on my thesis oops. in my defense, vi has sparked something in me that i simply cannot ignore. i'm also working on a werewolf! pitfighter!vi x vampire slayer!reader fic (set in the same universe, just with a slight twist) sooo that might be done before part 2 of this fic (which is where the smut happens hehe). anyways, thank you for reading!

inspired by that quote: "i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. we are good people and we've suffered enough" by nikka ursula

even after all these years, vi is still the first one to notice you. 

her eyes widen as she hesitates to pull away from ekko, but you clear your throat to catch both of their attentions.

“i thought we were gonna question her together.”

ekko wipes a stray tear from his cheek and stands up a little straighter. 

“you were taking too long,” he shrugs. “don’t worry — she’s clean.”

you trust ekko’s judgement, but you still can’t reckon with the fact that vi is alive. you’d splashed cold water on your face just before to make sure you weren’t dreaming. 

“i don’t know.” you walk closer until you’re standing arms length from vi. “the vi i knew wouldn’t be caught dead with a topsider, let alone an enforcer.” 

you examine her carefully, and you imagine she’s doing the same to you. vi looks more grown up — stronger and sharper. you’d spent so much time in limbo, not knowing if she were alive or dead. you aren’t sure how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. 

“i guess the shoddy undercut is a pretty clear give away,” you deadpan.

vi quirks an eyebrow at you. “shoddy, huh? you know, your tattoos look like they were drawn by blindfolded children.”

she smiles, all bright and toothy. the scar on her upper lip stretches, achingly familiar, and you decide there’s nothing you want to do more than to bring her into your arms, to bring her closer, so you do. 

her hair tickles your cheek as you whisper:

“i did those tattoos myself.”

vi chuckles, and you feel it vibrate across her body to yours.

“i know. they’re beautiful.” her index finger traces the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear; you shiver. “i was just messing with you, stargirl.”

vi was the only one who ever called you that, said you made her life brighter or some other sweet nothing that would effortlessly fall from her mouth.

gods, she was the first one who even noticed that birthmark on your skin. 

“i was messing with you, too. the hair — you look hot.”

you feel her heart beating faster against your chest as she smiles into your shoulder.

she’s here.

she’s not some ghost from your past.

she’s really here. 

you’re so overwhelmed by how solid she is against you that you start to pull away, but vi catches your hand before you can fully untangle yourself from her. 

“that’s all i get?” she wonders, licking her lips.

you’re tempted, very tempted, to give her more. maybe you would have, until ekko clears his throat behind you.

“should i….give y’all a moment?” ekko asks. “i’ll go get the piltie.”

you then remember who vi came here with; she might not be working for silco, but you stand by your suspicions at her bringing a topsider to the lanes. 

you slip your hand from hers. you roll your shoulders back as if that would really shake away the hold she’s always had on you.

time has passed. things have changed. neither of you are kids anymore, and you don't have the luxury of indulging in a frivolous crush.

“it's fine, e. let’s show them around.”

“still a night owl, i see.”

vi finds you perched on one of the trees highest branches, surrounded by firelights as you sketch something. you close your sketchbook instantly and place it on the other side of you when vi sits down.

“thought you’d be in bed with that enforcer of yours.” 

“her name’s caitlyn.”

“caitlyn,” you scoff, shaking your head. 

the bitterness you try to hide is all too transparent to vi, who has to bite back a laugh at your pettiness. 

“you say her name like you’re gonna hex her. never pegged you as a jealous ex.”

“technically, we never broke up,” you point out. 

a firelight lands on your hand, and you let it crawl up the lines etched on your skin. 

“if that’s the case, i owe you an apology for cheating on you when i was in prison.”

you frown, but say nothing, your eyes following that same firelight as it illuminates your tattoos. 

“don’t worry, i’m kidding!” vi pauses. “mostly.”

the firelight flies away, and you huff out an annoyed breath. 

“whatever. i don’t care who you’ve fucked, or who you’re fucking. and, you don’t owe me anything. it’s not like we’re anything to each other, anymore.”

vi sucks in a sharp breath — she wouldn’t have expected such harsh words from you.

“is that why you can’t even look at me?” she finally asks.

you’d been strictly business since you first reunited hours ago. you expertly distanced yourself from vi all throughout the tour of the firelights’ base, and throughout dinner, too. 

where’s the girl she’d spend hours goofing around with, who always had a witty response to her sarcastic remarks, who smiled at her in such a way that made her chest glow? where’s the girl who brightened vi’s life when it seemed like the darkness would never leave?

“i don’t know,” you admit. “part of me still can’t believe you’re alive. i know that i should be happy that you are, but i keep thinking about everything i could have done to protect you, and powder —”

“hey. it’s my job to worry about everyone, remember?”

“you weren’t here.”

“i am now.”

she gently moves your chin so that you face her, so that you can see that she’s not going anywhere, at least for tonight. 

which is probably more time than either of you thought you’d ever have together again.

vi notices how your eyes flick down to her lips and back up, and she feels something spark in her chest. but then, you shake your head as though trying to wake up from a dream and turn away once more. 

“that enforcer of yours —”

“she’s not my —”

“whoever she is, she talked about how we all need to heal. i just keep thinking about what you’ve been through, what we’ve all been through…. how it never really stops. healing would be nice, but it’s hard when you have to keep fighting every day. you remember what ekko said, about why we chose this place?” 

of course, she remembers. 

“that if even a seed can survive down here, maybe we could, too.”

 “we. who’s ‘we,’ vi?” you laugh, but there’s no joy behind it. “we’ve gotten used to surviving without each other. maybe it was meant to be that way.”

“that’s not fair.” 

“a lot of things aren’t fair.” you gesture around at the base. “this — this community — took blood, sweat, and tears to build and i just know how easy it would be for someone to destroy it all. which is why we fight, obviously, to protect all this and each other, but i’m scared that we can only do so for so long before we burn out.”

you press your knees to your chest and curl into yourself. vi notices then — the slump of your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes, and just how deeply exhausted you must feel, down to your bones. 

you let out a shuddery breath. “is it even all worth it?”

vi swallows the tears building in her throat. you had always been the hopeful one, and it makes vi’s chest ache to think about what you must have endured to lose the brightness that had been woven into your being. 

that's part of what got her through these past few years, and there's no way she's going to let it fade.

“i....i think so,” vi starts, trying to find it within her to be inspirational. “maybe it'll make a difference in the long run, even if we don’t see that now. maybe someone, someday in the future, will be able to not just survive, but live in a better world.”

you raise an eyebrow at her, and vi swears there's a slight smile on your face.

"what?" she asks, her cheeks heating up.

"i'm just...surprised. how is it possible that prison made you less cynical?”

there's a glimmer to your eyes that wasn't there before, something playful, and vi decides to lean into it.

"oh, it wasn't prison," vi says, nudging her shoulder against hers. "see, i ran into this pretty girl from my past and she's this totally badass freedom fighter now, so i think there's some hope in the world."

you snort. "good to know you're still an unbearable flirt."

"i thought you loved that about me."

you laugh, a sparkling sound that vi wishes she could carry with her wherever she goes. it’s contagious, too, and vi finds herself giggling along with you. when it dies down, you rest your head on her shoulder, something you did even back when you were only friends.

“i missed you,” she admits. 

“yeah?” your voice is softer than a whisper. 

you lift your head and vi cradles your face in her hands.

vi nods. “so fucking much, and i want to prove it. if you’ll let me. please.”

“vi,” you exhale. she’s so close now that she can feel you breathing against her lips. “i can’t. you’re with that enforcer.”

“we’re not together,” vi assures, bumping her nose against yours. 

she leans in ever so closely to kiss you, but you move away. 

“you’re still with her, though, and you’re leaving in the morning,” you continue. “things are already so….complicated. i just don’t think we should start something we won’t be able to finish.”

with nothing more to say, you gather your sketchbook and pencils. vi’s sure that you’re not going to bed, just off to nestle into another hiding spot for the night, away from her.

maybe you’re still putting up a cold front, protecting yourself because that’s how you've been surviving in this world where the risk of losing everything lingers, and only gets heavier as you grow older.

but, gods, vi really has missed you, the you she remembers so vividly, the you that shone through just moments ago. she knows that glowing heart of yours is hardened by layers of ice, and she’s determined to make them all melt away.

so, vi gets up, heart beating in her throat, and calls after you:

“haven’t we already?” 

you stop in your tracks. you slowly turn around to back at her.

a moment passes, maybe more. the two of you suspended in time. your eyes are telling her a million different things – you’re confused, you’re scared, you’re tempted, you’re tired – and all vi can do is unsuccessfully blink back more tears because it’s true, how your story together never got the happy ending you deserved. 

“please, y/n. if this is our second chance, even just for a night —”

she’s cut off by you crashing your lips against hers.

the two of you were young, really, just girls when you first kissed. it was awkward and messy and though it ignited something in the pit of vi’s stomach, it was nothing compared to this.

she lets you guide her as you please, lets you press your warm body against hers against the trunk of the tree. she lets your lips mold into hers until her lungs are burning. 

your chest is heaving as you pull away slightly; vi bites back a whine, feeling empty. but air isn’t what she needs, she’s sure of it. what she really needs is more of you.

you study her like a work of art, like you're committing her to memory in case she slips away. your thumb wipes away a fallen tear, across the tattoo on her cheek. 

fuck, no one's held vi this tenderly since, well, you.

“you’re so beautiful.”

vi blushes, becoming increasingly flustered. she'd wanted to make this about you, take care of you in all the ways she'd imagined, but the way you're looking at her, touching her....she's not a religious person, but vi thinks she might have stumbled into her own, personal heaven, with you having some divine hold on her, soft and bright and passionate.

you're kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone when you repeat: "you're so fucking beautiful."

“yeah, i know. they should build statues of me,” she breathes, closing her eyes and trying to keep upright on weak knees. she squeezes your hips in an attempt to keep herself steady.

you’re the only person vi can recall calling her beautiful. 

sexy? oh, yeah. charming? definitely. hot? often. 

no one else calls her beautiful, though, let alone makes her feel like it the way you do.

“bad at flirting and full of yourself," you tease. "some things really don't change."

by now your lips are travelling lower, and vi doesn't want to miss a second watching you have your way with her. when her eyes flutter open, vi gets a glimpse of something over your shoulder.

“hm, i guess drawings are a good place to start.” 

she gestures with her chin, which she instantly regrets as you pull away to follow her gaze, eyes landing on the sketches of her from your fallen sketchbook.

“you weren’t supposed to see those,” you groan. "they're personal...."

it's cute, how flustered you get after making vi all hot and bothered.

vi smirks. "personal, huh? had some fun picturing me when i was gone? missed me so much you had to draw me back to life?"

"well, no - wait, yes, obviously, i missed you, but --"

vi cuts you off with a searing kiss.

she tugs on one of your belt loops to bring you closer to her. vi presses her thigh between your legs, relishing in how your mouth opens in a perfect gasp. vi takes the opportunity to bite your bottom lip and you whimper.

“don't be embarrassed, baby," vi mumbles against your mouth, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hips. "you know i missed you, too. 'cept i'm not talented like you, so my creative imagination had to carry me through some long nights."

“is that so….” your hand slips underneath her tank top, and you manage to pull a groan from vi by scratching your nails against her stomach. “maybe you can clue me in to what, exactly, you’ve imagined.”

vi grins triumphantly. she places a kiss on your birthmark before whispering in your ear:

“sure thing, stargirl.”

[tswkento]

a.n.: hello!! i hope you enjoy reading this, this is pure fluff. ive been working on this for a few days so please be a darling and give it a chance!! thank you <33

c.w.: 3787 wc, fluff fluff fluff, lil bit of angst, hurt/comfort, whipped nanami ffs.

sum.: after years of excruciating yearning and pining, nanami can recall distant memories of the moments he thought he loved you and the exact moment he voiced his feelings, or—

4 times nanami thinks that he loves you and 1 time he says it out loud.

i.

nanami takes another sip from his drink as his eyes roam around the room, barely stopping on the faces of the people. they only ever paused when you came into the view; with your very cute, slightly tipsy smile and shining gaze, that got brighter whenever you caught him looking at you.

or maybe he was imagining things. after all, he’s been drinking too.

as he patiently waited for you to receive your present from under the big tree in gojo’s living room, nanami couldn’t help the anticipation bubbling in his chest while the other’s opened their gifts.

the game of secret santa was a nice idea and it was always a pleasant feeling — seeing someone’s joy over a simple present, no matter how well-thought or effortless it was. and it so happened that on the day yuuji and nobara came up with the suggestion, offering nanami a handful of small papers, he picked out the card with your name scribbled on it.

and although very much enjoyable — the satisfaction he felt at the moment was fairly easy to hide from the kids. he had an opportunity to give you something meaningful and no one would be weird about it since it was secret santa.

“oh? it’s from nanami!” you beam at him after you check the little card that was carefully attached to the ribbon. nanami nods down at you as he leans against the armrest of the couch where the kids are settled.

you eye the wrapped box in your hands with a curious glint and shake it a little, bringing it to your ears as you try to take a guess at what it is. nanami bites down a splitting smile, covering his mouth with the glass in his hand as he watches you tear off the wrapping paper, managing to slap away satoru’s impatient hands that volunteered to do it for you.

you open the medium, velvety box and gasp audibly, covering your mouth with your hand as you look up at nanami from your spot on the fluffy carpet. standing up abruptly, you look into the box again and stare at him with a petulant pout, the frown between your eyebrows calling for him to smooth out the crease of the skin with his finger.

“kento, i,” you take another look at the item inside the box and then back at him, “i can’t accept it, no way.”

nanami is acutely aware of the fact that everyone in the room is watching you two. he prays that the hot sensation he feels crawling up his neck isn’t showing itself as redness of any kind. but at the same time, he likes to imagine that there’s only two of you in the whole world right now and it turns his mind into a fucking mush.

he clears his throat and moves the glass away from his mouth to speak clearly,

“nonsense, it’s your rightful gift,” he puts down his drink with a prominent click and holds out his hand, “let me put it on you.”

your pout slowly dissolves into a timid smile as you put the box in his hand and step closer, hitting nanami with the barely noticeable wave of your sweet perfume. when he looks at you again and sees the way your eyes giddily follow the movements of his fingers, kento can’t stop the corners of his lips from slightly curling upwards.

at the contact with the supple skin of your wrist, his fingertips twitch — electricity running through them, up his arm and straight to his heart, the impulses quickening its pace. nanami breathes in through his nose slowly as he closes the clasp of the watch on the inside of your wrist.

“must’ve cost you a fortune.” you mumble with a dreamy sigh, glancing up at him only to find him already staring at you.

he pats your wrist with finality and lets you admire the accessory on your own, engraving the sight of your enticed expression into his mind. it takes him a second to realise that he has to say something and the alcohol that has worked its way up his brain makes him let out an unfiltered thought,

“worth it.”

your head snaps up at him and you beam at him before your arms wrap around his neck, holding him tightly with a string of thank you’s falling from your pretty lips. kento hugs you close with one hand, willing to ignore the knowing looks the both of you are receiving from everyone in the room, and thinks that he loves you.

ii.

nanami partially expects to see you when he enters the archive room.

you’re already settled by one of the few desks, fingers tapping against the smooth surface of the table as you read the paper whilst periodically checking on the screen of your laptop. the movements in the background seem to disturb your peace as much as kento tries to be silent, and you lock eyes with him, giving him a cute little wave and a bright beam that causes his brain to become empty.

when you notice the stack of papers in his hands, your smile turns sympathetic and you determinedly step from behind your desk, telling him that you’ll make him some coffee too. kento nods in gratitude and forces himself not to follow your temporarily exiting figure so he can stop thinking about how pretty your uniform looks on you and how much he’d like to spend time with you alone aside from the countless of times he’s caught you in this fucking archive room.

it’s a comfortable, quiet spot for anyone to deal with never-ending paperwork so it’s quite common for him to meet you here. probably one of the few reasons why he prefers this room — kento can always just get lost in random conversations with you and ignore the fact that he’d rather stay with you here than go to his empty apartment.

the tea you bring him is always something new. “i like to try new things” you beamed at him when he inquired about your little hobby, and then your face scrunched with disgust at the taste of your newly bought tea. at his eloquently raised brow you only rolled your pretty eyes and stood up to go make something different, at which point he couldn’t help his fond smile.

this time, situation seems to be a lot more dire because you bring two cups of freshly brewed black coffee with two cubes of sugar on the cups’ saucers. he’s already noticed that the reports you are observing are not yours and at his question you explain that gojo’s reports on his students’ missions are always an unorganised mess left for you to clean up.

kento doesn’t hide the disdain spreading over his features and focuses on his own papers. and at first, he doesn’t even notice how quiet you’ve gotten — by the time he finishes his work there is no sound of your pen clicking on the surface of your desk, none of the soft tapping of your fingers over the keyboard and the silence isn’t filled with your occasional hums or sighs.

oh, he lets out when he notices your form slumped on your table, head settled on your forearm with your posture situated awkwardly. that must be very uncomfortable, nanami thinks to himself before he stands up, pointedly ignoring the popping sounds of his own spine and knees, and strides over to you. one part of him really doesn’t want to disturb you, not when you look fucking angelic: cheek smushed against your forearm, lips jutted out in a pouty way and a tiny trail of drool escaping your mouth.

he wonders if you look like this when you’re sleeping on your bed too. maybe even more peaceful than this, with your head untied and your clothes more fitting for a good night’s sleep. kento wonders if he will ever be able to witness that dreamy sight.

he can’t resist the urge to touch your face; his fingertips hover above your cheekbones before sliding over the silky smooth skin, revelling in the suppleness of it before moving a lone strand of hair away from it. you’re so beautiful, nanami thinks, the prettiest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

and when you stir awake he doesn’t even process it at first, just stares down at you dumbly for a second before stepping away and clearing his throat because fucking hell, he’s in love. and you don’t even understand what’s going on. you crack your neck and groan in discomfort all while he stares down at you, all of his attempts at saying something failing miserably. you catch his figure being close and ask him if you were out for long, the slight hoarseness of your voice enchanting him completely.

and then his plans of sleeping early tonight get thrown out of the window because his mouth opens before his brain comprehends his thoughts,

“do you need help with these?” he can’t stand the thought of you working on this stuff for longer than necessary and going home so late at night.

you give him a reluctant glance and do the same with the papers in front of you before nodding meekly and moving your chair to the side so he can fit another one for himself. nanami thinks it’s a win/win situation: you get to go home early and he gets to spend a little more time with you. and it doesn’t matter that he’s going to wake up groggy and with his back hurting like a bitch, it really doesn’t. not as long as you are fine.

iii.

annual gathering of all the existing clans and sorcerers was something nanami liked to avoid as many times as he could since he found them to be just another pompous event filled with meaningless chatter and old traditions. for him, at least. most of the time he had missions so he was dismissed, but this year he was free and basically forced by director yaga to attend.

he exits the main building, fishing a cigarette out of the inner pocket of his yukata as his eyes search for a secluded spot in the garden.

his steps come to a halt when his eye catches onto your blurry figure, entering through the gates. his hand with the cigarette stick between his thumb and index finger hover over his mouth as nanami watches you stepping closer and closer to him.

the distance between you two allows him to observe you for longer; the way your hair moves with every step you take, your own yukata that makes you look ethereal with the way its colours fit so well, the slightly vacant expression on your face before you notice him too and beam at him. kento’s lips curl into a small smile as he decides to meet you in the middle.

“thought you couldn’t make it tonight.” he mutters softly, noting how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

something happened, nanami can tell that, however he has no idea what. you fall into an easy pace along with him, locking your arms behind yourself as you timidly glance at him. nanami can’t really decipher that look so he chooses to continue leading you both somewhere private. the cigarette stays in his hand, saved for later.

“yeah, i had a thing.���

“a thing?”

“well…”

kento points at the small gazebo hidden behind the main building to which you nod silently, and when you both settle on the bench inside of it, he notices on your face how you’re pondering something very seriously. so he tries to be as gentle as possible when he says,

“is everything okay?”

you stay silent for a few seconds and just as you open your mouth to speak, nanami realises that he might just be unintentionally forcing you to speak.

“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he suggests, leaning down a bit to see more of your face.

your profile is beautiful. in the twilight of the night, despite the fact that his vision gets worse when it’s getting dark, nanami can always clearly distinguish your luminous eyes, your beautifully shaped nose and your pretty, rosy lips. all of your features have been engraved into his mind ever since he’s found himself staring at you with adoration bubbling in his chest and warmth spreading all over it.

you turn your head slowly, the weight of your thoughts etched into your expression. you open your mouth to speak, but no words come out and you close it, choosing to remain quiet. nanami’s concern must show on his face because you only bury your face in his shoulder, inhaling sharply before leaning your temple against the smooth surface of his yukata.

feeling your body relying on him feels a lot better than he thought it would. the weight of your head against his shoulder was soothing, a silent gesture of trust and comfort you felt from him.

kento gazes down at you and in a moment of tenderness rests his open palm on his thigh, a discreet motion that offers support, the one that you clearly desire right now. it shows in the way your hand hovers over his, hesitant but eager, and nanami makes an effort of gently catching it and placing it on his thigh. his thumb doesn’t stop rubbing circles over your skin until he feels you completely relax against him, not quite sleeping, yet not aware of your surroundings either. in your head, in your own world.

and while nanami basks in the warmth that radiates from your body, enveloping him from the side, he can only think about how much he loves you and how nice it feels to be trusted by you.

iv.

nanami wonders if he’ll be brave enough to tell you how he feels.

to understand that there is so much love inside of him is to also realise that there is no outlet for that love, and it’s depressing to say the least.

his days are filled with meaningless missions that could only be described as temporary solutions to a permanent problem that is etched into this world, but he can’t just not do it. he can’t do nothing, he’ll never forgive himself if he stoops to something like that again. nanami must remind himself that this is his duty and what he’s been born to do, and by the time he’s done with his affirmations the curse is already dissipating into the chilly air of the night and he’s going home.

would you reciprocate his feelings? would you give him a chance to put his everything into making you the happiest person alive instead of constantly thinking about preserving something that is already damaged — the system that everyone’s living in?

would you let him be selfish and share with him everything that makes you ‘you’? your mind, your soul, your body, your presence, your emotions, your everything. nanami knows he’d give you anything you’d ask him. even if it’s his heart, even if it’s already completely devoted to you — if you ask to have it in flesh he’d rip it out of his chest and present it to you like the finest things in the world because you deserve it.

he doesn’t remember the day his heart started reacting differently to your smiles and your laughter. the transition of his feelings from ‘friendly’ to ‘completely enamoured’ was so rapid yet so fluid, something he didn’t realise until he felt the full extent of it. when his brain melted at the sight of your radiant smile, and when the slightest bit of physical contact with you sent small electric tingles through his body, and also when the desire to be in close proximity with you clouded his mind whenever you were in the room.

kento yearns to be close to you; he wants it so much his fingers twitch with longing to hold and need to feel. he wants, wants and wants, but he does it quietly and you know nothing. it’s crazy how he feels so fucking much even though he is nearly thirty and it’s no time for this kind of thing in the hectic lifestyle he chose to have, yet he can’t stop himself from craving it — your love.

it’s also crazy that these thoughts occupy his head as soon as he sees you. hears you. feels you.

“kento?” you’d call out to him sweetly, waving your hand in front of his face, disturbing him from remembering the minuscule details of your face and your microexpressions. “are you even listening to me?”

“always.” he’d say without thinking because it’s true.

you’d eye him sceptically for a second or two before giving him a pleased smile and leaning in to continue your storytelling, compelled by his lovesick gaze and completely ignorant to his hands itching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. fuck, if this is hell.

he loves you, he loves you, he fucking loves you—

v.

“have you ever been in love?” you ask him casually as you pace around his kitchen idly while he washes the remnants of the dirty dishes.

it’s a peaceful night after a great evening spent with itadori and you, but itadori’s gone now and you stayed to help him clean up. though, naturally, nanami shooed you away with your every attempt at touching anything, telling you that your company is enough. you pouted at his nonchalant stubbornness, but didn’t try to resist.

nanami wipes the drops of water from around the sink and washes his hands carefully before he turns to face you, “have you?”

it’s a feeble attempt at moving the attention away from himself and onto you, yet it works and nanami can let himself exhale shakily when your gaze leaves him while you contemplate your answer.

“i feel like i am in love.”

nanami’s fingers close on the edge of the counter he’s been leaning against, eyes studying your dreamy expression whilst you idly gazed at the view from the window.

“he makes me feel very special.”

you glance at him for a second before stepping around the counter to stand by his side. nanami follows your movements carefully, mahogany eyes never leaving you as he tries to ignore the way his mouth dries at the mention of ‘he’. he does his best not to jump into conclusions and chooses to listen more.

“he does?” he croaks out pitifully, eager to hear more. his brain is frying.

you tilt your head up, fluttering lashes partially obscuring the sight of your piercing eyes. nanami feels his chest tighten painfully before he releases a semi-steady puff of air, waiting for you to continue.

“he is so gentle with me. treats me like i’m made of porcelain, treats me like i’m the only one.”

you are, nanami wants to say, but he can’t seem to form a logical sentence — not when your pinkie is grazing his hand on the counter and your lips soften into something serene, something content.

his brain seems to be catching up to his actions a little later than usual because before he knows it, nanami is allowing himself to occupy your space as he rounds you into the counter, letting his hand cage you. he knows his face gives it away; the longing he feels, the overwhelming need he feels to be yours and for you to be his, to give away the thing you rightfully own — his heart. but he has to wait.

“do you think that means something?” kento whispers tentatively, scared to push you away.

the corners of your lips twitch as your hand settles on his forearm softly, stroking up and down over the length of it whilst you watch him carefully. you don’t even know how much power you have over him right now and it drives him wild because he is hungry for everything you can give him. even the slightest touch makes him lose his mind and this— this is almost too much for one night.

“i don’t know.” you shrug, “does it mean something?”

“yes, it–” his trembling hand leaves the counter in favour of settling on the side of your face, fingers nimbly pushing back messy strands of hair away from your beautiful face. nanami exhales shakily before continuing, “it means a lot.”

“nana–”

“i love you.”

and then he kisses you.

he wants to fucking punch himself into face because there is no consideration of whether you’d be comfortable with him kissing you or anything else, it’s pure insanity that operates his brain and it leaves him 3 seconds later when he freezes and pulls away only to be pulled back by your soft hands on the sides of his face.

his arms wrap around your figure, embracing you in a manner that is more touch starved rather than romantic: with your body flush against his and his hands spread over the eloquent expanse of your back, his feet caging yours inside and his fingers twitching like crazy. nanami breathes in through his nose and focuses on your touch to stop himself from completely shutting off, finding the sensation of your fingers carding through his undercut and gently cradling his jaw to be very soothing.

soothing, warm, gentle, loving — just like he imagined it would be.

the softness of your lips is heavenly against his, the sweet taste of your mouth is even stronger as it fogs his brain and clouds his gaze, filling it with desire for more. nanami feels the restraints he put around himself coming loose with the hesitant swipe of your tongue over his bottom lip that prompts him to gently push into your mouth with his own eliciting a strangled moan from you. fucking hell— he has to control himself.

kento pulls away and his eyes are frantic in the way they scan you; noting the heat emitting from your skin, the shallowness of your breaths, how your chest heaves up and down and how your lips part ever so invitingly, luring him in. the thought of never experiencing this with you makes his skin crawl so he focuses completely on this moment, this second.

“why’d you– why’d you stop, kento?” you whisper into the space between you too, gliding your thumb over his cheekbone.

and you look so pretty. absolutely stunning, donning a sweet, worried expression that only spurs him on, adding fuel into his endless desire to tell you about how much he loves you. so he does, sealing every one of his confessions with a passionate kiss.

“i love you.”

[faebled-stories]

No Strings, No Heart

Kinkvember Day 23: Friends with Benefits

ITZY Lia (Choi Jisu) x Male reader

You and Lia had been friends since high school, back when neither of you had any idea what life would have in store. She had been the new girl, fresh from Canada, with a soft-spoken voice and an air of quiet confidence that intrigued everyone, including you. You’d been assigned seats next to each other in English class, and what started as casual small talk soon grew into a friendship you hadn’t expected.

Lia, or Jisu as she’d been known then, had dreams even back then that set her apart. While most of your classmates were focused on cramming for college entrance exams or deciding what clubs to join, Lia was already chasing something bigger: a career in music. She was always humming under her breath, jotting lyrics in the margins of her notebook, and rushing off to auditions after school.

When she finally became a trainee, it wasn’t a surprise, but it did mark the start of a more distant phase in your friendship. She spent most of her time at the company, training long hours, while you finished school and moved on to university.

Despite the distance, you kept in touch—texts here and there, occasional coffee meetups when she had a rare free day. When she debuted with ITZY, you were one of the first to congratulate her, your heart swelling with pride as you watched her music videos and performances from your tiny apartment.

Even as her life grew more hectic, Lia never let go of your connection. Whenever her schedule allowed, she’d call you up, sometimes late at night, her voice exhausted but warm as she asked about your day, complaining about the pressures of idol life in the same breath. She was still Jisu to you, your old high school friend, even as the world knew her as Lia.

-----

It was one of those late-night meetups—a rainy evening in her cozy Seoul apartment—that changed the dynamic between you. Her space smelled of vanilla candles and faintly of jasmine tea, her usual go-to after a long day. You sat awkwardly on her beige couch, holding a mug that was almost too hot, watching her as she lounged on the floor, cross-legged in an oversized sweater and shorts.

“You’re always so tense,” Lia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft patter of rain against the windows. Her damp hair fell in natural waves around her face, framing her features in a way that was almost disarming. This was not the poised, camera-ready idol the world saw. This was the Lia you knew—barefoot, casual, real.

You chuckled nervously, unsure where she was going with this. “Work’s been crazy, I guess.”

“That’s always your excuse,” she teased, setting down her mug with a soft clink. “But honestly, you’ve been like this since high school. Always wound up. Always overthinking.”

“Well, sorry for being consistent,” you shot back, a smile tugging at your lips.

She smiled too, but there was something different in her expression—something calculated yet sincere. “You know, we could help each other out.”

Your brow furrowed. “Help each other out… how?”

Lia tilted her head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “I don’t want anything complicated,” she began, her tone careful but confident. “No drama, no commitments. Just… something easy. For both of us.”

The words felt surreal, hanging in the air between you. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, her voice softer now, “that we’re both stressed. Both stuck in our own routines. And you’re… safe.”

“Safe?” you echoed, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

Lia rolled her eyes, laughing. “You know what I mean. I trust you. You’re not going to do anything stupid like fall in love with me. And let’s be honest—you’ve never been great with relationships.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, though you couldn’t deny the accuracy of her words. Dating had never come easily to you, and Lia knew it better than anyone.

“I’m just saying it makes sense,” she said, her smile softening into something almost reassuring. “We’ve known each other forever. We trust each other. And I need… an escape, you know? A way to blow off steam without it becoming a mess.”

You hesitated, turning the idea over in your head. “I don’t know, Lia. Stuff like this—doesn’t it get messy?”

“Not if we’re honest with each other,” she said simply. “We set boundaries. We stick to them. And if it doesn’t work, we stop. No harm, no foul.”

Her words were logical, almost too logical, and the idea of being close to someone you trusted—someone who understood you without the usual complications—was more tempting than you wanted to admit.

“I… guess,” you said finally, your voice tinged with hesitation. “If you’re sure about this.”

Lia’s smile widened, a spark of relief and something else—satisfaction?—in her eyes. “I’m sure.”

And just like that, the boundaries of your friendship shifted. You told yourself it was perfect—a way to connect without risking anything deeper.

The first few times were… great. Better than great. There was an ease to it that neither of you had anticipated, a natural rhythm that made it feel less like a new arrangement and more like something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered. The way your bodies fit together was effortless, as though they’d been designed for this connection, every touch and movement aligning perfectly. It wasn’t just about the physical pleasure—though that was undeniable—it was the comfort of being close to someone who understood you in a way no one else did.

Lia had a way of melting into your arms, her laughter and sighs carrying a vulnerability that made the moments feel intimate even in their simplicity. You liked similar things, and exploring that together felt easy, seamless. The way her breath hitched against your skin, the way she responded to every touch with a soft moan or a shiver, made it feel less like an arrangement and more like a quiet escape for both of you.

When she reached for you in the stillness of her room, there was no hesitation, no awkwardness—just a mutual understanding that you could let go with each other.

It was everything she had promised: no drama, no complications. It was a release, a way to step outside the stress of your individual lives and find solace in each other. You told yourself that this was enough, that it didn’t need to mean anything more. And for a while, it didn’t.

But then, one night, everything shifted.

The atmosphere in Lia’s room felt thick with the unspoken, a cocoon of warmth and intimacy as the world outside faded away. The soft scent of jasmine and the lingering notes of her perfume were a quiet contrast to the faint tension in her voice as she spoke.

“It’s been… such a day,” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headboard, her oversized sweater slipping from one shoulder. Her fingers idly played with the hem, a distraction as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I feel like everyone wanted a piece of me today. The schedules, the cameras, the smiles—they don’t stop.”

You nodded, sitting close enough to her that the faintest brush of her knee against yours sent sparks up your spine. “You don’t have to explain. I can see it,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. “You’re always carrying so much.”

Her lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Sometimes, I wish I could just turn it all off. Just… for a little while.”

“You can, here,” you offered, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “You don’t have to be anything but you.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch your arm, her fingers grazing your skin. “That’s why I asked you to come tonight,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I need this. I need you.”

The weight of her words hit you with a force you weren’t entirely prepared for, but you nodded, leaning in slightly. “I’m here,” you said simply, your hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

The next moments unfolded slowly, deliberately, as if neither of you wanted to rush. Her sweater slipped further, pooling around her elbows as she lifted it over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her body, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was breathtaking. She looked up at you, her eyes steady but vulnerable, as if daring you to say something, to break the spell.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, the words escaping before you could stop them.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached up to brush your cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased, though her voice was warm, her expression soft. “But I like it.”

You leaned in to kiss her, your lips meeting in a slow, deliberate connection. It started tenderly, a gentle brush of warmth, but quickly deepened, your hands finding her waist, her hips, exploring the curve of her body. She gasped softly against your lips, her hands sliding under your shirt to tug it off, the cool air of the room making your skin prickle as she traced patterns along your chest.

Guiding her back against the bed, you hovered over her, her hair spilling across the pillow in soft waves like a dark halo. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, her flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips evidence of the moment’s growing intensity. Her hands found your shoulders, her touch steady but eager as her breath quickened. The feel of her bare skin against yours, the warmth of her body beneath you, sent a rush of heat through you.

Before moving further, you paused, reaching for the small foil packet on the bedside table. Lia watched you, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, her gaze steady yet filled with trust. You slipped the condom on quickly, her hand brushing lightly against your arm in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As you align yourself with her, you paused again, your gaze locking onto hers. “Are you ready?” you asked softly, the weight of your question hanging in the quiet space between you.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, and her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Absolutely, I need this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with unmistakable longing. “I need you.”

The moment of joining was slow, deliberate, her body tensing slightly as you pressed into her. A quiet gasp escaped her lips, her fingers tightening on your shoulders, her nails faintly digging in as she adjusted to the closeness. You paused, giving her time, your heart pounding in sync with hers. Her breaths quickened, each rise and fall of her chest matching the rhythm you were beginning to create. The heat of her skin against yours was all-consuming, grounding and electrifying all at once.

You began to move, slow and measured, each motion deliberate. Her soft moans and quiet gasps filled the air, small sounds that spurred you on, each one sending shivers down your spine. Her hands roamed your back, nails occasionally dragging across your skin, her hips lifting instinctively to meet yours. The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, a rhythm building that felt less like something physical and more like a quiet surrender.

Her lips parted as she whispered your name, her voice soft and trembling, a plea that made your chest ache. The way she looked up at you took your breath away. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes fluttering open and shut, and the vulnerability in her gaze made you falter for a moment. You’d always thought Lia was beautiful, but here, now, she was something more—raw, open, and completely unguarded. Every quiet sound she made, every brush of her hands against you, seemed to weave a thread between you that went far beyond the act itself.

Your pace deepened, becoming more deliberate as you leaned down to capture her lips. Her response was immediate, her mouth opening to you as her hands slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, a symphony of gasps, moans, and murmured words filling the space. Her legs tightened around your waist, her body pressing into yours as if to pull you even closer.

You pulled back slightly, your lips trailing down her jawline to her neck, brushing over the delicate curve of her throat. Her skin was warm and flushed beneath your touch, and you felt her shiver as your mouth moved lower, pressing kisses behind her ear. The spot you’d discovered during your time together—the one that always drove her wild. Her reaction was immediate, a soft gasp escaping her lips as her body arched into you.

Her hands clung to your shoulders as your lips continued their path, down her collarbone and toward the swell of her chest. You paused for a moment, letting your tongue flick gently over the sensitive skin there, before capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Lia let out a low, trembling moan, her nails digging into your back as you lavished attention on her. You alternated between gentle kisses and firmer, more deliberate nips, her body responding to each one with a sharp intake of breath or a soft cry.

Your free hand roamed over her body, sliding along the curve of her waist and the dip of her hips. You teased her other breast with your fingertips, rolling and brushing against her skin in time with the rhythm of your lips. Her body writhed beneath you, her hips lifting instinctively as if to draw you closer, the heat between you growing with every touch.

From her chest, your lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warmth across her stomach. Lia’s breathing grew heavier, her hands tangling in your hair as you moved lower, savoring the way her body reacted to every press of your lips, every flick of your tongue. Her quiet whimpers and soft moans filled the room, a soundtrack to the intimacy building between you.

You moved back up, your mouth returning to the curve of her neck, brushing kisses along her jawline before finding her lips again. The kiss was deep and consuming, her hands pulling you closer as though she couldn’t get enough of you. Her legs tightened around your waist once more, her body pressing into yours as the rhythm between you grew more urgent, more deliberate.

Her reactions—each shiver, each soft cry, each whispered plea—fueled you, blurring the line between physical connection and something deeper. You knew every spot that made her tremble, every touch that left her gasping, and you used them all, the intimacy between you growing with each passing moment. It wasn’t just her body you craved—it was her trust, her surrender, the way she opened herself to you completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Her voice broke through your focus, her breathless words trembling as she gasped, “You feel so good… Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmured, your voice hoarse and strained, barely able to contain the emotions coursing through you. Her flushed cheeks, the vulnerability in her gaze, the way her body clung to yours—it all struck you in a way you hadn’t prepared for.

The tension between you built steadily, every motion pulling you both closer to a precipice. Her moans grew louder, breaking into desperate cries as her body moved in sync with yours. Her hips met you with an urgency that matched your own, and her hands tightened their grip on your shoulders, her nails dragging against your skin.

“I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw in a way that sent shivers through you. Her head tilted back, her body arching beautifully beneath you as she clung to you like you were her lifeline. “I—oh my god, I’m cumming… I love it, don’t stop, please.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, the raw need in her voice breaking through every wall you’d built around your feelings. Her climax overtook her in a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her voice unguarded and desperate. The sight of her face, twisted in pure ecstasy, sent a jolt through you. Her name fell from her lips like a prayer, her body shuddering as she reached the peak, clutching at you with a force that left no doubt of the depth of her release.

And then, it hit you—seeing her like this, so open, so completely undone, you realized something you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to be the only one to give her this feeling. The thought struck like lightning, leaving you trembling even as your own release loomed. It wasn’t just about the act—it was about her, about how much you wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, this vulnerability that was uniquely hers.

Your climax followed, surging through you in powerful, unrelenting waves as you buried your face in her neck. A guttural groan escaped you, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The warmth of your release pooled into the condom, each pulse carrying with it the weight of everything you’d been holding back. The sensations were overwhelming, magnified by the realization that this wasn’t casual for you anymore. Maybe it never had been.

Even as the waves subsided, you stayed close, holding her tightly against you. Her fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns along your back, her touch grounding you as your heart pounded against hers. Her breaths were soft, mingling with your own in the quiet aftermath. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much, yet you didn’t want it to end.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your heart still racing as you pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips curved into a faint, tired smile, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken emotions that neither of you seemed ready to name.

You leaned back carefully, slipping out of her with a quiet groan as her body shuddered at the loss of closeness. Reaching down, you removed the condom, tying it off as you moved to the side of the bed. Lia’s gaze followed you, her cheeks still rosy from the exertion, and when her eyes landed on what you held, her lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Wow,” she said, her voice still breathy but laced with playful amusement. “You’ve been… pent up, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the tension between you easing slightly at her tone. “Yeah, maybe a little,” you admitted, your voice still low and rough from the intensity of the moment.

She laughed, a soft, light sound that made your chest tighten again, her fingers brushing over your arm as if to reassure you. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, her smile widening slightly as she leaned back against the pillow, her gaze softening.

In that moment, as you looked at her—flushed, vulnerable, yet teasing—you couldn’t ignore the shift that had happened. Whatever boundaries had existed between you before were gone, and the weight of that realization lingered, pressing gently against your heart.

You stood, disposing of the condom in the bathroom, your mind still reeling from everything that had just unfolded. The intensity of the moment lingered, but it wasn’t just the physical closeness that consumed you—it was the emotions swelling in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you cleaned up, focusing on the simple motions as a way to steady yourself.

When you returned to the bed, Lia was already nestled under the blankets, her cheeks still faintly flushed, her hair spilling over the pillow in soft waves. She looked up at you, her eyes warm and inviting, and without a word, she lifted the blanket in a silent invitation. It was a gesture you’d grown accustomed to—a familiar rhythm that had followed these nights together. But this time, something about it felt heavier, weighted with an unspoken shift between you.

You climbed into bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. She moved closer almost instinctively, her body curling into yours, her head resting against your chest as her arm draped across your stomach. The warmth of her, the way she fit so perfectly against you, was both comforting and terrifying.

Her breathing began to slow, her body relaxing as if this was the most natural thing in the world. And it was—for her. For you, though, the usual ease wasn’t there. You lay stiffly, staring up at the ceiling as a moment of dread washed over you.

You’ve broken the rules.

It hit you with the weight of a confession you’d been avoiding for weeks, maybe months. You’d convinced yourself this was fine, that you could keep things casual, that it was just a way to connect without getting too close. But tonight had shattered that illusion. You weren’t just drawn to Lia—you’d fallen for her.

Your chest tightened as the realization settled in. The way she laughed, the way she trusted you enough to let her guard down, the way she made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had—it wasn’t just something you could brush aside anymore. It was real, and it was terrifying.

You glanced down at her, your heart aching as you took in the soft curve of her lips, the peaceful expression on her face. She looked so at ease, so content, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb that. But the weight of your feelings pressed heavily against your chest, threatening to suffocate you.

Lia shifted slightly, her arm tightening around you as if sensing your tension. “You’re quiet,” she murmured, her voice drowsy but laced with curiosity. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper as you forced yourself to relax beneath her touch. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Because as much as you wanted to stay in this moment—her warmth, her closeness—you knew that everything had changed. You’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross, and now you weren’t sure what to do.

-----

The weeks that followed were an emotional minefield. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh, every moment Lia curled up beside you after an intense night—all of it dug deeper into the growing pit in your chest. It wasn’t just about intimacy anymore; it was everything. The way she smiled at you, her guard let down for just a moment. The way she playfully mocked your quirks, grounding you with the ease of someone who knew you better than anyone. You craved her in ways that went beyond physical. You wanted all of her—her bad days, her hopes, her fears, and everything in between.

But you couldn’t say it.

The rules had always been clear: no emotions, no strings, no complications. Lia had built walls around herself, walls you understood were necessary given her chaotic life. Your arrangement was her sanctuary, an escape from the pressures of her career, her fame, and the unrelenting expectations placed on her shoulders. You told yourself that being her safe space was enough. It had to be.

That night had started like many others, but it carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. As the moment reached its peak, Lia shifted downward, her lips trailing across your skin with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers coursing through you. When her mouth finally enveloped you, a deep groan escaped your lips, your hand instinctively tangling in her hair.

Her movements were teasing but purposeful, each flick of her tongue measured to drive you closer to the edge. Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with mischief yet laced with something softer, something deeper. “You’ve been so stiff lately,” she murmured, her breath warm against you before continuing, her voice low and sultry as her tongue worked with maddening precision.

The intimacy overwhelmed you, her familiarity with your body leaving you utterly undone. She knew exactly how to unravel you, to find the places that made you tremble, the rhythm that pushed you to your breaking point. When your release finally overtook you, it was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing through you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your fingers tightened briefly in her hair as a hoarse gasp escaped you, the heat of the moment leaving you breathless.

Lia pulled back gently, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. She moved back up to lie beside you, her body fitting against yours with an ease that should have felt comforting. But this time, it didn’t. This time, it felt different.

She settled against you, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. Her hair tickled your skin, her warmth both soothing and torturous as a quiet dread began to build in your chest. It wasn’t just physical anymore—this was heavier, filled with emotions you couldn’t keep bottled up.

Before you could stop yourself, the words rose in your throat. “Jisu,” you began softly, her name catching in your throat.

She hummed in response, her eyes still closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Hmm?”

“Do you ever think…” You hesitated, the words feeling too heavy, too dangerous. But they pushed forward anyway, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever think this could be something more?”

Her eyes opened slowly, the smile fading as her expression shifted into something unreadable. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the sheets slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her gaze met yours, searching and cautious, and the seconds stretched into an eternity.

“Why are you asking?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your heart raced, panic rising in your chest as you scrambled for a response. “I was just thinking,” you lied, the words tumbling out too quickly. “It’s nothing. I don’t know, just… a thought.”

Her expression didn’t change, her gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before she sat up fully. Wrapping the blanket around herself like a shield, her voice was calm but resolute as she said, “Hmm, no, I don’t think so. The reason this works is because it’s casual. If we start complicating things, it’ll ruin everything.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, sharp and cutting in their finality. You nodded slowly, forcing a smile you didn’t feel. “Oh… yeah… You’re right. Forget I said anything.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She lay back down, resting her head on your chest again as if nothing had happened. Her breathing evened out, her warmth against you a cruel comfort. But for you, everything had changed.

The words you’d been holding back, the feelings you’d buried, wouldn’t stay quiet anymore. They clawed at you, louder with every passing day, until the very thought of continuing like this felt unbearable. You had broken the rules, and the weight of that truth suffocated you in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

-----

Over time you tried convinced yourself to accept her boundaries, telling yourself that being with Lia on her terms was better than not having her at all. But that fragile resolve cracked wide open the day you saw the article.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind of day meant for doing nothing. Sunlight spilled through your apartment windows, painting the floor in golden streaks as you scrolled absently through your phone. Outside, the faint hum of the city mixed with the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a peaceful backdrop to your aimless thoughts.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the haze of routine. Without thinking, you tapped the notification.

The headline hit like a physical blow: "ITZY’s Lia Spotted on a Romantic Date with beloved Idol."

Your stomach tightened instantly, a sharp ache blooming in your chest as you scrolled through the accompanying photos. Each swipe felt like tearing open a wound. There she was, walking arm-in-arm with another idol. The soft rustling of the park’s trees in the background, the dappled sunlight falling on their faces—it all looked so serene, so effortless. Their casual clothes hinted at an attempt to keep things discreet, but the atmosphere around them screamed intimacy.

And then one photo stopped you cold.

Her head tilted slightly, her hair catching the sunlight like a halo. Her eyes—soft and filled with a warmth that felt painfully familiar—were fixed on him. She was smiling, bright and genuine, the corners of her lips curving in a way that was devastatingly effortless. That smile was reserved for someone special. Someone who wasn’t you.

Your chest ached, a dull yet unrelenting pain spreading through you as you stared at the screen. The world around you seemed to fade, the sunlight that had once felt comforting now harsh and uninviting. The faint hum of the city became muffled, replaced by the deafening rush of your own thoughts.

Has she ever looked at you like that? Has she ever smiled at you in that way, with that kind of quiet adoration? A part of you knew the answer, even if you didn’t want to admit it. The answer cut deeper than anything she’d ever said or done.

The seconds stretched into minutes as you stared at the image, the knot in your stomach tightening with each passing moment. You could almost hear her laugh in your head, see the way she looked at you during your private moments together. But it wasn’t the same. It had never been the same.

The sharp buzz of another notification snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Lia’s name flashed across the screen, her message simple: “Are you free?”

The words sat at the top of your screen, directly above the article. The juxtaposition was cruel, a perfect encapsulation of everything that had been tearing you apart. Your thumb hovered over the notification, your mind swirling with a chaotic mix of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy, longing. Every rational part of you screamed not to reply. To protect yourself. To draw a line before it was too late.

But as always, your heart betrayed you.

The faint sound of your breathing filled the room, shallow and uneven as you tapped her message. You opened the chat, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed the only thing you knew how to say to her.

"Yeah, I’ll be there."

The moment you hit send, the weight in your chest seemed to shift, but it didn’t lift. Instead, it settled deeper, anchoring itself to the realization you were too afraid to face: no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t walk away. Not from her. Not yet.

-----

Lia greeted you at her apartment door with the same casual ease as always, dressed in a loose sweatshirt that hung just off one shoulder and shorts that left little to the imagination. Her hair was tied back loosely, and the faint scent of her lavender body lotion hung in the air as she stepped aside to let you in. She smiled, warm and familiar, but to you, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning casually against the doorframe. Her tone carried a cheerfulness that felt almost jarring compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. “Rough day?”

You swallowed hard, your thoughts tangled with the image of the article’s photos. The memory of her walking arm-in-arm with someone else clung to you like a shadow, an ache that wouldn’t loosen its grip. “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice flat. “Something like that.”

Her brows knitted slightly, a flicker of concern crossing her face before she masked it with another smile, softer this time. “Come in,” she said gently, stepping aside. “Let me fix you some tea or something.”

You followed her inside, the familiar warmth of her cozy apartment stirring something deep and painful within you. The dim lighting, the scent of jasmine mingling with lavender, the soft hum of a playlist you knew by heart—it should have felt comforting, but tonight it only made the ache worse. To her, everything seemed normal, unchanged. But to you, every gesture, every laugh, felt magnified, a sharp contrast to the images still burned into your mind.

She led you to the couch, her steps light and unbothered, her usual ease a stark reminder of how differently you were experiencing this moment. She sat close to you, her knee brushing against yours as she turned to face you fully. “You seem tense,” she said softly, her voice lowering into something soothing. Her hand rested lightly on yours, her touch simple yet disarming, as if she could sense the weight pressing down on you. “Let me help.”

You hesitated, the memory of her smile in those photos flashing through your mind. The warmth she had shown to someone else, the intimacy of it, felt like a stark contrast to the Lia sitting here with you now. Part of you wanted to pull back, to say something, to ask her what that meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Her touch, her presence—it was too much to resist, and before you could think better of it, her lips were on yours.

The kiss was familiar, practiced, but this time, it felt different. Your movements were slower, less certain. A part of you wanted to push her away, to demand answers, but the other part—the part of you that craved her touch, her presence—won. You kissed her back, the frustration and longing coiling tightly in your chest, fueling your every move.

Her hands slid beneath your shirt, tugging at it with the ease of someone who knew you too well. Your resolve crumbled under her touch, the confrontation slipping further from your mind. It could wait, you told yourself. For now, you let the emotions swirling within you—frustration, jealousy, and something darker—take over.

By the time you reached the bedroom, something inside you had shifted. The weight of your suppressed emotions guided your actions, a storm of unspoken feelings driving every touch, every motion. You turned her toward the bed, your hand firm on her shoulder as you eased her down to her knees.

Without a word, you unbuttoned your pants, the sound of the zipper cutting through the quiet room like a spark igniting the air. Lia’s eyes followed the motion, her gaze flicking downward before snapping back up to meet yours. Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before melting into something softer, almost eager. When you pressed yourself to her lips, her hesitation was brief. Her hands found their place on your thighs, steadying herself as she took you in.

The shift in her was immediate. This wasn’t like before—this wasn’t the usual playful or restrained dynamic between you. You gripped her hair firmly, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you guided her movements. Lia’s soft, muffled moan against you sent a shiver down your spine, the vibration electrifying. The control you felt, the way she surrendered so willingly, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but give in to the moment fully.

Your hips began to move, your thrusts deliberate but rough, each one pushing deeper as you set the rhythm. Lia’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, her fingers curling slightly as her body swayed to match your motions. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and her breathing grew heavier between moments when you gave her just enough time to adjust. She looked up at you, her wide, watery eyes filled with surprise and a growing hunger. This wasn’t what she’d expected, but the way her body responded told you everything—this was what she wanted, what she craved.

Her moans grew louder, though muffled, as her lips and tongue worked in perfect sync with your movements. Her usual confidence had melted away, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that only fueled you further. This side of you—assertive, unrelenting—was something she hadn’t expected, and the way she gave herself over to it was driving you wild.

You tightened your grip on her hair, guiding her more firmly as her hands clutched at your thighs for balance. Her breathing was heavy, her moans blending with the wet, rhythmic sounds that filled the room. Tears began to streak her cheeks as her throat constricted around you, her body tensing slightly as she fought to keep up. Still, her eyes never left yours, wide and watery but filled with trust and unmistakable arousal.

Her muffled cries grew needier as your rhythm intensified, her nails digging into your thighs as her body trembled. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, every sound she made pushing you closer to the edge. When her moan vibrated against you again, it sent you spiraling, your hips moving faster, rougher, with a desperation you couldn’t suppress.

You felt yourself reaching the breaking point, your control slipping entirely. Lia’s breathing hitched, her hands shifting to grip you tighter as you thrust one last time. Your release hit like a flood, overwhelming and unstoppable. A guttural groan tore from your throat as you came, the heat surging through you in waves. Lia’s body instinctively tensed beneath you. Her throat worked desperately, swallowing each hot pulse as it filled her mouth. Her gag reflex kicked in more than once, her soft, choked sounds blending with the wet, rhythmic movements that echoed in the room. Despite her efforts, some of it spilled from the corners of her lips, trickling down her chin in thin, glistening streams. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, her nails pressing into your skin as she did her best to keep up, her flushed cheeks stained with tears and exertion.

Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling with the effort to take everything you gave her. When you finally pulled back, a string of fluid connected you briefly before breaking, her tongue darting out to clean her lips as she gasped for air. Lia’s eyes lifted to meet yours, glassy and dazed, her expression a mix of exhaustion, surprise, and something playful.

She wiped at her chin with the back of her hand, her lips curving into a faint, teasing smile. “Fuck that was hot,” she murmured hoarsely, her voice laced with mischief despite her breathlessness. “What's gotten into you?”

You didn’t respond, the fire in your chest still burning too hot for words. Instead, you leaned down slightly and tapped your member against her cheek a couple of times, the wet sound punctuating the charged silence. Lia blinked up at you, her flushed face lighting up with surprise, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Without a word, you reached down, your hands finding hers as you pulled her to her feet in one smooth motion. She let out a soft, surprised laugh, stumbling slightly against your chest. Her body was still trembling, her knees unsteady from the intensity of what had just happened. She clung to you for balance, her breath brushing against your neck as she steadied herself. 

Before she could add anything else, your hands moved to her sweatshirt, gripping the fabric at the hem. Her laughter faded into a small, knowing smile as she raised her arms without hesitation, letting you strip it off her in one smooth motion. The air between you felt charged, electric, as the garment fell to the floor.

Her shorts followed quickly, her own fingers fumbling with the waistband as though eager to match your urgency. The two of you moved in tandem, discarding every barrier until she stood before you, bare and breathtaking in the dim light. The soft glow illuminated every curve, every flushed detail of her skin, making her look impossibly beautiful.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over Lia as she lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body still trembling from the intensity of earlier. Without a word, you captured her lips in a bruising kiss, pouring all the frustration, anger, and sadness you’d been bottling up into the connection. Her soft moan was muffled against your mouth as she melted into you, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders.

You didn’t stop there. Your lips trailed away from hers, moving down the curve of her jaw to her neck, where you nipped at her skin with sharp, deliberate bites. Lia gasped and squirmed beneath you, her body reacting instinctively to each sting of your teeth, her fingers clutching at you for balance. The sound of her soft whimpers drove you on, each one fueling the storm raging inside you.

Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as you moved lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses down to her collarbone. You didn’t hesitate to bite there too, hard enough to make her arch her back, her body pressing closer to you as though craving the sting. Her breaths grew quicker, her chest heaving as she writhed beneath your relentless attention.

Her squirming only pushed you further, your need to control, to channel the storm within you, manifesting in the way you held her down. One hand moved to her neck, wrapping around her throat in a firm, deliberate grip. Lia’s reaction was immediate—her body froze for a second, her breath catching, before her eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. There was no fear in her gaze, only surprise and raw, unfiltered desire.

You didn’t pause, letting your other hand slide down her body, brushing over her stomach before reaching her folds. The heat and slickness there were undeniable, and it made you tighten your grip on her neck as your fingers teased her entrance. Lia gasped, her body jerking at the touch, her hands clutching at the sheets for balance as her hips instinctively pressed toward you.

You didn’t slow down, slipping two fingers inside her in one swift, deliberate motion. Her reaction was instant—a choked moan escaping her lips as her body arched against your hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably. You tightened your grip on her neck, holding her firmly in place as you set a rough, relentless rhythm, each thrust of your fingers matching the intensity of your emotions.

Her breaths came in short, desperate gasps, her body completely at your mercy. You didn’t let up, your fingers curling inside her, hitting all the right spots as her moans grew louder. The way she reacted—the way her body writhed and her voice broke with every movement—pushed you further into the haze of emotion driving your every move.

Lia’s hands gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white as she clawed at the fabric, her head tilting back as her lips parted in a silent plea. Her hips began to shift, trying instinctively to pull away from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t give her the chance. Each time her body tried to escape, you followed her movement with ruthless precision, maintaining the relentless pace that left her gasping and trembling beneath you.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice cracking as her hips jerked sharply against your hand, torn between chasing the pleasure and trying to find relief from the intensity. Her thighs quivered as the wet, obscene sounds from her folds filled the room, mixing with her soft, desperate whimpers.

Your fingers thrust with relentless precision, plunging deeply while curling just enough to make Lia cry out with every motion. Her gasps turned into desperate, broken cries, the sound spilling from her lips in sharp, uneven bursts. The way her body tightened and arched against your hand drove you further, your thumb brushing over her clit—first in slow, deliberate circles, then pressing firmly and flicking sharply as her hips jolted against you.

The hand around her neck tightened slightly, your fingers pressing just enough to make her breath catch. The mix of pressure and roughness sent her spiraling, her voice breaking into a low, guttural moan as her eyes fluttered open briefly, wide and glassy, before rolling shut again. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, her entire body trembling as your thumb quickened its pace, alternating between firm, relentless circles and sharp, deliberate flicks that made her hips buck wildly.

Her thighs tried to clamp shut around your hand, her body instinctively attempting to shield itself from the overwhelming sensations, but you didn’t stop. Your pace only grew faster, harder, as though chasing something deeper. Her moans turned into broken cries, her hips jerking helplessly against your hand as you pushed her closer and closer to the edge.

The slick heat from her folds coated your fingers as her walls tightened around you, her body reacting to every motion. Her breath hitched, her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Her hips jerked erratically, trying to escape your relentless pace, but you didn’t let up. The grip on her neck tightened again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her eyes snapped open for a moment, unfocused and dazed.

“God—” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking as her body convulsed. “I—can’t—”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her breathing erratic as she teetered on the edge of release. Just as the moment was about to break, you pulled your fingers out abruptly and delivered a sharp smack to her folds. The sudden sting and shock sent a jolt through her entire body, her back arching violently off the bed as a strangled moan tore from her throat.

That was it. Lia shattered beneath you, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her thighs clamped around your hand, trapping you there as her cries turned raw and broken, each sound carrying the intensity of her release. Her body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. Her hands clutched at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as her hips jerked uncontrollably, seeking and shying away from the overwhelming sensations.

You held her firmly, your grip on her neck steady, grounding her as your hand returned to her folds. Your fingers worked with deliberate precision, prolonging her climax as her cries grew louder, more desperate. Her hips bucked wildly against your hand, her body writhing beneath you as she gave in completely to the pleasure overtaking her.

Her release seemed endless, the intensity of it leaving her gasping for breath as her body quaked under your control. The room was filled with the sound of her broken moans and the rhythmic slap of your palm against her oversensitive lips. Each touch seemed to reignite the flames, drawing out her pleasure until her body collapsed back against the bed, trembling and spent.

As the aftershocks coursed through her, her breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her skin glistened in the dim light, her face flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

You loosened your grip on her neck, your fingers brushing lightly against her skin as you leaned over her. Lia’s eyes fluttered open slowly, glassy and unfocused, her lips parting in a faint, breathless smile. Her body continued to tremble slightly, the lingering sensations leaving her utterly undone beneath you.

You guided Lia’s trembling, sensitive body onto the bed with deliberate intent, her flushed skin glistening as she struggled to catch her breath. Her wide, dazed eyes met yours, still hazy from the intensity of her previous climax, but you weren’t done—not yet. Slowly, you lay down and pulled her back against you, arranging her pliant body with steady hands.

Her back pressed firmly to your chest, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, her thighs trembling as you slipped your hands beneath them. Your grip steadied her, your fingers curling securely around the back of her thighs, holding her legs in place and spreading her open. The position left her entirely vulnerable, every inch of her body on display. Her arms rested near her sides, loosely pinned between your bodies, emphasizing her complete surrender to you.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her neck fully exposed, giving you an unobstructed view of her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the faint sheen of sweat that glistened on her skin. Lia let out a soft, breathless gasp as the new position registered, her body tensing briefly before relaxing into your hold.

The vulnerability of it, the way your grip anchored her while she was spread open, only seemed to heighten her arousal. “Where did you learn this?…” she murmured, her voice trailing off into a whimper as she felt you press against her entrance. The sensation made her hips shift instinctively, her body eager and trembling as she surrendered completely to the moment.

Without hesitation, you entered her in one deep, deliberate motion. The pace was fast and unrelenting from the start, your thrusts deep and purposeful as you held her firmly in place. Lia cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate moan as her body responded immediately. The position allowed you to reach depths you hadn’t before, and her body clenched tightly around you, the new sensation overwhelming her.

Her head tilted back against your shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to you completely. The sheer submissiveness of her posture, her willingness to let you take control, drove you on. You leaned down, your lips brushing the curve of her neck as you pressed open-mouthed kisses along her flushed skin, your teeth grazing lightly before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

Lia let out a trembling gasp as your hand found her clit again, circling it with a firm intensity that made her entire body jolt against you. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips writhing in an attempt to escape the relentless stimulation. “Wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to shift away from your touch. “I’m sensitive—too much…”

Her words barely registered, muffled by the storm in your mind. The frustration and anger churned like a relentless tide, the image of her smiling, her hand entwined with someone else’s, replaying in your head like a haunting refrain. It consumed you, fueling the roughness in every movement.

You tightened your hold, your hands locking her helplessly in place. Her legs trembled, trying to close against the overstimulation, but the position left her completely vulnerable. With her legs spread wide and pinned by her own weight, she had no leverage, no way to resist as you drove her higher. Her body squirmed, her hips shifting desperately, but your arm around her wrists and your thighs holding hers apart ensured she couldn’t escape.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the back of her neck where you could reach, the soft curve of her skin damp with sweat. The kiss was possessive, claiming, and when you bit down, she let out a sharp cry, her body arching against yours. The sting of your teeth sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as you soothed the bite with another heated kiss.

Lia’s body trembled, her reactions raw and desperate. Each time you bit down, harder now, her cries grew louder, her head tilting back to expose more of her neck as though surrendering completely. Her thighs tried to press together again, but the position made it impossible, leaving her entirely at your mercy.

Her pleas melted into choked moans when your hand left her clit briefly, only to return with a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, followed by her broken cry as her body jolted against you. The sting sent her closer to the edge, her breath hitching in ragged gasps as her hips jerked involuntarily.

The relentless combination—the deep, fast thrusts, the circling of your fingers on her clit, and the sharp bites you pressed to her shoulder and neck—pushed her further into a haze of overwhelming sensation. Her cries grew louder, her body trembling violently as she fought against the intensity. Even as her hips shifted and tried to twist away, her body betrayed her with every shiver of arousal, her movements weak and yielding to your pace.

Just as her body tensed in anticipation of release, you pressed harder against her clit, your fingers moving in swift, relentless circles. Lia gasped, her walls clenching tightly around you as her entire body strained, her climax teetering on the brink.

When you sensed she was at her limit, you delivered a sharp, deliberate slap to her clit. Lia screamed, her voice raw and broken as her body convulsed violently. The sharp sting mingled with the overwhelming pleasure, the combination tearing through her with a force that left her trembling uncontrollably. Her thighs twitched against your hands, her chest heaving as she sobbed softly, her cries a mix of pleasure and surrender.

You didn’t stop, your fingers continuing to flick and slap her nub while your thrusts maintained their relentless pace. Her body collapsed further against yours, her legs trembling as the overstimulation sent her spiraling beyond her limits. Another broken scream tore from her throat before her body finally gave out, her muscles going slack as she slumped back onto you, her head falling onto your shoulder.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her body trembling as aftershocks coursed through her. You released her wrists, your hands smoothing over her legs as you pressed soft kisses to her temple and along the marks your teeth had left on her shoulder. Her breathing gradually steadied, her skin still flushed and damp as she tried to catch her breath.

Your pace didn’t falter, even as Lia slumped further against you, her body trembling and utterly spent. The overstimulation of her climax had left her broken in the best way, her cries now soft whimpers, her breath hot and uneven against your neck. Her legs remained pinned, trembling as your relentless thrusts sent aftershocks rippling through her. Each deep motion made her body react instinctively, her hips twitching as though trying to pull away, but the position left her helpless, completely at your mercy.

As the intensity built, her breaths grew sharper, her head tilting back against your shoulder. The haze of her earlier release lingered in her glassy eyes, her thoughts slow and unfocused. Yet, as your thrusts grew faster and more erratic, realization flickered faintly in her expression. She gasped softly, her thighs twitching against your hold.

“Wait…” she murmured, her voice trembling and breathless, her mind catching up to what her body already knew. “Don’t… don’t cum inside me,” she pleaded, her tone cracking under the weight of her exhaustion and arousal.

Her words were faint, almost drowned out by the rhythmic sound of your hips meeting hers. Her protest lacked strength, her body betraying her as her warmth clenched tightly around you, pulling you deeper with every motion. Even as she tried to speak again, her words dissolved into soft, broken whimpers, her thighs trembling violently as her overstimulated body refused to resist what was coming.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the edge drawing closer with every thrust. Her whispered plea echoed faintly in your mind, but the overwhelming heat, the way she writhed beneath you, the way her body pulled you in, made it impossible to stop. The last thread of your restraint snapped as her walls tightened around you one final time.

“Fuck…” you murmured hoarsely, your voice trembling with the urgency of your release. Her body stiffened briefly, her lips parting in a faint gasp of realization, but she couldn’t move, her legs pinned wide and her body limp in your hold.

With a guttural groan, you pressed as deep as you could, your release surging into her in powerful, shuddering waves. Lia’s breath hitched sharply, her fingers weakly clutching at your arms as she felt the warmth spreading inside her. “Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her head fell forward, her body twitching in response to the unfamiliar sensation. The flush on her cheeks deepened, a mix of disbelief and something unspoken as she lay trembling against you.

When the last tremors subsided, you loosened your grip slightly, your hands smoothing over her legs as they remained draped across your hips. Her breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. The room was quiet except for the faint sound of your mingled breathing, heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

Lia’s voice came out as a whisper, trembling with exhaustion but edged with frustration. “Too much… it was too much…” Her body twitched beneath you, her trembling legs sprawled limply against your hips. Her chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, her gaze hazy but laced with something sharper as she tried to steady herself.

Then her eyes locked onto yours, and the flush on her cheeks deepened, no longer just from exertion. “I can’t believe you came inside me,” she muttered, her voice low but biting. “You know we can’t do that.”

Her words cut through the heavy air, and for a moment, her expression hardened as she tried to assert control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you. But the tension in her brows faltered as her body gave a faint, involuntary shudder, the lingering sensation of everything pooling inside her impossible to ignore.

She shifted slightly in your hold, her thighs twitching, her skin hypersensitive and her mind torn between anger and something much more confusing. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, to reprimand you further, but no words came. Instead, she turned her head to the side, her expression tight, though not entirely resolute.

Inside, you could tell she was battling herself. The heat spreading across her neck and cheeks, the way her legs trembled against yours, betrayed a truth she didn’t want to face. Even though she was angry—she had every reason to be—the intensity of what had happened, the rawness of being completely at your mercy, lingered in ways she couldn’t deny.

Lia let out a sharp exhale, her body relaxing slightly against you as her anger seemed to ebb, replaced by a reluctant acceptance. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her breathing still uneven, her lips pressing together in a faint line. The silence between you was heavy, her internal conflict palpable, as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you was filled with something unspoken, a tenderness that lingered even as exhaustion pulled at you both.

“Jisu,” you said suddenly, the word breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.

She turned onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. “Hmm?”

“Can this ever be more?” The question came out unsteady, raw with emotion, as though it had torn its way out of you.

Her smile faded, replaced by something gentler but distant. She sighed softly, the blanket slipping slightly as she shifted to sit up. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, her tone careful but firm. “The reason this works is because it’s casual. It’s… uncomplicated. That’s why it’s good.”

You turned your head to look at her, searching her expression for something—anything—that might suggest she felt the same way you did. But all you saw was a calm resolve. “You’re great,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “You really are. But if we start complicating things, it’ll ruin what we have, could you imagine even trying to do this while one of us has feelings.”

Her words struck you like a punch, each one cutting deeper than the last. You forced a small, hollow smile, nodding as if you understood. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “You’re right…”

Lia’s hand brushed over your arm lightly, reassuringly, before she lay back down beside you, curling into your side as though nothing had happened. But something had. For you, the illusion that this could be enough had shattered, and no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself otherwise, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of the end.

As Lia slept peacefully beside you, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. You couldn’t keep doing this—not when your feelings for her only grew stronger with each passing day, and not when she had made it clear she would never see you the way you saw her.

You slipped out of her bed quietly, careful not to wake her. The city lights outside her window cast long shadows across the room as you let out a soft apology,dressed and left. You told yourself that it would be the last time, that you couldn’t go back—not for her, not for anyone. You needed to find someone who would value you, who would want you the way you wanted them.

-----

The next morning, Lia woke up alone, sunlight filtering softly through her curtains as the warmth of the day began to creep into the room. She stirred slowly, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—her neck, her thighs, her core—all reminders of the intensity of the night before. She shifted slightly, wincing at the tenderness, and as the memories flooded back, her cheeks flushed with heat. The rawness of how you had been with her, the way you had consumed her so completely, lingered in her mind, each thought sending a fresh wave of warmth coursing through her.

Reaching for her phone, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the screen. After a deep breath, she typed a quick message: “Last night was amazing. Thank you.”

She hit send, expecting the usual quick reply. You were always good at responding, rarely making her wait more than a few minutes. It was one of the constants she had come to rely on—your availability, your attentiveness. But as the minutes stretched into hours, her screen remaining frustratingly blank, she shrugged it off. You’re probably just busy, she told herself, though a faint unease began to creep into her thoughts, like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Life moved forward, as it always did, her schedule swallowing her days whole. But the unease grew, a quiet nagging in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. Still no reply. No follow-up. No late-night texts asking about her day or teasing her about something silly. It was unlike you, and with every passing day, it became harder to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Desperate for distraction, she agreed to another date with the idol, convincing herself it was the right thing to do. But from the moment they sat down at the trendy café, everything about the evening felt wrong. The vibrant chatter of the other patrons blurred into background noise, his words barely registering as she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the unanswered message. It sat there, unopened, like a stark reminder of your absence.

He tried to make conversation, asking about her work and cracking lighthearted jokes, but her responses were flat, distracted. Her mind kept drifting—back to you. She could almost hear your laugh, picture the way you would have teased her about spending too much time scrolling on her phone. She thought about the little things you did, the gestures that had woven themselves into her daily life: bringing her food after late practices, the way you always seemed to know when she needed comforting, and the talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning when her world felt too heavy.

Her chest tightened as she realized it wasn’t just about the sex anymore—though that had been incredible. It was everything else, the way you had quietly become her anchor without her noticing. She missed you, in ways that went beyond physical, in ways she couldn’t ignore.

As the date dragged on, her unease grew heavier. She looked at him across the table, saw the effort he was putting into keeping her attention, and felt the guilt creep in. He wasn’t the problem. He was polite, charming even, but he wasn’t you. He didn’t make her feel grounded the way you did. He didn’t know her tells, didn’t know how to navigate her quiet moods or the way her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes.

She excused herself earlier than planned, her heart heavy as she walked out into the cool night air. Her fingers hovered over her phone again, the thought of calling you overwhelming her. But as she stared at your name in her contacts, she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Not yet.

Days turned into a week, and Lia’s desperation grew. Every thought of you tightened the ache in her chest, the longing building until it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just about the intimacy anymore—it was everything else. The little moments, the times you made her feel understood, cared for, seen. The absence of those moments was suffocating.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside her was shifting. Something she hadn’t wanted to see before but now couldn’t deny. You weren’t just her escape, her comfort—you had become something so much more. Finally, she turned to someone she trusted: Yeji.

The three of you had always been close, bonded not just by your ages but by a shared sense of humor and camaraderie. After practice one evening, Lia found Yeji in the lounge, scrolling through her phone. Her heart pounded as she sat down across from her, working up the courage to speak.

“Yeji,” Lia began, her voice quieter than usual as she fidgeted with the edge of her hoodie.

Yeji glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Lia hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty. “You know about… my arrangement, right?”

Yeji set her phone down, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Oh, yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “I know about it.”

Lia’s fingers twisted the fabric of her hoodie, her nerves fraying. “Have you… talked to him lately? Do you know where he is?”

Yeji’s expression softened, the teasing fading as she leaned back against the couch. “Yeah, we’ve talked,” she admitted, her voice even. “But I don’t think I should tell you more than that.”

The words hit Lia harder than she expected. Her stomach twisted, and her voice dropped. “Why not?” she asked, almost pleading. “I just… I miss him. I didn’t think I would, but I do. I didn’t realize how much he meant to me until he wasn’t there anymore.”

Yeji sighed, studying her closely. “Lia, you have to ask yourself why he’s not here right now,” she said, her voice steady but not unkind. “You had to know how he felt—maybe you didn’t want to admit it, but it was obvious.”

Lia looked down, her throat tightening as Yeji’s words sank in. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she murmured. “I just… I didn’t know.”

Yeji leaned forward slightly, her voice softer now. “I think he needed space, Lia. He couldn’t keep pretending to be okay with what you two had. And now? I think you’re realizing how much he really means to you.”

Lia’s fingers curled tightly around her hoodie, her heart sinking further. “I miss him,” she said quietly. “Not just… what we had. I miss everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Yeji shook her head gently. “I’m not going to tell you where he is—it wouldn’t be fair. But if you feel this way, you need to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Lia nodded slowly, Yeji’s words settling heavily in her chest. For the next few days, she replayed every moment in her mind—every late-night talk, every thoughtful gesture, every quiet look that made her feel safe. The realization of how much she missed you, how deeply she cared, grew sharper with each passing day.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Lia grabbed her phone with trembling hands and called. The first call went to voicemail, then the next, and the one after that. Still, she didn’t stop. Each unanswered ring only heightened her desperation. She began texting, her messages growing shorter and more frantic with each passing hour.

“I need to talk to you.”“Please, can you call me back?”“Just… say something.”

When the texts went unanswered, she left voicemails, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I… I really want to talk. Please, can we meet? Just let me know.��� Every message sounded more raw than the last, the silence on the other end of the line gnawing at her chest like an open wound.

She lost count of how many times she called—her phone logs a mess of missed attempts, her inbox filled with drafts of unsent messages she couldn’t bring herself to delete. Each night, she lay awake, staring at her phone, willing it to light up with your name. The waiting was unbearable, each moment stretching endlessly as hope began to waver.

Just when she was on the verge of giving up, her phone buzzed. Her heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to pick it up. It was you. A simple message: “Okay. Let’s meet.”

Relief and apprehension washed over her in equal measure. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, she simply typed, “Thank you.”

-----

When you finally met, the air was heavy with tension, every unspoken word between you settling like a weight in the small café. Lia sat across from you, her usual poise stripped away. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve, her eyes fixed on the untouched coffee in front of her. The faintest hint of color rose in her cheeks, betraying the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

You watched her carefully, your own nerves coiling tighter with every second of silence. Her lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come right away. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold your gaze. “For everything. For not seeing how you felt, for taking you for granted.”

Her words caught you off guard, the raw honesty cutting through the tension. You blinked, unsure how to respond at first. “I should be the one apologizing,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter than you intended. “For ghosting you, for catching feelings in the first place. I—”

“Don’t,” Lia interrupted gently, her voice firm but laced with regret. Her eyes finally met yours, and the warmth there made your chest ache. “Don’t apologize for liking me. Please. I need to say something first.”

You froze, her words silencing the flood of guilt that had been building inside you. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze flickering downward for a moment before she looked back at you, her expression unguarded.

“I like you,” she said softly, the words landing with a weight that made your breath catch. “So much. I think I have for a while, but I didn’t know… or maybe I just didn’t let myself realize it. I got so comfortable with you always being there, and when you were gone, it felt like a piece of me was missing.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and her hands stilled as she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. “I thought keeping things casual was easier—safer—because I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think about what you needed or how much it might be hurting you.

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop. “I’m so sorry for everything. For not being considerate of your feelings, for pushing you away when you tried to tell me how you felt. You deserved more than that—more than I gave you—and it kills me that I hurt you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, raw and vulnerable. She took another breath, her eyes glistening as she looked at you, waiting. “Do you still…” she began, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “Do you still like me? Because if you do… I promise I’ll be better. I’ll try harder. I won’t take you for granted again.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and trembling with sincerity. You stared at her, the tight ache in your chest threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in her eyes, the way her fingers nervously twisted at her sleeve, the unsteady rise and fall of her breath—it was Lia, stripped of all pretense, offering herself to you in a way she never had before.

“I miss you,” you said, your voice thick with emotion, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “More than I can even say. And yes, Lia, I still like you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening as relief and hope washed over her face. A small, trembling smile broke through her uncertainty, and she reached across the table, her hand brushing yours. You didn’t hesitate, your fingers curling around hers as the tension between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet, tentative warmth.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you heavy but no longer with tension—this time, it was full of possibility. Lia’s fingers tightened slightly around yours, her gaze searching your face as though she was committing this moment to memory. Then, softly, she asked, “Can I… kiss you?”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, a stark contrast to the confident Lia you had always known. You felt your breath hitch, the question catching you off guard even though you knew the answer. You nodded, unable to form words, and her lips twitched into a faint, nervous smile.

When she leaned forward, the world around you seemed to still. The noise of the café, the clinking of dishes, the hum of conversations—it all faded as her face came closer, her hand still firmly in yours. The first brush of her lips against yours was tentative, testing, but the moment they met, something shifted.

This kiss wasn’t like the others. You’d kissed Lia before—passionate, heated, messy kisses in the haze of your arrangement. But this? This was entirely different. This kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t fueled by lust or need. It was soft, deliberate, full of emotion you hadn’t allowed yourself to name before. It felt like kissing her for the first time, like discovering something new, something sacred.

Her lips were warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers through you. There was no urgency, no pretense, just the quiet connection between you as the kiss deepened, your free hand instinctively reaching up to cradle her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the moment.

For Lia, the kiss was no less transformative. She’d kissed you countless times before, but this—this felt like peeling away every wall she’d built, every mask she’d worn. This was the kiss she hadn’t let herself imagine, the kiss she hadn’t realized she needed until now. It wasn’t just the physical connection—it was the way your hand trembled slightly as you cupped her cheek, the way you held her like she was the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as your eyes met. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed, her gaze full of something you couldn’t quite describe but felt deep in your chest. You could see it reflected back at you: this wasn’t just a kiss. This was everything.

“That…” Lia murmured softly, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words, her fingers brushing against your jaw. “That felt… different.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice low and raw with emotion. “It did.”

Neither of you moved to pull away, the space between you too fragile, too precious to break. For the first time, it felt like you were both on the same page, and the weight of everything that had come before fell away, leaving only the warmth of this moment.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy, more open—like the air between you had shifted, lighter somehow. You cleared your throat, your fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as you searched for the right words, your heartbeat quickening with each passing second. “So, um…” you began, awkwardness thick in your voice as your eyes darted away from hers. “If you’re free later… I mean, after this—if you want, we could, I don’t know, grab dinner or something?”

Lia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile that widened just enough to let you know she understood exactly what you were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed faintly, the color rising against her soft complexion. “Are you asking me out?” she teased lightly, her tone warm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe. I mean… yeah, I guess I am.”

Her smile softened into something more genuine, more tender. “I’d like that,” she said quietly, her voice carrying just the right hint of sincerity to make your chest feel lighter. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

The relief that washed over you was palpable, and without a second thought, you stood, holding out your hand. Lia’s gaze flicked down to your outstretched fingers, hesitation flickering for only a moment before she reached out and took your hand, her fingers curling around yours in a gesture that felt at once familiar and entirely new. Her touch sent a warmth through you, steadying your nerves as the tension between you eased further.

As you walked out of the café together, her hand warm in yours, the world around you seemed to blur into insignificance. The usual noise of the city streets—honking cars, chatter from passersby—faded into the background as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm. Lia’s steps matched yours, her shoulder occasionally brushing against your arm, and every now and then, you glanced at her. Her soft smile, illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights, carried a quiet promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, testing the waters, and she looked up at you, her eyes bright with a mixture of shyness and excitement. The small action spoke louder than words, her slight squeeze in return confirming what you both already knew: this wasn’t just two friends reconnecting. This was something new, something fragile yet full of possibility.

By the time you reached the restaurant, the hesitation you’d felt earlier had all but melted away. The hum of the city was a distant backdrop as you opened the door for her, gesturing for her to enter first. She smiled, murmuring a quiet “thank you” as she stepped inside, her gaze lingering on yours for just a beat longer than necessary.

Inside, the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant felt like an extension of the moment you were sharing. As you sat down, the conversation flowed more easily, the earlier tension giving way to lighthearted laughter and comfortable silences that spoke of a connection neither of you could deny. And as you watched her, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling across the table, you knew without a doubt: this wasn’t just a return to what you had before. This was the beginning of something real.

[herebegin]

Oooooh! Okay, okay! So, the Battle of Blair Mountain is a really good introductory topic to this type of thing. In fact, the channel Extra Credits made a fantastic teo-part video series on it!

It's not the only conflict of its kind, though, these were especially common. Barely over a year earlier, in May of 1920, was the Matewan Massacre. This was only one of a series of conflicts called the West Virginia Coal Wars, or simply put, the Mine Wars. These spanned from 1912 to 1923, starting with conflicts in Paint and Cabin Creek before more started popping up further and further across West Virginia's sector of the Appalachias - wouldn't be surprised if some folk outside of the state got particularly inspired.

And guess who was involved? Not the Pinkertons, no sir-ee. Instead it was a COMPLETELY different agency called the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency! This group started in the early 1890s as the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency, its founder William Baldwin being *ahem* "affectionately" known as the Pinkerton of the South, despite only working for a solo detective prior. The company was initially contracted by the Norfolk and Western Railroad, before being contracted by other companies. To give you a picture of what Baldwin-Felts was like, they were not only infamous for conducting anti-union activities, but also were VERY into enforcing Jim-Crow laws - check the embedded link for more information

During the fight, only two civies (some sources say four, I'll be fully honest, you should probably look into this too) had been killed, with seven Baldwin-Felts guards spilling their red. And one of the people, Sid Hatfield (who came to the area to help organize a union) was hailed as a savior, yet was killed barely a year later when he was heading for a court date over the incident. You wanna take a gander at who could've possibly done that, to prevent him from testifying against the railroad? RING-A-DING DING, BALDWIN-FELTS GUARDS, BABY!

Again, I highly recommend you research these yourself. Another good thing to research would be the National Farmer's Alliance, which was a political party formed by farmers and other folk from the South, having gone from the 1880s to the mid/late 1890s! They're a fundamental group if you want to learn about socialist political parties (no no no, please stay with me here, it's genuinely interesting information), and how common folk have always come together during desperate times to make try and make good for themselves and others!

And the earliest known conflict against workers occurred during the 1892 Homestead Steel Strike! If you'd recognize a certain name, now would be the time to mention that those goddamn Pinkertons were involved.

Make sure to check the links, Please. There's going to be information I missed, especially with how late it is, and that'll help you double-check what I say, if not let you learn more on this topic. But, read on up, partner!

it is absolutely BONKERS to me, the number of people in the united states i have talked to who have never even heard of the battle of blair mountain. how the largest labor uprising in our history manages to skirt by so many leftists unknown is just downright astonishing. the largest labor uprising, and the largest armed uprising, period, since the civil war.

did yall even hear me?

THE LARGEST ARMED UPRISING!! besides the civil!!! fucking!! war!!! was fought in 1921 in the name of LABOR RIGHTS AND UNIONS by TEN THOUSAND RIGHTEOUSLY PISSED, STRIKING COAL MINERS

these absolute fucking LEGENDS marching out the hollers of west virginia, wearing their red bandanas and wielding their papaw's shotguns pointed at the lawmen. waging war against the fucking UNITED. STATES. MILITARY!!! for their right to work safely and be paid fairly!!!

and people just like. don't know about that? put some fucking respect on west virginia!!! and fellow appalachians, yall best just own it when ignorant people call you a fucking redneck cause our ancestors did that shit and they did it for us

[willowed-wisp]

NSFW ALPHABET [ simon ‘ghost’ riley]

Just my opinion based on how Simon comes across in the games. It was quite fun to interpret it. Hope I didn’t do too bad of a job 🤞

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ghost would be more closed off to a one night stand, so it’s lucky if you even get his name let alone for him to stay after the sex.

As for in a relationship, he cares so deeply that if he’s jackhammered you he’ll find himself gently massaging your sore pussy- you did take him ‘so well’ after all (his words)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He used to hate his arms, all the scars he had endured but he paid good, well earned money on his sleeve tattoos. And with encouragement from his partner- he likes them.

As for you, your face. He rarely gets to see all of his own, so seeing your face in any sense is a blessing. For intimacy it’s a luxury to see your brows screw up and lips parted. He knows you don’t have the same benefit of seeing his ALL the time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes the idea of claiming you by coming inside but the idea of children in a world like this… it scares him. Even if you’re on birth control… too much of a risk.

Simon loves seeing you on your knees, lips pink and raw after finishing down your throat. And you better be swallowing- he doesn’t like tryna get stains out of the bedsheets.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to fuck you in close quarters to the rest of 141, and use his balaclava as a gag to shut you up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Simon is said to be in his earlier to mid-30s and doesn’t have as much experience as the others but you’ve never complained about his skill before. He’s a quick learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ADVANCED MISSIONARY; As said before, he loves your face. So something front facing but spicier than missionary- legs on his shoulders… laid flat on the edge of the kitchen table with him stood ploughing into you.

AGAINST THE WALL: Simon loves knowing it’s all him giving you pleasure- you clung to him for dear life. Nails cutting into him and limp from the waist down, he’s not shy when it comes to pain… not that kind anyway.

DOGGY: The only exception to him not facing you is when you’ve been teasing him all day long. He loves the roughness and how much of you he can feel at that angle. Intoxicating.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Simon goes Ghost mode during sex. It’s a scale of kinda serious to don’t talk kind of serious. Depends on how long he’s gone without it. If he’s on leave and it’s on the couch during movie night and you clash teeth- he’s so serious about it but when you start laughing, his eyes go puppy dog and he joins you in hysterics.

He can be very goofy so he has that side when his guard is down.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He likes to keep in tidy down there, not completely shaven but nothing to stop you from giving him sloppy head.

He has light eyelashes but the hair is so short you can barely see the true colour - a blondish brown colour.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like most things with Simon, he truly depends on what mood you catch him in. He’s a chill guy, he’s the type to get you gifts without making a big deal about it.

He just wants your sole undivided attention, that’s romance in his eyes. Having a connection with you, spending time with you. So he’s kissing up your body, and eating you out like there’s no tomorrow without expecting you to return the favour.

Simon is all about eye contact, kissing and making you feel special in the moment. So I guess you could call him a pinch romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Being away from you is a death sentence, but the mission is work. That doesn’t mean LT doesn’t jack off, to images of you riding him or panting beneath him, when he’s in the shower.

Off duty he has you, he doesn’t need to jack off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BONDAGE: Hands behind your back, tied with his belt. Or he doesn’t mind, he knows how to break out of ties anyway.

VOYEURISM: Loves watching you masturbate, revels in it because he knows he’ll have you coming on his cock in the next few minutes.

DOMINANCE: Not in an unhealthy way, he’s a BIG guy (and he uses it to his advantage). Caging you in and hitching you up at his waist, repeating the words, “Who do you belong to?” “Who makes you feel so good?”

And the answer every single time is ‘you, Si.’

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Nowhere public, there’s a reason he wears a mask in public let alone being caught with his dick out.

His favourite may be a wall, especially if Soap is staying in the guest room… because the master bedroom is beside it. Ghost is territorial like that, you’re his.

The bed is too comfortable for him when he’s initially back. Simon will hold your hips and watch you bounce on his dick while his back is on the fluffy carpet. Carpet burns were worth it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kissing his tattoos- man this guy gets pent up when you do that. All the way up his arm, through to his chest. Do this and you will find his trousers tented and tight.

Ghost is very susceptible to touch, he spends so much time trying not to get hit by stray bullets or by fists that when he lets his guard down- he really gets turned on by crotch palming or kissing. Makeout sessions quickly become a night long sex fest.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hates being blindfolded, absolutely despises it. Even when relaxed it’s difficult for Ghost to just be Simon. He likes being able to see you, his PTSD comes in play there.

Also, another no no, is you wearing a skull mask or himself wearing it in the bedroom. When he’s at home, he doesn’t even want to remember what happened in the field. Let alone bring it into the most vulnerable position he’s gonna be in. He may even draw the line at face coverings in general.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

As said before, he couldn’t care less if he receives. Only that he makes you cum at least once.

Don’t mistake that for him not liking blowjobs, he loves it- again, a touch thing but he would rather watching you come undone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Like a lot of things with Simon, it depends on his mood and it you can handle it at the time.

Simon is a kinda soft dom because he cares about his significant other and doesn’t want to hurt you but if you can take it… you’d better find something to hold onto. Legs and abdominal muscles galore- he is a tyrant if you wish it.

But he doesn’t need to do that ALL the time, he can do soft and gentle just as well. Deep, powerful thrusts… letting you adjust after a couple of rounds.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If you’ve been teasing him, he will pull you into a restroom and have you drooling and seeing stars.

He prefers to have his time with you, to get you well adjusted for his size by fingering and then eating you out. Dragging out orgasm after orgasm to get you to relax.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t normally like fucking in public, but as said before- if you touch him in the right places and tell him how hot you are for him… let’s say he will find a dressing room or bathroom stall (within reason) to stop his hardness.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Have you seen this man? 6’5” and muscles for days… Simon has a LOT of stamina.

The first week he gets home you’re lucky when he’s not inside of you. He can go multiple times a day for an average of two hour sessions. He likes to take his time with you.

Quickies wise about 6 rounds in a row.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Simon’s not a fan of toys. Doesn’t own any and doesn’t plan on buying. He’s sure in his abilities and when you a moaning mess impaled on his cock- he’d say you’re quite satisfied.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Edges you from time to time and make you beg for some release. But that’s only when he’s in one of his sarcastic moods- mostly after he’s hung out with Soap.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not obnoxiously loud, but not quiet. His voices get a bit higher or goes lower when he says your name. Holding your hair while you’re on your knees, choking on his cock. It’s kind of addictive.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Your smell. Purposefully buries his nose in the crux of your shoulder in general. Especially when so close to his release- you’ve been squeezing his size continuously for the past five minutes and the scent of you, not your perfume or shampoo, can toss him off that cliff.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average at about 7.5 inches, but thick. No wonder he indulges in extensive foreplay before fucking you. He’s the perfect size, nothing too extreme but hits the correct spots.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s touch starved on missions and doesn’t fancy asking the boys for that, so he’s pretty horny. You don’t help dressing all pretty in white lingerie the day he gets back.

On a scale of 0-10, Simon is an 8-10.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Simon finds it difficult to sleep in general, only after a day’s fuck fest is he worn out enough to sleep soundly. Next to his partner.

[icarusredwings]

Do you guys ever think about dementia Charles seeing Pietro and getting sad or becoming really happy because his poor mind connects the dots that he's Erik? It dosn't compute that this wouldn't be Erik because hes too young to be Erik rather assuming that he is young Erik and not exactly having the logic to understand that they are so differently aged.

"Oh! My old friend, you've gotten a haircut. Quite bold of you. It makes you look much younger."

".. yeah, yeah, old man.." he mutters, trying to avoid him best he can, but sometimes, when the others are busy, he can't stand to leave him alone. Coming to sit with him just to litsen to him gab about random nonsense, talking so fondly about his X-men and memories dear to him.

"Do you remember?"

"Do I remember what?"

"When Jean got her first bad grade and she cried to you about how cruel I was to her." He chuckles softly. "And all she got was a B-"

Pietro stares at him like he's crazy. Jean cried to his father? But why? He had his own children to take care of. So why would he treat her like that? It makes him a bit angry. "No.. I don't. What else?"

"Hm?"

"What else happened? With jean and my da- erm. Me."

"I believe it's Jean and I." He corrects his grammer, making the younger man roll his eyes in annoyance. Once a professor always a professor I guess.

"Sure. Jean and I.."

"You acussed me of being too hard on her, but when I explained it, you laughed... I haven't seen you laugh like that in so long.." It's sort of now that Charles remembers what's going on. Who he's talking to.

"..Im sorry. Who are you again?"

"Well you like to call me speedster."

"Pft. No I do not. Mr. Maximoff.. you've grown so big since the last time ive seen you."

'You just saw me yesterday' he thinks but makes that awkward smile and nods. "Yup.."

"Youll have to forgive me. Im not always.... here."

"I know.. are you alright?"

He shrugs in his chair. "About as alright as anyone could be in my situation." Ah yes. The paralyzed old bald man who was losing his mind still had jokes. Funny. But sad. He remembered him being so similar and yet.. so different.

It's not long before Jean comes to give him his medicine again, convincing him that it was for the kid's saftey. "You don't want to hurt them. Do you, Charles?"

"No... but I'm not that gone yet. I can decide when it's best to take my medication."

She smiles so sweetly at him. "Professor, you made this time schedule yourself. Im just doing what you told me. You always knew best for us."

"Oh.. well, alright then."

Before Jean can walk away, He stares at her.

"....Why did my father like you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Charles... he said.." He trails off, not sure how to say it without talking too quickly.

"He said you cried to my father. And.. he defended you."

Jean tilts her head. "I wouldn't say defended. I was just a child having a fit." She admits then shifts, looking at the walls as if remembering.

".. He was here a lot.. and then he just.. stopped coming. Im sorry. I don't know why. Like I said I was just-"

"Didyoureadhismind?"

"Uhm.. just a couple times."

"Jean used to con you into getting her ice cream." Charles smiles, closing his eyes, reminiscing.

"He.. got you ice cream?"

Jean's not dumb. She understands his frustrations, glancing at the old man and then to Pietro again. "Like I said.. I was just a kid.. I was just excited to be able to use my powers. I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't even know he had other children."

"...He never got us ice cream.. he didn't even bother sign my birth certificate.."

"Im sorry, Peter... Professor? Tonights dinner is potatoes gravy turkey with apple sauce. Remys making it so it might be a little spicy."

"Oh, that's alright. He means well. Erm.. thats the blue one right?"

Jean snorts. "No Professor. He's the card one."

"Oooh yes. Reeemmyy... right." He says his name slowly as if trying to connect 'the card one' to 'Remy' in his brain.

"...Bye Peter." She says, now awkwardly leaving.

"Remys that rat from the cooking movie" Pietro whispers and Charles' eyebrows raise. "Ahhh! Remy! That's right."

He might be an x-men. But he could still pull a little evil here and there.

[strnilolover]

Matt and Chris taking care of adhd!reader when she’s rlly active and bouncy and they struggle as she’s not listening

Matt …

Matt loved your energy — on most days, it was one of his favorite things about you. You could make even the dullest moments feel exciting. But tonight? Tonight was on a whole new level. It was like you’d had five shots of espresso and the energy of an entire marching band.

“Babe,” Matt called softly, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you dart from one corner of the room to the other. You were currently reorganizing the spice rack for the third time, narrating your choices like a dramatic cooking show host.

“Paprika here, cinnamon there… Matt, do you even know how much cinnamon we have? So much cinnamon! Wait — oh my god, do we have nutmeg? We do, right? Should I bake something? Cookies! Cookies sound amazing. Do you want cookies? I’m gonna bake cookies.” you rambled as your hands searched the rack for said nutmeg.

Matt leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying not to laugh. “Sweetheart, it’s 11 PM. The cookies can wait until tomorrow.” he said, hoping to try and redirect you from the chaos you were creating in the midst of trying to “rearrange things”.

“Tomorrow? No! Tomorrow is just… future today. We don’t wait for future today! That’s boring.” You bounced on your toes, spinning to face him, your hands gesturing wildly.

Matt stepped forward before you could bolt again, gently catching you by the waist. His touch was firm but light. “Hey, hey. Slow down for a second, alright? Look at me.” Your eyes flicked to his, wide and sparkling with excitement. “Okay, I’m looking, but you’ve got two seconds. Two seconds, that’s all you get.” you said, already itching to make the cookies you were talking about.

Matt chuckled, taking you and guiding you toward the couch. “Deal. Two seconds. Let’s just sit down for a minute, yeah?” You pouted but let him lead you, your hands still fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. “But I’m not tired, Matt. I need to do something.” you stated, his hands guiding you to sit down.

“I know, babe. I know. But you’re running in circles, and you’re gonna burn yourself out,” he said gently, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face as you reluctantly sat. “Here’s the plan: We’re gonna breathe. Just breathe with me for a second.” He exaggerated a slow inhale and exhale, making it impossible not to copy him.

After a few rounds, Matt turned on your favorite show, one you always found comforting and familiar. “Let’s watch this for a bit. If you’re still bouncing after one episode, then we’ll bake cookies. Sound good?”

You hesitated, your body practically vibrating with pent-up energy. But the way Matt looked at you — calm, patient, and just a little tired — made you soften. “Fine.“

He smiled, draping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close. He kissed your temple as you fidgeted with the blanket.

By the time the episode ended, your head was resting on his shoulder, your eyes drooping shut. Matt glanced down, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Guess the cookies can wait after all,” he whispered to himself, pulling the blanket up over you and turning the TV off. He stayed there with you, his own eyes drifting shut.

Chris …

Chris isn’t as naturally patient as Matt. He loved you, of course, but when you got in one of your super active, can’t-sit-still moods, it was like wrangling a hyper puppy — and Chris was not good at wrangling.

“Angel, please just sit down for a second,” Chris groaned, watching you dart around the living room. You were carrying random knickknacks, moving them from one shelf to another like some sort of chaotic interior decorator.

“But I have so much to do,” you sang, spinning in place as you inspected a framed photo. “Do you think this would look better here? Or — oh my god, wait. What if we moved the couch? Do you think we should rearrange the whole living room?” Chris blinked at you, jaw slack. “The whole living room? It’s almost midnight, babe.” he muttered, his hand rubbing his temple.

“Exactly! That’s the perfect time. It’s quiet. No distractions. We can focus!” You clapped your hands, already eyeing the furniture. Chris groaned, running a hand down his face now. “You’re killing me, darling. Killing me.”

But you weren’t listening anymore, your mind already racing to the next task. Chris watched as you buzzed around the room, trying not to smile despite his frustration. You were too cute for your own good.

Finally, he sighed, stepping forward and scooping you up mid-spin. You let out a squeal as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “Chris!” you laughed, kicking your legs. “Put me down! I’m busy!”

“Nope,” he said simply, carrying you over to the couch. He plopped down, keeping you firmly in his lap and wrapping his arms around you like a human seatbelt. “You’re staying right here, angel.”

You squirmed, trying to wriggle free. “You’re so mean! I was just trying to be productive!” Chris smirked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Maybe. But you’re running around like a maniac, and you need to chill. So, congratulations, you’re officially stuck with me.”

You huffed, your pout still in place as you leaned back against his chest. For a while, you fidgeted with the strings of your hoodie, your fingers tapping against his leg. “Fine. But I’m still thinking about where to put that picture frame.”

Chris chuckled, letting his head rest against yours. “Of course you are.” He paused, an idea lighting up his face. “Alright, here’s the deal: Tomorrow, we’ll rearrange the living room together. But right now, we’re chilling.”

Your pout softened into a small smile as you tilted your head to look up at him. “You’d really help me?”

Chris grinned, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Always, angel. Even if it means moving the couch ten times until it’s perfect.” You beamed at him, and Chris swore it made the late-night chaos worth it.

© strnilolover

[nyxelestia]

In case anyone thinks OP is joking: I used to be a "professional anti" -- in that I was literally paid to comb through thousands of a single individual's social media posts, newspaper clippings, Congressional motions, campaign finance records, and public records to look for even the tiniest sliver of information to use against them. I compiled them into documents, ones which would then be further compiled with other documents from teammates on the same project, and we often had to summarize our findings for use by journalists, people whose jobs it would be to disseminate information harmful to the target. As you might guess from context, though, these weren't random people in my fandom spaces or strangers on the Internet. These were all people running for office (and frequently already in office). They all had some modicum of power and could directly influence other people's lives. If you've ever gone through someone's Tumblr or Twitter to look for evidence of a call-out post, or drafted a call-out post? Congratulations, you've done, for free and against random people, a job which I was paid to do against politicians. Now, Congressional races, Senate races, mayoral races, gubernatorial races, etc. all have lots of funding and can afford professionals. However, the more local the election, the less money they have -- and school board candidates almost never have this kind of money. Yet, your local school board is still incredibly influential, both on schools and communities but also on proximal elections (e.x. when someone runs for city council or mayor, they'll seek school board endorsements). So if you've ever gone through someone's Tumblr or Twitter to look for evidence of a call-out post, or drafted a call-out post...I implore you to apply those skills to your local election. Look up the candidates for superior court judges, for school boards, for public committees, for the city council of small towns, etc. These elections genuinely and unironically need your help. You'll be using the same skills as you do in fandom, but now pointed at someone who can directly influence (and potentially harm) hundreds or even thousands of other people's lives.

fun date idea: instead of anonymously bullying random fic writers, bully your elected representatives

[im-not-samantha-im-samanta]

Jinx and Isha x Isha's identical twin reader [fluff]

"Team for life"

@ayedomino0 here you go, love

____________________________________________

Trigger Warning: I don't think there's any, just pure fluff which is unusual for me, but we all need it after act 2. Also I'm not used to writing for three characters at once, so this probably isn't any sort of masterpiece. I also think I may have subconsciously written reader as female, so sorry male and enby readers. This is also pretty fast paced. Also, I don't know what it's like to have a twin, but I hope I didn't write Isha and Reader as the typical twin stereotype shown in movies.

____________________________________________

"Alright, alright, Y/N, guess what time it is!" Jinx's voice rang through the room, making your heart pause.

No, hold on, it couldn't be that time already - you were so sure there were still countless minutes, hours separating you from this exact moment!

But as your wide eyed gaze darted towards the clock on the wall the reality was clear as day - it really was that time already.

"That's right, pipsqueak - medicine time!" Jinx called loud as she came into view, wearing a wide, rascally grin.

Her stance was dramatic and attention grabbing, a bottle of cough drops in one hand, a spoon in the other.

Then, as she went to get the substance onto the spoon, Jinx chirped up again: "Now!" but she ended up cutting herself off right away.

Her pink tinted eyes intensely focused on the drops dripping onto the spoon, carefully watching and counting the amount of drops you would be receiving.

When the right portion was on the spoon, Jinx visibly relaxed and her scatterbrained grin softened up.

"Now," she repeated before dramatically holding up the spoon as if it were some sort of trophy, "say hello to the cough drops express!".

Jinx's gaze then moved towards you, ready to treat your sore throat: "I know how much you hate these, so let's get it over with".

But the moment her eyes laid on you, Jinx halted in her movements and the playful grin fell off her face.

Jinx was so sure she was seeing double because instead of having two individually dressed twins, she suddenly had two identically dressed twins.

Both of them looking at her with the exact same puppy-eyed expression on their faces.

"As sly as a fox, eh?" Jinx commented and broke into a grin as she shook her head in disbelief at the situation.

Then she put her hand holding the cough drop bottle on her hip, smirking.

"okay, which one of you came up with this?" She asked and, still holding the spoon with your medicine, she motioned to you and Isha.

Neither of you spoke of course, nor did you give any sort of other reaction, both you and Isha just looked at Jinx with your two sets of golden, big eyes.

Jinx wasn't bothered by the lack of reaction though, nor was she really bothered by the situation - of anything, she honestly found it hilarious.

"Hmm," she hummed, pressing her manicured finger to her lips while still handling the cough drops bottle, pretending to be deep in thought.

"I bet it was..." Jinx paused, letting the tension build up as her pink eyes found yours and locked with them.

"Y/N," she grinned, the eye contact with you intense and making your heart stop for the second time today.

The way Jinx was looking at you sent shivers down your spine, and panic immediately settled in your chest.

You wondered whether or not could Jinx tell you apart despite all the effort you put into looking identical with Isha.

Your stance grew more uneasy and tense right away, not helping your cause at all - however, Isha jumped in for the rescue without a moment of hesitation.

In an blink of an eye, she quickly copied and matched your tense body language and anxious facial expressions.

The mirroring on Isha's part was flawless, although it was slightly harder for her to act this way and seem genuine - after all, between you and her, it was you that was the more naturally timid twin.

However, Isha was still quite naturally skilled in this sort of thing - plus this wasn't the first time you and Isha were pulling this sort of stunt on people.

So, executing the act on this part wasn't all too impossible for you and Isha - or more like Isha since she was doing most of the work in this particular situation.

But still, with the way Jinx was looking at you, you had a feeling she knew exactly, perfectly well, who was who.

And yet, whether or not was that nagging feeling correct was left as an unsolved mystery because Jinx either genuinely didn't know, or she's decided to humour you and the little stunt you were trying to pull.

"Hmm," Jinx hummed as she straightened up, her intense gaze leaving yours and fixing on Isha instead, looking her over as if trying to do her best to figure out which twin she was.

Unlike you, Isha's stance didn't falter in response to being studied like a small bug under a microscope - she was still perfectly mirroring how you were handling the situation.

Although you were aware that Isha still had this obvious bark to her, making her act of unease less authentic than yours.

But you couldn't really blame her because this kind of behaviour simply wasn't true to her personality.

You just nervously hoped that this simple fact was this much obvious to just you and your sister, and not Jinx.

"Well, I have to give it to ya," Jinx commented after giving you and Isha one last once over, "you two really are sneaky,".

In response, you and Isha exchanged a look, both of you smiling in your own unique way, pride swelling in your chests at your schemes being acknowledged and even appraised.

In that moment, you and Isha felt like you have successfully outsmarted Jinx and won this little game that you have found yourselves playing with the older girl.

Jinx smirked then, looking at the two of you with amusement, and also some hint of pride at how much work you two put into making your silly plan come to life.

Really, the two of you truly did everything possible to look like flawless copies of one another, it was hard to tell you two were two different beings - Jinx was quite impressed.

Though Jinx had a certain advantage over the two of you, an advantage she's not told you about because she simply didn't have the heart to - or maybe she just liked having an advantage.

After all, the two of you could be quite the handful at times - so, any sort of advantage over you was valuable and useful.

Anyways, that advantage was that Jinx was detail oriented, and over the time she's spent with you and Isha, she's noticed things that helped her tell you apart.

For example - and it wasn't too noticable, but your smiles tended to be soft and timid, while Isha's smiles were bolder and more pronounced, with her front teeth usually slightly peeking out from under her lip.

Jinx loved the both of your individual smiles - she adored all that made them differ, but also all that made them similar if not the same at first glance.

Jinx's smirk then softened into something warmer, something fonder, as she added: "and... you two really do stick together, like true sisters...".

Her voice was softer than usual, and so was the look on her face - the way she looked at you two was almost wistful, like she wished she and Vi could have what you two shared so seemingly effortlessly.

However, just as quick as that gentle expression of Jinx's came, it was gone just as quick, replaced by that playful, mischievous look Jinx was so known for.

"Alright, I have an idea for a game," Jinx gave a wicked grin and right at that moment, you and Isha became alert once more, losing the smiles on your faces.

You were somewhat more tense than Isha, of course, since, you were the one supposed to take those disgusting cough drops, not Isha - she was just playing along with your plan.

"it's called: Let's wait to see which one of you starts coughing and reveals which one of you is Y/N. Sounds fun, no?" Jinx tilted her head, her braids swinging some.

At that, you gave one horrified look to Isha, which Jinx didn't miss, but also didn't comment on - she felt like prolonging the small game that you had going on.

She was having lots of fun with this, and she wanted to know how far the two of you would be willing to take this - or more like, how far would be Isha willing to play along to help you get out of having to take your medicine.

Then, as if on cue, you felt that irritating, scratchy sensation building up in your throat, and your brows furrowed as you tried to hold back the incoming coughing fit.

And, sending Isha one last desperate, pleading look, you suddenly broke into a fit of harsh, pained coughs.

Much to your joy, Isha got you covered - once again, she didn't hesitate and matched your actions, beginning to fake as equally bad coughing fit.

And Jinx? She just watched your two's antics with amusement - you two really were something for sure.

But, Jinx also secretly felt envious because Isha really had your back no matter what the situation was.

And Jinx's thoughts momentarily drifted back to Violet, quietly wondering if it really was that hard to stick up for a sister that you hold dear.

But Jinx pushed those thoughts aside, forcing herself to focus on the present and what she currently had - not the past and what she didn't and couldn't have.

"Well damn," Jinx grinned playfully when your and Isha's coughing came to a halt so that both of you could catch your breath, "whatever can I do with you two?".

"Seems like you two won this round, I can't give Y/N her medicine without the risk of giving it to Isha," Jinx announced casually, her hand that was holding the cough drops bottle returning to rest on her hip.

And exhaling dramatically, she, just to egg you on a little more, added in: "guess I'll have to throw in the towel after all."

At that proclamation, your teary eyed gaze - the result of your bad coughing fit - lit up, filling up with hope and sheer excitement.

You couldn't believe it - Jinx was actually giving up and you wouldn't have to take that gross liquid!

A joyous grin appeared on your face, and you and Isha shared a victorious fist bump - however, your excitement and victory were all short lived.

Because Jinx's next words were: "That... Or, I could give the cough drops to the both of you, just to make sure I got the right twin,".

Both your and Isha's faces fell then, and finally, Isha didn't have to pretend to be horrified anymore because she genuinely became uneasy at the suggestion.

Isha herself knew how disgusting was the taste of those cough drops, and she would much rather eat some of those questionable foods the weird vendors in Zaun sold than take that medicine.

"Yeah, that's not such a bad idea," Jinx nodded to herself, appraising her own train of thought with a wide, satisfied grin.

"I mean, think about it - for Y/N it's to treat her sore throat, and for Isha it'd be precautionary, a just-in-case!" she thought out loud, swinging the spoon with cough drops around.

And, facing the two of you once more, Jinx smirked and held out the spoon as she asked: "What do ya think, Isha? Want some of these yummy cough drops?".

In response to that, all the loyalty Isha held for you was gone, and she frantically shook her head in disagreement with a light, panicked squeal, pointing at you and ratting you out.

Yep, she threw you under the bus, making you feel utter betrayal which you - metaphorically - voiced by gasping and glaring daggers into your sister.

But Isha only sent you an apologetic smile and made a circling motion with her fist over her heart to tell you a casual sorry.

She didn't look too sorry though because her face showed clear signs of relief upon being spared from having to consume those dreaded cough drops.

At Isha's half-hearted apology, you reacted by sending her another glare, one that didn't need any words to get across just what you were thinking: traitor.

Meanwhile Jinx, who was watching the whole exchange chuckled and kneeled down to you, her expression amused yet gentle as she cooed: "Don't get all too mad at her, kid,".

"you would've ended up taking the drops in any case, I knew who was who all along." she smiled gently, making you pause and look at her with wide, surprised eyes.

"Yeah, I knew the whole time which one was Isha, and which one was you," Jinx confirmed what you were silently thinking in your head "I was just playing you.".

To that delivered claim, you crossed your arms and frowned, acting all upset and offended that Jinx would make such a fool of you like that.

But Jinx only gave a hearty laugh: "Hey, it was you who was trying to play me first - you started it! Serves you right, you little sneaky rat!".

"So, don't get all mad now that your little stunt came back to bite you in the ass," she sassed you in a light-hearted tone, smiling fondly at you and making you fume more.

But sensing your attitude, Jinx eased up on her mean spirited yet no harm meaning taunts: "But, tell you what, you take your cough drops now, and...".

She trailed off, seeming to be thinking of what to offer you so that you'd be willing to call truce between the two of you.

"and I'll let you eat cookies before dinner, deal?" Jinx offered, making your frown immediately disappear and get replaced by a content smile and an eager nod.

And Jinx grinned proudly in response: "Alright, ma'am, seems like we have a deal," and holding the spoon to your lips, she added: "hurry up then, or the cookies might grow legs and run off.".

You giggled at those words, and finally more willing to take your medicine, you opened up your mouth for Jinx to give you those cough drops.

But before Jinx could even think of pressing the spoon against your lips, Isha stomped against the ground to bring your and Jinx's attention to herself.

When both of you directed your gazes towards Isha, she was standing there with crossed arms and an expectant look.

"Seems like someone wants cookies before dinner too," Jinx noted, her expression showing she was clearly entertained by Isha's bold attitude and cheeky antics.

With a grin, Jinx slowly looked up, rolling her eyes to pretend to think as she mused: "But I dunno... do you even deserve cookies after ratting out your sis?".

Then her gaze drifted towards you once more, and Jinx questioned: What do you think, Y/N, should Isha get some cookies after backstabbing you?".

You then looked at Isha, and the girl gave you the biggest puppy dog eyed expression she could muster up, her hands clasped together in a begging manner.

To that, you pursed your lips and pressed a finger against them, pretending to be considering whether or not you thought your sister should get a sweet treat after what she's done.

But, of course, you could never stay mad at her for too long, and you caved in, looking at her with a smile before turning to Jinx and nodding in agreement to her question.

And Jinx smiled softly at you, feeling some sort of warmth in her chest that you were willing to forgive your sister and allow her to share simple joys with you.

"Well, alright then!" Jinx called right after, her energy amped up again, "seems like the council has decided to take pity on you and grant you mercy, Isha!".

Jinx sent a grin Isha's way, making the girl perk up and smile eagerly at the prospect of being allowed to join you and have a cookie or two before dinner.

You joined in with a soft smile of your own, making eye contact with your sister and wordlessly letting her know that you two were still a team for life.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 92 (Conrad's First Love)

cw: Conrad getting pretty spicy 🌶️🌶️🌶️ and not with Heather; references to human and drug trafficking (not depicted).

Follows the events of this post.

As she passed him to put away her gloves, a stunning redhead at Pappy Murphy's Boxing Gym caught Conrad's eye. Though he'd been deep in another bout of anger and self-pity over the death of his mother years earlier, he stopped his workout. Every inch of his being compelled him to talk to her.

She turned with a smile before he could stammer a single word. "Hi, handsome. Did you want a better look?"

He nervously introduced himself and she told him her name. "Ximena." The word floated from her lips like a song. He was instantly smitten.

"Ximena, could I buy you a drink?"

They spent the day in a local pub. He told her everything about his mother's death and his distance from his father in the years since. She listened, but she had a lot less to say about herself. "I live here with my brother. I'm a student, and I'm the only caretaker he has. Our parents aren't around anymore, and it's been just Rafa and me for years."

He could hear an accent when she spoke, and most people in Britechester weren't locals, so he made an assumption. "How long since you moved from Selvadorada?"

Surprised by his guess, she turned defensive. "I don't talk about Selva."

He liked her too much to press and push her away, so they spent the rest of the day flirting and discussing their interests until Ximena invited him back to her place. "You make me laugh, Conrad Gordon. My brother's still at school and I want to get to know you better without all this noise. I hate the music they play in here."

Once Conrad followed her out of the bar and back to the small home she shared with her kid brother, Rafa, he started following her everywhere.

He lost his virginity to her a week after they met. That night, she told him why she left Selvadorada.

"I was going to die or they were going to kill me. I wouldn't let them sell me to anyone anymore, so I made a plan and left with my brother in the middle of the night to come here."

She showed him the scars left by the cartel, and a resolve to keep her safe coloured his already steadfast affection. He let her cut his hair when she said she wanted to show him how freeing it felt to change his look. "It's nice not to recognize the person in the mirror, sometimes," she said.

She told him she was a student, often meeting him at Larry's Lagoon to study but usually distracting him into other activities. One afternoon, she introduced him to an old friend, Jimmy Stefano. "Can you help him out around campus? You're in the same major."

Something about Jimmy Stefano rubbed Conrad the wrong way, but he assumed it was jealousy. Despite this, he would already do anything for Ximena and agreed to take Jimmy under his wing.

He called his father to say he planned to stay at school for Spring Break. "Sorry, I know I said I'd come home to see you."

Stephen Gordon laughed him off, but masked slight disappointment. He had no idea whether his son was flourishing or floundering at college, unsure how he'd been coping so far from home. "Don't worry, son. I'm just glad you sound happy. You're making me and your mother proud."

He skipped classes to spend time with Ximena, but made no mention of this to his father, of course. He spent time with Rafa when Ximena said she had late-night classes, taking him to the park to play pirate captain versus sea monster, and talking endlessly with him about video games.

Rafa wanted to become a pirate captain in Sulani or a game tester in San Myshuno. He had almost no memory of life in Selva before his sister left, but he knew it was "the bad place." He liked spending time with Conrad because he said his sister was too strict. "She just loves you," Conrad assured him. "Parents have to set rules, and she can't just be your sister. She has to care for you like a parent, too."

He realized then how important it was to be a model for Rafa, who needed guidance as much as anyone his age. Conrad had always had his father, but who did Rafa have besides Ximena?

Conrad discovered how she paid for an entire house for her and her brother by accident, stumbling on an argument between her and Jimmy Stefano near the campus fountain. "The deal was thirty pounds for three grand."

"They said if I didn't have five grand they'd only give me fifteen. They had guns, Ximena."

"They all have guns! Knives, too. Get your own and figure out how to use it. Watcher, please, don't screw this deal up for me, Jimmy."

"Who has guns?"

"The cartel," said Jimmy, so nonchalant, yet it still hit Conrad like a missile. His stomach turned as he read Ximena's expression. Every lie she'd told him unravelled with a look.

"Are you really a student here, Ximena?"

"No. They're my customers."

He'd had his suspicions, but he'd always told himself he was wrong. Ximena was supposed to be perfect. Hoping against hope, he still tried to play the fool. "What do you mean?"

She dragged him back home to tell him the truth - how she'd bargained with the cartel to escape a life of servitude to the men who ran product all over Simlandia. She refused to serve them, but her way out was to join them instead.

Conrad was angry, but he couldn't stay mad at her for long. As they lay in bed that night, she asked, "Are you going to break up with me because of what I do?"

"Not a chance. I love you."

"I love you, too." She smiled, resting her head on his chest as he ran a hand through her newly blonde hair. "You look nice without glasses, Conrad."

"You already gave me a haircut, Xime. You don't like glasses?"

"Conrad, you're very sexy. But you hide it and it's silly."

"If you're going to give me a makeover, what should I get you?"

"Are you asking me?"

"Ximena, I want to give you everything you could ever want."

She blushed. "I want you, Conrad. But since I already have you, maybe...jewelry? Like a ring."

"You don't wear any rings."

"Because none are special enough, Conrad."

He smiled. "Alright, that's one idea. But say I wanted to surprise you, what else did you want?"

"You could join me running product for the cartel. Our lives would be made, and we'd always be together."

"I don't want to run product for the cartel, Ximena. But I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be there for you. Rafa, too."

"Right, but what if I go? Rafa loves you, Conrad, almost as much as me. But what if the cartel moved me somewhere else? Would you come with me? Maybe you could be, like, my security. No running, just keeping me safe. Always with me and Rafa."

He'd do anything to protect her, but he didn't answer her that day, refocusing on his studies until he returned to San Myshuno at the end of the semester.

He'd missed his father more than he expected, and they went for walks in warm sunshine by the Spice Market. They talked about school, and Conrad talked about Ximena - leaving out details of her career and focusing instead on her relationship with her brother. Conrad rarely asked his father about work, but Stephen hinted he was inching closer to retirement. "Chester's daughter Nancy is ready to take over the company, but Chester's not quite ready to retire. I think she's plotting a coup, but you didn't hear that from me."

"What happens to you if she pushes out her own father?"

"Hopefully, a retirement package. Chester may not be ready, but I think I am."

On one of their walks, they passed a jewelry store, and Conrad made a beeline for the ring counter. A confident salesman smiled as the Gordon men walked inside. "Welcome. What are we shopping for today?"

"I'm just looking," Conrad said. "What rings do you have?"

The salesman beamed. "Are we thinking of an engagement?"

Stephen eyed his son carefully, but Conrad shook his head. "Not right now. Just like, for an accessory."

"I don't know, son. A ring says you're ready for forever."

Conrad took his father's words to heart, considering what forever with Ximena might look like. He wanted to be with her, but he wasn't ready for a ring. He left that day with a nice bracelet for her, instead.

"Even leaving with a bracelet as nice as that one...she must mean something. I'd love to meet her."

Conrad nodded. "She might be able to visit this summer, if she's not too busy with work," he said.

Stephen smiled and the Gordon men continued their walk, strengthening the bond nearly severed by grief before Conrad returned to Britechester for another semester. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOT FUN FACT: Conrad got crab lice from Ximena when they slept together for the first time, which is gross but also fitting I guess. And yet I didn't make it canon because it didn't quite fit the vibe. Plus, he wasn't supposed to find out that early on that Ximena was problematic.

WCIF Poses Used? Various from packs Old Souls Love Differently by @simmireen (when Ximena is blonde), Our First Time by @eclypt0sims (redhead), The Kiss by @simmerberlin (black hair) and Nights Like These by @sakurasims-world (also redhead).

WCIF Jewelry Store? Jewelry Store by Guinifere on the Sims 4 Gallery. Very elegant interior and comes with crafting tables, a vault, charging stations - very nice lot! Needs dressing up with completed jewelry on the counters and in displays to look really spectacular (and I of course went the lazy route), but I wouldn't if I was playing a retail career, and this is a great lot for someone who wants to be a jeweler!

[yellowjestertfs]

Altered State: Part 1

IDK if anyone on here will be interested in this story, its kind of a long and slower but thought I would post it anyways. More parts coming next week!

Most great adventures start with a call to arms, a quest from on high, a declaration of purpose to serve the greater good. Edward’s and Leon’s started with a question asked through a mouthful of chips.

“Wanna play this new game dude?” Leon asked words barely intelligible. He stood in the doorway of their living room, his fat frame blocking most of the light. In one hand he held a bag of chips and in the other, he held up an unfamiliar battered keep case, the type that held video game disks inside. The thing had a red and blue design that Edward didn't recognize. 

“I guess. What is that thing, will it work on my Wii?” Edward asked. He lay on the couch, long thin body taking up the whole thing but sat up and moved over to make room for his roommate. 

Leon shook his head “I don’t think so dude, it's like super retro.” He walked over to the TV and started fiddling with the row of older consoles that belonged to their third roommate Alvis trying to see if any could accommodate the game. "It was free though." He said as he found the right one, an extremely retro blocky thing Edward was surprised even accepted disks. Leon booted up the system, the familiar hum of the machine filling the space. “I got it from that comic shop down the street. This buff dude at the counter just handed it to me. Said he thought I would put it to good use.”

“Alvis would kill you if he knew you were touching that,” Edward warned, always the one to show more caution. 

“Fuck Alvis. If he didn't want it to be used he shouldn’t have bought it” Leon countered. Neither of the two were particularly big fans of their other roommate, but Leon especially hated his guts. He only let the guy live with them because it made the rent cheaper and because Alvis’ weird retro tech fit in with their decor of half-finished Lego sets, empty pizza boxes, and superhero posters, and because for the most part, Alvis left the two friends alone, spending all his time in the engineering building or fiddling with tech in his room.

Leon opened the case and took out a dusty disk, growing on it to reveal the title “Altered State” and the manufacturer HunkTech, neither of which either Leon or Edward had ever heard of. Leon put the game back into Alvis’s video game console and pressed play. The TV flickered for a moment, then exploded with color so bright it forced both of them to squint. Flashes of neon light, strange symbols, and spinning images seared into their eyes, leaving dancing after images. Neither of the friends could look away, their senses overwhelmed by the pulsating lights that burned into the back of their brains. And just as suddenly as it started, the TV went black and both friends came back to themselves.

“Oh shit" Edward muttered, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "Your game just fried the TV!Alvis is going to kill you.”

Leon opened his mouth to defend himself but before he could a green holographic display blinked into existence, floating in the air right in front of him. Growing text marched across the living room floor reading:

"Welcome to Altered State.”

Leon’s jaw dropped. "Uh, Ed? You seeing this?”

Edward stood motionless for a moment too shocked to speak. “What the fuck” he breathed “What's going on?”

Both of their holograms shifted to display naked, pixelated 3D models of the two friends, hanging awkwardly in midair. 

“Eww, what the hell,” Leon said. He tried to avert his gaze but the images followed the motion of his head and stayed even when he shut his eyes. 

Neither of the projections was a particularly flattering sight to behold.  Leon’s short, heavy frame was rendered in painful detail—his soft belly, narrow shoulders, pudgy limbs, and average penis were all fully extenuated under the brutally detailed holographic projection. Edward’s model didn’t fare any better. Tall and spindly, his twig-like arms and knobby knees, paired with a notoriously ugly face, gave him the appearance of a scarecrow. Edward was not helped much in its attractiveness by the acne on his face, the greasy thin hair on his head, and the pitifully small penis between his legs fully visible in the naked light of the hologram. 

“Your the one with your dick in my face.” Edward shot back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the display.  

The hologram flickered again, and new text appeared below both their models:

Analyzing subjects…

The text began to blink as new displays blinked into existence on the peripheral of both their vision, only really notable if focused on. Various menus that displayed statistics quests and a list perks were all there, though all were currently blank. The words level one along with an empty an empty progress bar beneath appeared at the top of their filed of view, though only visible to themselves and not the other. 

Neither of the two friends had time to examine the new features in detail as the words under their models shifted again.

“Analyzing Purpose: Class Selection”

"Class selected: Juggernaut.” Appeared under Leon’s character. 

Leon blinked. "Juggernaut?" he repeated, unsure what to make of the development.

Edward snickered, “I think that's the fantasy term for fatty.”

But before Leon could respond, Edward’s display changed too:

"Class selected: Snake Charmer.”

“What like I’m going to play the flute?” Edward asked.

It was Leon's turn to laugh. “No bro, the game just called you a homo.” 

It took Edward a second to understand. “Not funny,” he said swatting his best friend on the arm, blushing somehow harder. “This is seriously messed up. We need to go to the hospital or something.”

“Relax charmochondriac, don't you see what’s happening?” 

“Group psychosis?” Edward guessed.

“No dude, we are in a video game, and we fucking rule at video games.”

“Leon” Edward said warningly. Before he could say more though quests populated onto both their displays.

“Dude chill this is awesome. My first quest is easy too. I bet I can get level ten before you.”

Edward wasn’t as ready to accept this rapid series of unexplainable events but he also wasn’t ready to let his best friend think he was a chicken. “Fine. I’ll meet you back at the house when I kick your ass.”

Leon laughed and with that both boys raced out the door, shoving each other playfully to get out first. From there both took off to opposite sides of campus, towards their various objectives and their differing yet intimately intertwined destinies. 

-

Leon raced, or his version which was something between a fast walk and an awkward jog, across campus to his first quest. It seemed easy enough: “Go to the gym” it read. Leon wasn’t exactly one for physical fitness but he at least knew where the health center was from campus orientation tour.

Despite his slow pace by the time he reached it he was out of breath. For a moment he stood in front of automatic double doors, panting and intimidated. He stuck out like a sore thumb on this part of campus, dressed in the ratty strained Superman shirt and baggy shorts his protruding belly and wild unkempt hair stood in stark contrast to the muscular adonis in low tank tops and tall fit women in matching sports sets who brushed by him without a second thought. Mustering his courage Leon walked through the doors and into the gym. His ears were greeted by the sound of slamming weights, rhythmic grunts, and a small ding as he completed his first quest and leveled up. He watched as the experience bar filled fully, bumping his level up to two and filling his vision with notifications. The bar continued to fill until it had reached halfway to the next level. A notification appeared in a gray box with plain white blocky text.

You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.

Leon grinned as he felt himself change. He couldn’t actually feel himself getting smarter or more charismatic. He wasn't sure if that was because those were more cognitive stats or if it was because the increase was marginal compared to his strength. Either way, it was a strength that Leon felt himself receive. It wasn't much. Leon didn’t suddenly become a hulk or a bodybuilder but he felt something shift. His shoulders widened slightly, his chest inflated a bit and his butt became less saggy. A single vein buried deep in the layers of fat in his arm engorged itself with blood and snaked its way to the surface, pushed upwards by growing muscle and diminishing fat. He felt physically stronger, faster, like he might be able to actually run a bit without throwing up. He didn't actually look all that different, a quarter of an inch taller, a few pounds shifted from fat to muscle, but inside he felt amazing, electric, like this is what he was made for. Leon suspected that feeling had to do with the other notification waiting for him just below the first.

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Gym Rat: as a juggernaut, you feel comfortable in all athletic spaces.”

Leon felt all his worries and insecurities about being in the gym fade away. He scanned his student ID and strode past the muscled jock at the front counter confidently, flashing him a smile and a slight wave. Leon felt just as comfortable in the gym as if he was at the comic book shop, no more, he felt like he was at home chilling with Edward, like he could do anything and give a damn about who judged him. Leon knew he should be concerned about how this game had physically changed his body and mind so easily but he was too invigorated, too electrified, and he had another quest to do. 

“Do a push-up.” It read simply. 

Leon hadn’t tried to do a push-up since 8th grade gym class but he felt confident he was capable of it with the boost to strength he had received. Leon weaved through the various machines and stations manned by the university’s resident hunks and athletes, some gave him dirty looks but most looked right through him. Leon found he couldn’t care less. He found a corner of the free mat and assumed the push-up position. Despite the recent slight boost to his athleticism, it was a task easier said than done. Leon went down as far as he could until he felt his arms begin to shake, about an inch, then pushed himself up with substantial effort.

To his disappointment, the quest still read as incomplete. He reasoned it must be due to his, form. He tried to go lower but ended up face-first on the mat, unable to push himself up. He went to his knees and did a push-up but that didn’t count either. Nor did a push-up with his butt out in the air, or one in which he rested on the ground for a few seconds in the middle. Leon was about to give up when he saw a guy around his age approach. 

He didn't have the same gorilla bulk as some of the huge men in the gym but his body was visibly lean and defined through his tee-shirt, maybe a runner. “Need any help there” he asked. Leon couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or mocking but his new total comfort in the gym provided by his “Gym Rat” perk made him not care. 

“I’m trying to do a push-up.”

“Just one?” The guy asked with a grin. 

“Gotta start somewhere,” Leon said humbly. 

“Your problem is your stance.” He said. He instructed Leon to assume the plank position and then went about correcting Leon’s form. His arms were too close together, his core was not properly engaged, back not fully straight. The man introduced himself as Cal and then instructed Leon to try again. Leon tried another pushup lowering his body slowly “Lower, lower” Cal called Leon and complied though his face turned red and he wanted to die. Cal didn't let him stop till the tip of his dick was practically touching the mat. Then he went back up, slowly and with more exertion than he had ever used in his whole life. 

He was rewarded with a ding and a slew of notifications. 

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Perfect Form: as a juggernaut, you instinctually know the proper form to maximize the performance of any athletic endeavor.”

Leon felt his body shift again from where it lay crumpled on the mat. His stomach deflated slightly, and under his man boobs pecs started to form. His legs lengthened a bit causing his shorts to only reach his knees instead of past them. The changes were as small as the first but Leon couldn’t help but feel amazed. He tried to do another push-up and found that his body now naturally assumed the perfect position without him having to think about it. With his new points in strength, he was able to push out another perfect military-style push-up, and two more before he flopped down onto the mat, fully spent.

“You're getting the hang of it,” Cal said smiling. If he had seen Leon's body change he made no indication. “good luck on your workout,” he called out as he left.

“Yeah see you around man” Leon called after him. He felt on cloud nine. At this rate, Leon would reach level 10 by the hour. On cue, two more quests appeared for him to complete. He wondered how Edward was doing, if he had even gained one level by now. Maybe once Leon had power gamed his way into OP status he could help his friend with a quest or two. 

-

Edward walked across the quad at a brisk pace. He would have run if his bony arms and legs didn't make him look like a chicken when he did. Edward wasn’t quite as sold on this whole bizarre real life video game thing as Leon was but he also wasn’t about to let Leon leave him in the dust. Edward's first quest was pretty simple if non-specific, “be within 50 feet of 30 or more people”. 

Edwards tendency to avoid large crowds gave him the advantage of knowing exactly where they often were. The coffee shop by the quad came right to his mind. At this time of the day, the place was packed with students either leaving or going to their mid-day classes. The place terrified Edward, the thought of so many eyes on him, judging him, mocking him, and yet Edward reasoned there was no harm in at least checking the place out, it not as if the quest required him to talk to anyone. 

As he walked Edward wondered at the game. Leon, true to self had accepted the game right away without question. If his friend was muscular instead of fat he might be called a himbo. It wasn’t that he was dumb, he was getting a degree in public health, but he also didn't have a habit of thinking things through particularly throughly. Their freshmen year Leon had built a glider out of the shower curtain and broke his arm jumping off the second floor of their dorm with it. And last year Leon had thought it was a good idea to subscribe to some shady porn website that had given his computer a virus so corruptive even tech wizard Alvis couldn’t remove it. 

Though they were inseparable best friend Edward was the opposite. He was much more cautious about everything, sometimes to irrational extremes. Last semester Edward had almost dropped out because he was too nervous to get approval for his classes from his sociology advisor. If he was scared of his sixty-five year old sweet as candy professor talking to guys he liked was surly out of the question, not that he would have any hope of success with his appearance. 

As Edward walked across the quad he avoided eye contact with students crowded onto the open green sitting and chatting or throwing frisbees. Edward felt drowned in the sea of people, though the lawn wasn’t nearly dense enough to fulfill the quest. 

The line for the coffee shop was out the door which made him want to throw up. He walked slowly forward waiting for the quest to complete. Finally, when he was only a few feet away, practically in line the quest was fulfilled and his experience bar to level two filled fully.

Edward heard a “ding” in his head and several notifications filled his vision startling him.  

“You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“People Person: Those around you feel your natural charm and are more likely to accept you in a neutral or positive way, potentially even striking up a conversation.”

Edward felt a strange itch on his brow and a pressure on his jaw but ignored it. He didn't know what to make of the messages. The stats seemed somewhat consistent with role-playing video games, and he supposed the break down made sense with his class. Still, he wasn’t sure how something like charisma would be incorporated into real life, nor his new People Person perk. As a sociology major Edward knew all too well how complex human interaction was. The perk seemed to imply that not only would the game be changing him but also the people around him and their perceptions. He wasn’t sure if that was even possible not to mention ethical.

“Introduce yourself to a stranger,” the next quest said popping up on the side of Edward's vision. That more than any ethical quandary made Edward scared. It was all well and good for the game to claim that people would react positively to Edward but he knew firsthand that wasn’t true. 

“Hey, are you in line” two girls who had walked up behind him asked. Edward froze, realizing he had positioned himself at an awkward spot half in line half not. The girls didn't seem disgusted by his presence but they also didn't seem particularly enthralled, they just wanted to get their coffee. 

Edward nodded his head, the best he could do with his crippling social anxiety. He moved more obviously in line and the girl went back to chatting. As the line crept closer Edward tried and failed several times to work up the courage to introduce himself to the girls. He came up with various scenarios in his head of how he could make an introduction, all of which ended with the girl calling him a creep. 

Finally, after ten minutes, Edward reached the front of the line. He realized in his attempts to complete the quest he hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu. 

“What will you be having today” a tall tan worker asked, his tattooed arms pleasantly stretching out the sleeves of his shirt. Edward just opened and closed his mouth like a fish, mind suddenly blank of every coffee drink ever, including coffee. 

The worker, whose name tag ironically read “Tag” saw his confusion and smiled. “It's a big menu I know. It's fall, so you can never go wrong with a PSL.” He saw Edwards look confused and he sheepishly clarified “Pumpkin spice latte.”

“I’ll do that,” Edward said, voice quiet but clear. He took a deep breath then before he could think about it blurted out “I’m Edward by the way”. 

Tag gave a handsome grin and wrote the name on a cup. “Thanks, Edward, I’ll that get you out for you right away.”

Edward heard a “ding” but ignored it and the notifications that popped up as he paid on the tablet Tag turned towards him. His hands shook as he selected the largest tip options and stumbled over to the designated area to stand while waiting for a drink and looked at the notifications. 

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Social Sync: You are naturally attuned to the tone and rhythm of conversation making awkward pauses and interruptions a thing of the past.”

New quests popped up as well, two this time. “Make someone laugh” and “Offer someone advice.”

As the messages appeared Edward felt the same strange pain in his face, like the soreness he sometimes got after smiling all day with Leon. He lifted a hand to his face and felt skin much smoother than his normal rough, dry, pockmarked complexion. His weak chin, which had always been a source of insecurity no longer felt totally concave but pushed out somewhat lending a strange sharpness to his jaw. Edward was about to take out his phone to examine his reflection when he heard a voice beside him. 

“He’s so dreamy, isn’t he,” a man said in his right ear. All his life Edward had been painfully scrawny, wrists the size of cucumber and ribs showing through his pale skin. This man was even more slender like he could break with a strong gust of wind. He held a coffee cup that had the name Trent on the side. The guy didn't seem to mind Edwards's silence and continued staring at Tag longingly. “The coffee here is so bitter but the eye candy is so sweet” he mused. 

“Yeah that guy is what I would call a full-sized candy bar” the comment came out before Edward had time to think. It was a mediocre joke, wordy and unoriginal to a fault, but to painfully shy and unfunny Edward he felt like he was a standup comedian. Trent smiled and gave a slight chuckle, though his quest remained incomplete, probably because the laugh was fake.

“He’s a Snickers, and let's just say I’m not allergic to nuts.” Edward tried again, this time eliciting a better reaction from Trent. A slight giggle was all it took for the quest to complete and Edwards' experience bar to increase half the way to level four. 

“Well both of us are going to go hungry. He’s straight.”

“Really” Edward asked. As a closeted gay until he was 19, when he had finally worked up the courage to tell Leon, Edward thought he had pretty good gaydar, and that Tag guy was anything but straight. “How do you know?” He asked Social Sync perk causing him to put the perfect pause between his declaration of doubt and his question without him even noticing.

“He used to date some girl” Trent responded with a touch of disgust.

“Maybe he’s bi,” Edward said and Trent’s face lit up as if he had never considered the thought.

“Oh wow, do you really think so” He asked excitedly. “Now that you say it he is kind of flirty when he gives me my drink.”

“You should just go up and talk to him” Edward advised sagely. “I mean what is the worst that could happen.” The advice was hollow seeing as how Edward had never even breathed in the direction of any of his crushes. Trent seemed to sense this and looked at Edward dubiously. The game system however didn't seem to care. It marked his “give advice” quest as complete and alerted him he had reached level four with a ding. At this rate, Leon didn't stand a chance of reaching level ten before him. 

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“Sage: Your charisma gives you an innate knowledge of people's desires, both conscious and unconscious. Note: The higher your charisma the more attuned this sense becomes. Note: this effect is 92.22% more effective on people with a penis.”

Edward felt a shift both in his physiology and in his brain, like before he felt his face move, bones like continental plates drifting every so slightly apart into a more attractive configuration. 

Inside his head, he felt something shift far more drastically. The three +1 boosts to his intelligence had been so slight he barely noticed them, just a slight speeding up of his thoughts and a boost to his reasoning ability. This new change in his mind was drastic, impossible not to notice. A sixth sense emerged, filling his head with a source of knowledge he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It was almost as if he had gained the ability to read minds only not so strong and without any words, only feelings. Suddenly Edward felt Trent’s desire, a sexual one, not just for the barista, but also for the group of frat boys in the corner of the shop and strangely enough for Edward. He felt others' desires too, though much less clearly. 

Two guys standing to his left both hoped the other would buy the alcohol for tonight's party. The other men in the shop only gave wisps of desire. Edward suspected that had something to do with proximity and his still relatively low charisma.

The women on the other hand Edward could barely sense, only receiving a small tingle like TV static instead of anything readable. Edward wondered at that strange 92.22% bonus towards men. Edward took a moment to reflect on the class he had been assigned. Could Leon be right? Could the name of his class be a gay joke, that he was meant to charm not venomous creatures in baskets but instead the snake in men's pants? It seemed somehow too vulgar for a video game though Edward knew that was illogical. If it was true it begged some concerning questions, like how the game had known he was gay and what exactly it was setting him up to do. 

“Would you go talk to him?” Trent asked suddenly snapping Edward back to the present. His sixth sense faded to the back of his mind, though he could still sense Trent’s desire. “Sorry I know that's a lot to ask but I think you would have more luck than me.” He looked at Edward with puppy dog eyes filled with earnest hope. “Be my wingman?”

A notification appeared obscuring a part of Edward’s vision. 

“Quest offered! Set up Trent and Tag romantically. Reward: XP”

A box under the quest notification had two boxes with “yes” and “no” options. Edward had no idea how to select either option. Out loud he said “I’ll do my best,” the notification disappeared and reappeared small in the quest part of his interface. 

Trent smiled “Really? I can’t thank you enough.” He felt Trent’s desire shift from lust to hope. “Just like using a pickup line or something. Don’t make it too awkward” he said suddenly nervous.

“Don’t worry I got this,” Edward said with about 1000% times more confidence than he felt. He had absolutely no business getting other people's tail when he was still a virgin himself. Edward just knew he was going to make an absolute fool of himself.

-

It turned out that the quests to advance to level four were not as easy as Leon had imagined. The first quest “run a lap” proved exhausting but doable. Leon made his way to the elevated track that encircled the gym and with perfect form, if less perfect endurance, ran the loop. Before the game, Leon would have had to walk most of it, but the two levels and six points he had gained in strength allowed him to push through with a slow jog. The quest's completion bumped him 3/4 of the way to level four. He had no doubt the other quest would get him all the way there if only it was possible. 

“Do a pull-up.” How hard could one pull up be? Extremely difficult it turned out. Dangling from the elevated bar Leon tried with all his might to heft his flabby body up. He only managed to lift his head halfway before the effort became too much and he was forced to give up. 

Leon knew it wasn’t his form keeping him from completing the exercise like it had been with the push-up. Instead, it came down to a plain and simple lack of strength. Leon didn't know what to do. He felt frustrated that he had hit a roadblock so soon. He looked at the experience progress bar, so tantalizingly close to the next level. Maybe he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. Train his back and his biceps extensively until he could do a pull-up on his own. Leon knew something like that would take weeks if not months but he was nothing if not stubborn.

Determined not to give up Leon found a set of dumbbells and began to lift with perfect form. The activity didn't provide the same instant gratification as leveling up did, but Leon was starting to understand how people could get addicted to this. As he worked his eyes wandered to the graphical display imprinted on either side of his vision. He found he could unfocus on the information and the display would blur unobscuring his vision. He focused again and the quest and progress bar came back into his field of vision. Leon couldn’t tell if he was imagining it but it seemed as if the bar was more full. He did a few more curls and watched the progress bar tick up the tiniest amount. He lifted the other arm and it moved again. He grabbed the largest weight he could conceivably lift and using all this strength curled it with both arms, the progress bar moved, still not much but more than before. Leon grinned. He was pretty sure he had just found an exploit.

Thirty minutes later a tired Leon prepared for his last set of leg presses to get him to level four. The “exploit” he had found wasn’t as much of a hack as he had originally hoped. Working out gave him experience to fill the bar but not nearly as efficiently as quests. He had to go from machine to machine loading up the maximum amount of weight he could lift, not much, and completing various exercises until that part of his body was completely exhausted. His “perfect form” perk ensured that he was able to complete each exercise to its fullest despite not knowing how to do any of the exercises. All he had to do was approach a machine or a set of weights and his body would suddenly assume the position.

Even with his perfect form protecting him from injury Leon was exhausted. The day's gym session was more exercise than he had ever done in his life. His hair was matted to his forehead and dark sweat spots had appeared around the collar and pits of his Superman shirt. His body felt like a sack of bricks like he could fall asleep and not wake up till his next birthday. Leon persisted and as he performed his tenth leg press he heard a ding. His legs slammed back to their resting position and he breathed heavily, feeling his body begin to change and notifications pop up. 

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.” 

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Animal Endurance: The rate at which athletic activities tire you is decreased significantly while the rate of recovery is greatly improved. Note: the potency of this effect scales off of strength.”

Leon felt his muscles harden, his arms bulge, his legs bulk up and shift. His core burned as his abs shredded themselves and strengthened. The layer of fat on Leon’s body, though still present thinned. Underneath it his muscles went from average to distinctly fit, no great titan yet but also not a slouch either. His weariness from all the exercise it took to reach level four drained away thanks to his perk and Leon once again felt reinvigorated. 

He marched over to the nearest pull-up bar and with only a small amount of effort hoisted himself up with the power of his upper body. The completed quest brought him a third of the way up to level five. Two more quests appeared. “Bench press a third of your body weight.” And “exchange workout tips”. Neither seemed especially difficult. 

Leon looked around to see if he could find Cal to knock out the more social of the quests but the helpful runner was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Leon found a benchpress machine and went to load it up. Leon was shocked to realize he had no idea what his body weight was. Before Altered Reality, Leon had weighed 230 pounds, now though he could be anything. Leon squinted at the holographic display in the sides of his vision and found with effort he was able to bring up a stats page. 

Leon: 

210 Pounds

5’10’’ Feet

Strength: 11

Charisma: 7

Intelligence: 8.9

When he played video games with his roommates Alvis was the one who focused on the numbers, min-maxing his character to be the strongest possible. Edward liked to talk to the NPCs, to understand the story, and Leon, well Leon liked to punch things and not worry too much about the boring stuff. Still, with his 8.9 in intelligence, Leon couldn't help but notice some changes to his body composition. There was the inch in height his body had gained from those three levels and the twenty pounds of weight he had lost. Leon suspected the total loss was more like 30 or 40 pounds of fat but that the added muscle made up the difference. His stats were interesting too. Leon hadn’t much thought about it but based on the quests and perks he had received the Juggernaut class seemed to be one that focused on athleticism. Despite that, he still received a marginal boost to charisma and intelligence at each level which he supposed were meant to keep him well rounded. Leon did the math, the current numbers would mean that his intelligence before the game had been eight, which seemed right, and his strength a two, also unfortunately right. The four in charisma seemed rude, but Leon supposed he had never had much luck with women for a reason.

Doing math once again Leon loaded up the bench press, factoring in the weight of the bar to reach seventy pounds one-third of his weight. He assumed the position under it, with perfect form thanks to his perk; then with substantial effort, Leon lifted the bar over his chest and with as much control as he could manage lowered it. That was the easy part, the hard part was pushing it back up. Leon clenched his toes, bugged his eyes, and pushed with all his eleven strength upward. His mind suddenly flashed to the bar crushing him, rolling down onto his neck and ending this game. Panic more than determination got the bar up and back to its starting position. The quest was completed and the progress bar to level five was filled in another third. 

Only once the bar was fully returned to its resting position could Leon see the girl standing over him, upside down from his prone view. 

“I was ready to pull that thing off you.” The girl said in something between a mix of condescension and admiration. Leon sat up.

“Umm, thanks.” He said nervously. He recognized this girl from his advanced biology seminar, although she didn't seem to know him. She looked very pretty with her high ponytail and tight yoga pants, which only made his voice stutter more. “I’m Leon.”

“Cassy,” she said.

An idea came to his mind. “Got any tips for this one?” Leon asked, hoping to knock out his remaining quest. 

Before Cassy could answer though a tall man in a low-cut tank top that showed off his ripped torso and cannonball shoulders approached and wrapped his mammoth vascular arms around her. “Cassy, why the fuck are you talking to this fatty?” He asked as if Leon were some flaming garbage outside his window, offensive to his sight. Leon recognized him as a member of Alpha Sigma, one of the best and most dickish fraternities on campus.  

“Fuck off Hunter” Cassy said rolling her eyes.

“Yeah fuck off Hunter” Leon repeated. He instantly regretted it.

Hunter's eyes went wide, and a vein on his neck began to pulse. Leon stared back at him with a level of defiance he knew defied both the social order and logic. Leon had always been brash, a trait now manifested in full force by the extreme comfort he felt in the gym due to his Gym Rat perk.

Cassy shot him a look asking if he was trying to get himself killed then turned to Hunter to defuse the situation. “Come on babe let's go.” 

Hunter heard none of it. He got right up in Leon's face so close Leon could smell the sweat on his body and the ZYN in his breath. “Listen here tubby, this is a gym. The McDonalds is down the street. Now fuck off or I’ll turn your happy meal into chicken tenders. Ya hear?” He stood up and started to walk away Cassy unhappily following after him. “And don’t ever talk to my girl again homo.”

Leon knew he should be scared but instead, he found the whole interaction funny, his “Gym Rat” perk really might be working too well. “Got any gym tips for me” he called after Hunter, wanting to still get something out of the interaction. He couldn’t wait till he was bigger than that arrogant prick and no one could talk to him that way.

The frat bro turned around “Eat a fucking salad” he called. Leon’s last quest remained incomplete. He wondered why for a second then realized it said “exchange workout tips.” 

“You should really get off the roids, it's killing the last two of your brain cells,” Leon called after him. Hunter moved to turn around, probably to beat the shit out of Leon but Cassy grabbed his hand and dragged him away. The quest completed and Leon reached level five. Not too bad for seven charisma he thought proudly. The now familiar ding sounded along with a wall of notifications. Leon began to feel strange. A biting ache began to thrum in the pit of his stomach. Doubled over Leon rushed to the bathroom, careful to head in in the opposite direction of Hunter and Cassy. 

He burst into the empty men's room and then into the nearest stall he could find. As he sat on the toilet the pain intensified. Something was happening and it hurt like all hell.

-

Edward had no idea why Trent had even started talking to him. That wasn’t something people ever did to ugly Edward, maybe point and whisper, but never strike up a conversation and surly never ask him for help. It must be his stupid charisma and perks scrambling everyone's brain he concluded. Edward was about to turn back to Trent and tell him he had made a mistake and that he actually couldn’t help him when he heard “Edward” yell from behind the bar. He saw Tag the sexy fit barista holding a steaming to-go cup and looking around the coffee shop for Edward. Trent gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

Edward felt as if he was moving in slow motion like he was making his way to the gallows. Tag saw him coming and smiled, extending the drink towards him. Edward reached out to take the drink, his finger ever so slightly brushing up against Tag’s hand in the process. He wasn’t sure if it was the touch or just the proximity but he felt his new “Sage” perk activate in vivid detail.

A picture suddenly flashed in Edward’s mind. A subterranean location full of flashing lights and loud rhythmic music, a rave Edward realized. He saw Tag standing alone in an open button-down shirt showing off sexy tattooed muscles. Edward flashed back to reality. His sudden vision had caused him to linger a bit too long grabbing his drink and he jerked his hand away awkwardly. 

Edward retracted his hand and gave a smile hoping to save the moment. “Hey, are you going to the rave tonight?” Edward asked as casually as he could “I think I have seen you at a few before. I heard the one tonight is supposed to be especially hype.”

Tag seemed surprised for a moment then reassessed Edward his demeanor shifting from customer service friendly, to peer in-group easygoing. “You mean sewer fest? I want to man, but all my friends are busy tonight and I don’t want to go alone.”

“Oh damn that sucks,” Edward said. He was mindful of the stares he was getting from the other students around him but couldn’t bring himself to care, this was going too well. “I wish I could go but I have a paper I have to write tonight. My friend Trent was actually just saying he was thinking about going though.” Edward pointed back at Trent who gave a little wave. 

“Oh, I know him.” Tag said when he saw Trent. “That would be sick man. I really don’t want to miss Sewer Fest. How about this,” he took a cup sleeve and started to write on it, “Give your friend my number and tell him to text me” he handed it to Edward. 

“Will do. You two have fun” Edward said as he walked away. Trent looked at him wide-eyed and was about to say something but Edward made a signal that they shouldn’t talk about it inside.

“This is for you,” Edward said as he handed Trent Tag’s number once they were outside. 

“No way. You're actually a god. How did you do that?” Trent asked amazed.

“Don’t get too excited,” Edward said sheepishly. “You're going to a rave, and it’s in the sewer.” 

“A rave? You know what, I’ll take it. I really can’t thank you enough.” 

“Oh, it was nothing. Honestly, you helped me just as much as I helped you.”

Trent ignored the cryptic comment. “Well I should go, I guess I have to find an outfit to wear to a sewer. Would all white be a bad idea?” He handed Edward his phone. “Will you put your number in my phone? I’ll text you how tonight goes.” 

The two exchanged information then Trent left. Edward stood there sipping his latte, which really was too bitter. He saw Trent typing out a message on his phone as he walked away.

Moments later Edward heard a “ding” as the quest was completed and he reached level five. Notifications sprung up in his vision, more than usual. Edward couldn’t read them, he couldn’t focus on anything. His mostly full coffee slipped out of his hand and spilled onto the ground as a golden nebula sprung up around him and his face and body were wracked with pain. He started to scream.