#I know the sun isn’t shining but it will again

[y0ur-lovrr]

Make part two of never trust an union member please and pls make it bit longer 😩😩😩😩😩 i love readers personality and the teasing too

—once a union member, always a union member.

A/n; sorry this took a couple days to make, I’ve been really busy 💔💔 once again, this is not proof read, forgive me 😭 😭

Pairing; Yeon Si-Eun x reader (gender neutral!)

—“well look what we have here,” you boast as you slowly approach Si-Eun and his friends on the sidewalk, the sun starting to set. Jun-Tae freezes slightly at the sound of you, his hands already starting to fidget at his sides. “If it isn’t Newbie…and his little pack of dogs.”

Baku narrows his eyes slightly at the sight of you, Gotak doing the same-but your main focus is on Si-Eun as you grin, all teeth, no warmth. He hates it, hates that it’s hard for him to get a good read on you. You betrayed him once, so what else could you do?

“Pack dogs?” Baku scoffs, already starting to get a little protective of his friends-but just as he’s about to say more, you hold up a finger and wag it at him-as if you were scolding a dog.

“No, no, sit.” You tease, snickering as he looks baffled, but quiets down anyway. “I was talking to Si-Eun, so no barking.”

And that boy huffs quietly, eyes narrowing slightly as you say you were talking to him, and he just stares back at you, his head tilting slightly, eyes feeling like they’re trying to bite through you.

“So…” you drawl on as you step closer, hands in the pockets of your jeans-your grin unwavering as you look him up and down, before landing on his face, eyeing the cut on his chapped lip, almost snorting at the sight of it. “You really did it.”

He stars back at you, not amused, and on guard in case you try anything..not that he expects you to, you’re out numbered. But you can never be too careful. Especially with a union member-or ex union member, he should say. He finally speaks, a low mutter, tone dry and uninterested. “..what’s it to you?”

You snort at that, shaking your head in amusement, stepping closer to him-to the point you’re just shy of his personal space. And he narrows his eyes at you, brows furrowing as you chuckle, “I just didn’t think you could do it.”

“And why would you think that? You know Si-Eun is totally capable—“ Gotak cuts in-only to get cut off as you efficiently reach a hand out and point your finger at him, a silent command for him to shut up. And he does, surprisingly.

“Honestly, I’m a bit impressed, Newbie.” You murmur, leaning your head even closer so that your breath slightly brushes against his ear, your grin not wavering, and any normal person would be put off by this…but he’s more annoyed. “But maybe I shouldn’t be….i mean, you did try to stab me that one day on the roof.”

“Back off.” Baku mutters as he decides to intervene, and you glance over at him, slightly raising an eyebrow at him, looking at his determined face, his eyes in a glare. He is irked by the way you touch Si-Eun like you practically owned him, the way you look at him like you’re trying to pick him apart piece by piece.

“So protective.” You hum teasingly as you let out a low whistle, leaning back a little bit, only complying just slightly, but you’re still too close to Si-Eun for his friends’ liking. “Didn’t know he had such a good guard dog. Did you sink your teeth into him too, Baku? You gonna shake him like a chew toy and not let go?”

Baku stiffens at that, but you just chuckle and hold up your hands in playful surrender. “I’m just kidding, lighten up.”

“You’re the one who sinks your teeth into people.” He mutters through gritted teeth, not finding it in him to try and be nice to you-after all you were a union member, you were a little lapdog to Baek-Jin, who he just helped beat up in order to stop the union, unbeknownst to you.

“Maybe so. I do like good chew toys.” You murmur with a faux huff of contemplation, as if you’re in thought-but you just flash another grin, your canines slightly shining in the lighting. But then you drag your tongue lightly across your top teeth as you look back at Si-Eun. And Baku knows your attention means…he’s caught your attention, and not in a good way.

“Well…if you see Baek-Jin around, let me know, yea?” You murmur as you absentmindedly reach a hand out to touch Si-Eun’s uniform, and he stiffens as your finger drags across the collar of the dark blue fabric of his blazer. “That asshole has been ignoring me and Seong-Je.”

“Don’t touch me.” He mutters as he swats your hand away, his eyes staring at you with such intensity like he expects you to be put off and get away-but you just seem to be enjoying it.

“So harsh…keep it up,” you murmur with a chuckle, staring at your him as your tongue poked against your inner cheek as you give him another quick once over-before leaning in again to whisper into his ear. “I like it when you bite.”

And with that, you’re snickering to yourself and pushing past them-purposely bumping your shoulder against Baku’s, making him crown slightly. And Si-Eun slightly turns on his feet to look at you as you walk away.

[shortqueershakespeare]

Makes me irrationally mad when people hate on To Noise Making (Sing) like someone on Reddit said they thought it was an outright bad song and they couldn’t believe Hozier wrote it like EXCUSE ME ITS A MASTERPIECE

[blitheringbongus]

Woah

The creature

[satoblue]

“𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔” — gojo satoru

the different meanings behind satoru’s gaze, and more specifically — the shades of blue. | wc: 1.2k

f!reader, established relationship, this is quite self indulgent i fear, i love him BAD. | dividers made by me

satoru’s eyes change color.

you keep track. at first, you think your own are deceiving you. perhaps, it is the lighting overhead which perpetuates the subtle shifts in tones and shades. the beams of the sun caressing his lashes or the dim glow of your bedside lamp.

it isn’t hard to notice. not when your focus easily diverts at the appearance of those unique six eyes. but, you soon discover it is not the result of any externalities — in a way. after a while, you deduce they only ever fluctuate depending on his mood — an internal factor.

it varies from time to time.

on many casual occasions, they’ll appear a bright blue. bright, just like him. when he’s at his happiest, they seem to shimmer. what makes him happy? well, there is you — so, you guess for the majority of the time, they remain as such! or more specifically, when he’s engaging in a cheeky fit of banter with you, effectively firing you up by grating your nerves. and then there’s when he’s eating good food. whether it’s dumplings from his favorite food stand or a fresh batch of cookies made by anyone who is intelligent enough to be extra generous on the amount of chocolate chips.

it is involuntary and instantaneous. he can not control what he is — joy.

but then, there are moments when they’ll turn a faded blue, almost like steel. the reason? when he’s upset. at what exactly? satoru is quite the complex man, so it could be anything — big or small. maybe the new snack he was ecstatic to try wasn’t as good as he expected it to be — the excitement quickly dying down as he’s filled with disappointment, a pout on his lips as if the taste leaves him absolutely bitter feeling all over.

or it could be because you’re sad. this one seems to have an even bigger effect on his blues. satoru is the strongest, and yet, he can’t help but be a man struck down — struck in the heart when you cry. he loves to think he can stand tall against anything, always so sure and confident. yet, he finds himself crouching down, curling you up into his arms as if to protect you from your terrors because he simply can not bear the sight of you in pain — aching.

when you trip and fall, resulting in a scrape or when you mishandle a knife, nicking yourself on your finger. even worse — when someone hurts you . . . satoru has never been an extremely violent man unless absolutely necessary. but he supposes, when it comes to you, every act is necessary to keep you safe, be it mentally or physically. first, there is a flicker of worry. but then… he doesn’t typically lose his cool — but god help him for he can’t seem to control the visceral urge inside him to hollow purple anything that harms you. if his eyes weren’t a glowing dangerous cerulean blue — you bet they’d be on fire, seeing red from the amount of rage brewing inside him.

it is never your fault. the rock you didn’t see in your path (it should’ve never been there in the first place), the entire half of the kitchen where the cutlery is stored (he writes a scathing review on the website instead because he knows you’d kill him if he demolishes the penthouse . . . again. he’s furious that they’d make their knives so damn sharp — which is entirely out of reason since good knives should be, but satoru tends not to be logical when it comes to you), or the bastards who dare to disrespect you or lay a hand on you in anyway. knowing you belong to him should be a do not touch sign — a warning in itself.

it is rare for you to experience it, you’ve never been objected to his fury — you are only ever his love and desire. and it shines especially when those bright blue eyes turn a soft shade of baby blue — only for you, his baby. in your presence, they’ll remain that same vibrant hue you grew to adore — warm, like he’s hugging you with his gaze. and then, as the conversation consumes you both, you pick up on the way his lids will droop slightly halfway — a subconscious gesture. it is apparent to anyone who peeks your direction that you have enraptured him entirely.

at some points, you can’t tell if he’s truly listening. at all. those eyes of his seem to dilate, as if in a daze you’ve trapped him in. but then, he’ll speak up. it sends a shock to your system as he responds to you after a long moment of impossible quiet, something unnatural for him, yet — it comes easily when he’s with you. he doesn’t just talk for the sake of it — he listens and gives an answer. and god, he waits patiently, not wanting to interrupt you because if he does — you go quiet just for him when that is the complete opposite of what he needs. he needs to hear you — the sweet sound of your voice that is better than any candy or chocolate he’s had on his tongue.

the love is there — passionate, tender, and no where near red like his wrath but just as fiery. like when you shared your first kiss in the rain, or the very quiet, tense minutes where he’ll stare a little too long. this time, he won’t sit still with his fist to his palm, but instead, he’ll adjust in his seat — shifting uncomfortably because the straining in his pants right between his legs is too much to handle even for him. he grows impatient and can’t help but blurt out “let’s get out of here” — a statement, almost as if his body is operating on autopilot, driven by a sheer carnal need for you.

and that look — you know what it means before he even has to open his mouth: i need you right now… desperately, always. you’re aware what fantasies are playing through his head as the seconds tick by tortuously slow. impatient. greedy. with a dark hooded gaze, piercing and intense, dropping from your lips to your cleavage — the midnight blue is fitting, the dilated pupils, the delicate pink flush on his cheeks. all these aspects tie him all together, easily betraying his thoughts.

there is not a single meaning behind the way he acts which alludes you, his gaze like a book you’ve read an infinite number of times before and know by heart, one your fingers still reach for on the shelf because you can’t get enough — because there is nothing else quite like it. satoru comes in many shades, and you love him in all of them just the same — in joy, sorrow, rage, and passion. the eyes are known to be the window to the soul, and you just about know satoru’s better than anyone.

[fauxparadoxx]

Muscles and Midterms: A Love Story with a Side of Obsession - Himbo Yandere (male bimbo) x Nerd Reader

You’re halfway through annotating your third textbook when the dorm room door rattles open—without a knock. You don’t need to look up. You know the footsteps. You know the cologne. You know the way your air shifts when he enters.

Chase.

Broad as a linebacker, tall enough to blot out the afternoon sun filtering through your window, and sporting the same dopey grin he always does when he sees you. His tank top barely counts as fabric. His arms are glistening. His eyes—blue like empty sky—scan your desk, your laptop, your face.

“You’re still studying?” he asks, like it’s a crime. “Baby, you know your brain’s sexy, but I miss you. Like, miss you hard.”

You sigh. “We have finals next week.”

He frowns. Not because he’s mad. Because he genuinely doesn’t understand why organic chemistry matters more than cuddling on his absurd beanbag couch.

“I made protein pancakes for you. With hearts on top,” he says, presenting a slightly mangled plate. “They’re kind of burnt, but that’s ‘cause I was thinking about your cute little furrowed brows. Couldn’t concentrate.”

“Chase,” you groan. But he’s already crouched beside you, one massive hand sliding behind your neck, the other cradling your wrist like you’re made of porcelain. His touch is gentle, reverent. Too reverent.

“You’ve been talking to that TA guy again,” he says. The grin fades.

Your heart hiccups. “He’s helping me prep for finals.”

Chase tilts his head, almost puppy-like. But there’s something off in the shine of his eyes. Something sharper.

“Baby,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I would bench press the entire science faculty if they looked at you wrong.”

He squeezes your hand just a little too tightly. “Let’s drop this nerd stuff and run away. I’ll take you to Cabo. We’ll open a smoothie stand. You can name all the menu items after molecules. I’ll lift things and kiss you stupid.”

You laugh nervously. He laughs too—until he sees your hesitation.

Then he pouts.

“No one gets you like I do,” he whispers, gaze softening into desperation. “You like books, and I like you. Isn’t that enough?”

You think of his last ‘protective gesture’—the TA mysteriously getting reassigned, your lab partner developing sudden mono. Chase swears he had nothing to do with it. But you’ve seen him glare from across the quad. You’ve seen him break a vending machine with a single punch. And you’ve seen how he looks at you like you’re his whole world—his reward for thinking just hard enough.

You want to pull away. You want to stay.

He leans closer, breath warm against your temple. “Say you’re mine. Say it now, and I’ll carry you to class and make flashcards in glitter gel pens.”

He would. He really would.

And maybe—just maybe—you want him to.

[joshujihan23]

You’re safe with me

☆ pairing: mafia boss!seungcheol x girlfriend!reader

☆ synopsis: the mafia scene was something that isn’t unfamiliar to you since your boyfriend is THE mafia boss, so is it surprising that you got involved as well?

☆ trigger warning: mentions of violence, abuse, torture, blood, degrading terms such as weak, mentions of injuries such as bruises, cuts, scars.

☆ author’s note: my LONGESTT fic yet. not sure how i feel about this.. do let me know how it is!

————————————————————————

you were overwhelmed with fear, your eyes shielded by the numerous tears filling your eyelids, dripping down your cheeks simultaneously.

you were exhausted. frightened. nervous, anything relating to fear.

your hands were tied with thick, rough rope, and trapped behind the chair you were sitting on. your legs scarred, filled with bruises and cuts from the whips given by his enemy’s subjects. their sinister laughs, their amused expressions, were printed in your brain.

and the scene when you got kidnapped, was replaying again and again. apparently seungcheol betrayed his best friend, alex. and his revenge? kidnap his love of his life, torture his beloved, until seungcheol strikes a deal with him.

and best believe, you knew who the enemy was. the person that ‘fought for you’ against seungcheol.

which in the end, seungcheol won.

and he is here today to get his revenge, after he has risen in placings in the mafia scene.

but whatever that got you in this situation didn’t matter to you at that point. the pain, the fear in you, took over your mind, leaving you to dread whatever that was coming up next.

you heard footsteps approaching, slowly but firmly. you sighed with a shaky breath, preparing yourself for the worst.

it has been hours, and seungcheol hasn’t arrive.

and that is killing you slowly but surely.

just then, you felt a hand, rough and callous, grip onto your cheek. you winced, looking up at him weakly.

only to see that it was alex, with an evil smirk plastered across his face.

you gulped, trying to move your face out of his grip.

only for him to return with a harsh slap across your cheek, making you yelp in pain.

“your prince charming isn’t coming, love. just give it up.” he snickered.

“he will, he definitely will..” you mumbled.

his eyes gazed down your figure, his smirk widening as he does so. he took a step forward, his tall figure standing before you, making you gulp. he grabbed onto your cheek harshly, his cold hand come into contact with the small bruise forming on your cheek from all the torture you’ve been facing, making you wince.

that made alex chuckle darkly, giving you another slap across your cheek.

“such a weak woman, are you? need your knight in shining armour to continuously save you. guess what, pretty? he isn’t coming.” he said in a mocking tone, his eyes shifting to the orange glow at the corner of the dark, eerie warehouse.

the sun is setting. is seungcheol not going to come soon?

before you could even turn to face the sun ray creeping into the warehouse, you felt alex harshly gripping onto your chin.

his face inched closer to you, his breath hitting the tip of your nose gently, a stark contrast to his menacing gaze.

“i fought so hard. i fought so hard so that you could be mine. but what did my dear best friend do? steal you from me. if you were mine, we won’t be having this issue here, darling.” he spoke, his voice low and dark.

he let out another dark chuckle, his other hand gripping onto your thigh tightly.

“now, let me enjoy this time with you. the time which i longed for for all these gruelling years..”

his voice lingered at the end of the sentence. before you could even say anything, he smashed his lips onto you, making you yelp. panicked, you started to fumble on the chair, making some efforts to remove the string that tied both of hands behind your back.

but alex didn’t back down. in fact, he grabbed your cheek harshly with his hand, while using the other to hold your body down on the flimsy chair.

before you knew it, you felt his cold hand playing with the hem of your shirt, as it creeped underneath it. feeling the chills going up your body from the sudden contact, you yelped, but was quickly silenced when he bit your lip recklessly, penetrating his tongue into your mouth, exploring every single inch of it.

you tried, you tried everything in your ability to stop him. you wanted to yank your leg forward to kick him, but his grip on your thigh was so, so strong.

and that’s when you heard a rip.

puzzled, you looked down, only to see that your shirt had rip, due to how old the material was.

alex cackled, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“lord and behold, such smooth and milky skin. tempting, are we?” he growled.

his lips returned to attack yours, his fingertips grazing against your chest, making shivers go down your spine.

“don’t be scared, sweetie, let me take care of you.”

and that moment, you hear gun shots fire right outside the warehouse. cursing under his breath, you could almost see the screws in his brain turning, as he continued to make out with you.

“shh, don’t be frightened, princess. let me just feel you a bit more.”

his hands creeped down your body, reaching against your thigh. he squeezed it harshly, making you flinch. he hiked your skirt up swiftly, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh.

no. he can’t do this. he just can’t.

you tried to shake him off, but he just won’t budge. feeling the tears trickling down your cheeks, you heard the large, wooden door burst open.

“get your hands off her.”

startled, you saw that alex turned his head, his smirk widening.

your eyes glanced to the door as well, and you couldn’t be more relieved.

seungcheol, standing right there, with all his other members.

alex got off of you, brushing his hands together, while walking towards seungcheol with a menacing grin.

“well, well, well. look who we have here?” alex announced.

you saw seungcheol whispering to his other members, as they began to scatter.

“let’s end this with a duel, the first to surrender, loses.” seungcheol declared, his right hand playing with his gun skilfully.

“fine, but no weapons, fair and square.” alex rebutted, throwing his gun aside.

“deal.”

and it all began, the fistfighting. the two men began throwing punches at each other, kicking the other with full force. seungcheol swung a fist against alex’s cheek, making alex return with a strong kick against his legs.

invested in the fight, you didn’t realise that your hands were free, and a pair of arms wrapped around you.

you turned around, to see that it was jeonghan, seungcheol’s most trusted member, and certainly your favourite except for seungcheol.

he placed a hand on your head, trying to reassure you as much as he could.

“you’re safe with us. your injuries, does it hurt, how much does it hurt.”

with this many questions, you could guess that he was trying to distract you from the fight. but your eyes remain glued onto the two men, who behaved relatively animalistic.

seungcheol seemed like he was winning, until alex kicked onto his leg harshly, making his knees buckle. he knelt in front of him, before alex pulled out a knife from his pocket, grazing it against seungcheol’s neck.

“it’s over, buddy. just give up and give me your girl, and we’ll be all good.”

your eyes widened, you wanted to go to him, but jeonghan pulled you back, telling you that it was too dangerous. but seungcheol kept his menacing gaze, his eyes fixed onto alex.

“you will never get her, you aren’t good enough for her.”

you heard seungcheol wince, watching closely, the knife dug deeper in his neck, blood dripping onto the knife slowly.

frightened, you did the thing that only seemed right to you, although it might be deemed as rash.

you escaped from jeonghan’s arms, scurrying onto the floor, and

BANG.

the shot fired, silencing the entire room.

the entire room stood still, almost as if time has stopped.

the body fell on the ground, limp and bleeding, but he was still breathing, since his chest was still rising, slowly but surely.

your hands clenched onto the pistol, your hands shaking from the shock you have. your eyes darted around, only to land on seungcheol.

his facial expression was unreadable, the blood on his neck still dripping.

and that made a wave of fear rush over you, as you watch seungcheol walk towards you.

“i-i’m sorry i didn’t know why i did that i-i was just so scared i’m so-”

and that’s when you felt his soft lips on yours, his hands wrapping around your waist gently. his kiss was so soft, so gentle, yet there’s a lingering feeling of possessive, protectiveness.

at the familiar touch, you gave in immediately, returning the kiss.

breaking away, he placed his forehead against yours, taking that moment to calm his breathing.

“you did the right thing, princess. if it weren’t for you, i would have lost you completely. you’re so brave, so so brave.” his hand ran through the strands of your hair, brushing it away from you.

he looked down, seeing the complete mess that you were in. the torn shirt, the crumped skirt, and most importantly, your injured body, his heart broke almost immediately.

he took off his jacket, wrapping it around your body, making you wear it.

“it’s going to be cold, wear this so that you won’t fall sick, alright?” he mumbled, his sweet tone lingering in the air.

“cheollie..” you sighed shakily, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. you buried your head into his neck, feeling his blood trickling on your neck. you held onto him tightly, your breath becoming more and more shaky from fear.

that absolutely broke seungcheol’s heart. the only times when you actually called him ‘cheollie’, was when you were scared, when you had so much fear in you it hurts his heart. that made him pull you closer to him, as if he was protecting you from the rest of the world.

“you’re safe with me now, princess. i’ll protect you better, i swear.” he mumbled, his breath tickling your ear gently.

“sorry to.. ruin the moment. but what are we doing with this animal?”

the both of you turned around, to see joshua leaning forward, watching alex carefully while kicking his unconscious body.

“leave him here, we’ll teach him a lesson.” seungcheol spoke, in such a simple, yet evil tone.

he turned his attention to you again, his eyes softening at the sight of your tear-filled, doe eyes.

“i have one favour of you. tell me everything he did, and that will determine my punishment for him tomorrow.”

————————————————————————

the soft music of the movie played in the background, the sweet scent of the candle he lit up filled the room.

after the both of you got home, he immediately carried you in bridal style, and towards your bedroom. he sat you down on the mattress, while examining the state that you are in.

the bright, bruising red mark on your cheeks, the ones that he always hold on to seek comfort. your torn shirt, the shirt that you always told him not to throw away because it meant so much to you, but because of today, it got destroyed. your thigh, covered in red marks, with bruises and cuts trailing down your leg, the pair of legs he just loves to touch because it was just so, so soft.

and most importantly, your lips. the pinkish, soft lips that he loves to connect his lips with, was now bruised, swollen, and split.

he cupped your cheeks, gently so that it won’t trigger any pain when he did so. but seeing you wince softly at the touch, his heart immediately broke.

he placed his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky sigh.

“fuck, i didn’t want this job of mine to danger you. what did i do.. i’m so sorry princess. i’m so sorry..” he mumbled gently, his eyes tracing your face.

your gaze was locked onto his, watching his eyes soften as he examined your injuries. seeing the guilt building in him, you quickly placed a finger on his lips, shushing him.

“don’t be, at least i’m safe with you now, right?” you replied, your lips brushing against his.

seungcheol let out another shaky sigh, placing a peck on your lips, giving himself a reminder that you are actually safe with him.

“you’re right, you’re so so right. let me take care of you, please. i need to see you feel better before i can do so myself.” he whispered, his hand grasping onto yours gently.

seungcheol stood up, taking one last look at you, before he walked off to the bathroom. a few moments later, you see him walking back towards you, with a basin filled with water and washcloth in one hand, and the first aid kit in the other.

he sat in front of you, his weight sinking the bed down slightly. he placed the basin on the bedside table, dipping the cloth into it. he wrung it gently, as he brought it closer to your face.

“this is going to sting, be strong for me, okay?” he mumbled gently, waiting for your approval while he continued to stare into your eyes.

when you nodded, he sighed softly, dabbing the wet cloth onto the wounds on your face. feeling the sting, you hissed, your hands clenching onto his arm.

he stopped for a moment, watching how your face clenched up, your eyes closing a little from the pain.

“i know i know, it hurts right? i’ll be quick, i promise.” he said reassuringly.

he seemed to treat your injuries pretty quickly, and before you know it, he was already done. your body was filled with bandages, small plasters, and oilment to treat the bruises. he placed the cloth back in the basin, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“you did so well, princess. so good for me.” he praised, a small smile forming on his lips.

you gave him a smile in return, before kneeling forward, while placing a hand on his chest. your eyes was fixated on the scar on his neck, the one he got while he was in the fight with alex.

“relax baby, now it’s my turn to take care of you.” you said softly, holding onto the wet cloth, the same one he used to wipe off the dried blood.

your actions made seungcheol chuckle, his eyes glued to every little detail that you did.

“alright princess, i’ll be good.” he replied, another chuckle escaping from his lips.

————————————————————————

you treated his injuries pretty quickly, while he took the moment to order some food for the both of you to eat.

after all, after a day of fighting and torture, the least the both of you could do was to eat.

and the food came pretty quickly, with the both of you sitting on the couch in the room, with a movie playing in the background, cuddled in each other’s arm, while eating the fried chicken from your favourite restaurant.

taking a piece of chicken, seungcheol placed the meat at your mouth, waiting for you to eat it.

“say ahh~” seungcheol cooed, making you giggle, as you at the chicken.

“i’ll never believe how the most powerful mafia in this country is the softest person when it came to his girlfriend.” you teased, placing your head on his chest.

seungcheol chuckled, his fingers running through your hair, while he admired your facial features.

“well, although you had the mafia boss wrapped around that little finger of yours, you should know that you are in fact, the safest person that anyone can be on this planet, when you’re with me.”

.

.

.

.

.

bonus:

seungcheol walked into the warehouse, seeing that jeonghan and joshua has already tied alex up on the chair, the same chair you sat on yesterday.

“p-please let me go! i’m so sorry for kidnapping y/n let me go please..” alex begged, his eyes desperate and pleading.

seungcheol only let out a mocking laugh, his hand twirling the gun in his hand around.

“y/n shared with me everything that you did, now let’s do the punishment according, shall we?” seungcheol looked at jeonghan and joshua, who gave a knowing, yet menacing smile.

“should’ve known before you kidnapped the girlfriend of the most powerful mafia.” joshua said, while trying to hold back his laughter.

“and trying to win her back? you’re pathetic, even for a normal human being.” jeonghan added, while cracking his knuckles.

seungcheol walked closer to alex, his eyes eyeing down at the man, who seemed smaller, and more afraid, making him laugh once again.

“let’s make it quick and easy. i need to get back to my love. where should we start?”

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 04. For love is all the reasoning we need

PREV PART trigger warnings: narrator is mean to Name, internalised ableism, talks about cults, anger, cringy first date start, medical + emotional + physical neglect main m.list      series m.list

Damian never understood you, and he never will. It’s something he had chosen to accept the day you ran away. Unlike his father he isn’t foolish, he isn’t a stranger to your passive face. He is no stranger to the kind eyes you used to look at him, and he’s no stranger to them turning into disappointment.

He had made his own bed, and he has lied in it. It’s why he doesn’t bother John when he rambles about Conner finally going on a date. It is why he doesn’t push John when he suddenly stops talking and looks around nervously. For he knows, Conner has always had eyes on you.

Damian loves you, but he can’t love you in the way you need. So he’ll stand back, he’ll keep you from being found. But Jason is tracking you down quicker than you can blink, he needs to get a message out.

So he opens Tim’s phone, truly for their second tech savvy team member you would have hoped he had a better password. A password that didn’t take him 10 seconds to guess, but then again, often the most intelligent of us make the most foolish mistakes. For those consumed with fear and greed never make the right choices.

It’s why Damian could still never be like you. You, who could have been the perfect vigilante had you not been so weak. So as your blood brother, he will be the one keeping you safe.

He just needs to copy down Conner’s phone number and send the text. But can he? Does he have a right to intervene with your life when you’ve made it clear that this family is not something you want? But do you truly not want them? Are you just protecting yourself? Are you worried that their attention will be even more painful than their rejection?

To an extent Damian can understand you, so he’ll text you. For it is time to not think of his own greed and thoughts. It’s time to think of yours as Jason basically hunts you down. For it’s you who will have to live with the consequences, not him.

When Conner got a cryptic text he immediately know from who it was. The language is consistence with your youngest brother. Damian Wayne, your only blood related sibling. And the only one he knows you would give another chance.

For you resent Tim the most, as a fellow child of neglect you had expected him to speak up more. Yet it was his best friend who defended you, who included you. While you are no longer angry at Tim, that hurt will never disappear. Even when you understand that his actions were motivated for the fear of abandonment.

But Damian, the child of the Cult. The child who only knew Jason, the child who is now telling Conner to watch out for the same man he sees as a brother long before he acknowledged Dick as family.

So here he is waiting for you as he stares at Damian’s text, he’s so deep in thoughts he doesn’t see you as you wave at him. He’s with his heads in the clouds and he crashes down the moment you tap him on his shoulder. Not because he’s disappointed to see you, no never. Not when you look like Aphrodite blessed her yourself, not when you look at him with your kind and hopeful eyes.

“You scared me,” Conner says, his breath almost caught in his throat as the sun makes you shine ever brighter. Gods, it’s as if you are glowing. If he didn’t know better he would call you a mutant for how his heart stops every time he sees you smile.

You chuckle, and Conner swears that it sounds like bells. He swears that he can he feel your warmth, even when he knows it’s from the sun.

“I can see that,” you tease him with a laugh as you ruffle his hair. The hair he took a great deal to tidy up, something that looks unnatural. “way better, now you actually look like yourself.”

With that you stepped inside of the dinner and Conner had to hold his breath. He knew he had done his hair in a new way, but he wouldn’t have dreamt of you noticing. And most of all that you noticed he felt uncomfortable.

Gods, you are getting better with every minute, aren’t you?

…. You aren’t, truly you’ve always been like this. Even with all the misfortune in your life you would never ask someone to change, even if it would be in your favour. Doesn’t he know? You like him for him, not for a manufactured idea of him.

In his mind this is the great start of a first date (for a second he forgot the text Damian has send him), but for you? You are panicking as you quickly find a secluded booth as you attempt to calm your breathing. You know your face isn’t as reactive as you are internally, truly you’ve mastered a poker face without ever playing. It would be impressive if the reason wasn’t so pathetic, as you would rather die than show anyone how the pain you feel haunts you.

It’s also the one thing Conner dislikes about you, for your facial expressions are something he adores. You look so pretty when you frown, you look hot when you look at him as if you know all he’s thinking. You look so cool when you roll your eyes, for it is never in contempt. It is always done in a manner of; “I know you mean well to an extent, but please shut your mouth.”

Some would say you look ignorant and arrogant with that poker face, when Conner had just met you he would have agreed. But now he knows the twitches of your pupils, he knows how your fingers tap the table. He knows all your clues, he just wishes you showed them with all your might.

But you won’t.

As said before; you hate showing your facial expressions as they always betray the pain you are feeling. As they always betray how you hold your hands so that they don’t tremble with every pain attack you have.

But that is not something you should focus on right now. You are on a date, your focus should be on him. Don’t be selfish… You don’t want to become the person Alfred told you you were, now do you?

So suck it up, pretend nothing is wrong as anxiety and pain crawls up your spine. As your whole body screams at you for relief, you want this date. So finish it.

NEXT PART

Taglist OPEN: @wisefuncherryblossom, @ichbswa, @vndexd,@nymphzy0, @lettucel0ver, @galaxypurplerose, @yuyuzi-ling, @princessbonnie-bell, @1abi, @ichbswa, @n-lol, @sereinitysmind, @mei-simp, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @bellethesleepypotato, @c4xcocoa, @staarflowerr, @funtimekoda14

[menelausblues]

man of indulgence.

synopsis. you have an unorthodox online friendship with popular baking influencer, shen xavier.

‣ 6.8k. no evol, long distance au. hobby baker reader/mc x baking influencer xavier. online friendship. fluff. light angst : misunderstandings.

mdni.

SHEN XAVIER. XAVIBAKES 18 hours ago:

[ video ] an ez-pz pastry tutorial for the sun lovers. best enjoyed on a picnic with a loved one. if you make your own, be sure to tag me. i’d quite enjoy seeing everyone’s results with this one :-)

MISSHUNTER REPLIES: [ image ] okay, i did the best i could heh. 😅

nerves making your hands rattle, you shakily hit send on your post. immediately, your heart races at the thought of the potential hat he may actually reply. in your shallow breaths, there exists both anxiety and thrill.

you see, social media is often tangible evidence of hell’s position on this doomed earth, but shen xavier shines a bit of his wholesome light onto the timeline borderline religiously, and that’s enough to keep you around, dodging unprovoked opinions spewed from the cesspool. among a plethora of people who are willfully miserable and feel obligated to project it, there’s a single man who likes to bask in positivity. he asks others about their day, follows recipes, and shows everyone videos of his absurdly rambunctious cat – sylus – doing gymnastics around his modest flat. there’s something about men who gravitate towards domestic endeavors, men who love staying home so much they make a hobby of it by ensuring they never have to leave to enjoy themselves. a man who sees taking care of his home and related activities as desirable and goal-worthy? to you, that type of man is the pinnacle of attraction. that’s the kind of man that you, perhaps, would be willing to risk it all for. shen xavier is that man. but of course, he’s also an incredibly popular mostly-baking influencer based in an entirely different country that you’re well-aware you have no chance with whatsoever, but witnessing his existence is a constant reminder that the type of man you’re holding out for isn’t only a myth. it isn’t the fabrication of a delusion or a delightful daydream. it’s possible, albeit rare. you aren’t picky. it’s just that you’ve never been one to settle for “well enough”. a perfectionist’s spirit, your standards are high and unmoved, rightfully so. every slice of life xavier offers his audience reinforces your ideal type. every video he creates is an obvious labor of love for those who, like him, find great enthusiasm for being home and enjoy spending time in the kitchen. everything he does seems so thorough and authentic. he never places ads in his videos. he never takes on or talks about sponsored merchandise. he always responds to his followers and strives to make his content a group effort with them. everything he shows is just a glimpse into who he genuinely is at his core and outside his content: a simple man with simple hobbies who’s responsible and has a heart that’s teeming with kindness and pleasantries. so, of course, taking the leap and finally posting your attempt at one of his follow-alongs is absolutely nerve-wracking. like him, you have a great love for baking. you’re no professional and you’re no successful influencer, but it’s stress-relieving and you love fresh bread, desserts, and pastries. in fact, finding new things to try baking is how you stumbled upon his channel, fell head over heels in infatuation with him, and now follow him across all his socials, smiling like a common fool when he posts. ꒰ you’re not obsessed, just wildly enamored. ꒱ and on your attempt, you actually feel quite proud of your results. it comes out damn near identical to xavier’s. it maybe doesn’t taste nearly as good as you know his likely does, but it’s sweet and you enjoyed the time spent on it. as you close the app in post-reply sent shame, you inwardly hope the sight of your result is praise-worthy.

it takes three days before you finally dare to open the app again. you avoid the sweeping disappointment of rejection and no recognition as well as the overstimulation of acknowledgement. it may sound invariably insane, but even the thought that he may reply fills you with a sense of deep, overwhelming dread. the thought of being perceived by him gives you equal amounts of anxiety as it does excitement. both feelings differ but they feel exactly the same in your body. your nervousness seems to be warranted as you log on. your eyes go wide with perceivable shock as you take note of the 1,016 notifications. there’s an instant drop of your heart from your chest straight into your gut. you freeze for a moment, terrified for some reason to tap it. it’s clear that he’s replied or something since you’ve never had more than ten notifications on a good day. you tap the frightening little bell and swallow hard. you try your hardest not to eagerly take it all in and instead scroll all the way down where the notifications first begin. when you do, you’re left gasping at the words on the screen.

SHEN XAVIER. quoting MISSHUNTER: ‘the best you could’ was practically perfect! wow. color me impressed. good job, miss hunter :-) 

MISSHUNTER: [ image ] okay. i did the best i could heh. 😅

SHEN XAVIER. FOLLOWED YOU.

SHEN XAVIER. AND 143 OTHERS LIKED YOUR POST.homemade lemon bread. nothing crazy, but it’s delicious.

SHEN XAVIER. replying to MISSHUNTER: so it’s not just the picnic pie! this looks delicious :-D

SHEN XAVIER. quoting MISSHUNTER: oh man i think i found a rival.

MISSHUNTER: [ image ] decided to make blueberry cheesecake from scratch on a whim. 😅

꒰ MENELAUSBLUES OMI ꒱ AND 264 OTHERS FOLLOWED YOU.

scrolling through all the notifications, you can’t help the way you’re beaming. there’s a child-like and wondrous smile on your face as you see he not only replied to you, but followed you, scoped through your account, and boosted your hobby work as well. you blink in sheer shock as you see the stream of likes and retweets continuously flooding in. what makes you hold your breath is the little notification on your dm tab that reads ( 𝟑 ). ꒰ you don’t know it right then, how could you, but that notification in the bar and your choice to tap on it seals your fate. ꒱ 

xavier : 

what a pleasant surprise! someone just as enthusiastic about baking as me. i can’t believe this is your first time showing us your results! thank you for participating in the follow-along. lovely presentation. i looked through your media and salivated at your blueberry cheesecake. so i am here to ask what i have to do to get my hands on that recipe? i’d love to do a video over it and try it myself, with credit and your permission of course.

shocked doesn’t even begin to cover the way you feel. butterflies flutter ruthlessly in your stomach, making you clutch your abdomen as your lips purse together. the shen xavier just dm’d you. he sees your baked goods; he likes them. he sees your follow-along to his video; he likes it. he sees what you do in your spare time; he admits he’s impressed by you. he wants something from you to add substance to his channel. the realization of it all finally settles in and your lips part, your phone slipping from your hands and falling right onto the surface of your mattress. that’s when you just start squealing and haphazardly moving yourself. before you know it, you’re in your bed belly-first, face stuffed into your pillows while your legs kick rapidly behind you. thrilled, you roll onto your back with a content sigh and smile. you stare at the ceiling, recalling it all over again before excitedly grabbing your pillow, covering your face, and continuing as you were. “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! is this real?!” you ask the ether in disbelief. “shen-fucking-xavier?” taking a deep breath, you steady yourself and finally reply to his dms.

you : 

i cannot believe THE  shen xavier is following me, saw my treats, and is now dm-ing me for a RECIPE. am i dead? is this heaven??? wow, thank you so much for your support. i’m so shocked that you replied, let alone followed me and sent me a dm, :3 i’m honored you like things i’ve baked and i’d be even more honored to have you recreate my personal recipe!!!

it takes xavier much less time to reply.

xavier : 

haha i’m just a guy at home with his cat. i’m really nothing special to think you’ve died over, but i’ll admit your enthusiasm does boost my ego a little :-) are you kidding? i’d be a fool not to recognize talent and support it wholeheartedly. have you considered making videos of your own? 

you : 

i have, but i tried once, realized the extent of the time content creation takes, and realized i was a salary girl with work in the morning.

xavier : 

well now i /really/ have to do this recipe in your honor.

you’re not sure what emboldens your next words, but you don’t regret them and you’re only mildly embarrassed. it isn’t you blatantly taking a pass at him, but it’s definitely laying the groundwork to do such a thing. after all, xavier might be the man of your dreams.

you : 

i don’t know. what if you take off with my recipe and i never hear from you again? 😔

xavier : 

unfortunately, you have evidence against me so my diabolical plan to heist your blueberry cheesecake recipe without consequence has failed. i’ll /need/ the exact measurements so i’ll eat this cost, i suppose. i fear i may be stuck in contact with you :-)

and it probably shouldn’t make your heart skip. it’s your first time speaking to him and he’s obviously playing along with you – definitely not reciprocating your slightly flirtatious efforts – but you can’t stop yourself. but even his humor confirms he’s exactly who you think he is. the man of your dreams.

11:04 AM.  xavier:

testing, testing. one two three.

it takes three weeks of back-and-forth communication before you toss it out to the wind that, perhaps, it’s a good time for the two of you to exchange imessage details and shift your consistent messaging to something a bit more formal and casual simultaneously. you use the excuse that keeping up with the social app just to talk to him is adding to your insane amount of time spent online lately. he teases you initially for signing on just to respond to him, about not being able to leave him waiting, but you know it’s the truth. you love talking to xavier. sure, the first few days you’re arguably starstruck, but by day five, there was a budding sense of comfort and casual dialogue exchange. you stop thinking about him as the shen xavier and start to see him as the guy who’s your blossoming friend. the friend you just so happen to have an impossible crush on. you both have a great deal in common, from your love of baking to your surprisingly shared love of classical music and bad movies. your interest in him romantically has yet to wane in the slightest, but you understand even if you both talk every day, there’s no way he sees you as more than an online companion in his same realm of interests. he’s half a world away from you and you’re both already jumping through timezone hoops just to catch each other for a mere friendship. still, you can’t help the way your heart flutters when you get a notification from him. you can’t stop the butterflies that swarm when you make a treat and post it on the timeline only to have him quote it and brag that he got to see it before anyone else.

11:07 AM.  you:

received. and excuse me, what time is it for you, sir?

11:08 AM.  xavier:

a very measly 3:08 am. hey! it’s morning for us both :-)

11:10 AM.  you:

 xavier !!! sir, go to bed.

when he finally responds, you find yourself in a similar state as when you noticed his follow and dms: your mouth slightly parts and your eyes are glued to your screen while your stomach flips where you stand, which just so happens to be right in the middle of your kitchen.

11:11 AM.  xavier:

and why would i do that when talking to you is on the table? i’m a man of indulgence after all.

꒰ 𝟒 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 ! ꒱

5:35 PM.  xavier:

i think we should watch ‘the happening’ hm. i can’t say it’s “bad” but it really might not be good. 5.0 rating. it’ll be just like flipping a coin :-) what do you think?

it seems like he’s always punctual, prompt out of habit, and respects your time. a true gentleman through and through just like you always believed him to be. your feet have just barely tiptoed over the threshold and into your home before he texts you. ꒰ it doesn’t occur to you that he’s memorized your schedule. ꒱ all the ways time weaves between the two of you hardly ever crosses your mind. interestingly, you don’t realize you swear off all your monday evenings without either of you ever actually agreeing to it. interestingly, you don’t realize that it’s already been three months in full and nearly two months worth of your monday evenings reserved for his tuesday mornings and a bad movie over facetime with tea. most interestingly, the only thing you do realize is that he’s now embossed into your habits, a consistent variable in all of your equations.

5:42 PM.  you:

i’ve seen it already. 😞 it’s terrible. got another?

5:45 PM.  xavier:

i always have a backup plan, of course. ‘twilight’ perhaps? i won’t lie it looks especially awful.

5:50 PM.  you:

saw that, too. but honestly take that back because that movie is a cult classic. 🫤

5:52 PM.  xavier:

i can almost assure you it’s not.

5:55 PM.  you:

ope! let’s watch it anyway. i just found an opportunity to prove you wrong and i’m taking it.

5:57 PM.  xavier:

if you’re wrong and i find it to be especially awful like i know i will, you do realize i’m going to make you watch ‘shooting stars’ again, right? you ought to consider stocking up on tissues.

5:59 PM.  you:

if i catch you having even a sliver of enjoyment like i know i will, you do realize i’m going to make you watch ‘new moon’ next, right?

6:01 PM.  xavier:

if i’m honest, i’ll watch anything you want. but still, you’re truly insufferable :-P are you almost ready?

6:03 PM.  you:

i’m making tea. are you rushing me, shen xavier?

6:04 PM.  xavier:

no i would /never/ but…you can’t call me for that? :-( i’m only indirectly emphasizing a need for haste due to the sheer capacity of which your absence has been felt.

6:05 PM.  you:

going full shakespeare to rush me is crazy work. truly unprecedented. perhaps, dare i say it, unnecessary even? 🤔 if you miss me then just say that.

6:06 PM.  xavier:

i’m not rushing you but i wouldn’t mind if you hurried. i miss you. 

you stare at the screen for approximately four minutes, heart oscillating wildly, breathing deeply as you feel it sinking and soaring in your chest ceaselessly. you almost can’t take it. every moment you spend seems to be a blend of familiarity and comfort, something remnant of home. there are moments when you blink and for a twinkle, you feel like you’re his. all his. his impatience is what drags you out of disbelief and reticence.

xavier. facetime video

six months pass in a dizzy blur and you’re quite certain that you are very much doomed. between the daily facetime calls, sitting on the phone with one another until the wee hours of the night for you or him, baking together over calls, and the night/day-long movie marathons, it’s official. shen xavier is the man of your dreams and despite the offensive amount of distance and time scattered between your bodies, you can no longer fight how badly you want to call him yours. you’ve realized a few things about xavier in the time you’ve known him, the first thing being that he’s as consistent as they come. he texts you every morning between 9-9:30 am your time, 1 am his time. in fact, he’s so consistent that you can’t recall the last time he’s gone to bed before the sun rises on his side of the world. not since the day you exchanged personal details. consistently, he stays up just to greet you, just to know how your day is starting and going, just to insert himself in any way he can.. the second thing you notice is the intensity of his reliability. if he says he’ll do something, he does it without fail, without falter. he doesn’t give excuses, only results, responsibility, and reasons. the third and most impactful thing to your heart is his shamelessness when he’s fond of someone. 

it started a week ago when he hit you with a goodnight text so charged, you almost couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. you mused over the words, turned them every which way in your mind to discover the hidden meaning behind them before accepting he meant exactly what he said: ‘goodnight. i’ll be here when you wake up, but i’ll most certainly miss you.’and he was there right when you woke up to greet you. you find it strange the way he barely did anything at all to weasel his way into the most important parts of your life. he slid in with ease and without warning. the most frightening part is the growing insistence to be there with you even though he can’t be there with you. this little development is exactly what lands you where you are right now: waiting in line for a very specific laptop you’ve been saving and waiting to release for months. it’s unbearably frigid outside, early december air nipping away at everyone’s comfort. you’re as bundled as you can be, but it somehow isn’t enough.

7:17 AM.  you:

xaviiiii, i made it, but the line is huge and it’s so cold. i’m going to be waiting forever, too. 😔

7:19 AM.  xavier:

poor thing. are you sure you want to do this? are you bundled? will you be warm enough?

7:20 AM.  you:

i’m bundled but bored 😔 i’m sure but shivering 😔 my legs are bouncing like i’m a bunny or smth just to produce /perceived/ warmth. that’s how cold it is.

7:22 AM.  xavier:

aw does my bunny want some company while she waits? :-) i have something to ask anyway.

there he goes again, catching you off guard with his sudden burst of cute responses that teeter on the line of flirting. you can’t seem to appropriately decipher them for all they’re worth. it’s the way he indirectly, even playfully, calls you his. it’s the string of worry you can feel in all his questioning. it’s the certainty you have in your bones that he’s the one who wants to keep you company. ꒰ for a split second, it almost dawns on you that he’s courting you. almost. ꒱ you dismiss it as the reminder of time and distance plague you.

7:23 AM. you:

what exactly are you suggesting? hmm?

a few minutes pass and no reply comes despite him reading it immediately as it delivers. you know it’s not abnormal for some time to pass between replies. you know that he’s a busy influencer. he has content to create and other people that require his attention. yet, you can’t help but want his reply as fast as all the others have come. you can’t help but want him to take care of you first before his work, to worry about you before all of the other arguably more important things.

i had his attention first anyway.

the simple thought crosses your mind and shock follows. you can’t believe you had such a blatant and disgustingly possessive thought. your feelings for him are blossoming far out of your control, you fear. the fear is solidified when your phone suddenly starts ringing and excitement pours out of you when you realize xavier is facetiming you, entirely unplanned and unprovoked. you answer timidly, earphones in as you look at the screen nervously waiting to connect. when it does, you’re met with pooling, warm eyes looking at you pleasantly and a slow smile spreading across supple lips. his ashen hair is tousled around his head and a white tee clings to his frame. every curve and shape of his shoulders, every bulge of his arms, all of it is on display. you gulp, swallowing down the thick sweetness rising like bile. your heart goes wild for him, fluttering at first before becoming a monstrosity of rapid beats and ceaseless thumping. “well hello, what a bundled bunny we have here indeed. cute,” he breathes. an arm rises to rest behind his head as he lays in bed, holding his phone slightly above him to give you a clear view of his coziness. your voice is soft and mumbled as you speak. “not cute, but this is a pleasant surprise.” “very cute,” xavier emphasizes. “i know it’s sudden, but i couldn’t give you wiggle room to reject me if i asked to call.” “as if i’d ever,” a grumble as your eyes move to the side. 

xavier, amusement tugging on his lips, chuckles. “what was that, bunny?” “i said…good evening.” you lie. you know he heard you and you know you meant it, but when he asks you to repeat yourself clearly, you think it might tell him much more than you want him to know in the moment. he hums curiously, studying you with a fixed gaze until you feel bashful. “good morning to you.” “what are you doing?” a soft inquiry laden with coyness, as if you haven’t been talking to him each day for a string of months now. he tilts the camera, revealing a bundle of white fluff curled up into a ball right next to his hip. his cat, sylus. as if well-aware he’s now being observed, piercing rubies open wide and stare into the screen intently, a perpetually grouchy look gracing his features. “i’m in bed, snuggling with my beloved cat who hates me.” xavier jokes, petting his head to which sylus hisses and bares his teeth. “aw, cute catlus. he’s so evil but so adorable.” you both laugh. “it’s getting late there, isn’t it?” “it is and i want to rest, but i have something particularly pathetic on my mind that i can’t shake. if you have time, could you help me out?” your agreement is immediate, almost a given. “of course, xavi. i’ll help you with anything.” he sighs, a wistful breath full of an emotion you can’t pin down, perhaps longing. “what’s silly is … i know that. i know that very well.” “so, what is it then?” you hum, a push for him to go on. “well, i’ve found myself in an interesting predicament. i like someone, a good friend of mine. quite a lot. and i’m at a loss as to how to make it obvious without putting myself in line for harsh rejection and ruining our friendship. it’s very dear to me, as i don’t have many.” “oh,” you murmur, disappointment filling your body with pressure and heat, suddenly embarrassed by your own adoration of him. “well,  xavi, i highly doubt anyone would reject you. you’re…y-you’re kinda the total package, you know?” it comes out as a mumble and a simple point of encouragement, but it feels like a confession the way you’re trying to bury all the loving connotations under your breath. “is that so? well, then i’m struggling to understand why she hasn’t shown the kind of interest in me i want. i’ve…tested the waters a little.” you shrug, eyes cast down as you speak to avoid him seeing the despondence in your eyes. you keep telling yourself that it’s always been silly to like him as more than a cherished friend, to fantasize about him in a romantic light even after getting close. you sigh. “maybe you’re not being clear. what have you tried?”

“admittedly, there’s only so much i can do, as it stands. i have tried to be subtle about it, but at the same time, maybe i’m far too subtle.” “hm, maybe you should confess, you know?” your voice is sad, but  xavier is your friend and he’s confiding in you. you take a deep breath and finally look at him. “some girls like grand gestures. maybe you could try that and segue into telling her how you feel.” “a grand gesture?” he questions, brows raising as his head tilts. you nod. “yeah, like whisk her away on a day together and then confess.” “i feel it might be difficult to do so, but say i do it. say i go out of my way and i whisk her off for a day with me. won’t that be very telling of my feelings?” “isn’t that what you want? more clarity? be bold, xavier. don’t play it safe or you might miss your shot.” don’t make the mistake i’m making. “like i said, you’re the total package. no one would reject you unless they’re blind, don’t like nice men with manners who mind their business, don’t like men in general, or just…isn’t the one for you.”

because maybe i am.

days pass and form into weeks before you’re worried it’s becoming painfully obvious that you’re sort of, kind of avoiding him now, but you don’t know what exactly to say. your enthusiasm since his admittance to liking someone else is drained. you want to talk to him, but talking to him seems to be coupled with deeply-rooted anxiety and soft sadness. you know it already, but now you can’t even delude yourself: there’s no chance for you with him. you have to fix the way you think of him, and fast, or you’ll watch your friendship fizzle out, buried under a heavy avalanche of your jealousy, insecurity, and unrequited affections. the friendship is still important and impactful even if it can never lead to romantic love, and you need to start acting like it. the truth is, there’s a thick fear slowly brewing under the surface of losing your consistent communication and gentle companionship. so, when he texts you for the third consecutive morning at the exact same time, you reason that he’s doing nothing but proving himself and his position in your life. you’ll still be important to him even if he starts to see someone. right?

9:30 AM.  xavier:

good morning bunny. i hope you’re okay. i haven’t heard from you lately. i miss you a lot :-(

‘bunny’ seems to be a new integration from your facetime fiasco during your laptop acquisition. you don’t mind it, but it makes the indirect friendzone hit even harder. that sickening, fuzzy feeling fills your gut; yearning floods your chest. underneath all of it is a dull ache, a painful anticipation of loss. but it’s impossible not to adore him, not to find endearment in everything he says and does. it’s impossible not to be riddled by your own feelings when he gives you cute names, texts you each morning and evening, stays up late just to speak to you, sends you pictures of the mundane but loveliest aspects of his days.

9:43 AM.  you:

i’m sorry. i haven’t felt the best lately.

9:47 AM.  xavier:

feeling sick, bunny? make sure you rest and stay hydrated for me, okay?

you groan, reading while a hand clutches at the fabric covering your stomach. saccharinity seeps from your lonely pores and drenches you in an unbreakable and loving reverence. it dawns on you right then. the longer you know him, the closer you get to him, the more you spend time talking about nothing and it feels like everything, you’re slowly submerging into the depths of a sinkhole that steadily fills up with love, genuine love decoupled from any fantasy or pretense you once had of him.

for you. god do i want to be for you.

9:50 AM.  you:

eh, it’s more of an emotional sickness. i got news i don’t think i wanted to get and it’s been rough. don’t worry about me. i’ll bounce back. i always do.

he seems to leave it at that and you assume that, for the first time,  xavier goes to bed at a slightly reasonable hour for him, which isn’t very reasonable at all, but it’s better than knowing he stays up until the crack of dawn or until whenever you bid him farewell for your own life throughout the day. yet, somehow, the shift in his behavior feels like an indication.

did he tell her? is he seeing someone now? is his attention already being divided?

you feel silly for your string of panicked thoughts and the way anxiety finds comfort settling in the chasm of your chest for over an hour when out of the blue, he responds.

11:10 AM.  xavier:

sorry, bunny. i was packing. anyway i always worry about you. always. what if i told you i had good news that might cheer you up?

you swallow the lump of your relief hard. it sinks and swirls around your lungs so swiftly that you feel a little breathless.

11:19 AM.  you:

oh yea? give it your best shot.

11:22 AM.  xavier:

i’m taking a trip near your area to film content with another baker. i would love to meet my bunny in person finally…if you’re willing to, that is.

and now here you stand, frozen in disbelief at the words you’ve just read. you read the text repeatedly, in rapid succession, confirming its content and its meaning. for a moment, you stop your breathing and stare. you thought that you’d both carry on like this, your hopeless feelings and his relentless consistency always having the distance between them in common. it was supposed to be easier in theory and practice to move past your pointless emotions because you weren’t ever going to have to look in his eyes for too long. there would always be a way to hide the severity of your fondness from him with screens forced between you. although, underneath your disbelief is sheer excitement.

11:27 AM.  you:

you’re coming here?! AND YOU WANT TO SEE ME?! UH,  XAVI!!! DUH! you were so right. that news did cheer me up a bit. when are you coming?

11:27 AM.  xavier:

my flight is booked three days from now. i’ll only be there for the weekend.

11:30 AM.  you:

only two days? 😞 will we have time to meet between your work? i don’t want to get in the way.

11:32 AM.  xavier:

you don’t know by now that i’ll always make time for you?

as you stand in your bedroom, phone clutched in tensed fingers, it becomes quite clear that you’re doomed. you’re absolutely doomed. devastation. you’re sure this can only end in your devastation.

the last couple of days have been interesting, to say the least. you danced the line of excitement and anxiety, but you also planned relentlessly with xavier. so much so that you have to keep reminding him his trip is intended to be work and not solely so the two of you can have fun together. he always only responds in a tender hum and asks you about what places you frequent and places you’ve never been. it’s facetime calls full of “what’s the weather going to be like?” and “don’t worry about your precious catlus. my neighbors luke and kieran will care for him. he likes them much more anyway.” it’s xavier changing the destination of his flight to arrive at an airport closest to you. it’s the two of you coordinating schedules and his murmurs that he can’t wait. it’s the utter lack of mention about filming with another influencer. it’s the fact that it feels like he’s coming to see you and your heart clings to the delusion with glee. so now, the sky blazes, the evening a fiery mural above your head. and it happens, the moment xavier is standing in your doorway, smiling at you like a fool. you can’t believe it. when you open the door, the last six months of your life flash before your eyes and you see a little collection of messages and moments that all lead you to right now: staring at a tall man with his broad shoulders and tousled hair, gentle eyes gazing back at you with a boyish smile, carrying a suitcase in hand and a jacket draped over his arm. he went from being your guilty pleasure to a mutual, from a mutual to a kind-hearted and loving friend, from a good friend to a heart-bursting crush, from a crush to being the man you’re undoubtedly in love with, a man that you’d give your blood, sweat, tears, and every bit of money you have for even a fraction of a chance with. “you’re…actually here…” a murmur made with a distant voice, soft and full of wonder. “you’re…” xavier nods, his voice equally tender but flooding with tepidness. “i’m here, bunny.” “i have to say. this wasn’t on my bingo card.” he chuckles. “are you going to let me in or stare me down?” you step to the side, trying your best to be discreet about the deep breath you take. xavier quietly discards his shoes at the door. “perhaps both,” you tease, closing the door behind him. “here, let me take that. i’ll show you to the guest room.” you reach for his luggage and he quickly pulls it away from your grasp. “don’t you dare. tell me where to put it. you don’t carry things while i’m here, not even your own things.” “i—” you pause, your heart beating so hard you can hear and feel it in your ears. heat fills your body; your face is full of pressure. “o-okay, i’m sorry.” xavier’s brows bunch together. “bunny, the last thing i want to hear is an apology when you’re quite literally hosting me for free. you could’ve easily left me to fend for myself.” “you know i wouldn’t.” you look down at your hands, fingers fumbling over one another. “you always have a place to stay if you’re ever in town again.” and xavier’s next confession leaves you totally stunned and flustered. “as long as you’re here, i’ll be back again and again, i’m sure…i hope.” ꒰ and you don’t know exactly what he means, but it’s another instance that passes when you catch something in his tone and you almost realize he’s courting you. ꒱ you feel like an idiot when you stand there and don’t speak. xavier purses his lips in amusement before adding to the myriad of reasons you’re unlikely to ever get over him. “i don’t mean to rush you, but i’ve only got so much self-control in me. i need to know where to put these things before i abandon them entirely just to hug you. i’d hate to leave such an awful first impression.”

is he… flirting with me?

“i…uh…follow me.” it comes out as a whisper as you hurriedly scurry from your foyer, down the hallway and to your left, right through the threshold of the simple guest room. a bed, a book, and a side table. the room is otherwise bare. “i know it’s not much, but…” xavier shakes his head, entering the room with a pleasant smile. “your home is cute and quaint. comfortable. i love it.”

well, i love you.

you stand in the bedroom’s entry and watch as he sets down his suitcase and jacket, only to turn around, stride across the room and stand before you. “c’mere,” he urges, arms opening and beckoning you forward. you open your mouth to speak, nervousness layering your every motion and thought, but he seems to be unmoved, indifferent to your hesitation as he grips your shoulders and pulls you into his torso. you hardly have time to understand what’s occurring before you’re engulfed in his arms, head pressed to his chest. the scent of teakwood, amber, and spice embraces you, too. you’re in his arms and it’s the most comfortable you’ve ever felt. of course yours slide around his waist to reciprocate. what feels like several minutes pass and xavier hasn’t moved from his position, keeping you tucked in the confines of his hold with no indication of releasing you. “you okay?” a delicate inquiry followed by his affirmative hum. “you like long hugs?” his chuckle vibrates in his chest. you feel the thrumming with your cheek pressed against his ribcage. “i do now, but only with you.” you wonder if he can feel your heart racing the way you can hear his. it takes xavier a while to be willing to let you free from his enveloping hold. you enjoy it, but you can’t deny the confusion that sends your mind spiraling, nosediving into a faraway daydream of the possible, unspoken implications of his actions since he arrived.

is this normal for him? is he usually this affectionate and chivalrous? well, yes. but. everything he’s doing feels so unlike him but also very like him. sure, but a hug that lasts for ten minutes? he hasn’t stopped calling me bunny for weeks. i swear i saw something in his eyes when i opened the door. maybe i’m insane. maybe i’m seeing what i want to see.

“bunny,” xavier calls, snapping you from your war of thoughts. you look up at him and notice he holds the bottle of tequila he suggested to you prior to his arrival. “you brought it.” there’s a thankful smile on his face and you nod, matching him. “i did. you said you wanted to play a drinking game.” “i have a confession.” he says with a sigh. “i haven’t actually drank in years.” you giggle. “same, so maybe let’s take it easy? half shots.” he only hums, but you swear you hear him mumble, “i’ll need all the courage i can get.”

at first, the silence builds into thick awkwardness. it’s only resolved by the ridiculous movie you guys decide to watch ꒰ this time with the intent of taking half-sized shots in response to every single instance someone says something ridiculously corny ꒱. this time it’s ‘hercules in new york’.

‘hey, mister! watch your talk!’ ‘i can hear my talk. i cannot watch it.’

“xav,” you laugh, preparing to take yet another swig. “what is this movie? the dialogue is horrendous. we might have to change the rules or i’ll be hospitalized.” like you have for the last few rounds, you pour just a bit of the brown liquid into each tiny glass, carefully measuring it out. when you turn to hand xavier his glass, you find half-lidded eyes staring at you, a hazy ocean swaying gently, flushed cheeks and a kiddish smile. “thanks, bunny.” he says, chuckling as he loosely raises his arms to grasp it. you narrow your eyes and pull the glass back. “hold on, sir. are you already too gone? mister ‘i need to have the exact measurements,’ do you know your own limit?” xavier’s smile widens and his reaching arm falls lazily into his lap. “i do. i’ve reached it.” “and you were really going to grab the drink anyway?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised. he shrugs. “it’s because…i think i’ll take anything you give to me. i like getting things from you.” “what are you even saying?” you grumble, placing the drinks down on the small table in front of you and your anxious hands in your own lap. the tv drones in front of you both, but the sound is drowned by the way your nervousness clouds all your senses right then. this is precisely what you feared, how you wouldn’t know how to react to his friendliness that feels so close to pursuit. silence settles for a moment; it rests between you both, teetering somewhere between comfortable and all-consuming. finally, he’s the one to speak. “you know…there’s…something specific i want you to give me.” he sighs and sits up, large body hunching over bent knees. slowly you turn your head to look at him. “m-me?” “you. i’m sorry if this isn’t as grand as you might have hoped.” confusion befalls you, and yet your clueless heart still bounces to the tune of his emphasis on you. “i’m uh…i’m not really following, xavier.” he grunts, straightens himself up, turns to look directly at you, and leans his face so close to yours, the feeling of his breath tickles your mouth. his eyes peer into yours, curiosity sparkling brilliantly like moissanite before he murmurs, “don’t you know by now that i love you?” xavier only lets two ticks pass before his desirous mouth collides with yours. he wants you to know the flavor of ardor on his lips; he wants to know if your longing tastes the same. he’s a man of indulgence, after all.

[checkeredflagggs]

Adore, Amour, Inamorato

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!poet!reader

summary: charles’ new girlfriend receives a lot of hate for her seemingly joblessness

a/n: inamorato translates to “a man with whom you are in love or have an intimate relationship”

a/n 2: do you know how hard it is to try to be a poet when you don’t have a poetry bone in your body? Hard

a/n 3: I don’t like timelines so I don’t use them

a/n 4: if the name of the poem or author isn’t included in the photo, I have them listed out at the bottom of the post in order

myheartispoetry

liked by charles_leclerc, user, user, and 788,445 others

myheartispoetry: “my soul has traveled long and far to find yours” “and when you came into my life, the eternity of love begun.”

A new love has entered my life and like the rain falling from the clouds, I am washed anew. A new love, a new me, a new look for me and my page

Many thanks for all those that stuck around through the dark storms but the sun has broken through and shines again.

view all comments

user1: mother is mothering again!

user2: oh I can’t wait for more love poems again 💙💙💙

user1: i knnnnnoooooowwwww. It’s been too long since she’s been happy

user3: good riddance to that cheating bastard

user4: right! She deserves all the happiness ever

user3: definitely! How could someone hurt someone so nice and kind?

user4: brain deficiency?

user3: it could be

user5: Charles? What are you doing here?

user6: who?

user5: Charles Leclerc! He’s a race driver for Ferrari!

user6: what’s a vroom vroom guy doing in mother’s likes?

user7: that’s a very good question

Bluesky

user8: another one? so fast?

user9: that was my question too

user10: ok but my man is lookin’ goooodd 🥵

user11: 🥵🤤

user12: Charles it’s getting hard to defend you…

user13: he literally posted about his breakup just 2 weeks ago

user14: uhhh why are we blaming only Charles here? I mean we know he’s fast to move on but…

user12: so true girl - it definitely takes two to tango

user15: calling it now! Golddigger!!!

user16: right??? Like god…he’s been single less than a month and someone is already trying to take advantage of him

user17: we definitely need the Twitter detectives to find out who she is…

user18: working on it!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, yourbff, and 632,469 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: “People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.”

Thank you darling for the trip ❤️ I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you

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yourbff: enjoy it dear, you’ve definitely earned it

user16: by being a whore??

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user17: as a gold digger?

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yourusername: I will sweetie!

yourfriend: have fun! and send lots of photos!

user16: or don’t! We don’t want to see your face!

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yourusername: I will! And coffee date when I get back?

yourfriend: absolutely!

user18: found her!

user19: you didn’t really have to try…she straight up tagged him…

user18: still found her!

charles_leclerc: oh ma chérie … je n'ai jamais été aussi heureux que quand tu es à mes côtés

user20: she’s a slut — run while you still can!!

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user21: she’s a gold digger

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user22: whore!

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user23: gold digger!!

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user24: what about his family??? You’re just taking him away from them during Christmas time!!!

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user25: what a bitch, taking him away from his family

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charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pieregasly, maxverstappen1, and 2,590,278 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: having the absolute best time with you ma chérie — thank you for coming with me

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user26: charles charles charles…what are you doing with her…

user27: this!!! Like he ruins his entire aesthetic for…her 🤢

yourusername: oh my love there is nowhere else I’d rather be than with you, where ever that ends up being

user28: 🤢

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user29: whore!

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user30: go away! Leave him alone!

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yourbff: cheesy!

yourusername: oh you know it!

charles_leclerc: home is where you are ❤️

yourusername: oh Charlie…🥰

iamrebeccad: it was nice to see you yourusername again!

yourusername: oh absolutely! double date when we get back?

iamrebeccad: time and place babe!

user31: not you too Rebecca!

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maxverstappen1: so how many times did you face plant?

charles_leclerc: just the once!

maxverstappen1: really? 🤨

yourusername: like 10 times in an hour

maxverstappen1: that seems more like it

user32: what a bitch, making fun of charles like that

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charles_leclerc: ma chérie…

yourusername: sorry 🤷‍♀️

carlossainz55: that does seem like charles

charles_leclerc: Carlos…

myheartispoetry

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, user, and 872,399 others

myheartispoetry:

“As the dusk takes leave of the weary day,

A new dawn of hope and dreams make its way.

Yesterday's a closed chapter of our life,

Do not rewind your thoughts, it will bring strife.”

A new dawn is rising for me and with it, a night is beginning to end. My heartbreak book Will You Stay? will only be available for the next 2 weeks before it’s pulled from production forevermore.

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user33: the way I ran to your website to order this…

user34: same! Like i know I’ve never been cheated on and lied to by a guy but you never know

user35: noooooooooo 😭😭😭

user36: what??

user35: I don’t get paid till after the book is gone…

user36: well…you get to experience heartbreak in real time

user35: 😡😡💔💔

myheartispoetry: dm me lovie

user35: omg!!

user36: shut up!!

charles_leclerc: ordered!

maxverstappen1: same

user37: Ariana what are you doing here??

user38: what in the heck? Why are the vroom vroom guys doing in mother’s comments?

user39: …apparently reading her book?

maxverstappen1: it’s gonna be our book clubs book of the month

user38: WHAT DO YOU MEAN???? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??

user39: YOU GUYS CAN READ??

user40: why you gotta do them dirty like that…

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 1,934,234 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: Happy Christmas my love ❤️ thank you for including me in your family’s celebration

comments have been restricted

yourbff: you look stunning girlie 😍

yourusername: thank yoooouuu

charles_leclerc: chérie it was a pleasure to spend the holidays with you

yourusername: ❤️🥰❤️

charles_leclerc: also maman wanted to remind you to meet her for lunch

yourusername: of course! She promised all the embarrassing stories about young charles!

charles_leclerc: chérie…

yourusername: 😘💋❤️

iamrebeccad: gorgeous girl!

yourusername: Let’s drop the men

iamrebeccad: of course! 🏃‍♀️💨

charles_leclerc: wait wait wait

carlossainz55: what?

myheartispoetry

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, pieregasly, and 1,445,934 others

myheartispoetry: as winter settles around us, the days are short and grey and the nights are long and lonely…I could never find for myself the sun or the warmth to flourish during these dark months. However with you my love, I turn to the side to bask in the sun and seek your embrace to melt the frost on my soul

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user41: hey guys! I’m sleeping on the highway tonight

user42: sleepover!

user43: oh wow this post called me single and lonely in like a dozen different ways

user44: I know how you feel babe

user45: I can’t even get him to text me back and mother is writing literal poetry for the way he worships her…

user43: 😭😭

user44: I don’t know who I’m more jealous of…her or him

user45: both. Both is good

user46: oh my god yes

user47: I’m most jealous of him…to be loved by a poet

charles_leclerc: such gorgeous words

maxverstappen1: you could never

charles_leclerc: 👎🏻

user48: I’m having a thought.

user49:…are you gonna share?

user50: was it hard for you? Having one for the first time

user48: well I had a thought out paragraph with proof and time stamps but I’m not gonna share anymore thanks to user50

user51: she’s collecting f1 drivers like they’re pokemon

user52: no but you’re right. There’s been a new one in each of her newest posts

user51: dots are being drawn and connected

user48: I’m gonna dm you cause I think I know where you’re going

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, pieregasly, and 4,231,445 others

charles_leclerc: new music out now! 👍🏻

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user53: oh…

user54: he’s is LOVE love

user55: to a whore

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oscarpiastri: good stuff dad 👍🏻

charles_leclerc: thanks son 😊

user56: why are they so bland…

user57: that’s mini kimi for ya

yourusername: oh my love…

charles_leclerc: I know it doesn’t measure up to everything you’ve done but I wanted to give you a little insight to what I feel when I’m around you

yourusername: 🥰🥹❤️

user58: what a bitch can’t even be grateful for what she’s got

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maxverstappen1: I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with all of…this until the season started. Why is it on my screen

charles_leclerc: idk you tell me

user59: guys they still don’t follow each other

user60: are you telling me this drama king intentionally searched up his rivals post to make fun of him

charles_leclerc: yes he did

maxverstappen1: shut up

user61: ok but these like slap?

user62: thank god someone pointed them out. They’ve been on repeat and thank god and thank yourusername that this man is finally happy

user61: I KNOW. I don’t know how many sad tracks I had left in me…

user63: babe he still drives for Ferrari. You’re gonna have an entire season of sad tracks to choose from

user61: blocked. Reported. Why should you do this???

user62: 😂😂😂

user64: loml?? Love of my life?? And HAPPY?? Are you kidding me right now?

user65: he’s so in love with her…did you see his latest stream?

user66: when she poked her head in to let him know dinner was ready? And his face fucking lit up??

user64: 😭😭 we’ve lost him lads

user66: I’m just glad he’s happy

user65: same

Private Messages

translations: I adore and love you with my whole heart; I love you with everything I am

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,597,455 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: Bahrain you were so good to my man tonight! ❤️❤️❤️ congrats Charlie💋💋

comments have been restricted

charles_leclerc: you’re gonna have to come to every race now ma chérie. You’re clearly my good luck charm

yourusername: oh no…what an awful problem 😂😊

maxverstappen1: congrats man! That top step was well deserved

charles_leclerc: thanks max

oscarpiastri: good race dad 👍🏻

charles_leclerc: thanks son 😊

yourbff: I’m gonna need your mascara cause that shit did not run your gorgeous girl

yourusername: the real mvp tonight

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, user, and 7,823,912 others

tagged: scuderiaferrari, yourusername, carlossainz55

charles_leclerc: that’s how we do it!! A great 1-2 start to the season!! Forza Ferrari Sempre! And thank you to my love for being such an amazing good luck charm! ❤️

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carlossainz55: great race brother! Forza Ferrari Sempre!

user67: congrats!! Forza Ferrari Sempre!

user67: you did great too Carlos!!

yourusername: “And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name” congrats Charlie

charles_leclerc: well I did have to impress you

yourusername: you absolutely did!!! But tbh it was only upwards you could go after that ski trip

charles_leclerc: chérie…

yourusername: 🥰❤️

user68: Forza Ferrari Sempre❤️❤️❤️

user69: Forza Ferrari Sempre!!!

user70: charles come on. You could definitely race better if you didn’t have a slut weighing you down

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user71: ok but did you see they way he RAN to her when he saw her…

user72: I’m calling it! They’re my new IT couple. LOVE THEM

user73: she started crying like 5 laps in and girl I feel ya

user74: most relatable wag I feel

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 4,590,278 others

tagged: yourusername, myheartispoetry

charles_leclerc: I’ve been silent on this for far too long and will not hold my tongue anymore. I don’t know why people feel like that have the right to criticize my choices for who I date or where or with whom I spend my time with but I want you to know that my REAL fans will recognize that yourusername (or myheartispoetry for her professional handle) is by far one of the best things that have ever happened to me.

I don’t necessarily want to bite the hands that feed us but I don’t know why people feel like they are entitled to know everything about me or my girlfriend. yourusername is a private person and does not owe you anything and it is with her permission that I’m telling you that she is the author behind the myheartispoetry page and books — she is not the gold digging whore that so many of you made her out to be.

Ma chérie I am so sorry I waited for so long to address this issue and that I allowed you to face this alone. I love you. I love you. I love you. I could spend the rest of my life trying to find the words to describe the depth of love I have for you but I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to…thankfully I’m dating you and you are by far one of the best poets I’ve ever read so I’m sure you’ll be able to find those words for me

Going forwards, any harassment aimed towards yourusername will be handled with.

comments have been turned off

Poems and quotes in order

Still, Kennedy Ryan

Ben Maxfield

Alexandra Vasiliu

Anton Chekhov

Tshering Wangchuk

Cornelia Street, Taylor Swift

[paper-starz]

A very big analysis on the new Welcome Home update

HELLLOOOOO EVERYONEEEE I havent done one of these in a while, but omg the newest update was everything I ever hoped for and more!! So today, we'll be talking about EVERYTHING (+ lil theories here and there)

BIG BIG SPOILERS AHEAD

Julie Joyful, Insecurity, Pressure, and Toxic Positivity

This update really gave us some interesting insight to the star of this update, Julie.

Julie is a rainbow monster, and a very happy one as her name would imply. And yet, she's not really like the rest of her family. She looks different from them for instance.

Her brother Jonesy states that rainbow monsters 'stick with one color', which means that they only stick to one color and don't really wear other colors. Even Julie's bio states how different in appearance Julie is from her siblings.

Recent evidence has revealed that Julie’s family consisted of a "band" of rainbow monsters that were a monochromatic color palette rather than a full rainbow like Julie herself.

Sure, Julie does have pink in her color pallete, she also has an array of other colors! Her hair isn’t a shade of pink, it’s yellow. Her legs aren’t a shade of pink either, it’s blue and green.

Franny also states that while horns come in different shapes and sizes, the bigger the better obviously. Julie's horns however are very small compared to the rest of the rainbow monsters.

Not to mention that she seems to forget or miss valuable information about rainbow monsters and Franny has to keep correcting her over and over again.

"There's more than that, Julie!" and "Missing things again, Julie."

And unlike her siblings, she lives away from them, which is unusual for a rainbow monster, where they normally live in a band.

She also doesn't seem to have an instrument, as stated in the Springtime Salutations book, "Julie, however, is her own instrument."

Speaking of the book, she also woke up too early for springtime.

And while her siblings were kind enough to bring Spring early this time, that doesn't mean that Julie wasn't affected at all by this. She knows how different she is from the rest of her siblings, and she's insecure about this fact.

This all culminates with the black flower, the one flower that she cannot bloom.

Rainbow monsters have a responsibility during Springtime. Franny melts away the snow with the morning dew, Jonesy makes the grass grow, Bea makes the sun shine, and Julie makes the flowers bloom. That is Julie's job, her one job of the entire year.

If she can't do that properly, then she would be proving to her siblings that she is a faulty rainbow monster that cannot do things by herself, that she cannot function properly away from her familial support. Which is the reason why she's so adamant on not rejoining the band, despite her siblings best efforts to sway her.

FRANNY: (With a commanding tone.) Back to us- Julie, when are you going to finally join our band? JONESY: Yeah, sis- What’s a rainbow monster band without its dynamite drummer? BEA: (Wistfully said.) Just think of it, sister dear… A colorful quartet pushing the seasons! JULIE: (Nervous and hesitant) That sounds… (Pretends to be losing signal) Oop- Oh no! The sounds! We’re breaking up!- (Whispering harshly.) Hang up the phone, Frank! Hang up!

And that's not to mention that she feels insecure not only towards her siblings as a rainbow monster, but also in the neighborhood.

She states that while she gets along well with everyone in the neighborhood, she's not particularly close with anyone besides Frank. Barnaby and Howdy tease her which probably makes her feel even more insecure, particularly in her ability to make others laugh, which again, brings JOY to people.

While she likes Poppy, Sally, Eddie, and Wally, again, she's not particularly close with either of them. Frank seems to be her only form of support in the neighborhood.

And yet, this particular scene is interesting, because according to Julie in The Julie Guide to being Joyful, her relationship with Howdy and Barnaby in particular are different.

She seems like she's lying to Wally and perhaps to herself that she has a great relationship with EVERYONE in the neighborhood, she's Julie Joyful! She's happy all the time and everyone loves her.

And yet, Wally seems to call her out on this. Both in the storybook and in the /regardforgetfulnesssilence link.

"Did all that really happen, Julie?" He says, as if he knows that Julie is lying but wants her to tell the story again. Reword the story so that she's telling the truth, but she doesn't want to. It's easier for her to live in a lie.

Which is another reason why she doesn't want to go back to her siblings. She would have to leave, not the neighborhood, but Frank. Her only form of actual support.

(Said inside her head. It sounds like static. ) If I can’t make a flower bloom, if I can’t bring Springtime around- What would I do? Will I have to leave? Will I have to go back? I’d just-

While I do believe her siblings love her and Julie does love them back, again, they make her feel insecure as a rainbow monster. Her older siblings always manage to get their job right, they have monochromatic colors, their horns are bigger, and unlike her, they never wake up too early for springtime.

JULIE: Hi, Wally! And hello to my sweet saccharine siblings! FRANNY: Is that our youngest sister here? JONESY: She’s our sweetest too- BEA: Don’t forget our most colorful! Julie, what could YOU need help with? You’re one of us!

Ironic how Bea says this line. Julie doesn't feel like one of them. She doesn't feel like a rainbow monster. Her one job of the entire year is to make the flowers bloom and if she can't do that, then what use is she?

This is why she is so terrified of that flower. That one flower that she cannot bloom. Its a crack in the joyous facade that she created. Sure, its just one flower, but what if its two next Spring? 10 after that? Whole fields of wilting flowers, dead flowers? Because of one mistake of waking too early and bringing in Spring when the time just wasn't right?

Then she would have to leave Home, and leave Frank. And its no surprise that she holds Frank in such a high admiration. He's the smartest neighbor in Home and he's her only true friend. She's especially terrified of disappointing him in particular.

Because while I do think Julie sees Frank as her best friend, I believe that because of the Sweet Briar book, Julie sees Frank as some sort of prince in shining armor coming in to save her.

Note that she doesn't view Frank in a romantic light, when the scene came for Frank to awaken princess Julie from her slumber with a kiss, Julie just jumps from her bed and the kiss just never happens.

Frank is her only person in the neighborhood that actually supports her and her only true friend, thus, Julie sees Frank as someone that's saving her. Keeping her away from the dangers of leaving with her siblings and going away, thus losing Frank (and her support), and perhaps even away from the responsibility of being a rainbow monster.

"I'm doing the best that I can, but it's nice to let someone else lead."

As mentioned before, if Julie joins the band, she'll be the drummer. However, Julie is her own instrument, she marches along to the beat of her own drum lol.

The drummer's role in a band is to provide the rhythmic foundation of the group, providing a steady beat and tempo. A drummer's role is pretty strict, if they mess up (like if they come in too early or if they become off-tempo), that messes up the entire song.

Julie already knows that she's not that great of a rainbow monster, she messes up constantly, forgets facts that a rainbow monster should know, wakes up too early for Spring, and can only make MOST of the flowers bloom. If she goes back to her siblings, joins their band, and becomes their drummer, then she's not only risking messing up her job of making the flowers bloom, but also the rest of her siblings' job. What if she misses just one beat? Would that jeopardize everything? What would her siblings say if she messes up and makes them mess up too?

What will happen to Springtime? Will the grass and flowers die? Will the sun never shine? Will the rain never come to wash away the snow? Will she trap the entire neighborhood in an endless winter?

It's a risk that Julie just doesn't want to take. This is why she starts getting more and more aggressive towards the black flower, because it's jeopardizing her stay at the neighborhood, and threatening her to leave everything behind.

Which leads us to the ending of /tearsremembranceinstability, Julie gets more and more agitated towards the flower. Flat out threatening it when it's not going to be blooming anytime soon.

"You won't be around for much longer--" "I'll never see you again, no one will, no one will ever know you were here--" THOSE SOUND LIKE THREATS!

Which leads me to believe that Julie did something awful to that flower. Either she forced that flower to bloom, or she killed it.

What ever she did to that flower, Frank witnessed it. And Julie knows what Frank saw.

But then, something strange happens.

This weird little bug flies in at the end and stares at us, the viewer.

And we have seen this bug before! On the miscellaneous section!

Opening the image under a new tab reveals that this toy is called a 'buggle'.

While it is a cute little toy, it seems out of place for this thing to just pop out. It feels random.

But ah! It is NOT random dear viewer!

Taken from the awayfrompryingeyes.net site.

'Buggle' sounds like a mix of the word 'bug' and 'beagle'. AND CAN YOU GUESS WHICH NEIGHBORS HAVE A CONNECTION TO THE WORDS BUG AND BEAGLE????

Frank, Barnaby, and Howdy! Three neighbors that have had an impact on Julie's insecurities.

Both Howdy and Barnaby make Julie's insecurities worse. They constantly tease her, with Barnaby in particular saying that he doesn't find Julie's jokes all that funny and Howdy saying that she better get some new material.

Frank on the other hand alleviates those insecurities, making him a huge source of comfort, but to the point that she's terrified of disappointing him.

The buggle seems to be a manifestation of Julie's insecurities and anxieties, manifesting itself during Julie's lowest point.

Which concludes to this. What will the next update be about?

Because our guy W definitely has some ideas...

Perhaps the buggle is foreshadowing, either the next update will be focusing on either Frank, Barnaby, or Howdy!

But i suppose only time will tell.

[stitch-away]

mating season

pairing: bear hybrid joel miller x reader (gender unspecified) summary: you’re camping alone in the woods during june; bear mating season. tags: MDNI dead dove do not eat, noncon/dubcon, noncon that turns into dubcon, porn without plot, demihuman/hybrid, lowkey monster fucking, dubious bestiality (joel is part bear but not fully), breeding kink, slight breath play, size/weight kink, manhandling, stupidly big cock, excessive cum word count: 1.5k a/n: kinda inspired by perotovar’s minotaur!joel but also not really. mainly just the idea of hybrid/monster fucking x joel. this is pure smut don’t think about the logistics of it. i may make a follow up that actually tries to explain joel’s state of being but maybe not. idk.

drabble from joel's perspective

camping out in the wyoming wilderness has been your dream for the longest time. sleeping under the stars, waking up to the sun shining through the tall pines, and the chance to see the wildlife. the idea was frankly intoxicating. 

what you really wanted to see was a bear. you’ve been fascinated by bears for years, them being your favourite animal. despite their primal and dangerous nature, you can’t help but think they’re adorable. you know if you see a bear there’s no way you’re getting near it but finally getting to see such a majestic bear in person would be satisfying enough.

unfortunately, your friends were not willing to take the same risk. the mere mention of spending the night alone in the woods with the possibility of encountering a bear had them shaking their heads. you called them scared but no amount of pressure could convince them to come with you, so you’re out here alone. 

that hasn’t been bothering you so far. the trek to your camping spot was peaceful without the chaos of others in your ears. but as night began to creep in, you became a little more on edge. you’ve never liked the dark so being out here alone in the forest at night was a scary prospect but you had a fire going and a lamp inside your tent. you told yourself it’ll be fine. 

as the darkness truly settled over your campsite and the chill set in, you put out the fire and crawled inside your tent. you huddled up in your sleeping bag and hoodie, trapping the warmth in as you tried to fall asleep.

you must have fallen asleep at some point because now you’re jolting up in your sleeping bag, awoken by a loud crunch outside your tent. you freeze, muscle coiled tight, ready to run or fight if you need to. 

the air is thick with a deafening silence as you listen out for a sound again. you try to calm your breaths but it doesn’t work. your heart is practically beating out of your chest with suspense. you move to cover your mouth– your biggest mistake yet. the fluff on your hoodie makes you sneeze, sending out a signal to whatever is out there that you’re alive, warm and ready to eat. 

the fear you feel is suffocating as you realise how screwed you are. you hear heavy footsteps approaching and before you can even begin to imagine what it could be, large claws slice straight through the door of your tent. 

you see the silhouette of a bear, illuminated by the moon, before a flash of brown and claws tear your sleeping bag off of you. you scream now, a horrid screeching sound you didn’t even know you could make leaving your throat. the massive size of the bear hovers above you as he bullies his way into the tight tent. with a swipe of his claws, your clothes torn, leaving you bare and terrified. 

your legs fly up, kicking and shoving at the bear, trying hopelessly to push him away. your foot hits his face and it growls, his spit hitting your face. he wraps his hands around your legs, shoving them up by your head. with a growl, he drops his weight on top of you, his heavy breath falling down on your face.

feeling his body pressed against yours, you realise this isn’t a bear. at least not completely. you can feel a thick layer of coarse bear hair but you can always feel the rough skin of a man. you slowly move your hand flick the lamp light on. 

he sure looks like a bear. he’s large, hairy and burly with claws and round ears, but his facial features are human. he has thin pink lips, a strong aquiline nose, and harsh tired eyes. 

the man-bear groans at the light, swatting at it and shattering it, leaving you in darkness once again. he lets out another growl before dropping his head into your neck. before you can react to the feeling of his drooling mouth on your neck, you feel something nudge at your hole. a dread washes over you as you realise what’s happening. 

“no– please, no,” you plead but all you're met with is a grunt. you try pushing at his broad shoulders with your hands but he simply pins them down as if you weigh nothing. he slumps his weight on top of you, knocking the air out of your lungs. the lightest male bear is about 400 lbs. thank the heavens this man-bear thing isn’t that heavy or else that’d surely have killed you. 

before you can recover your breath, he slams his cock inside you. you let out a howl of pain as his cock practically splits you in half. you can’t see how big it is but from how it feels inside you, it’s larger than a human’s. he has a rough pace, clearly having little regard for you, ramming his cock harder and deeper inside you. 

his hot wet breaths on your neck begin to change from haggard grunts to something close to a moan. it doesn’t sound quite human but it’s undeniably a noise of pleasure. you can’t help feel each thrust starting to hurt less as you listen to the gruff moans. you’re slowly relaxing, letting him take what he needs. 

when his cock hits that perfect spot inside you, you can’t stop the moan the slips from your lips. he responds with his own moan, adjusting so he can hit that spot inside you over and over. the feeling of being so full and the way his fat cock head slams inside you makes you see stars. the fear you held is long gone, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of pleasure he’s giving you.

he can feel the way you’re relaxing more and let go of your arms, slipping his massive paws under your back to pull you closer as he places more of his weight on you. you move your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer too. your fingers curl in the hair at the back of his neck. it’s a confusing mix of soft curls and coarse hair. 

now he has a better grip on you, he holds your waist, moving you with an ease on his cock like a fleshlight. as he does, he licks and kisses at your neck. it isn’t like any kisses you’ve had before with another human, they’re more sloppy, more like an attempt to mimic kisses than having any understanding of how to do them. but that doesn’t bother you. his lips feel like heaven, the teasing on your neck only enhancing how good his cock feels inside you. you pull on his hair, removing his lips from your neck so you can kiss him. he seems confused at first but quickly catches on as you tongue laps at his lips. 

he holds you tight in a literal bear hug, kissing you hungrily as he thrusts you up and down on his cock. you can barely see the light of the moon in the tent anymore, it’s completely blocked out by the sheer size of him. all his weight on you, the sloppy kisses, and the way he’s impaling you on his cock are making it hard to breathe. the lightheaded feeling you’re getting is making your pleasure even more intense, sending you over the edge into your orgasm. you moan into his mouth, your body tensing and spasming as the most intense orgasm you’ve had rips through your body. 

you break the kiss, pressing your nose against his strangely human one as you gasp for air. each breath is accompanied by loud, needy moans you’ve never heard yourself make before as you try to recover as he continues to thrust into you. he squeezes you tighter, constricting you as his thrusts get sloppier and faster. you can feel his cock throbbing and his breaths coming in faster. he pulls you down hard on his cock, shooting his load deep inside you. you can feel his thick virile cum filling you up. the load is so big you can feel your stomach start to swell from the share size. 

once he’s finished filling you up, he slumps forwards, flopping on top of you, his cock still inside you. the pressure on your swollen stomach hurts a little but the pure ecstasy of how he just fucked you is keeping you distracted from the impending pain of tomorrow. after a few moments of catching his breath, the man-bear lifts himself off of you, giving you space to breathe again. 

you think for a second he’s going to pull out and leave you but he doesn’t. he picks you up in his big furry arm, hugging you gently now. he lays down on his side, pulling you with him. he snuggles against you, resting his head on yours as he cuddles you in his arms. 

this is beyond strange and you’re already hurting from his rough fucking, but in his arms, you feel weirdly safe. if nothing else, he clearly has no intention to kill you and is warm in the harsh cold of the night. 

you have no clue what tomorrow is going to bring but at least you can say you encountered a bear. even if you’ll never tell anyone what actually happened.

[clockwayswrites]

Die Screaming, Live Laughing

Danny/Tim, Cyan, Wind through tree branches/Windchimes @wisteriavines @darkstarsapocalypse (I saw you before you changed that! Twins!)

cw:bar parent fentons, more temporary character death, bones

The faint, mechanical whir under his fingertips as he spins the camera lens comforts Tim. The fiddling is familiar from the years of following Bats and crime across the city. The rooftops of Gotham are an environment that he’s far more familiar with than here. Here is nothing but endless trees and leaves.

Well, somewhere here is also the campgrounds and Bernard, Ives, Steph, and Cass; but that’s far out of sight and almost out of mind. It’s easy, as he listens to the wind rustle through the trees, to feel like nothing exists but the trees and Tim and his camera.

He spins the lens again.

Ostensibly, the four of them are in these woods to find Mothman. Which would be cool! But even Tim, who proposed this whole thing, knows that it’s just an excuse for the four of them to do something away from Gotham. To do something to make actual use of their summer between high school and college.

If Tim went to college, that is.

He’d been accepted, sure, but he… he just didn’t know if he wanted to. It felt like there were more important things to be doing than college. College was sitting in a classroom and listening to someone drone on about a subject that Tim could crash course himself on with the right library access in a month. It also meant new people and new noises and maybe even a new home. None of that sounds great, really. Moving in with Bruce to Wayne Manor had been enough change, thank you very much.

Tim’s foot catches on something and he does a half step to keep his balance. He expects to see a tree root when he glances down. It’s bone instead. That’s not… unexpected. They had already seen deer in the woods, the creatures got stupidly close to the campsite. It would make sense that with the big rains the few weeks before, there could have been old remains uncovered. But there’s something…

The dirt brushes away easily from the surface of the bone and, with a little digging, Tim is able to pull it free of the earth.

This isn’t a deer bone.

Tim knows this shape.

This is human. A femur.

“You have to be careful where you’re walking out here.”

Tim stands and spins, the femur held like his staff would be.

The speaker is leaning against a tree several feet away. The golden, setting sun backlights them, making them look almost angelic with how they’re wreathed in light. They’re hard to look at.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tim says, plastering on a nervous smile that was only half for show. How did they sneak up on him? That should have been impossible with the leaves and branches scattered across the forest floor. “Do you run into animal skeletons a lot out here?”

“Not really,” they say with a shrug before they start forward towards Tim. Their steps are silent. “I don’t really get around. And also, that’s not an animal skeleton.”

“No?” Tim’s grip on the femur tightens. “How do you know that?”

“How? Well, that’s because it’s mine!”

Tim swings.

The femur goes right through the stranger.

“Sorry! Little intense, I get it!” They back up a step and raise their arms. The dappled sunlight shines right through their hand. Shines right through them like the stranger is just made out of gossamer. “I get it, but be careful with that, please? It’s my arm! Or leg? No, leg.”

“Leg, it’s a femur,” Tim says, his mouth running without him as his brain works.

“Leg. Ancients, I miss having legs. And arms… and, well, anything solid really,” the stranger sighs. “I am sorry for scaring you. Just… it’s hard not to get a little intense when someone is holding one of my bones, you know?”

“Oh shit! That’s right, sorry,” Tim stammers as he hurries to put the femur back down on the disturbed earth. “Do you— I mean, should I rebury it? Did the rains washing away the earth, um, wake you up?”

“Kinda?” They tilt their head as they crouch down next to Tim.

It’s clear now, as they move a bit out of the light, how transparent they are. It’s like in the shadow they lose tangency. Their hair is still just as blinding, being bright white in a way that’s really beautiful. They reach out to touch the femur but stop short.

“I’m tied to my bones. It’s why they dumped them all the way out here. After they killed me, I mean, all the way killed me, I haunted the fuck out of them. And yeah, sure, they could hurt this form of me too, but I always found a way out and then it all started again. Burying my bones was the only way to get rid of me, and those fuckers didn’t even scratch me a headstone in the tree or anything. Some parents, huh?”

“Holy— yeah,” Tim says. Looking back down at the other partially exposed bones he has to swallow back a wave of sadness. “Is that a yes to covering them up?”

“Actually… I’d like you to dig them up. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll get justice or whatever, but I’d… I’d like to be somewhere proper and under my name.”

“What is it? Your name?”

“Danny.”

“Okay, Danny,” Tim gives a little nod and starts digging. “My friends and I will get you somewhere you feel safe. I’m Tim, by the way.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Danny doesn’t help dig. He can’t, he explains as Tim and him talk. While his bones are buried, he’s not able to interact with them or else he would have gotten them out of there a long time ago. They learn together that as soon as the bones are free and set gently aside that Danny can touch them.

Tim never thought he’d see someone so emotional over a tibia, but Tim can’t blame the guy. Tim figures he’d be emotional over his own bones too.

The big bones are the easiest. The ribs Tim is extra careful with. The fingers are weirdly like peanut shells in his hand. (He’s not going to eat pb&j for weeks now.) Danny chats the whole time, asking Tim about the world. Tim feels wholly inadequate to catch someone up like that, but when conversation turns to technology Tim settles into a rhythm.

It also lets them figure out that while Danny died just shy of nineteen, he’s apparently spent almost two decades in the ground. He still looks just shy of nineteen. He looks like he should be in the forest for the same reason that Tim is, celebrating the end of one era and the start of the next. Danny should be looking to the future, not mourning it.

It makes Tim pause when he finally unearths Danny’s skull. What would it have been like to see Danny smile? To hear him laugh without that faint echoing quality that he has as a ghost? To touch him?

“I’m sorry,” Tim says and holds out the skull. Danny’s skull.

“Thank you,” Danny whispers. His hands tremble as he reaches out towards the skull. He crumples forward before he can touch it, a sob tearing through him.

“I’ll make sure you’re somewhere nice.

“Thank you.” Danny lets out a breath he doesn’t have and sags forward the last inch. His forehead bumps against the skull.

Then he keeps going forward.

The world explodes into light.

-

“Tim?!”

“Are you sure he’s still alive?”

“You can see him breathing, Bernard.”

“Pulse.”

“Tim!”

Tim gasps awake and blinks rapidly to clear his vision. His friends and sister stand clustered above him. It has gotten dark and their flashlights are blinding.

“You okay?” Cass asks.

“Ow.”

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Steph sighs. “Hey Tim, who the fuck is that?”

“Wha—” Fuck his head hurts. Who the fuck is who?

Oh, the person laying in his arms. The person who’s solid and warm and alive.

Tim starts laughing.

“Okay, maybe a little not okay,” Steph amends.

“Is he ever?” Tim hears Ives mutter.

“Guys,” Tim interrupts them discussing his status once he can breathe again. “This? This is Danny.”

“Being alive again hurts,” Danny mumbles against Tim’s neck and Tim can’t help it, he just starts laughing again.

Being alive does hurt, but fuck if that isn’t wonderful sometimes.

---

AN: So this one got away from me a little but, uh... tada? I was planing to have it all explained more, but once Danny didn't purposefully do it, that didn't fit. Basically all if his frankly absurd powers and as a ghost got jump started by his skull and Tim's lifeforce and tada? 100% pulled some from Tim's Gotham Knights character where he's an awkward little bean who is so not neurotpyical. Him and Bernard taking a vacation to hunt Mothman is from that too.

Anyways, stay delightful, darlings!

[rem0n-art]

SPOILERS FOR THE WELCOME HOME SPRING UPDATE (LONG POST)

1 - Missing Wally

Wally seems to be missing in these images, it's pretty odd considering he's supposedly the star of the show

2 - Wally's Introduction Card

He's not looking at us anymore? Also his canvas is gone, it could be the same one in the new storybook with Wally and Julie

Also Wally's script is just distorted ringing... he's not picking up the phone (Also it says 'Go back' instead of 'Goodbye!" or whatever the old website said)

Wally's png says 'ringring' (REALLY complements the one above huh)

3 - Secret Wally Audio

The red button on the toy telephone is clickable! It leads to an audio of Wally, and he doesn't seem to be at his best....

Also the audio's labelled 'ringring' which is the same as the Wally png!

Apparently the link updated with a picture of a chair in the dark:

There's also a hidden transcript found in the link (special thanks to @pinkfishu for the former transcript) which states as follows:

(Low, constant static plays for several seconds.)

(Loud, boisterous and joyous. He laughs.) You found me! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!

(An electronic noise plays, then cuts off along with static. Voice is slow and halted, with varied inflection.)

Hello, You.

It has been a long while…

It was Homewarming. Now it is not. The snow melts. The grass grows. The sun shines. The flowers bloom.

Home is here. Do you remember Home.

Can you hear him.

(PAUSE. The heartbeat slowly rises. HOME makes sounds.)

I can hear Home.

I want to hear you too.

Talk.

(LONG PAUSE. Firmly said.) I know you are here.

Talk.

Talk.

(PAUSE.) …That is alright. I will speak for all of us. I am happy to.

You are here now, but for a long while, you were not.

And I… Could not feel anything… I could not find this place.

The channel was dark. I do not know what happened.

When I found You again everything was not where I left it.

But… I do not understand.

(PAUSE.) I know what words are. I saw words. I followed them. I followed them!

You.

Are you in the dark.

Are we in trouble.

(PAUSE. Sounding worried.) Trouble… Trouble… But I have to continue… So that you… So that we… So that I can…

…I do not know what to call what we are doing, neighbor.

But everything has a name, doesn’t it.

…Do you remember mine.

(PAUSE. Warmer and joyful.) You do, don’t you. What a relief.

(Said thoughtfully.) Everything has a name.

(PAUSE. Jovial.) But what trouble! What trouble!

(LONG PAUSE.) I do not know what to do… But keep talking to you… You are waiting for me. You want to know why I keep…

(PAUSE.) Talking…

(Warmer again.) Have you heard of ‘lend an ear,’ before. When your neighbor says this… They do not mean to borrow your ear. They mean to listen.

Do you know how to lend an ear. Barnaby said… First you cup a hand around your ear… And then you wait for a sound. That is how you lend an ear.

Home cannot speak like I can. But I know Home speaks to me… The door opens and shuts. The window groans and creaks. So I lend an ear to him.

…So why do I speak to you.

It is because… You will lend me an ear.

I do not know why. Maybe the gifts make you happy. Maybe you like Welcome Home. Maybe you like our neighbors. Maybe you like me.

Maybe you scratch my back… I scratch yours… Barnaby says that too…

I know we are not in the same room. It is another silly bunch of words.

After all… I can not get in. (Assertive sounding, I made you a promise.) But do not worry. I am getting better.

(Returns to his monotonous disposition.) But for now… To pass our time…

Will you lend me more than an ear, neighbor.

Will you find the name for me. For what we are doing. For what we see.

I’m going to say… Yes.But to avoid trouble… Let us talk another way, just like Home. Isn’t that the most?

I know how we will talk. We will play.

Do you know how to play. I have learned from my neighbors how, but the way each plays is not the same.

Do not worry. I will teach you how to play, just like all of them. Each and every one.

Would you like to know something funny. We can’t hear the flowers, even when you lend an ear. Not like Julie can.

Julie says they still have something to say, though. I have heard from her… A rose without thorns… But still has leaves… Is filled with fear… And with hope. When both are not there, however… There may be neither hope nor fear.

Isn’t that something.

So… Let’s play a game called… Gather.

What do you do?

Gather good words from the flowers. Do not worry, we will not pick them. They are happy where they are. Julie has given us so many, so I know you will find them.

This will be fun! I feel joyful already!

…I can not do much as I am now. But, I will practice.

Remember… Until you hear me again, keep your smile merry, and always know that I love you, very much.

(PAUSE. HOME makes sounds.)

Home is saying good bye… Oh, no, I forgot to do that too.

Good bye, You!

3.5 - Neighbourhood Page

The forest at the back seems more darker and ominous, it's pretty unsettling

The black ink part at Home was also scribbled (paint splattered over the website iykwim)

Adding this and the transcript of the hidden audio, we can clarify one thing: Wally was silenced. And he is not too damn happy about it (valid crashout if you ask me). The restoration team had completely blocked him out, even locked the guestbook (I don't know if it's just me or we're not allowed to see the guestbook entries at all, probably because of Wally's drawings) and removed other aspects such as having him on the homepage instead of Julie or his transcript audio at the start. This is probably to stop him from contacting us, and possibly to uncover more about Welcome Home, and using springtime as a distraction.

Wally sounds... rather unhinged in the audio, scared yet mad. He seems to mention Homewarming (evidence for the 'melting snow on Home's door theory') and how it was there, and it was gone. I guess he wasn't prepared for the transition, which makes sense since he was pretty much caged up (Is that the word for it?)

He tells us to play a game called 'GATHER' where we gather words from the flowers, which I'm assuming is a direct lead to the 'Floriography' board game (refer to this post i found for more information).

4 - Home's PNG

Was this always the name to the home png? Just curious (Ok so I've been told it's always been like this so best to not overthink it 👍)

Also there seems to be snow at the door, which is weird because the whole neighborhood is in full bloom - perhaps even mid spring- but somehow there's still snow? My guess is that it's a metaphor that while all the other neighbours have moved on to Springtime AKA the new update, Wally seems to be 'stuck' at the previous update, hence his disappearance at the group images on the website.

(honourable mention)

apple pie enjoyers we won/j /nsrs

5 - Julie And Her Siblings

This scene at the "What Makes the Flowers Bloom" handbook really had me thinking a bit, for starters:

Jonesy claims they stick to one colour, something that Julie definitely counters.

Franny comments the bigger the horns, the better. Note how all of them have big horns except for Julie. This is an obvious lead to the claim that Julie is somehow "less" than them.

It's clear the way the Joyful siblings act towards Julie make it seem like she's inferior or undeserving of her current role in the neighborhood. I'm not saying they judge or hate her, I personally think it's the narrative that's making them seem like that.

Not only that, but there's also this:

The Joyful siblings are in a band but Julie doesn't seem to want to join them (or perhaps she's refusing against her will?). Further context in the next one.

6 - Hidden Links

Also showing this tumblr post for hidden links across the website! Credits to them ofc: https://www.tumblr.com/citrineaura/780675339022139392/all-hidden-links?source=share

Three hidden links are connected together to tell a quick story of Julie.

For a short summary: Julie is trying to get a very strange looking flower to bloom (there's this really good theory I found that it might a winter flower by @drawingwithnara41 so I added the link in order for you guys to check it out) only to get her more and more frustrated and obsessed every time she fails to the point of having a whole mental breakdown at the last video. Her voice also seems to change as well??

(Also side info: A similar black tulip seems to also be in the 'Floriography' board game? Could this mean something?)

Anyways, back to the hidden video: She keeps saying it's not her fault, we can clarify she feels disappointed in herself for failing since she claims stuff like "What would Frank think when he sees you?" and even tells the flower that "it won't be around for much longer", at least from what I've heard, presumably due to the fear of others seeing her as inferior, mostly caused by her frustration to abide by her roles and possibly even her personality. It's obvious she has very low self esteem due to her continuous behaviour of making others happy while completely ignoring her own emotional state (as seen in the storybook featuring Wally and Julie, Julie is the one making the other neighbours happy, but there is no vice versa seen).

Also, one hidden link (/revengeinnocenceregardtemptationtears) leads to an image of a disturbed Frank.

The png is named "oh no", it could be from Frank's viewpoint as I think at that scene he's seeing Julie's breakdown or possibly the outcome of it, which is probably killing the flower out of frustration. That makes sense due to how Frank acts on most hidden secrets over the past few updates. I'm guessing he's concerned for her.

Yet again, it could be from Julie's viewpoint, probably from realizing Frank spotted her, though I'm more firm with it being Frank.

6.5 - The Bug-Dog Toy

At the very end of the last hidden video of Julie, this dog-bug creature flies down to the flower and the clip stops. This thing is also seen at the 'Miscellaneous' category.

Not sure what the dog-bug toy is supposed to mean, but I can see it's a part of a possibly toy series called "Grow-a-pal", also if you check out the name of the png, it's revealed that the toy's name is 'Buggle', which is probably a mix of the words 'bug' and 'beagle' (quicks thanks to @sunnydxys1 for that theory ^v^)

It's also mentioned again at awayfrompryingeyes.net inside a toy box. W comments on receiving the toy box on one of the packages he was sent and shows a picture, but it's pitch black. Brightening it up (kudos to @wallys-left-eyeball for teaching me how to brighten up the image lol) will lead to this:

The letters at the bottom spell 'GLE' which is obviously 'BUGGLE'. I don't know if this toy's lore is of it's own or is linked to Howdy and/or Barnaby, but maybe there's more uncovered secrets we need to find for this.

anyways thats all ive got byee 😘😘

[theodorenmyth]

They have to end together🥹🥺🥹 but not without Theo literally begging for Reader's forgiveness and Reader being super mean to him 🥹🥺🥹

A Sky without You

Pairings ; Theodore Nott x M!reader

Summary ; You’re no longer the sweet, shining boy everyone knew. You shut down—silent, cold, and distant. The entire Gryffindor house and even professors worry as you isolate yourself, always disappearing to the Astronomy Tower with no light left in your eyes. Meanwhile, Theodore falls apart. He can’t sleep, can’t eat, and can’t pretend anymore. After a Transfiguration exam, he snaps—confronting his so-called friends for the cruel bet and finally admitting he loved you. To his shock, they feel the guilt too. All of them apologize, deeply, knowing they’ve broken something they can never fully fix.

A/N ; this is OFFICIALLY my longest fic yet.. ENJOY THOUGH :3 (if this flops I'm going back to writing 200 word fics.) I'll upload the continuation of this fic tomorrow because I'm actually so burnt out.

Warnings ; Emotional distress, guilt, lingering heartbreak, depression, isolation, emotional breakdowns, emotional confrontation, unresolved tension, lingering trauma, grief, guilt

Word count ; 7.3k+

It’s been weeks.

And not a single day passes where your name isn’t whispered like a fading ghost through the halls of Hogwarts. Once the boy everyone turned to—bright-eyed, always smiling, the sun in a red and gold tie—you’ve become a haunting. A memory people are too afraid to speak of too loudly.

You were the kind of person who remembered birthdays, even when others forgot their own. The kind who carried extra quills because “someone might need one,” who stayed up helping classmates study, who sat with crying first-years during meals and listened to them like their little fears mattered. You offered kindness like it cost you nothing. Because to you, it didn’t.

Now you walk the same corridors, but it’s like your footsteps don’t make a sound anymore.

You show up. You sit down. You leave.

That’s it.

No greeting.

No grin.

No helping hand when someone drops a quill or trips in the hallway.

You, who once walked slower just to keep a first-year company.

You, who once stayed behind after class to help erase the board for a tired professor.

You, who once twirled around in the snow just to see how many snowflakes you could catch on your lashes.

The portraits have stopped trying to greet you. The ones that used to cheer when you passed now fall quiet as you go by, like even they feel the weight pressing against your shoulders. The ghosts don't float near you anymore—not even the friendly ones. You don’t light up when you see friends. You don’t wave from across the library. You don’t laugh at Neville’s clumsy spills or Ginny’s sarcastic jokes.

You’re a shell. A hollow echo of the boy you used to be.

The castle feels colder.

Students murmur behind their hands, not with gossip but worry. “He hasn’t eaten in days,” someone whispers. “I saw him in the common room at four in the morning—just staring at the fire.”

Your name is now spoken with a frown. With hesitation.

“He used to help me with Herbology every Tuesday...”

“He gave me chocolate frogs once because I was homesick."

“He called the stars his best friends, remember that?”

“He hasn’t even looked at the sky.”

And it’s true. You haven’t.

You don’t go to the Astronomy Tower anymore. You don’t look up when the night sky reveals itself. You draw your curtains early and press your face into the pillow until it stops hurting—until it starts again the next morning.

Every smile you wore was carefully crafted, stitched from sincerity and softness. And it shattered so completely, no one even remembers what it looked like now.

You don’t cry. That’s the part that scares them the most. You don’t scream, don’t lash out, don’t even flinch.

You just exist.

Barely.

And the whole school feels the absence of your warmth like a cold draft no one can shut out.

You showed up to class, yes. Sat in your usual seat. Gave the right answers. Nodded at professors. But there was no life behind your eyes.

No spark.

No joy.

You didn’t greet anyone in the halls.

You didn’t smile.

You didn’t wave.

You didn’t exist—not in the way you used to.

Even Peeves, who used to adore pranking you because of how dramatically you’d react, had stopped. He floated quietly past you now, expression unreadable.

Because whatever happened to you,

It silenced even him.

“Have you eaten?” Draco asked, sharp but quiet, sitting on the armrest of the common room sofa.

Theodore didn’t respond.

He sat slumped into the far end of the couch like he was trying to disappear into it. His cheek rested against the back cushion, eyes fixed on the fireplace but unfocused—glassy and hollow, as if he weren’t really there. The room flickered with golden firelight, shadows dancing across his pale face, but he didn’t even blink. His jumper was rumpled and too thin for the cold, sleeves stretched and chewed from anxious fingers. The collar sagged. His hair was a mess. He looked like a memory wearing itself thin.

Draco frowned. “Seriously, Theo, you look like hell.”

No answer.

Blaise groaned, walking behind the couch to toss a blanket over him. “You can’t mope around like this forever—”

“Yes, I can,” Theodore rasped.

That made them all stop.

Pansy looked up from her book. Astoria stilled mid-sip of her tea. Mattheo straightened where he sat by the window.

It was the first thing he’d said in days.

“You—what?” Lorenzo asked, like he hadn’t heard him right.

“Yes,” Theodore repeated, barely above a whisper, “I can.”

His voice cracked on the second word. Not with emotion, not yet—but with disuse. Like it had been tucked away somewhere dark and cold and forgotten.

“I can rot here,” he continued, sinking deeper into the couch. “And I will.”

“Theo,” Blaise said, quieter now, gentler, “this isn’t—come on, you need to eat something. Or sleep. You’re barely human right now—”

“I don’t care.”

“You’ve been missing classes.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’ve been skipping meals.”

“I don’t care, Blaise!” Theodore snapped suddenly, sitting upright.

The outburst startled them all.

Pansy jumped. Astoria’s cup clinked against its saucer. Mattheo looked alarmed.

“I don’t care if I’m failing, I don't care if I look like a goddamn zombie, I don’t care if I die in this fucking room,” Theodore snarled, breathing hard. “Because at least if I die here, it won’t be out there, where he can see me.”

His voice cracked for real this time.

The room was silent. No one moved. No one dared.

He dragged a hand down his face. “You don’t get it,” he whispered. “I can’t even walk past the Astronomy Tower anymore without wanting to scream. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face when I—when I said those words. That moment. That exact second he realized…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t have to.

“He trusted me,” he said instead, voice shaking, “and I broke him. And for what? Six hundred fucking galleons? A laugh?”

The guilt rolled off him in waves, suffocating and bitter. He curled forward like he couldn’t hold the weight anymore.

“I haven’t seen him smile in weeks,” he croaked. “Not once. Not a flicker. I took the brightest thing in this school and I dimmed it. I killed it.”

Pansy covered her mouth. Astoria looked close to tears. Mattheo dropped his gaze.

“You should’ve seen him,” Theodore whispered. “Before me. Before the bet. He was like—like something out of a fairytale. He helped everyone. He’d stay up until four in the morning studying just so he could help a first-year through a test the next day. He knew the names of every constellation, every planet. He’d talk about the universe like it was magic. Like it was alive. And I…”

He finally broke.

The first tear slipped down his cheek silently.

“I told him I loved him under a sky full of stars and I lied.”

No one spoke.

Not even Draco.

Not even Mattheo, who was usually the first to crack a joke when things got too heavy.

“I haven’t been able to sleep since,” Theodore whispered, tears streaming down his face now. “Not when I know he probably cries alone every night and I—I did that. With my words. My mouth. My heartless—”

His voice choked off, and he slammed a fist into the arm of the sofa.

“I wish I’d never taken that fucking bet.”

Mattheo shifted uncomfortably, guilt etched into every line of his face. “We didn’t think it would… go this far. We thought you’d laugh it off. That he’d figure it out.”

“He loved me,” Theodore said, voice flat. “He loved me more than I’ve ever been loved in my life. And I crushed him. For all of you.”

None of them had anything to say to that.

Because he was right.

And they were just starting to realize how much it cost.

Across the castle, in Gryffindor Tower, things were just as broken—if not more.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls like memories refusing to fade. The chairs around the common room were half-occupied—students whispering quietly, watching you from the corners of their eyes but saying nothing. Not anymore.

You sat curled into your usual spot by the window, the one with the draft you used to complain about but secretly liked because it made the stars feel closer. You didn’t complain anymore. You didn’t speak. You barely moved. A blanket was draped around your shoulders, though you hadn’t pulled it there yourself. It was always there, every night—someone’s silent attempt to bring you comfort you couldn’t ask for.

“Please,” Hermione’s voice cracked. She knelt beside you, her hand hovering, not quite touching your knee. “Just one spoonful, love. Just one. You have to eat something. You haven’t even touched breakfast, and it’s nearly dinner.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t blink.

You hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of toast in days. And even those were forced down, dry and tasteless, with shaking hands and an empty stomach that didn’t growl anymore. It was as if even your body had stopped trying.

Ron sat on the floor behind Hermione, his brows drawn together, lips pressed in a tight line. “He’s not gonna answer, Hermione. He hasn’t said anything in days.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped, and then immediately softened, her gaze flickering back to you. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”

No one did.

Harry stood further back, near the stairs, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He hadn’t said much since that day. He was angry—but not at you. Never at you. Just at the situation. At the pain carved into your face. At himself, maybe, for not stopping it. For not being able to fix it. For not noticing that you were falling in love with someone who had only ever meant to break you.

You didn’t look at them.

You couldn’t.

Because if you did, you’d see the way their eyes shimmered. You’d see the way they looked at you like you were something fragile, something precious and cracked, and it would all become too real again.

So you kept your gaze on the sky, even though you didn’t see it anymore. Not really.

The stars—once your solace, your home, your peace—now felt like strangers. Cold and distant and cruel. You used to sit here for hours, naming constellations, tracing galaxies with your fingertip on the glass, yapping on about black holes and nebulae and planetary alignments until someone dragged you away.

Now your fingers were still.

Your mouth silent.

Your soul, lost.

It wasn’t just the heartbreak. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the humiliation. The cruelty of it all. The laughter that had echoed through the Great Hall still haunted your ears. The way his voice, the same voice that once whispered “I love you” under starlit skies, had gone sharp, cold, hollow as he dumped you in front of everyone like you were some failed potion.

A joke.

A bet.

Just a name on a list.

And somehow, despite all of that, you still missed him.

You missed him.

Not the version that had laughed with Mattheo and Draco while you fell apart.

Not the version that walked away without even flinching.

But the version that had held you close under blankets in the Astronomy Tower. The one who whispered stories about the stars with you. The one who let you talk for hours and never told you to stop. The one who kissed you like he meant it.

You missed the Theodore who ran his fingers through your hair just to watch you fall asleep in his lap.

You missed the feeling of his arms around you, strong and warm and protective in ways you didn’t know you needed. You missed the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles when you were anxious. The way he’d press his lips to your temple like a promise, so soft and lingering it felt like he was memorizing you.

You missed his touch.

But you never said it out loud.

Not even to yourself.

You couldn’t.

Because that would mean admitting you still wanted him.

That you still loved him.

And after everything, how could you?

You hated yourself for it. For the way your skin still itched with phantom memories. For the way your body leaned just slightly to the left sometimes, as if expecting him to be there. For the way you still dreamed about him, still woke up with his name on your lips and tears on your cheeks.

And yet, every night, without fail, you curled into that windowsill. You watched the sky. You waited for something—anything—to bring you peace.

But it never came.

Your dorm mates stopped asking if you were okay. Seamus had tried to make you laugh with one of his awful impressions of Snape, but when you didn’t even blink, he sat down and said nothing else. Dean left a chocolate frog on your bed one morning. You didn’t touch it.

Neville looked like he was going to cry every time you passed him.

Even Lavender, who usually only cared about gossip, had stopped talking about boys and started leaving little notes of encouragement near your books. You read them. You appreciated them. But they didn’t help.

Nothing did.

You moved through the castle like a ghost—quiet, present, but not alive.

The professors noticed too. McGonagall, strict as she was, gave you extra time on essays. Flitwick excused you from practicals. Even Snape, of all people, narrowed his eyes when you walked into Potions late one morning and just stared at you before silently returning to the board without his usual cruel remarks.

They all knew.

Because you weren’t you anymore.

You were the boy who used to light up when someone mentioned a meteor shower. The boy who believed in soulmates and kissed like love was the only thing keeping the world spinning. The boy who gave everything—and got nothing back.

Now you were the boy who sat in silence.

The boy who flinched when someone got too close.

The boy who hadn’t smiled in twenty-nine days.

The boy who whispered names of stars under his breath at night, not because he wanted to share them, but because he was afraid he’d forget.

Because the only time you still felt anything at all,

Was when you closed your eyes and pretended his hand was still wrapped in yours.

Professor McGonagall nearly lost her composure in the middle of the staff meeting.

“He’s failing Astronomy,” she whispered to Flitwick, her voice thin and frayed at the edges. “He adored that subject. He breathed it. He stayed after every class, even when he didn’t have to, just to help clean up the telescopes or talk about star formations no one else remembered. He used to smile so brightly when he pointed at the constellations—smile, Filius.”

Flitwick’s ears drooped slightly as he folded his hands in front of him. “I know,” he murmured. “He used to come to my classroom during breaks and ask questions about star-related charms. Said he wanted to see if stardust could be replicated magically. His curiosity was… infectious.”

Professor Sinistra, normally so composed, rubbed her arms and shook her head. “He was the only student who’d ask to stay after class just to keep looking at the sky. He told me once that the stars made him feel safe. That no matter what happened, the sky stayed the same, and that gave him hope.” Her voice broke slightly. “Now he doesn’t even look up.”

“I tried to give him an extension on the recent charting project,” she added, voice quieter. “He just left the parchment blank. When I asked if he needed help, he told me, ‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’ Then he walked out.”

McGonagall’s hands trembled on the table. “That boy has never—never—spoken to a professor like that before. Not even during his worst days. He apologized once for being late when he was ill. And now he’s failing?”

There was silence for a moment—thick, heavy silence.

Then Slughorn spoke, eyes sad behind his spectacles. “I had him in third year for Potions Club,” he said quietly. “Brilliant young man. Polite, thoughtful. He used to make these beautiful little memory vials with constellations etched into them—gave one to me after a particularly long week. Said it reminded him of his mother. Always thinking of others. And now…” His voice cracked. “He didn’t even show up for the last two club meetings.”

Snape sat across the table, arms crossed, face blank. But his eyes were hard and sharp. “He’s late to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Every day. I don’t deduct points anymore,” he said coolly, but the slightest furrow in his brow betrayed more than his tone. “He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t raise his hand. He simply exists.”

“You said he gave the correct counter-curse last week,” Flitwick offered gently, as if trying to find something good.

“Yes,” Snape replied slowly, “but he didn’t look at me once. Didn’t even react when the others applauded. It was like… it meant nothing.”

McGonagall leaned forward. “He doesn’t sit with anyone anymore. Not at meals, not in the common room. I found him asleep on a bench near the astronomy tower two nights ago. It was freezing. He’d been out there for hours.”

“That poor boy,” Professor Sprout murmured, dabbing her eyes. “He always helped my Hufflepuffs with Herbology, even when they didn’t ask. Always smiling, always kind.”

“I saw him in the corridor yesterday,” Hagrid added softly, his massive hands folded tightly on the table. “He didn’t even notice me. Just walked by like a ghost. I said his name—twice. Not even a flinch.”

Dumbledore had been silent this entire time, his hands steepled beneath his chin, expression unreadable.

Finally, he spoke, voice low but heavy with weight. “I spoke with Harry last evening. He’s tried everything. So has Miss Granger. So has Mr. Weasley. They said he doesn’t respond anymore. That he simply nods and walks away.”

There was a pause.

“Do you think… we should intervene more directly?” McGonagall asked, hesitant, as though even saying it was invasive.

Dumbledore’s gaze drifted toward the high window, where stars were just beginning to appear in the dusky sky. “There is a grief that burrows itself so deep into a person that no spell, no potion, and no lecture can reach it,” he said gently. “This is not just heartbreak. This is… loss of self.”

The staff exchanged solemn glances.

“Do we know what caused it?” Slughorn asked finally.

Snape’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Theodore Nott,” he said plainly. “It was him.”

“He broke up with Y/N in the Great Hall,” McGonagall said bitterly. “In front of everyone.”

“And it was part of a bet,” Snape added coldly. “Made by him and the other Slytherins.”

The room erupted in quiet gasps and soft curses.

Hagrid’s face turned red with anger. “A bet?! That poor lad gave that boy his heart—he was over the moon for him!”

“I believe,” Dumbledore said gently, “he still is.”

That silence came again—heavier this time. More suffocating.

“I should speak with Mr. Nott,” McGonagall said finally, standing.

Dumbledore raised a hand.

“No,” he said, voice grave. “He already knows what he’s done. He’s suffering in his own way.”

“So we just wait?” Flitwick asked softly.

“We wait,” Dumbledore said, “and hope the stars he once trusted so deeply… guide him back.”

Theodore stood outside the Astronomy Tower again that night.

Just like every night since the day he broke your heart.

Same hour. Same silence. Same ache that never dulled. He didn’t go inside—not anymore. He stood just outside the archway, where the wind howled through the corridor and the shadows swallowed him whole. The tower didn’t feel like his place anymore. It never truly had.

It was yours.

Yours, with your star charts and wide eyes. Yours, with your laughter that echoed like music between stone walls. Yours, with the way you’d twirl in the moonlight, pointing at constellations like you were introducing him to friends. The tower had felt warm once, enchanted even. Now it felt hollow. Like a tomb.

And yet, he came back.

Every. Damn. Night.

Maybe it was punishment. Maybe it was hope. Maybe he was chasing ghosts.

Maybe he just wanted to be close to you, even if only in memory.

The chill wind bit at his skin as he pulled your old star chart from his pocket. It was frayed at the edges, creased from his constant unfolding, but it still smelled faintly of you—like ink, old parchment, and peppermint. He clutched it like it was sacred.

He unfolded it slowly, fingers trembling.

The little doodles you'd drawn along the corners still made his heart twist. Tiny constellations with smiley faces, a stick figure labeled “Y/N,” one beside it labeled “Theo,” both lying under a cartoon sky filled with glittery stars. Your annotations were messy in places, but charming.

Beside the comet sketch, you had written:

“We’ll see this one together next winter. Promise me you’ll be there.”

He hadn’t even remembered the comet until now. It was due to pass overhead in December.

He wasn’t sure if he’d live to see it.

Not like this.

Every night he stayed in this spot, cold and hollow, his thoughts looping back to the same image:

Your face in the Great Hall.

When he’d said it. When he’d laughed. When he told you it was all a joke.

He saw it in every nightmare now—

Your bright smile faltering.

Your eyes going glassy.

The color draining from your face.

The way you didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Didn’t even argue.

You just… looked at him like he’d killed something inside you.

Because he had.

And the others? His so-called friends? Mattheo, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Astoria, Lorenzo… They’d laughed like it was nothing. Tossed their galleons on the table. Cheered like it was a victory.

But even they had stopped laughing now.

Because it was affecting him, too.

He didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t joke. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t feel like himself.

He wasn’t.

He was just a shell—full of regret, sick with guilt, and haunted by the sound of your voice whispering star facts to him in the dark.

And even they were starting to see it.

Even Snape had given him a strange look in class, as if recognizing something deeper—something broken.

But Theodore didn’t care what they saw anymore.

He only cared about the one person who no longer looked at him at all.

He held the chart tighter to his chest, his breath shaky as he glanced up at the stars above the tower. They sparkled like they always had—but somehow felt dimmer. Distant. Cold.

You used to make them feel close. Like they could be touched.

Now, they were just reminders.

Of what he had.

And what he lost.

His lips parted as he whispered into the night, voice raw, shaking.

“I miss you.”

It cracked through the silence like thunder.

“I miss your voice… I miss how you talked about Mars like it was your best friend. I miss how you held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. I miss how you looked at me like I mattered. Like I was someone worth loving.”

He stared down at the parchment again, eyes burning.

“You loved me like I was the stars, Y/N. And I loved you too. I was just too much of a coward to say it.”

A beat.

The wind whistled through the corridor.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cold wall, letting his head fall against the stone.

“I ruined everything.”

His voice cracked.

“You gave me the universe… and I shattered it like it meant nothing.”

He paused—waiting. Hoping. Begging for a sign.

But there was nothing.

No sound.

No footsteps.

No familiar giggle from the stairway.

Just the cold, and the empty ache that he feared might never go away.

And the knowledge that he’d broken the only thing in his life that had ever truly been beautiful.

The Astronomy Tower stood the same, and that hurt more than anything.

Because everything else had changed.

You walked slowly, your hand brushing the familiar stone wall. You could feel the ghosts of what had once been—his hand clasping yours, your laughter echoing into the sky, the way the stars looked brighter just because he was beside you.

And now?

Now it felt like a tomb.

Your chest ached with every step. You hadn’t been back since that night. Since the night everything inside you died and turned to something quiet, cold, and bitter. It had taken every ounce of your remaining will to drag yourself up here again.

But something called to you.

Maybe it was foolish hope. Maybe it was grief.

Maybe it was the part of you that still whispered his name in the dark.

When you pushed open the heavy door, the wind hit you first—chilly, but familiar—and then the stars, blinking quietly, as if waiting for you to return.

You took a deep breath, stepping onto the balcony. The stone railing was cold under your fingertips, but grounding.

It was just you and the sky again.

You closed your eyes, lifting your face to the stars.

“Cassiopeia’s crooked again,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “You always hated that.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I told you the stars didn’t care about symmetry. You told me I talked too much. But you never stopped listening.”

Your voice cracked. “Why didn’t you stop listening when it mattered?”

Silence answered you.

At least for a moment.

Because then—footsteps.

Soft. Careful. Familiar.

Your heart sank, and you didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.

He always walked like that around you—like he was trying not to wake you from a dream.

You didn’t move. You barely breathed.

“…Y/N?”

His voice hadn’t changed.

But you had.

You turned, slowly.

Your eyes met his—and for a moment, the world stopped spinning.

He looked…

“God,” you whispered without meaning to, “you look…”

You couldn’t finish.

Because he looked awful.

Theodore Nott had always been pale, sharp, elegant—but now he looked fragile. Like a single gust of wind would knock him over. His cheekbones were sharper, his eyes rimmed red. There were dark circles under them, the kind that didn’t come from lack of sleep alone. His robes hung looser on him. His hands were shaking, even though he tried to hide it.

And his eyes—those haunting, sea-glass eyes you used to love so much—looked empty.

“I didn’t think you’d come back here,” he said, voice rough.

“I didn’t mean to,” you replied softly, still shocked. “But I couldn’t sleep.”

He took a step closer, cautious.

You didn’t move away—but you didn’t get closer, either.

You couldn’t.

“Why do you look like that?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “What happened to you?”

He swallowed, eyes flicking away. “You.”

You flinched.

“Don’t say that,” you said harshly.

But it was too late.

You both knew it was true.

“You haven’t been eating,” you murmured, eyeing him. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

You stared at him for a long time. “Why?”

“Because I miss you,” he admitted, barely a whisper. “Because I hate myself. Because I keep hearing your voice in my head and it hurts more than anything else ever has.”

He took another step closer.

You let him. Barely.

The wind swirled around you both, tugging at your robes.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t be looking at you. I shouldn’t care.”

“But you do,” he said quietly.

And gods help you—you did.

“Why are you here, Theodore?” you asked, voice shaking. “Why now?”

He blinked slowly, as if every word he was about to say was a struggle.

“Because I’m sorry.”

Your hands curled into fists.

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“Then why bother?”

“Because I never got to say it before,” he whispered. “Not when it mattered. Not when you were breaking. Not when I should’ve thrown the bet away and fallen to my knees in front of you.”

You stared at him, lips trembling.

“You want to say sorry now?” you asked, voice brittle. “After you made me a joke? After you humiliated me in front of the whole school? After you laughed with them like I was a fucking—toy?”

“I didn’t laugh,” he said, voice cracking. “I never laughed.”

You scoffed. “You didn’t stop them.”

“I should have,” he admitted. “I should’ve grabbed your hand and told them all to go to hell.”

“Then why didn’t you?!”

“Because I was stupid. And scared. And weak. I cared more about what they thought of me than I did about how I was hurting you.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself.

“I told you about my parents,” you said, voice soft. “I told you about being alone. I told you how scared I was of being someone’s pity project. And you—you used that against me.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did.”

The silence between you grew sharp.

You took another step forward, now inches away.

“You killed something inside me, Theodore.”

He looked ready to break.

“And you know what’s worse?” you whispered. “I still love you. Even now. Even after everything. Even when I don’t want to.”

His lips parted, eyes wide.

You laughed bitterly. “Isn’t that pathetic?”

“No,” he said, voice urgent. “It’s not. It’s not pathetic, Y/N. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. And I—I ruined you.”

“Yes,” you whispered. “You did.”

He reached for you—slowly.

But you stepped back.

“I can’t forgive you,” you said, choking on the words. “Not now. Maybe not ever.”

He froze.

“I need you to understand something, Theo,” you said, voice breaking. “I would have given you everything. I did. I would’ve walked through fire for you.”

You looked up, eyes glassy.

“But you set the fire yourself.”

Then, quietly, “And you watched me burn.”

His breath hitched.

You stepped past him.

He didn’t stop you.

But this time, he turned too. He watched you walk away.

And when you looked back—just once—you saw it.

Tears. Real ones.

He collapsed against the balcony the second you disappeared down the stairs, shoulders trembling.

The stars above both of you blinked down in sorrow.

And neither of you noticed that the brightest one flickered out.

Theodore Nott was a haunted boy now.

There were nights he couldn’t sleep, so he just laid on his back in the cold green haze of the Slytherin dorms, watching the shadows from the Black Lake dance along the stone ceiling. His hands trembled. His thoughts did not.

Because every single thought was you.

Your voice. Your laugh. The way your eyes shimmered when you looked up at the sky and started yapping about Sirius or Mars or that little cluster of stars that supposedly looked like a cat you always insisted that one existed.

He would’ve laughed at you once. Thought you were ridiculous. Too bright for your own good.

But then you had kissed him.

And suddenly, stars had felt real.

────────────────

You weren’t laughing anymore.

You weren’t talking about constellations.

You weren’t… you.

Everyone noticed.

Gryffindor tower had turned somber. The usual energy was gone. No more jokes. No more harmless explosions from Fred and George. No more friendly morning bickering with Ron, or walking with Hermione to breakfast, or teasing Harry for being the “chosen one” with a crooked grin that made people smile just watching it.

Now?

Now you barely left your bed.

You stopped eating unless someone forced you to.

You didn’t go to Astronomy class anymore—your favorite class. Professor Sinistra even visited McGonagall personally to let her feelings out of her chest.

And she wasn’t the only one worried.

Even Snape asked.

He called on you once during Potions, something he rarely did, and when you didn’t respond—just stared blankly at the board with bloodshot eyes—he paused for a moment.

His voice wasn’t sharp. Not like usual.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” he said, quieter. “You’re excused for today. Leave your things. Go back to your common room.”

You didn’t argue. You just left.

The whole class went silent.

Because everyone had heard the rumors by now.

The whole school knew what Theodore had done. The bet. The humiliation. The way your face had cracked in front of every house like a mirror shattering in slow motion. You hadn’t said a single word to Theodore since that day.

But he hadn’t stopped looking for you.

────────────────

“Where is he? I haven't seen him all fucking day.” Theodore snapped, slamming his hands on the table in the Slytherin common room.

The others flinched.

Blaise glanced up from his book. “Still being dramatic in Gryffindor tower, I imagine.”

“Don’t,” Theodore warned. His tone was darker than they’d heard in weeks. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that.”

Mattheo exchanged a glance with Draco. “Mate,” he said slowly, “we didn’t think—”

“Exactly,” Theodore snarled. “You didn’t think. None of us did.”

The common room went quiet again.

Theodore raked a hand through his hair, pacing.

“I—I thought he’d bounce back,” Lorenzo offered weakly. “He’s Gryffindor’s golden boy. Always so… cheerful.”

“He’s not,” Theodore said, voice hollow. “Not anymore.”

Astoria finally spoke, soft but sharp. “We did this.”

No one argued.

Because it was true.

And the worst part? It wasn’t just you that had changed.

Theodore was unraveling right alongside you.

He hadn’t slept properly in weeks. He skipped more classes than he attended. He carried your astronomy notebook around like a damn talisman, flipping through it every night like it would summon you back.

There were notes in the margins about him. Tiny doodles. Scribbled hearts. One page even had his name next to a constellation you made up—Theodon, the “prickly lion star.”

He had laughed when he saw that. Now it made his eyes burn.

He missed you so much it hurt to breathe.

────────────────

Back in Gryffindor tower, you sat curled in a blanket on the windowsill, journal unopened in your lap.

Harry watched you from across the room, arms folded.

“Talk to me,” he tried again. “Just a word. Anything.”

You blinked slowly, like you were underwater.

“Y/N,” Hermione whispered from behind you. “You’re scaring us.”

And you were.

Your hands didn’t tremble anymore.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t scream.

You didn’t throw things.

You just… stared.

And that silence was worse.

Because you had never been silent.

You had always been the one to talk through your feelings, ramble about them. Even when things were hard, you lit up the room with useless facts about constellations or reminded people to breathe, smile, take care of themselves. You were light.

Now you were fading.

Hermione knelt beside your seat, placing a wrapped chocolate frog on your lap. “I saved this for you.”

You didn’t take it.

Ron shifted uncomfortably near the fireplace, staring at the floor. “He doesn’t deserve you, you know,” he mumbled. “Not after what he did.”

You flinched.

“He doesn’t,” Harry agreed.

“I know,” you finally whispered.

The three of them froze.

It was the first time you had spoken in two days.

You set the chocolate frog aside gently.

“Then why does it still hurt?” you asked, voice hollow. “Why does it feel like the stars stopped shining?”

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears.

Harry reached for your hand and squeezed. “Because you loved him.”

You nodded slowly, swallowing thickly. “Yeah,” you rasped. “I really did.”

────────────────

That night, you returned to the Astronomy Tower for the first time in weeks.

You didn’t tell anyone. You just climbed the steps quietly, hands shaking, heart aching. The door creaked open. The wind whispered like a ghost, cold and biting.

You stepped out into the night.

The stars greeted you like old friends.

You stood there for a long moment, just breathing, letting the wind whip through your robes. You remembered where you’d sat with him. Where he kissed you. Where he looked at you like you were the only thing he could see.

You knelt down and opened your journal.

Your quill trembled.

But you wrote.

You drew every star you could see. Every one you remembered. Every one he made you forget.

And for the first time in weeks…

You cried.

Not from heartbreak, but from relief.

You were still here.

The stars hadn’t gone anywhere.

And maybe—just maybe—you could find your way back to them.

────────────────

Far below, Theodore sat in the courtyard, your notebook pressed to his chest like a shield.

He stared up at the tower window, wondering if you were there. Wondering if the stars had taken you back.

Wondering if he’d ever be enough to stand beside you again.

And for the first time in his life, Theodore Nott felt like the loneliest boy in the universe.

The halls had grown quieter when you passed.

Not out of awkwardness. Out of worry.

Professors had stopped asking you questions directly. Neville tried to sit next to you in Herbology, but you barely acknowledged him. Even Lavender and Parvati, who once couldn’t stop teasing you about “your moody Slytherin boyfriend,” had learned to keep their distance. You were polite. Distant. Untouchable.

But slowly, you were reclaiming little pieces of yourself.

You returned to Astronomy class regularly, always sitting near the back. You still never spoke, but you were there. Present. Listening.

And you were writing again.

A few Gryffindors had noticed. Hermione peeked at your parchment once and saw it—pages and pages of stars, sky maps, invented constellations. She cried about it later in the common room, but didn’t let you see.

Even Professor Sinistra took notice.

She left you small things after class. A note. A paper star folded from map pages. A diagram of lunar phases that included your birthday marked with a tiny, golden moon. Her way of saying, I see you. You’re still here.

────────────────

Theodore had grown pale.

He still walked the halls with that same cool expression, that perfect posture, that quiet air—but he was hollow now. Glass-eyed. Slower. The shadows under his eyes had turned permanent.

He avoided his friends, the Slytherin common room, the Quidditch pitch.

He was grieving, even if he couldn’t admit it at first.

But guilt was a loud, living thing.

And it clawed at him every day.

────────────────

It all happened after a Transfiguration exam.

Theodore was the last to leave the classroom, trailing behind with his hands buried in his pockets and his head low. He hadn’t slept. Again. He was lingering behind while others rushed out into the corridor, buzzing about how hard the written section was or how McGonagall’s stern gaze could petrify you harder than any spell.

His footsteps echoed down the stone corridor, the usual hum of students long since faded. But then he heard them. Laughter. Familiar voices that made his stomach twist with guilt.

Mattheo. Draco. Blaise. Pansy. Astoria. Lorenzo.

They were leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, like nothing had changed, like they hadn’t shattered something unfixable. The laughter stopped when they noticed him. Mattheo's grin faltered and pushed off the wall.

“Theodore,” he called, catching his sleeve. “Oi—what’s got you in a mood? We haven’t seen you in weeks. Did the Gryffindor go all dramatic on you again?”

Theodore yanked his arm away, eyes flashing with something colder than anger.

And for once, he didn’t walk away.

He turned on his heel, slow and deliberate.

His voice was razor-sharp when it came. “What the fuck do you want?”

They stared at him.

Draco raised a brow, amused. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Theodore snapped. “Or has all that hair gel finally seeped into your ears?”

Mattheo laughed again, but it sounded forced this time. “Holy shit, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Theodore took a step forward, his voice a bitter cocktail of fury and heartbreak. “You’re all what’s wrong with me. You, this stupid bet, and every single time I let you make fun of him.”

Pansy blinked. “It was just a joke—”

“No, it wasn’t.” His voice cracked. “It was him. It was someone who trusted me. Someone who smiled like sunlight and helped every person he met—including you. And I let you turn him into a fucking punchline.”

The silence was crushing.

He was shaking now—shoulders tense, jaw clenched, hands curled into trembling fists.

“I loved him,” Theodore whispered, barely holding himself together. “And I destroyed him because I was too much of a coward to say no. You think I’m upset because the bet ended? No. I’m upset because I wake up every night wishing I’d never taken it. Because now he won’t even look at me. And he shouldn’t.”

His voice dropped even lower. “Because I don’t deserve it.”

None of them spoke.

And for the first time since the bet started, Theodore saw it—guilt. Real guilt. The kind that sinks into bone and never lets go.

“I can’t sleep,” Theodore said hoarsely. “I can’t breathe in our dorm because I hear him laugh. I walk through this school, and I can’t go ten fucking feet without remembering him. And you think this is funny?”

Mattheo’s smirk wavered. His usual bravado slipped away, bit by bit, as Theodore’s words hung in the air like poison.

No one had ever seen him like this. Broken. Raw. Honest.

Draco shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his shoes. Blaise’s arms were crossed over his chest, but his expression had gone pale. Pansy’s lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say. Not yet.

Finally, Astoria stepped forward.

“Theodore…” Her voice was soft. Guilty. “We didn’t think it would end like this.”

He scoffed bitterly. “What? That I’d actually care? That I’d fall in love with him?”

“We thought it was a crush,” Blaise muttered. “A laugh. A way to get under the Gryffindors’ skin.”

“You used him.”

Silence again.

Pansy cleared her throat, voice shaking now. “He used to help me in Potions. Every week, even when he had his own homework. He brought me Pepper-Up Potion when I was sick last winter.”

Theodore’s jaw clenched. “And you still watched me break him.”

“We didn’t know,” Mattheo said, quieter than he’d ever spoken before. “We didn’t know you were serious.”

“I wasn’t at first!” Theodore shouted. “That’s the worst part. I wasn’t. I was just like you. Laughing. Lying. Pretending it meant nothing. But then… then he started showing me stars. Telling me about the universe like it was a love letter. And I—” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “I started seeing myself in the sky.”

No one spoke.

Until Pansy stepped forward, tears prickling at her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We’re all sorry. We didn’t just hurt him. We hurt you. We made you into someone you're not.”

Lorenzo nodded, voice hoarse. “We were cruel. And we deserve whatever comes from it.”

Draco’s lips pressed together tightly. He gave a single, solemn nod. “We were wrong, Theodore.”

Theodore stared at them, throat tight, chest aching.

“You don’t deserve forgiveness,” he said coldly. “But you can start by never mocking his name again. Ever. And if you really want to make it right… start by remembering the kind of person he is. Not the one we turned him into.”

Mattheo ran a hand down his face and let out a shaky breath. “You’re right.”

“We’re sorry,” Astoria repeated, voice almost too soft to hear.

Theodore didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

Because the damage was already done.

But at least now, they knew it.

[galactic-magick]

Maybe in Another Universe, You're Still the Man I Love: Viktor x Reader

Summary: You get sent to the same alternate timeline with Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you find out just how wonderful your life could've been.

Words: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Yeah so that finale sent me into deep grief and writing is the only way I can heal I fear. I hope you enjoy this interpretation of what Viktor could be doing in the alternate timeline.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Your vision comes into focus, though your head is still pounding. You’re extremely nauseous, feeling like your body is not your own as you become aware of the all-too-familiar voice that just spoke to you.

You’re sitting on a desk in an Academy classroom, journals and various papers surrounding you. The sun is shining through the windows, cascading gold onto the other desks and tables. It’s a peaceful, simple sight. Something that feels so wrong for precisely that reason.

“I don’t have another class for a while, you can talk to me,” Viktor says, brushing his fingers against your face. “Care to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”

You suppose you look like you’ve seen a ghost, which isn’t so far from the truth. You must be dreaming—maybe hallucinating—anything to explain how this isn’t real.

“I…” you start, failing to find the words to say.

-

You storm into the lab, locking your eyes on the empty hexcore cocoon, then at Jayce.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I don’t know!” Jayce fires back at you, clearly just as distraught as you are. “He woke up and told me he needed to leave me and this place. I have no idea where he went!”

“Why didn’t you follow him?” you scream, your mind spinning. Who knows how the hexcore changed him, he could literally be anywhere.

“He didn’t want me to! What don’t you understand?” Jayce slumps back into his chair, his face in his hands. As soon as he notices a tear fall down your cheek, his tone softens. “Look, I...we both know he’s been different since he started messing with the hexcore. He had told me to destroy it...but I couldn’t. And now he’s even more different. I’m so sorry,”

“Jayce…” you walk towards him. “I’m not blaming you for anything that’s happened. He’s been pushing both of us away for a long time. I guess...I just thought maybe when he woke up he’d love me again like he used to. Did he even ask about me?”

Jayce shakes his head, and your heart sinks even further.

-

“I think I’m dreaming,” you finally say, and Viktor tilts his head. “This...this isn’t real. We’re not like this, we haven’t been like this in a long time. You’re not...what are you here, a professor?”

He cups your face and kisses your forehead, “Darling, I don’t think you’ve been getting enough sleep, you’re talking nonsense,”

“No, no, no,” you jump off the desk and pace around the room. “If this isn’t a dream, then where am I? Some sort of other reality?”

“You mean to say you believe...this is not your world?” Viktor takes in your words intently.

“Well in my world, you fell out of love with me in favor of your work, and then you nearly died and got severely mutated by the hexcore. So yeah, I’d say things are pretty different,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Hex...core?”

“You don’t have that here?”

“Seemingly not,”

You sigh, perching yourself back on the desk, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No, I...I have theorized the possibility of alternate universes before, but I never thought I would come face to face with it in my lifetime,” he starts writing on the wall chalkboard. “I see no reason not to believe you. After all, my wife of this universe would probably not be saying these things,”

“We’re married?”

“Of course. Now tell me, what else is different in your universe?”

-

You’ve tried to find him everywhere—going all the secret places the two of you would go in the past, and asking people if they’ve seen him both topside and bottom. There’s no signs, not even a clue. He doesn’t want to be found.

You make your way back to Jayce’s lab, surprised to see Heimerdinger and a young man you don’t recognize with him. They fill you in on their concern about wild runes showing up around the city, and their plan to check on the hexgates. You’re desperate for anything to get your mind off Viktor, so you go along with them.

You’ve never been to the source of the hexgates before, and it’s even more grand than you imagined. One thing could go wrong and the entire thing would explode, but it’s precisely the potential of destruction that makes it all the more fascinating.

That is, until it becomes entirely unpredictable.

Your surroundings change at the blink of an eye—warped visuals and sounds you can’t make out. You scream for the others, but no one can hear.

-

You do your best to describe all the important events and details of your timeline, while Viktor takes notes on the chalkboard and compares what you say to his timeline. He seems particularly interested in his inventions in your timeline, and his partnership with Jayce—who’s no longer alive in his timeline.

“He died in an explosion here at the academy several years ago, it was a tragic accident that also killed a young girl from the undercity. He was a friend and a brilliant mind,” he pauses. “We...actually named our son after him.”

Your eyes widen, overwhelmed by this possibility of what could’ve been, “We have a son?”

“We do. And he’s perfect,” Viktor smiles softly. “You really are from a different time, aren’t you?”

You nod, trying to hold back tears. Why does this reality’s version of you get to be happy? Why does this Viktor get to dodge corruption and the hands of hubris?

Viktor gazes once again on the chalkboard notes, looking for patterns and causes for the differences in your timelines. Would he have reached the same fate if Jayce was still alive? What caused the Undercity to heal and thrive in his timeline but not in yours? Was this hextech you speak of really so destructive?

You are the same person he fell in love with, there’s no doubt in his mind about that, but you’ve been significantly more hurt than the Y/N he knows.

He steps close to you again, wiping the tears from your face and pulling you into him, “I’m so sorry your version of me has taken a different path.”

You sob into his chest, gripping his clothes. He runs his fingers through your hair and rubs your back, soothing you as if you’re his own.

But you’re not his. This isn’t your life.

You pull away, taking a deep breath, “As much as I want to stay here, I can’t keep taking over the consciousness of the me in this world. I need to find the others,”

“I don’t know if it’s possible for you to get back,” he says. “You say you got here through hextech, and that was never invented here.”

“We’ll find a way,” you run to the window, looking out to get a gauge of where you are. Heimerdinger might have landed somewhere here in the Academy too, and Ekko probably went back to the Undercity. But Jayce—if he’s dead in this universe—where would he be?

“Before you go,” Viktor places a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to meet our son?”

Anxiety washes over you, your body going numb from the prospect. Would it only hurt you more to see a life that you could’ve created?

“Don’t you have more classes to teach, professor?” you smile, trying to turn your nervousness into something lighthearted.

“I’ll cancel for today. It’s about the time you usually pick him up from school anyway,”

He grabs his cane with one hand and takes your hand with the other, posting a quick note on his door as you leave.

-

You sit on a bench outside the elementary school, your heart pounding. This child is going to run out that building any minute, eager to see the mother he’s always known.

But you’re not her. You didn’t carry him, birth him, or raise him. You don’t have the same memories and experiences.

But you must pretend that you do.

You know which one he is immediately. He’s a perfect combination of yours and Viktor’s features, just like you’d imagined. His smile is contagious, and he wastes no time jumping into your arms.

“Look what I made at school today, Mommy!” he puts a crafty contraption in front of your face, a colorful collection of sticks and paper glued together.

“That’s so creative, honey, I love it,” but your attention is solely focused on him, his sweet face glowing with pride and joy.

“Quite the little inventor, aren’t you?” Viktor applauds him. “What else did you learn today?”

“We did reading and spelling. I can spell family now. F-A-M-I-L-E!”

“Close, sweetheart. There’s a ‘Y’ at the end,” you laugh,

“Are you sure about that?” he says, wincing his adorable face in thought. “Whatever. I learned how to spell brother and sister too, but I don’t have any of those. How do I get one of those?”

Viktor chuckles, “I’ll talk about it with your Mommy, how about that?”

“Okay!” he jumps up and starts walking home with the two of you.

-

What if I stayed? You wonder.

You’re playing with your son on the living room floor, with toys mostly made by Viktor himself. The house is small but cozy, a home you wish was really yours. What if you just stay in this dream reality forever?

What if you never find the others? What if there really is no way to get back?

But no, that wouldn’t be fair to the you of this reality. She’s the one who has this life, not you. Besides, Viktor and his son deserve their wife and mother back.

You hear a knock on the door, and Viktor goes to open it.

“Oh, Viktor, it is so good to see you.”

Your head swivels instantly towards the yordle in the entryway, “Heimerdinger! You found me!” you join Viktor at the door, “Where’s Ekko and Jayce?”

“I have not found Jayce as of yet, but I did find Ekko and sent him back to his timeline about a week ago. We found some hextech fragments and were able to use them to jump through time and space.”

“So...I can get home too?”

“As soon as you’re ready. We built the machine in a young girl’s lab in the Undercity,” he looks between you, then Viktor, and finally your son. His attitude of urgency dissipates as he begins to understand. “But...I could not blame you if you want to stay longer.”

Your son Jayce comes running to join you, grabbing onto your leg, “Who’s this guy, Mommy?”

“This is Professor Heimerdinger, he used to work at the Academy,” you pat his head, “Your dad used to be his assistant.”

“I’m sure you already have a brilliant mind, my boy,” Heimerdinger says. “Your parents must be proud.”

Little Jayce giggles.

“Actually, I would very much like to see this new invention you’ve built, Professor,” Viktor speaks up. “I’m now quite intrigued by the prospect of other universes.”

“I have no rule against you observing, Viktor, but I’m sure you understand I must destroy it after we all get back. It is too dangerous to be left here unsupervised,” Heimerdinger’s tone becomes more serious. “I’m sure Y/N has told you of the destruction hextech caused in our universe, especially to you.”

“Of course, Professor. I understand.”

-

You’ve never seen the Undercity look this beautiful.

It seems that the other version of you comes here often, so many people wave to you and little Jayce automatically runs off with some kids his age to play.

You meet a blue-haired young lady named Powder, who helped Heimerdinger and Ekko in their experiments. She looks so familiar to you, but you can’t place where you’ve seen her in your reality.

Heimerdinger explains how it works, and both you and Viktor listen intently. With everything up and running, you could go back this instant.

The pull to go back is strong, like an obligation to return to your rightful place in the universe. But the pull to stay is equally strong, as you gaze into your husband’s beautiful amber eyes that you want to find solace in forever.

“It’s your choice, my love,” Viktor says, as if reading your mind.

“I know I need to go back…” you exhale, tears welling in your eyes once again. “But I don’t know what I’m going back to,”

“I don’t know either,” he caresses your face, “But I do know you are strong in every universe,”

“I’m not,” you shake your head, “Not without you.”

“Don’t say that,” his thumbs smooth across your cheeks.

You nod, turning towards the device.

“Could you…could you kiss me one last time?” you ask.

Viktor wastes no time honoring your request, crashing his lips to yours with lasting passion. He pulls away only as you back into the circle, leaving you with one last affectionate whisper:

“I’m so fortunate to have met another version of you, my love.”