#Seriously crying over “It was all for you”

[luvtak]

fade into you, lmh

genre/tw est. relationship! suggestive, pure sugar cane fluff (like high fructose corn syrup fluff), minho only knows how to talk with his hands </3, gn!reader!! minho calls you kitty and honey <3!! seriously cavity inducing fluff be warned !! mostly unedited…

w/c 848

omg i haven’t posted a fic in so long nor have i written anything in months :(( but i’m finally a lot more settled after a busy drama filled couple of months! I hope you love this fic as much as i loved writing it. I’m not kidding when i say i wrote this in an hour on my phones notes app, don’t be afraid to tell me how you feel hehe 🩵

It’s cold outside your sleeping bag, frigid morning fog seeping into the once cozy tent. You shiver at Minho’s nose pressing into your neck, his face as cold as a dog who’s been outside too long. 

You’re not sure why you let your boyfriend convince you to camp in the middle of autumn… less sure why he insisted it was just the two of you, but you could never refuse Minho when he asked you so nicely— hands easing sighs while his mouth asked the question; the only thing you could say was yes, over and over. 

Unfortunately, the ecstasy of being asked was not akin to the actual experience.

Insistent rain stormed down from the second you arrived to the last minute before your eyes closed, Minho in all his excitement forgot the cooler and was forced to drive all the way back—leaving you to shiver in the tent alone. No, it was not the romantic getaway your boyfriend promised, but being here now—warm despite the wilderness’s wishes—you think it could be.

“Are you still cold, honey?” Minho asks, his voice just a whisper amongst the whistling trees. 

With your eyes still closed, you can only imagine what he looks like… Soft with sleep, his eyelashes cascading shadows across the slopes of his skin, beautiful like hypnos after creating dreams. You can feel his breath against your neck and his hands clutching at your waist, so safe despite how strong he is. 

“No, min, I’m just right” you say, and you can feel his laugh, rumbling through him, feel his smile against your skin. 

You wish he knew how much you cherish him… how much you treasure these little moments with him. How you’ll think about this moment every time he’s away from you; rolling the memory around your tongue like it’s a piece of candy. 

Sometimes, you’re sure you can see a cord running from you to him, wrapping around the two of you like cling wrap—like every moment you’ve ever had was crafted by the fates, your story weaved by the gods themselves. 

“Just right huh?” he says, before he’s lifting his head to look at you, eyes open and beautiful. “Well goldilocks, look how pretty you are this morning.” His smile is mischievous and if you didn’t know better you may think he was joking, but his tone gives him away: too quiet to be anything but the truth. 

“Minho!” you cry, embarrassed by compliments this early, “lay back down, I need you to keep me warm.” He smiles down at you, knowing you well enough to see that you’re flustered, it’s always too easy; one compliment, and your skin is hot, his kiss lasts a second too long and you’re pulling away shaking. 

Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of making your blood rush, enjoying the chase even when he has you. 

When his skin gets closer to yours again, chest to chest/heart to heart, you find yourself breathing his air like you share one pair of lungs. He’s so close to you, searing your skin even as the sleeping bag pulls awkwardly around your legs, letting cool air settle around your figure. 

His lips are so close to yours, one breath away from a kiss, so close you can feel his words flow into your open mouth. 

“Are you warm now, kitty?”  he asks, his eyes boring into yours before flitting down to look at your skin; miles and miles of it under his hands, valleys of skin that are his as much as yours.

“I’m warm, Minho, are you?” Just a whisper.

“just right.” A smirk. 

One breath, two breaths, three, and then he’s kissing you. Lips urging gasps to flow out of you, hands grasping at his tension filled spine. You’ve shared many kisses, sweet and sultry, frantic and lust filled, but something about this hunger is foreign to you. 

His kiss is filled with wanting yes, but it’s almost like he’s trying to tell you something but forgot the words. His hands on your thighs urging you to listen, please please please understand, they say, clutching at the muscle like he’s afraid you’ll never know. 

But you do, and so do your lips and your hands and you try your hardest to speak his language; responding to every bite with a nip of your own, gasping when his hands ask, kissing away the sleep still in his eyes. You know what he’s saying, I love you, I’m sorry you’re cold, I’m sorry I made you come on this rain coated trip, I love you I'm sorry, I love you I love you.” 

Your boy, always so embarrassed to tell you how he feels, but never afraid to show you. 

When you pull apart, hands locked together still, eyes gleaming with an inside joke, a shared confession; you can see he wants to say something, see he’s trying to build the courage to split his heart open. Instead he flits his eyes up to the sky and smiles. 

Look honey, the suns coming out” 

And you understand. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[celestiamour]

ft. logan howlett, ororo munroe, laura kinney, wanda wilson, wade wilson, kurt wagner, jean grey, scott summers (separate) x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ how they are when you are on your time of the month┊1k words

contains: some smutty topics for logan & jean, periods and all the complimentary side effects obviously because it’s so generous ahahahahaaaaaaaaa

➤ author's note: oh how i hate being a woman at times, if only some strong mutants could come to life and help ease the suffering…

let’s get this out of the way— yes, logan howlett can smell it and is able to tell when you’re on our period. in fact, he’s even able to sniff out the difference between the blood from menstruation and the blood from injuries. he’s been… “around the block” to put it lightly, he knows what you are going through, will be nice about it, and will use his experience to help care for you. he won’t be as sassy as he usually is even if you are a bit snappy, he’ll get extra food and put aside snacks for you, and he’ll give you as much or as little space as you want. also very willing to eat you out or cuddle-fuck you during it, being a little messy doesn’t faze him and he’s probably done nastier. 8/10, he’ll help you get through it without any complaint.

ororo munroe knows when your cycle is coming before you do, she keeps track of it and is on duty to take care of you the second you wake up with that uncomfortable feeling in your panties. she’s already inside the bathroom attached to your room running a warm bath completely with bath bombs and flower petals, ready to carry you into the water, and to strip your bedsheets for a wash if they get stained. there’s even a cute little wicker basket full of candies and drinks on your bedside with a stuffed animal she brought from target sitting on your bedside. it may seem excessive to some for something that happens every month, but she believes the effort is worth it if it means easing your pains. 10/10, she’s an angel descended from heaven in your eyes.

both of your dads are pretty useless (worst! logan is less knowledgeable than his original counterpart) on the topic and althea gives you a piece of chocolate at most, so you and laura kinney need to take care of each other when shark weeks come around. so many cuddles, kisses, and movie nights while snacking because cravings are a bitch. she’ll pat you on the back and rub your shoulders, muttering little “i know, princess, i know” as you whine. don’t even think of moving if you’re in a position like that, she’ll run around the house to get you pain relievers and a hot water bottle. 9/10, she’s such a wonderful girlfriend.

not sure why, but i feel like you and wanda wilson’s periods would sync a lot? anyhow, it’s a nightmare dealing with mood swings, cramps, and cravings all while taking care of babypool, so there’s a general rule not to take anything seriously during those days because you’re both sensitive and irritable. once it’s all over though, you’re back in each other’s arms and apologizing for anything that might have been said or done (nothing serious happened, it’s just something like “i’m sorry for saying that in an off tone and making you think i was mad at you”). 5/10, could be a lot better but the days afterward are kinda like honeymoon bliss again.

wade wilson is the biggest shit of them all, he definitely says “and that’s on period” every time he finds out, calls you his little ketchup bottle, sends you period cramp moodboards which are just poorly cropped photos of him in the deadpool suit doubled over in pain from a fight— however, he will make you laugh so hard you’ll cry and forget about the ache in your body. 2/10 in terms of helpfulness but 10/10 in terms of funny jokes and conversations. 

you’ll give poor kurt wagner a heart attack every time you whine out in pain and curl up on the couch, clutching onto your stomach and contorting about to find a comfortable position. despite the promises from yourself and everyone else that you will be fine as the aching feeling is temporary, he can’t help but bite his nails from worry. the suffering of people with a uterus will never cease to shock him, they really have to bleed freely like that for a few days every month? he will not leave you alone and is going to treat your every request like an order from royalty. anything you want, you get, and no amount of assurance is going to convince him he doesn’t have to do all that, so you might as well enjoy it while you’re moody and suffering. 

jean grey is one of those people who just don’t have period cramps and still glows despite it all which you are so fucking jealous of. that being said, she’s the best person to be around when it hits. since she’s basically the mansion’s school nurse, she always has snacks, water, pads/tampons of every variety, and pain relievers on hand with so much bounty that she never seems to run out. as your girlfriend, she’s also willing to be a bit sneaky and write you a doctor’s note to get you out of classes regardless of if you are a teacher or a student. she’s also down to fuck even if you’re on your period since she knows orgasms are proven to lessen the pain and she’ll also massage your tits if they are feeling tender (and because she likes your chest no matter the size). 9/10, she can be a bit busy at times but is perfect aside from that.

please hold hands with scott summers and go with him when picking out pads/tampons, he will get overwhelmed by the amount of options and panic buy one of everything. what are wings? liners? what’s the difference between yellow and green, is it lemon or lime? he might forget that you’re more sensitive during these times and slip a comment into a conversation that would make you cry when it usually makes you laugh, but he’ll remind you to stay hydrated, will go out of his way to buy you brownies from your favorite bakery, and will smother you in cuddles. 

[a-student-out-of-time]

An Important Reminder In Trying Times

Hey everyone, Mod Bubbles here.

I know that I've said over and over that I don't like talking about politics on here, but I really feel the need to say this:

This Is Not The End.

I understand things probably seem really bleak right now. A lot of people are going to be hurt by this, and the sheer amount of fearmongering and worst case scenarios are inescapable. But the country and the world are not going to change overnight. To be honest, it may not change very much at all in the next four years. I'm not a political scientist, so I can't tell you that for sure. There's a lot to be concerned about.

What I can tell you, as a student of history, is this: not only have we survived this once, we have survived this every time.

Think about it this way: every single tyrant, every single right-wing representative, every single emperor and colonial power, every corporate scumbag and power-hungry lunatic. No matter how many of them have ever come to power, held onto power, and tried to make themselves seem invincible, not a single one has ever held back humanity's progress and not a single one has proven to be invincible.

There were countries throughout history, especially in the 20th century, that fell under brutal dictatorships and saw countless lives lost. Did the people just give up and accept it? Fuck no they didn't. They fought back. Many of them lived to see democracy restored to their lands in their lifetimes, or fought to see it restored in their children's.

From Europe to Latin America, while many countries still have their issues, they endured and their people have survived. Their governments were not invincible, just as none ever have been.

Regardless of the outcome of this election, the world will go on. People will not just roll over and accept whatever horrible things happen, the fight will continue and we will do everything in our power to carry on as we always have. We'll carry on to achieve bigger and better things.

Let me also be clear: if you feel the need to cry, please cry. If you're afraid, don't pretend you're not. If you're angry, allow yourself to feel that anger. But if you're seriously contemplating giving up or hurting yourself, please don't.

You may hear all this news and ask yourself, "Bubbles, what's the point? What can I do about all this?" I've felt that way too, I have for a long time. I understand completely. It's scary and overwhelming, but I'll tell you exactly what you can do to fight against that: you can be kind.

Do you want to know where the most tangible change in the world begins? It's never at the top. It begins with people like us on a communal level, where we reach out to help others. Whether that means we help our neighbors, our friends, or any strangers we can.

Going out of your way to start fights, looking for someone to blame based on the flimsiest justifications, and just being cruel because you're angry, those aren't how you change anything. Those just add to the problem.

Here's just some ideas on what you can do instead:

Get away from the news, stop doomscrolling, mute doomers, and turn the TV and news apps off. This will get you out of a negative feedback loop that'll make you feel worse and more powerless, which is what they're designed to do in order to maximize traffic.

Remember to eat, sleep, brush your teeth, take a shower, take your meds, and do everything else you need to do to stay healthy.

If you or someone else really feel like leaving the country for your own safety is best, you can still work do so. But please don't convince yourself that if you can't, it's over.

Give back to people as much as you can. Show the people in your life who support you that you care, and that all that they do for you matters.

Donate to good causes you believe in.

Stand up to bullshit whenever you see it.

Do not give up on your dreams and ambitions. One bad leader does not mean your future automatically ends. Stop worrying about any potential apocalypse in the future, because you can do that even on the best days, and instead work toward a future that you CAN achieve.

There's this pervasive and very inaccurate idea that it's only the president who gets to enforce policies on the country. This ignores governors, the House of Representatives, Congress, mayors, and the countless other leaders involved. And it ignores you.

You do not have to spend the next 3 years and 364 days doing nothing but feeling miserable. In fact, that's the last thing you should do. Fear and despair are the weapons they wield, and they only have as much power as you allow them to have over you.

If your view of politics is that you just have to vote for the "right one" and then everything will be utopian, or that if people vote for the wrong one" then we're headed for a terrible dystopian nightmare, I have to tell you that that is incredibly reductionist and also very dumb. I can also tell you from personal experience that it's not them who make the real changes where it's needed.

A friend sent me a video that really opened my eyes on this situation: Adam Conover, the guy behind Adam Ruins Everything, said he's not worried about all this. Why? Because he and some friends were able, through their own power, to make real positive changes in their community. They were able to bring homelessness down in their district by over 38% through their own efforts.

And he's right that, as a silver lining to all this, it made more Americans than ever take a stand against all the horrible shit they were seeing and get involved with solutions.

Speaking from my own experiences as well, when Hurricane Helene devastated my area, it wasn't the politicians who came and repaired roads and power lines, it wasn't them who brought in food and supplies to everyone, and it wasn't them who worked tirelessly to save people still in need. It was everyone in our local communities.

The people at the top have never really cared about anything more than your money and your vote, but the people around you care more than you may believe they would. Hell, even strangers on the internet care more than you'd believe.

Now, even if you've made it this far, you may be wondering "What about when he starts outlawing and banning things?" To that, I say look at Prohibition and see how well that went. Politicians have only ever operated under the idea that banning something will make it go away, and it always does the exact opposite. And if you're still worried, you can get involved with organizations that fight to support these things being available and regulated.

But by now, you may also be wondering "What if I can't get involved? What if I'm too young or I don't have the money, or my parents won't let me?"

Then just be kind.

Stop looking for enemies to blame. Don't martyr yourself for some nebulous cause or the idea that your suffering increasing means the rest of the suffering in the world will go down. Don't torture yourself by telling yourself that you didn't do enough.

Show compassion, show support, show love and genuine care toward people who need it, including yourself.

"But there's so many shitty people in this country and the world, why should I-" Stop thinking that way. This isn't about them, this is about you and how you can make a difference. There will probably always be shitheads and power-hungry morons, but that does not negate the fact that you can choose to be different. You can choose to be kind.

Kindness is a sword that you have to learn how to wield. Wield it responsibly and use it to help others. No matter how small or insignificant it may be, YOU DO MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

I say all this as a 29-year-old who spent most of his life feeling scared and miserable about so many current events, convincing myself I'm useless and selfish because I was worried about so much and I hated myself for all of it. And I've decide I'm not going to do that anymore.

During the last right-wing era, I managed to help build a whole community out of my love for Danganronpa. I created friendships, relationships, and there are people alive right now because I chose to do so. Because I chose to use that community for kindness. I want to keep building from there by going into streaming and reaching out to more people.

I won't lie to you and say that I'm not scared, because I am. But I'm also not going to let fear change who I am. I want us all to be better to ourselves and others, because that is how you defeat hate. It starts with you.

And if you're still concerned, let me share with you a quote from The Great Dictator, a movie made in 1940, when World War II wasn't even at its height yet:

To those who can hear me, I say - do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed - the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish…

Please take care of yourselves out there, everyone. We'll get through this, just as we always have.

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑯𝒐𝒘’𝒅 𝑰 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚?*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None (Cuteness overload)

-🖤

How did you get so lucky? Seriously? Your boyfriend had surprised you with a trip to the renaissance fair, he even bought you an outfit to wear. You had mentioned to him how much you wanted to go and was sad that it was almost over. However here he is. Smiling ear to ear handing you your outfit telling you to get changed.

He had gotten you such a beautiful dress of the time period, adorn with flowers and a corset. He had even went as far as getting a matching flower grown and a badass wooden sword that almost looked to real. You felt like you could cry, especially after putting it on. When you had walked out Changbin was awe struck. “Wow” is all he could say while he stared at you. You couldn’t help but blush twirling in it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck giving him a big hug before kissing him. You both couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m ready whenever you are” you said smiling.

“Oh wait one more thing hold on!” He said before going into the bathroom. He was in there for a few before coming out with an outfit of his own. He looked so sharp, the shirt matched the color of your dress. A sword like yours stun on his back. A small flower bracelet that looked like your crown on his wrist. The shirt hugging so nicely on his muscles. He looked so handsome, when he met your gaze he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Do I look good?” He asked.

You stuttered a bit “yeah- I’m gonna have to fight the others off of you” you teased.

“Thought the same thing myself when I saw you” he said before wrapping his arms around you giving you a spin.

“Shall we my beautiful queen?” He said.

“Of course my king” you played back.

When you arrived you changbin looped his arm around you pulling you to him. He left a soft kiss to your cheek before entering. You wondered around looking at everything buying little things before changbin pointed “I got to do this!” He said looking at a strong man commotion, the winner? Gets a “stead” which was this giant stuffed horse.

He beat out all the competition of course winning you the big stuffed animal. “My lady your trusty stead” he said chuckling.

The rest of the night went so well, you both sat down for some chicken legs bigger than your head. Taking pictures together and just having fun. As the night winded down you two were dancing to the soft music. Swaying back and forth. You had your head lying on his chest as he hummed happily. The night sky looked like a picture from a fairy tail. The stars were shining so brightly which seemed to make his eyes sparkle even more than they normally did.

He kissed the top of your head before lifting your head with his thumb to look at him. He sighed contently “y/n I love you so much, you really are the love of my life you know that?” He said staring down at you with heart eyes.

“I love you to Binnie, I couldn’t imagine a life without you” you said back.

He smiled before taking your hand “follow me real quick” he said taking you to a little area with flowers, the sky even clearer here.

“I saw this little spot earlier and I knew it’d be even prettier at night” he said with a smile. “Do you see the sign over there?” He asked making you look over in another direction.

“What sign?” You ask looking back at him. What you didn’t expect was for him to be kneeling. He was down on one knee smiling up at you with the biggest heart warming smile.

“My love, the light of my life. I want to spend every day with you. I want you to be my queen, my wife. Beautiful will you give me the honors of having you as my wife?” He said.

Your heart felt like it could melt out of your chest. You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes hands up at your mouth in disbelief. “Really?” You said trying not to cry.

“Really.” He chuckled.

“Of course! A million times yes!” You said before he could even get the ring on though you had your arms around him hugging him tightly as you cried. Happy tears of course.

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit holding you close to him. He rubbed your back for a few moments before pulling away “may i?” He said taking your hand as he slipped the ring on. It was so pretty, he had put a lot of thought into it. It was something so perfect you’d think he was in your brain.

“Did you plan all of this? Like bringing me here to propose?” You asked wiping your eyes.

“Perhaps” he said smiling back. “I wanted to make everything special, because you’re special” he said kissing you softly.

“Can we go home and cuddle?” You asked.

“Of course beautiful, wanna shower and I can wash your hair for you?” He said in a hum.

“Seriously how’d I get so lucky?” You said.

“Because you’re the most amazing person in the world that’s why. I’ll treat you like the queen you are till the day I die” he said kissing your hand. “My beautiful wife”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[velvetvexations]

my personal take on "antigonism" is that it's entirely what you make of it. which is to say, i agreed with your post explaining why you felt such a term was necessary, and i do think this mentality of "most of us are normal about each other" and simply assuming we understand each other's experiences by virtue of being trans is reinventing artificial gender solidarity between cis people ("bros before hoes", "girl's girl") but superimposed onto trans people. which can be particularly contentious, given that we're an extremely traumatized bunch with a lot of baggage and massively diverging perspectives on all kinds of things. relating to each other outside of conventional gender relations means we have to put in that much more work to bridge the gaps between us, because we can no longer rely on the common assumptions made about men and women to carry our interactions, if that makes sense.

i do think a whole word for transfem-to-transmasc solidarity does toe a line between being unnecessarily inflammatory and conditionally useful. i'm genuinely glad for the people who felt seen and appreciated by the fact that a transfem made so explicit her stance on intracommunity issues. i'm also sympathetic to the people who feel put-off by such a word. when does allyship become chauvinistic? there is no word for a non-misogynistic man to signal to women that he is explicitly anti-antifeminist, for example. do we need one? i think a vast majority would say no, on account of simply stating he believes in feminist principles to suffice. so i'm wondering what specifically the push was for you to coin a word around tfem4tmasc solidarity, because while i do think trans people as a whole need to take significantly more initiative about rooting out transmisogyny and transandrophobia both, i'm not quite clear on what could signal more clearly a transfem's stance on intracommunity dialogue than just saying "i believe in transandrophobia and condemn all radfems". all feminism, transfeminism included, has had their malicious actors-- the existence of transradfems isn't really anything noteworthy as far as the broader feminist conversations go.

i hope this doesnt come across as confrontational because i think the people who found comfort in the fact that you are willing to go that far for them is truly heartwarming. i just don't want to see us splinter further into microfactions over something like one person coining one maybe-overenthusiastic word on the internet

Sincerely, there is a word for men who are anti-anti-feminist, though, they're feminists. Granted, self-identified "feminist" men have somewhat of a negative stereotype associated to them, but still, feminist men are feminists.

One of the biggest reasons I think a term would be useful is because so many people feel unsafe in the trans community because of trans radical feminism right now that it can help them relax a lot when they see a trans woman identifies as such. Just reminding people with assurances that most trans women are Normal doesn't really help that when they keep running into ones who aren't over and over.

TRFs are aggressive about this stuff. Seriously, every single day, post after post, their primary form of activism is crying about TMEs stealing kinks and liking a children's toy too much. I feel strongly that should be countered. Even if they aren't the majority, they sure as hell act like it and repeat how great it is that every single trans woman except velvetvexations alone agrees with them.

To be absolutely clear, I do not think I'm the only non-weird trans woman! That is just literally what they say about me! They may be the minority now but that frog is boiling.

IRL transmascs are forced out of spaces and talked over when they're let in because mascuwinity is scawy, No doubt transfems have similar problems because some spaces are TERF-y, but that problem is exacerbated when social media is filled with TRF rhetoric because it gets drilled into people's heads they need to be worried about that, and I don't think "touch grass" is a good response to that.

Hell, what if someone touches grass and then they do happen to end up having people be transandrophobic/exorsexist/intersexist/etc. to them? "Oh, well, that didn't count, try again somewhere else, I prommy that's not Normal."

It's all about volume. I feel very, very strongly that volume is necessary here, to combat the feeling that that radical feminism is around every corner and help people feel at ease and know trans women are with them.

[deathbyday]

-'⁠🫧*⁠.⁠✧ MOUTHWASHING ✧.⁠*⁠🫧'⁠ -

P5

“How could we end up here…?”

Daisuke x implied F!Reader

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Written By: DeathByDay

(Also written on Mobile)

2 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

(continued)

You stared in shock at the sight in front of you. Jimmy had opened one of the shipping boxes, hoping for something useful. You were all disappointed after he flipped the flaps to reveal mouthwash.

“It’s.. this is..” Jimmy muttered softly, at a loss for words. “Mouthwash?” Anya finished for him, her voice squeaky, sounding like she was about to cry. “Is this the only thing in here?” You whispered through the tense air, let down by what the boxes contained.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Swansea murmured, ignoring your question. You couldn’t blame him though. You probably would’ve ignored yourself as well, due to the shock. “There’s gotta be an ocean of the stuff in here! This room looks freaking endless!” Daisuke exclaimed, waving his arms around.

“This is what they’d have six people hauling for over a year?” Jimmy asked. Daisuke and Swansea looked up towards him while you and Anya continued staring down at the liquid. “All of this.. for mouthwash?!” He shouted, getting frustrated.

“The sugar content probably offsets any potential as a disinfectant.” Anya said, looking at the back of the bottle. “Disinfectant? What are you.. let me see that!” Swansea snatched the item out of her hand, taking a look at it himself.

He stayed silent for a moment, taking his time to read it. “14% Ethanol!” He laughed, causing Daisuke to turn to him and chuckle awkwardly. “I suppose we’ll smell good at least?” He tilted his head in confusion, not understanding why the older male was grinning.

“That’s right, kiddo! You can bet your ass on that.” The older man nodded, a smirk replacing his usual frown. “W-What are you doing?!” Anya worriedly asked, hands shaking. “Stop that!” She demanded.

Swansea took the cap off the bottle before drinking the mouthwash, causing you to softly gasp. “Whew! Ohh.. shut up. I’m just an old codger taking care of his dental hygiene.” He excused. You press your lips together, brows creasing.

“You hear that? That’s the sound of 15 years of sobriety popping like a cyst. A glorious, magnificent, red hot cyst!” Swansea shouted before cheering for Captain Curly, pumping the mouthwash into the air.

“Doesn’t that burn your throat?” You asked him, eyes squinting. He chuckled before nodding slowly, already feeling the kick of the blue liquid. “Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off of this stuff.” Daisuke muttered, staring at Swansea.

“Yeah, and kill you in the process.” Jimmy added. You kept your hand on your forearm, feeling nothing but concern for the drunken man by you. You looked towards Jimmy, your face filled with curiosity.

“Could it really kill someone? Just from drinking mouthwash?” Your brows furrowed. Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, it could.” He confirmed.

“This can’t be real.. I-.. there’s no way.” Anya held her face in the palm of her hands, voice muffled by them. “Now we can go out in style!” Swansea joked before turning his head towards the boy beside you.

“Daisuke..” He sang. “Come here! Anyone ever teach you how to drink like a man?” He asked, raising the mouthwash from his hand, handing it towards the young brunette.

You couldn’t help but watch, knowing that if you tried to do anything, you’d just be labeled as a “loser” or a “party pooper” by Swansea. So, you stayed silent, not trying anything to ruin their small bonding time.

————

6 DAYS BEFORE THE CRASH

You, Swansea, Jimmy, Daisuke and Anya stood in front of the main lounge door, waiting for the captain to arrive and be surprised. You all had on party hats, yours being yellow with red spots around it.

A smile was plastered on your face, excited to do your first surprise-birthday. Swansea had informed you that every year, they do these surprises for one person per trip. You were quickly on board, happy to help set everything up.

Suddenly, the automatic door opened, revealing the blonde. The five of you started clapping as he stepped through the door. “Surprise!” Jimmy chuckled as everyone calmed down.

“Suuurpriiusee!” Daisuke shouted, a dorky grin running along his mouth. “Look at your face!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air, almost smacking you in the face. “Gotcha!” Anya chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Did we get you?” You asked, tilting your head as you held your hands behind your back. Curly’s face already answered your question. “Cheers.” Swansea mutters behind you, his hands on his hips.

“Wow..” Curly murmured. “What’s the.. uh.. occasion?” He asked, his facial expression still slightly shocked. “We only get one communal birthday party per trip, right? So we can have it whenever.” Anya explained, a small smile glazing her lips.

“Only one person can really be surprise birthday’ed per trip. We did Swansea last hall, remember?” Jimmy reminded, causing Daisuke to turn towards him, his mouth open in disbelief.

“No way. I can’t believe I missed that!” He pouted as Jimmy ignored him. “You were next on the list. So, congratulations.” He continued.

“Hate to say it though, your duties have to extend to even your own birthday party.” He hesitated, chuckling. On the fridge, there’s a recipe notebook for food and beverages. Sadly enough, the cake in the book has a code to make it. And the only one who has the code scanner is the captain.

“You’re the only one with clearance to make the cake.” Anya disappointingly said, her voice soft before raising again. “The recipe is there by the machine. Hop to it, captain!” She smiled.

Curly chuckled lowly before stepping to the side and walking towards the fridge. Grabbing the code scanner, he flipped to the page the code was on before scanning it.

2341

He quickly memorized it and stepped over to the food dispenser, sweetener in hand. He set it in the machine, pushing the buttons. After a few quick seconds, it was done. He grabbed it from the dispenser before rushing to finish it, placing it in the machine and making the cake.

After only a short while, he was done. The five of you quickly sat down, ready to eat. Curly grabbed the cake and walked to the table, setting it down in the middle of you all. He then sat on the end of the table, Jimmy across from him.

“You gotta make a speech.” Daisuke started, getting hyper once again. “Speech, speech, speech!” He chanted, pumping his fists into the air. You chuckled at his actions, your mouth watering at the sight of the cake in front of you. “Go on!” Anya encouraged. Curly hesitated for a moment, causing Jimmy to interfere.

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” He asked, his brows furrowing. Curly sighed before explaining that Pony Express finally shut down, and that this would be the crews final mission together. You glanced at him, brows creasing as you felt your heartbeat get faster.

“We’ll still be paid, right? They can’t just.. send us into space and expect us not to get a paycheck, can they?” You muttered, feeing your leg bounce with anxiety.

Curly turned his head towards you, confidently nodding. “Of course. We will receive the paycheck for this delivery. I don’t know anymore than that.” He stated.

“Pony Express finally kicking the bucket, huh?” Swansea mumbled. “What a joke. And we’re the punchline.” Anya felt tears in her eyes and didn’t try to keep them in. She placed her hand to her mouth, voice muffled. “I don’t have any savings. The can’t do this.. there’s no way!” She sniffled.

“Pony Express was one of the last manned crew freighter companies. The writings been on the wall for a long time.” Swansea explained before Jimmy started getting upset, surprising nobody. “When did they tell you?” He demanded, his voice low.

“Earlier this week. I was instructed to wait until we’re closer to the haul destination, but I can’t keep something like this from you all.” Curly didn’t hesitate to reply, remaining calm as he spoke. You couldn’t say the same for Jimmy, though.

“So I guess you got what you wanted. Without the guilt.” He whispered, almost growling. “Jim.. if I had known-..” The captain gets cut off as the brunette continued. You watched carefully between the two men, not wanting it to escalate.

Suddenly, Jimmy went around the table, exposing everyone’s struggles. “Anya never got into medical school because she’s, well, let’s be real.” He trailed off before turning to Swansea. “And how many employment years Swansea got left in him?” He asked.

“Y/N’s only in this because they need the money for a new place to stay, so they’re screwed.” You glanced down at your empty plate, feeling tears prick out of the corner of your eyes. “Daisuke will be fine, mommy and daddy have him covered, so there’s that at least.”

Jimmy then stared at Curly, his eyes filled with hatred. “But you.. headed for bigger and better, right?” He asked. “I’m just.. I’m just working on my life being a place I don’t have to fucking escape!” He shouted, losing his patience. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, nothing m-..” Jimmy cut him off by slamming his hands down on the table.

“We’re the ones you’re trying to escape!” He yelled back, motioning to the five of you. “Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean.” You bit back a sob, not wanting them to yell anymore. You swallowed before breathing out through your mouth, your breath shaking with fear.

Daisuke seemed to have noticed because he took his eyes off of the two men arguing and glanced at you, eyes filled with worry. He placed his hand on your head before guiding you to lay down on his shoulder. The two of you stayed silent, letting them fight it out. “Let’s have some fucking cake, hm?” Jimmy muttered, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms.

“Props to the twilight cruise of the Tulpar. Props to our captain and his new prospects.” He sarcastically said, sounding like he was about to lash out once again. Curly silently grabbed the knife and cut the first slice.

————

2 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH

You laid beside Daisuke in your own medical sleeping bag, holding his hand. Your makeshift beds were placed next to each other, leaving no space between the two of you. Jimmy was next to you two as well, his sleeping bag not too far away.

It made you a little uneasy knowing that he’d be sleeping next to you, but it calmed you down when Daisuke offered to put his bed next to yours.

Your eyes were closed, but you weren’t asleep like he was. You heard Jimmy grumble and stand up before walking out of the lounge area. You shuffled a little and opened your eyes, scooting closer to Daisuke. You kept his hand in yours as you stared at his features.

You yawn, a strange croaking sound coming from your mouth. You chuckle silently to yourself, making sure to keep quiet for your boyfriend lying beside you. You made a risky decision to touch him, trailing your fingers against his cheek.

You felt as if you’ve fallen in love all over again. His peaceful face still filled with energy, his brunette hair as dark as caramel. You didn’t understand how he could ever pick someone like you to be his partner.

Suddenly, he stirred in his sleep, causing you to softly gasp. You take your hand away in fear of him awakening. As you did so, he frowned. He shifted closer to you, his eyes still shut as he wrapped his arms around your torso, his face smushed into your neck, breathing in your scent.

You gently embraced him, your lips to his forehead. Your lips kiss his temple before settling down. You felt your eyelids become heavy, feeling at peace. You didn’t fight it, making you fall asleep tangled in his arms, his in yours.

Just before you fell into a deep slumber, you heard the lounge door open once again. You felt eyes on the back of your head, and you couldn’t help but glance behind you. There stood Jimmy, a grim expression written on his face.

You didn’t say anything and lowered your head onto the thin pillow once again, supporting Daisuke’s head by resting your hand on his hair. You finally reached the edge of slumber, your body going limp as soft snores come from your mouth.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

authors note

suddenly feeling the urge to just kill off reader for angst.. yeahh I won’t though😭😭 I couldn’t do that to yall <33 (maybe someday.. but not now 🫶🏻)

anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!! part 6 will be up soon<3

[bimbo-baggins17]

Thoughts on BABY DADDY SAM MONROE ‼️🫵🏼🫦

Oof okay, well first I’m gonna plug my beautiful Aga’s work link @anakinstwinklebunny

Immediately I thought of the sound on tiktok of ‘You want a beer?’ ‘He’s four!’ ‘Well I don’t know what to do with him!’

TW: mentions of weight, afab anatomy, Sam being Sam

- If we’re talking pre relationship-mending Sam, he’s not the best dad, sorry. “What do you mean you’re pregnant? I pulled out. Can’t you just abort the thing or whatever?”

- The only reason he’d go along to doctor’s appointments is because his mom would nag him and tell him it’s the right thing to do.

- Did he love you? In his own way yeah, he supposed but that didn’t mean he wanted a baby. He saw how his parents ended up and he didn’t want to be that way with you

- “Babe, where’s my last kit-kat?” You’d ask, searching your normal stash area. Your cravings were in full swing. He wouldn’t bother to look up from the video game he’s playing or magazine he’s reading, “I ate it earlier.” “Seriously Sam?” He’d just shrug like it was no big deal, “Yeah. You can always get another. Relax.”

- He’d begrudgingly rub your swollen feet when you’d ask him to, muttering under his breath occasionally and half ass doing it

- Smoking around you was still common, no matter how much you got onto his ass about it. “Sam, you can’t be doing that. Put it out!” Immediately he’d shake his head, “This is the last bit of my shit and I’m not owing Josh another favor.” “Go outside then if you have to.” “Ugh fine. Whatever ‘mom’.” You swore you were going to have two kids.

- “You’re gaining weight.” He’d point out one day and your heart would sink. “I’m pregnant. I’m supposed to.” “Still. Should try to lose some.”

- “Chicks, man.” He’d groan under his breath when you’d snapped on him for the third time today because he was being inconsiderate again. This time it was some comment about how Alyssa was hot and he’d definitely tap that.

- Something starts to change the second he feels the baby kick for the first time. He’d notice the way your eyes widen and you sit up straighter, “What is it?” “The baby just kicked.” The excitement in your voice was clear enough for him to pick up. He swallows and looks at you for a second before timidly asking, “Can I feel it?”

-It was the first time he really took interest, how could you say no? “Yeah, come here.” He walks over and you take his hands, placing them on the spot where you had felt it last. It’s still for a few seconds and he’s about to pull away when it happens again. His eyes widen and he stares in awe at your belly bump for a moment. Your smile widens as you look up at him. Slowly his own lips curl into a smile, “Wow.” He’d actually created life with you.

- Tries to convince you of some god awful name combinations for your son. Chester Daron, Atticus Taylor, Wes Manson. They’re all name combinations taken from members of his favorite bands.

- He’d get your son band onesies. Slipknot, System of a Down, Marilyn Manson, Linkin Park, Korn, Nine Inch Nails, etc. He’d be the punkest baby.

- He’d be there for the birth. He wanted to barf seeing the different fluids and how your body changes as it pushes the baby out. There’s no way that’s the same pussy he’d spend hours devouring.

- But then hearing your baby cry for the first time, it caused the rest of the shift to happen in him. He was a dad. A dad. Him. He couldn’t believe it. He created life with you. He quickly wipes away the tears that were forming with the back of his hand. “Jesus. You did it. It’s actually here.” “He’s here,” You correct him, “and we did it, Sam.”

- He’d ask to hold your baby, taking it into his arms with a kind of gentleness you’ve never seen from him before. Your son would hold onto one of his ringed fingers, “Wow. Such a tight grip already, little man.” It was a sweet moment, a tenderness in his eyes as he looks at your son. “Gonna show you all the best music. None of that poser shit. I’ll teach you how to roll the best joint too when you’re old enough.” You win some, you lose some.

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (THIRTEEN)

A very angsty chapter but with a good ending! whoops! The positive will return, no worries! <3

Masterlist ↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 4,3K ↳chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, talking about feelings, crying, realizations, angst (but with a happy ending)

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

“OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!” Lando’s voice rang through the hall as he barged into Oscar’s hotel room, eyes blazing with barely contained rage. “YOU ARE SO DEAD!”

Oscar, hunched over his suitcase, froze and looked up, bewildered. He could tell immediately that Lando was beyond furious, but he couldn’t fathom what had set him off.

“Lando, what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

Oscar had just arrived back after qualifying, planning to freshen up before heading over to your room, as he did every race weekend. He’d been thinking about you the entire way back, looking forward to unwinding together, the familiarity of those private moments giving him a sense of calm after the intensity of the day. But now, standing here, all he could do was rack his brain, trying to figure out what could have provoked Lando like this.

Lando’s fists clenched, the knuckles going white as he glared at Oscar with pure disgust. He slammed the door behind him, sending a tremor through the room. “Don’t play dumb with me, Oscar. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Oscar’s face twisted in confusion, his mind whirling. Was this some bizarre prank? Lando was known for his sense of humor, but this felt... different. More intense. More real. Slowly, he got up from his crouched position and perched himself on the edge of the bed, his voice calm but uncertain. “Lando, I seriously have no clue what’s going on. Did I do something wrong?”

Lando let out a humorless laugh, practically spitting the air out in disbelief. “Are you actually this clueless, or are you just lying straight to my face right now?”

Oscar’s patience was wearing thin. “Lando, for the last time, what is going on?” he demanded, voice rising as frustration bled into his tone.

Lando’s face twisted with anger, and he kicked the door behind him, a loud bang reverberating through the room. “Jesus Christ, Oscar, you’re a fucking asshole.” His eyes flashed as he took a step closer, his voice dripping with disdain. “Maybe next time, don’t lie to my sister about your so-called ‘feelings’ for her if you plan on sticking your tongue down someone else’s throat behind her back.”

Oscar’s heart stopped, his face going pale. “Lando,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady, “What are you talking about? I had to kiss her on the cheek, nothing more. You knew about that—you know it meant nothing.”

But Lando’s expression only grew darker. “Oh, so now you’re not just an asshole; now you’re a liar too. I’m not talking about that.”

Oscar’s stomach twisted. He had no idea what Lando was getting at, but a cold unease settled over him. “What are you going on about, then?”

“If you were trying to hide your little escapade with that attention-seeking bitch, maybe next time you should close the damn door of your driver’s room before deciding to shove your tongue down her throat.”

Oscar’s face drained of color, realization finally sinking in. “Oh god, did you see that?” He stammered, starting to explain, but Lando cut him off sharply.

“I didn’t,” he hissed, eyes blazing, “but she did.”

Oscar’s heart shattered, his voice catching. “I promise, Lando, it’s not what it looked like.”

Lando’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” His fists clenched tighter, his voice deadly quiet. “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this, Oscar. Because if you don’t—and I mean it—if you even think of stepping near her again, I swear to god, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Oscar was left in stunned silence as Lando spat the words at him, guilt and regret washing over him like a tidal wave. His mind flickered back to what had happened earlier, replaying each moment with increasing dread.

*flashback to earlier*

Oscar had been in his driver’s room, unwinding after the high of qualifying, hoping to cool down before meeting up with you. Ava had followed him in, chattering on about the race and the PR obligations they’d fulfilled. They shared a laugh about the awkward peck on the cheek they’d had to perform for the cameras, the faint taste of staged affection still lingering.

“You looked so stiff out there, Oscar,” Ava teased, smirking. “You know, if we don’t make it look real, they’re going to know. We should really practice if we want people to buy it.”

Oscar tensed, shifting uncomfortably. “I think we’re fine, Ava. It’s just PR. We’re not meant to look that serious anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, brushing off his hesitation. “Come on, Oscar. Don’t be so uptight. This is for show. It doesn’t mean anything.” Her voice softened, and she took a step closer, her eyes glittering. “Let me teach you a few tricks. Just… trust me.”

He backed away slightly, eyeing the door. “This really isn’t a good idea, Ava. It could easily go too far.”

But Ava seemed determined, giving him a knowing smile as she leaned in and pecked him lightly on the lips, her eyes flickering toward the door. Oscar felt his stomach clench, a mix of unease and annoyance. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. He was only doing this entire act to protect you from unwanted scrutiny and questions.

“See?” she murmured, stepping closer still, her fingers brushing his cheek. “It’s not so bad. A bit of practice never hurt anyone.”

Before he could protest, she was kissing him again, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him in closer. He hesitated, feeling every fiber of his being rejecting this, but her hand slid around to the back of his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss. Uncertain, he felt her hand snake up into his hair, tugging lightly as she pressed closer, the intensity escalating.

Oscar was caught off guard, feeling her press her hips into his, guiding his hands to rest on her waist. He’d barely noticed the way her eyes darted toward the door, a glint of mischief flashing in them as if she knew someone was watching.

He froze, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of discomfort, his mind flooded with the realization of how much he didn’t want any of this. Summoning all the strength he had, he pushed her away, breaking the kiss and stepping back, his face flushed with frustration and embarrassment.

“Ava, this isn’t right,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I’m not comfortable with this at all. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

She smirked, feigning innocence. “Oh, really? You didn’t seem uncomfortable a second ago.”

He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. “I’m doing this PR stunt for the sake of appearances. To protect someone I care about. But I’m not going to pretend that you and I…" he said, gesturing his finger in her direction and then back to himself "are anything real, because it's anything but.” He gestured to the door, his voice quiet but firm. “Please. Just leave.”

She shrugged, her smirk lingering as she made her way out, leaving him alone in the room, a strange mix of relief and dread pooling in his stomach.

*end of flashback*

The memory dissolved, and Oscar found himself back in the awkward quiet of his hotel room, his heart pounding in his chest as Lando’s words echoed in his mind. You’d seen it. You’d seen everything.

Oscar’s stomach twisted violently, leaving him feeling nauseated and weak. His mind was a churning mess, every second replaying the scene, the look on Ava’s face, the moment he’d seen her eyes flick toward the door. That sickening realization that she had known. And worse, that you had seen it all. It was as if the ground had been ripped out from under him; his legs felt unsteady, his heart beating erratically, each thud filling him with a helpless dread.

Lando looked down at him, his expression hard and unyielding, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was no pity in his stare, only barely controlled rage mixed with something that might have been desperation. Lando’s voice was low, but the intensity cut through the air like a knife. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true, Oscar, or if you’re just a damn good liar,” he said. “But if you’re serious about this, if you really care about her, you’d better get your ass over there and fix this. Because I don't ever wanna see that look on her face, ever again.”

Lando’s words struck hard, each one landing like a punch. The warning wasn’t just a threat; it was a declaration, a fierce brotherly loyalty that Oscar knew was unwavering. The way Lando looked at him, with such disdain mixed with pain, it cut Oscar to his core.

“If I find out you’re lying,” Lando continued, his jaw clenched, “I will make sure you lose that seat at McLaren. I’ll make it my mission, Oscar. You know how much my sister means to me.” He shook his head, an angered exhale escaping him. “I warned you about hurting her.”

Oscar couldn’t hold back any longer. His voice shook as he forced the words out, raw and desperate. “Lando, I swear to you, I’m telling the truth.” His hands clenched at his sides as he looked down, feeling his chest tighten painfully. “This is… it’s such a horrible misunderstanding. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

Emotion welled up inside him, a mix of fear, shame, and regret, and he felt his throat close up, his vision blurring. His breath grew uneven, and despite himself, a tear slid down his cheek. Then another, until he could feel the hot, shameful trail of them spilling freely, powerless to stop.

Lando’s expression softened slightly as he watched Oscar crumble before him, the fight momentarily leaving his own features as he absorbed the depth of Oscar’s remorse. He looked away for a moment, as if weighing his options, and then his voice came, gruff but more measured. “Then you need to go to her,” he said quietly. “Go to her, now. She’s going to be devastated. If you’re telling the truth, you can fix this. But you’d better go now.”

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding. He was already reaching for his jacket, his heart still pounding but with a sense of urgency to repair the damage. He couldn’t bear the thought of you feeling hurt, betrayed. The very thought twisted the knife in his gut, driving him forward.

“One more thing.��� Lando’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and Oscar turned back to see him standing firm, his eyes cold again. “This PR thing—it’s making things worse. If you really want a future with her, end it. Because if this ever happens again, you’re going to lose her. And you’re going to lose a hell of a lot more.”

Oscar met his gaze, giving a solemn nod. “You’re right. I’ll stop it. I can’t… I can’t put her through this.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the conviction was there.

Lando held his gaze a beat longer, then sighed, giving a slight nod of grudging acceptance. “Go fix this, Oscar. And don’t make me regret trusting you.”

⁺⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⁺ ⋆⁺

After spending time with Lando, letting yourself unload the heartbreak and confusion, you’d assured him you’d be alright eventually—that you just needed some time alone. Retreating to your hotel room, you tried desperately to hold yourself together, to avoid being swallowed whole by the storm of emotions that seemed intent on drowning you. But the harder you tried, the more impossible it felt.

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the sight was sobering. Your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with smudged mascara that had streaked down your cheeks in uneven, telltale lines. You looked broken, more raw and vulnerable than you could remember feeling in a long time. The weight of it settled heavily, pressing down on you with each passing second.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Startled, you wiped your face quickly, taking a deep, steadying breath before walking over to the door. You didn’t open it, unwilling to let anyone see you like this. “Lando,” you called out, your voice strained, “I told you I’m fine. Just… just go.”

But instead of your brother’s familiar voice, you heard the voice you least expected—and least wanted to hear.

“Y/N, it’s me,” Oscar’s voice was soft, rough around the edges. You froze, feeling your heart twist painfully at the sound of him. Every part of you wanted to sink against the door, to open it, to confront him. But instead, you stiffened, the hurt quickly filling the space where vulnerability once lingered.

“Just leave me alone,” you managed, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Please, baby,” Oscar’s voice broke on the word, thick with desperation. “Please, open the door. Let me explain. It’s all… it’s all a big misunderstanding.”

A wave of emotion washed over you, and your chest tightened as you sank slowly to the floor, resting your back against the door as you fought to keep your voice steady. “There’s nothing to explain, Oscar. I was there. I saw it,” you whispered, pulling your knees up to your chest and burying your face between them, as if trying to block out the memory of it.

“You don’t get it, Y/N,” he pressed, his voice breaking again. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

You let out a bitter laugh, muffled as you pressed your head against your knees. “Oscar,” you mumbled, voice hollow, “You had your tongue down her throat. There wasn’t any press around, no cameras to put on a show for. You can’t call it anything but what it was.” Your voice was so quiet, almost fragile, just loud enough for him to hear through the door. “Besides… It's not like you owe me anything. We were never exclusive. I’m not your girlfriend.” You swallowed hard, the words cutting deep. “And considering what I saw, it’s obvious you don’t want that either."

There was a long pause, the silence stretching between you two, heavy and painful. You could feel him on the other side of the door, his presence almost palpable, and it took everything in you not to reach for the handle. But your heart was guarded, waiting, hesitant to give in so easily.

The silence was broken by a ragged, unsteady breath, and then you heard him sink down to the floor on the other side of the door, mirroring you, with only the cold, impersonal wood between you.

“Please… please don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “I know I don’t deserve for you to listen to me right now, but it wasn’t what you think. It wasn’t real.” His voice cracked, and you could hear the tremor in his words, the strain of holding back tears. “Ava, she… she forced it. I didn’t want it, I didn’t—I pushed her away.” His words were stumbling, broken by emotion, and you could feel his desperation as he tried to explain himself, to make you see the truth he was so desperate for you to understand.

You stayed silent, torn between wanting to believe him and the vivid memory of what you had seen. Part of you, the part that had loved and trusted him, wanted to believe every word. But another part, the one that had been hurt, was afraid to trust again, afraid to be vulnerable. You felt your throat tighten, your hands curling into fists as you struggled to hold back your own tears, feeling them dry on your cheeks as you pressed yourself harder against the door.

He paused, gathering himself before continuing, his voice raw with honesty and regret. “She kept… pushing it, saying we needed to make it look real enough for people to believe it. She’d go on about how it would all fall apart if we didn’t act convincing, kept saying we had to practice that stupid kiss.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I told her no, but she just wouldn’t stop pressing, and then she just kissed me"

He took a shaky breath, his words fractured and heavy with guilt. “I-I didn’t want it,” he stammered, his voice thick as he tried to speak through his tears. “I swear… I didn’t want any of it.” His voice cracked, a choked sob escaping as he struggled to keep going, the desperation evident in every trembling syllable.

You heard him shift against the door, his back pressed firmly as if trying to ground himself. “I felt trapped,” he continued, his words punctuated by small, hitched breaths. “Like… like if I didn’t go along with it, I’d ruin everything—the whole stupid plan. And… I didn’t want to drag you into that. I was scared. I didn't want to ruin things for you”

Another tear-choked breath left him, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I… I couldn’t keep doing it. I pushed her away. I told her I couldn’t—” His voice broke, a raw, unsteady exhale filling the silence as he struggled to compose himself. “I told her it was wrong. I told her it was wrong, and I wanted it to stop.”

His voice faded, overcome by a quiet sob that made the door between you feel thin, almost nonexistent. The vulnerability in his tears was unmistakable, and even in the silence, you could feel the weight of his remorse pressing against you.

Oscar’s voice grew softer, pleading. “You don’t have to say anything if… if you don’t want to. But I just need you to know that it wasn’t me. I didn’t want that, any of it.” His voice faltered, but he kept going. “I’m done with this stupid agreement, this entire PR stunt. I’ll quit it—even if it doesn’t mean I get you back. I just… I can’t keep doing this. I love you, Y/N.” His voice dropped, barely more than a whisper, the words raw and honest.

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at something deep inside you, pulling you closer to that fine line between anger and forgiveness. You felt the sincerity of his words, the pain that bled through them, and despite yourself, part of you believed him. But the fear held you back, the hurt silencing the words that you wanted to say.

A silence fell between you, thick with unspoken words and shared pain. You could hear his shaky breathing through the door, and you knew he was crying. The sound wrenched at your heart, stirring a sadness that mixed with your own, leaving you feeling both hollow and heavy, unable to find the words to respond.

Moments later, footsteps echoed down the hallway. You could hear someone approaching, and then a familiar voice—one that made your stomach twist.

“Well, well, Oscar,” Ava’s voice cooed, feigning sympathy. “Is it really worth all this? She’s not worth it, you know.”

Oscar’s shoulders tensed, his breathing growing heavier as he turned to look at her, his eyes flashing with a newfound clarity, a sharpness born of betrayal. He recoiled from her, yanking his shoulder away from her touch, his expression a mixture of disgust and fury. Without a second thought, he rose to his feet, facing her with a look that could have frozen fire.

“You’ve done enough,” he spat, his voice low and filled with a venom you’d never heard before. “You’ve already ruined everything. Leave me alone.”

But Ava merely arched an eyebrow, her smile twisting as if amused by his anger. She opened her mouth, perhaps to retort, but Oscar didn’t give her a chance.

“Just… stay the hell away from me.” His voice was louder now, strong and unwavering, the raw pain of it echoing through the corridor. “I don’t ever want to see you near me again. Not at the track, not anywhere. You hear me?” He took a step back, his voice rising with each word, carrying both fury and anguish. “I’m done with this agreement. Done with you. Done with this entire PR stunt!”

The volume of his voice carried through the door, and even you could hear the finality in it. For a brief moment, the hurt and anger felt a bit lighter, a flicker of hope stirring beneath it all. The words he’d said, the fire in his voice—it felt real.

There was a shuffling of footsteps as Ava moved away, clearly surprised by his outburst. Oscar remained standing in the hallway, staring after her until the corridor grew silent again, empty save for him and the lingering echo of his words.

Slowly, he sank back down, his back pressed against the door again, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. He didn’t say anything else, but his quiet, broken presence felt closer than words could convey. And though your heart was still bruised, still guarded, you found yourself shifting slightly, pressing your shoulder to the door, closer to where you knew he sat on the other side.

Oscar took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping at his eyes as he sat against the door. You listened to the sounds leaving the Australian's mouth, still pressed against the other side, your heart aching with every tear-choked word he’d spoken. Slowly, as silence settled around you both, you felt him begin to shift, his weight moving as he gathered himself to leave. He exhaled quietly, almost as if he were accepting that this was the end, that he’d done all he could.

The thought of him leaving stirred something urgent within you, a longing that broke through the hurt and fear. Without fully thinking it through, you reached for the handle. Just as Oscar rose, taking a few hesitant steps away, you opened the door.

“Oscar,” you whispered, reaching out to grab his arm.

He turned around sharply, his red-rimmed eyes wide with surprise as he stared down at you, disbelief mingling with the faintest glimmer of hope. For a long, fragile moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the air thick with everything unsaid, every apology, every promise, every feeling that had built up over months. The intensity of his gaze, softened by the tears still brimming in his eyes, filled you with warmth, melting away the last of your hesitation.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… I love you too, Oscar.”

The words seemed to break something within him. His face crumpled, a fresh tear slipping down his cheek as he reached out, cupping your face in his hands as if you were something precious, fragile, something he couldn’t bear to let slip away. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the last remnants of your tears, his gaze so full of tenderness and vulnerability that it took your breath away.

And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours with a quiet desperation, a raw need that spoke of every moment of anguish, of every ounce of longing he’d carried for you. His lips were soft but insistent, moving with a careful, almost reverent passion, as if he were pouring everything he felt into this one kiss. You could feel the slight tremble in his hands, the way his fingers pressed gently but firmly against your skin, grounding himself in your warmth.

The kiss deepened, slowly, his lips parting as he moved closer, pulling you into him as if he couldn’t bear to be separated by even a breath. His tears mingled with yours, salty and warm, the emotions overwhelming as the kiss became a quiet exchange of love and sorrow, each movement a promise, a silent plea to never let go. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you held him close, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of him.

His tongue brushed lightly against your bottom lip, a gentle request that you answered by parting your lips, allowing him in. As your tongues met, a wave of emotion washed over you both, the kiss growing deeper, more intense, every second drawing you closer, until it felt as though nothing else in the world existed but the two of you. The taste of him, the softness of his lips, the way his breath mingled with yours—it was intoxicating, and you felt yourself melting into him, surrendering fully to the quiet, consuming love that bound you together.

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss grew needier, more fervent, yet still so achingly tender. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, slow and deliberate, savoring each touch, each taste, until the world seemed to fade away. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even further, his tongue caressing yours with a slow, deliberate intimacy that left you breathless. It was as if he was pouring every unsaid word, every unexpressed feeling, into this moment, and you could feel it in every movement, every touch, every trembling breath.

After what felt like a lifetime, the two of you slowly broke apart, your foreheads coming to rest against each other as you both tried to catch your breath, your eyes still closed, savoring the warmth and closeness. His hands lingered on your cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently over your skin as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you, to lose this connection even for a moment.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of emotion. “Please be mine.”

Oscar’s breath hitched, and he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that took your breath away. “I’ve always been yours,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You managed a small, tearful smile, your fingers brushing over his cheek, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “I mean… for real this time. Be my boyfriend. Please,” you said, your voice a soft, tender plea.

A smile broke through his tears, a pure, radiant joy lighting up his face as he looked at you, his eyes shimmering with a love so deep it was almost overwhelming. “There’s nothing I would love more,” he murmured, his voice soft and trembling with happiness.

And in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, you felt the pain and heartache begin to fade, replaced by a quiet, steady warmth, a promise of something real, something lasting.

—————⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺—————

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Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff @silentreader128 @edixttor @sugakookie132 @a-beaverhausen

[gluion]

songs queued! — boynextdoor’s ktv experiences with you

wc — 1.9k (~300-350 per member) genre & warnings — fluff, crack, platonic for woonhak, most scenarios will have alcohol involved (except for woonhak’s), songs that they’d sing in the karaoke included (with one opm song per member because i must give respect to my heritage that gifted me my talent) notes — one thing about me is that i do NOT play about ktvs. you will catch me drinking and having the time of my life in one almost every week (it's been a month since i last went. i miss it). if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

request to be part of the taglist! masterlist

park sungho knows one thing: you and alcohol guarantee a night filled with tears. whether it would be over the worst week you’ve had or out of sheer joy from being surrounded with your friends, it’s a sob fest. the first time you cried to him in your intoxicated state brought him to drop the mic… until he heard you talk about the finale of your favorite series. it’s not that sungho doesn’t take you seriously, but he now knows what to do should you cry again.

✰ sungho never strays away from the microphone, always flipping through the songbook to find another song to queue. if anything, you were the type who seemed to avoid the microphone. yet, sungho never pushed you to sing, so long as you sung along or enjoyed the night.

✰ on the nights the reason behind your tears are serious, he leads you somewhere far from the party, and he’ll stick with you until the end. he won’t force you to talk about anything, only holding a glass of water should you ever need one. he knew these were the only moments you could allow yourself to vent, to be vulnerable, and he would never strip that from you. all he wants is to be there for you.

✰ before you leave the party, sungho checks up on you one last time. he wipes your tear stained cheeks before pulling you into a hug. although your intoxicated mind won’t remember, he tells you to call him the next day. and when morning comes, you’ll see a message from him saying that he’s on the way to your place with a bowl of chinese soup. 

songs queued — no control by one direction — still into you by paramore — replay by shinee — broken clocks by sza — and july by heize, dean & dj friz — chinito by yeng constantino

lee riwoo is all too familiar with your three different stages of intoxication. first, you’ll be in a bubbly mood, struggling to hold back your giggles over the smallest things that shouldn’t be funny. when you’ve had a bit more alcohol in your system, you’ll let loose and get on the dance floor, dragging riwoo along to enjoy the night with you. once you’ve calmed down, you’ll find yourself entering your third stage of intoxication: going nonverbal. riwoo follows the same stages as you.

✰ riwoo enjoys the karaoke with you. he can let loose and sing his heart out, knowing that someone is there to reciprocate the energy. it’s in the karaoke room—or maybe just being with you that he feels most alive. in your shared looks, you always read his mind, and you always came rushing to him with what he needed; another singing buddy, a person to dance with, someone to laugh with, the only one who can just sit in silence with him.

✰ when one of you go nonverbal, the other person makes it an effort to ask if they want to go somewhere far from the party. after all, the noise and lights could be overwhelming. riwoo always comes prepared with water while you always have earphones should the energy be too much. however, when the two of you find yourselves entering the third stage of intoxication, a corner in the room suffices. the only thing important to you two is having each other during these moments.

✰ while everyone goes off in their own, you and riwoo stick together. the way back home is a wordless one, but one filled with actions; hand holding and interlocked arms. the two of you thank the universe for silent moments—so long as you two are together.

songs queued — red wine supernova by chappell roan — shoong by taeyang feat. lisa — smoking out the window by silk sonic — beauty and a beat by justin bieber & nicki minaj — born this way by lady gaga — dadalhin by regine velasquez

myung jaehyun follows one rule when it comes to ktvs and you: act as the designated babysitter, specifically yours. you and alcohol never mix well. despite how many times you tell him that you aren’t going to drink, you can’t hold yourself back around a bottle of liquor. yet, jaehyun knows how much you needed the break. in fact, he’s always been the one person to tell you to stop spending late nights with your back slouched in front of your computer. so for now, he’ll allow you to have this time to let loose—so long as he’s there to take care of you. 

✰ one thing about jaehyun is that he knew how to have fun without the alcohol—that’s how you know he’s the life-of-the-party. somehow, he knew what you needed. someone to sing with? that’s him. someone to hype you up? easiest job for him. someone to take a break with? you didn’t have to ask—he knows. when he sees you taking a seat after you sing your heart out, he rushes to your side. sure, you need some water, but sometimes, you just want someone to lean on. and he always knows.

✰ as everyone starts to bid their farewells, you hold jaehyun’s arm half-asleep. given all the times he took care of you, there would be no question who brings you home. he knows what to do before you fall to your bed; watch out the remnants of the night so that you can enjoy your sleep. after all, he didn’t mind taking care of you. the soft babbling, the sudden giggles, the quiet snores—these happened to be his favorite moments after every night out. 

✰ whenever you wake up, you’d find hangover medicine and water on your bedside table. that was enough to make you smile. 

songs queued — to myself by dpr live — new thing by zico — i need a girl by taeyang — aeao by dynamic duo — pour up by dean & zico — beer by the itchyworms

han taesan knows all the telltale signs that show whenever you’ve had too much to drink. he moves quick, ready to catch you whenever you stumble or snatch a shot from you. as much as taesan could never hold back from your eyes that plead to him, he knows you; a morning with a pounding headache and lack of recollection of last night’s events isn’t one you wanted to deal with. you think he’s not doing you a favor, sulking as he tells you he won’t leave until you finish a glass of water, but you’ll thank him when the morning comes.

✰ some nights, you manage to get away from taesan’s scolding. however, that only brings him to think smarter. at a point of incoherency, you still search for alcohol, whining as you ask them to fill up your shot glass. while you expect it to be filled with vodka, taesan fills it with water without your knowledge. to really sell it, he’ll take a “shot” with you. your intoxicated mind could never tell. (it was always amusing to see you hiss over the “alcohol” going down your throat.) and when you struggled to keep up with the lyrics, taesan would join along and keep you up to pace.

✰ when the night finally comes to an end, taesan never allows himself to watch you go home by yourself. you’re too drunk to take care of yourself, and for his peace of mind, he stays with you until he sees you enter the front door. 

✰ when morning comes, taesan only recaps your foolish actions. while you sit in embarrassment, taesan laughs. (but he’ll never tell you of all the times he made sure you got home safe. he didn’t care how late in the night—or early in the morning—it would be. all he knows is that he’d do it any day.)

songs queued — linger by the cranberries — welcome to the black parade by my chemical romance — 1999 by g2 & gray — mr. brightside by the killers — sk8er boi by avril lavigne — huwag na huwag mong sabihin by kitchie nadal 

kim leehan can’t deny he likes you in your intoxicated state. you’re never this bubbly, clingy, with him unless you’ve got some alcohol in your system. and in this state, you never know how to control your words. shy compliments and secret confessions never fail to leave your mouth. he swears he can hear his heartbeat with every word you say. it starts off with the love songs; you never can stop yourself from singing them. while everyone’s busy singing along, they never spot the glances you take at leehan. he doesn’t know if it’s your poor attempt to look at him discreetly, but he will always lock eyes with you. it’s the heat in your cheeks that are enough to send a message his way.

✰ when you start settling down, you stay with leehan, latching onto his arm and basking in his warmth. leehan accepts your touch, even slinging an arm to hold you close. mumbles tumble out of your mouth. when he can’t understand, he’ll lean closer to you—and the distance is enough to make you lose your train of thought. (leehan can’t help but like your starstruck expression.)

✰ once the party comes to its end, you always sober up in time. you’re back to your laidback persona that everyone knows of. yet, leehan still looks at you like the same intoxicated person who held onto him almost the entire night. although you try to feign ignorance, he knows you all too well. his hand rests on top of your head, allowing you to enjoy briefly in his warmth before you go on your separate ways.

✰ you two never talk about it in the next morning. (but you two think back to it in the late hours of the night.)

songs queued — a thousand miles by vanessa carlton — september by earth, wind, and fire — yeah by usher feat. lil jon & ludacris — so sick by ne-yo — you’re so vain by carly simon — torete by moonstar88 

kim woonhak would never pass on karaoke, especially if you’re coming along. every song becomes a duet with you. not in a way that you’re stealing each other’s spotlight but more to deliver the best performance in the booth. the karaoke booth transforms into anything you two want it to be; a stage, a garage, whatever space fits the song and you two.

✰ whenever you two get tired, you fall into a routine of catching up on anything and everything. somehow, you two can talk about anything in the world; lucid dreams, burning passions, the concept of water and if it’s wet. woonhak likes these conversations. if anything, he’d be happy to just talk, but he likes creating memories with you—living life with you. his youth is filled with you.

✰ while everyone leaves with a goal to rest, you and woonhak can’t seem to think about what’s in store for the next day. the way home is filled with laughter over tonight’s events. somehow, you remind him that there’s more to life than just school or work. there’ll always be space for these silly moments and never-ending conversations with you.

✰ mornings after surprisingly aren’t as noisy like the nights you spend at the ktv. somehow, you two like it slow, and woonhak’s happy enough to spend it with his favorite person. 

songs queued — her by block b — come back home by seo taiji and boys — left & right by seventeen — cat & dog by tomorrow by together — love scenario by ikon — andrew ford medina by andrew e.

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @onedoornet @kstrucknet

boynextdoor permanent tag list: @bndokidoki @0310s @whyilovewhales-pdf

story tag list: @zynz0 @chewnotchoke

[bambii-bimbo]

Enthralled

They woke up in a daze, head pounding, sitting in chair. They had no idea where they were, or what had happened to them. All they could remember was... umm... uhhh... In that moment, they realized they couldn't remember anything. Who they were, where they were from, what their life was like. Becoming aware of their body now, looking down to find a nice, round pair of large breasts covering their slim stomach. They screamed out of fear, only to hear a feminine, woman-like cry escape from their plumped up lips. Almost hyperventilating now, they checked the rest of his body to confirm their fears, and with a long, deep breath, took in the changes. A round butt, long, thick black hair tumbling over a narrow feminine frame, and to top it off, a pink, glowing pussy between their thighs. After calming himself down, they looked around the room made up of nearly all pink, with a few soft chairs sitting in front of a TV, and a door leading into a chamber of sorts at the other side of the room. Just then the door opened, and pure perfection walked in.

"She's awake!" The girl was wearing a ridiculously revealing black outfit, and strutted her way into the room, breasts moving side to side and long pink-highlighted hair swinging back and forth. She was stunning, and the still groggy, confused girl couldn't help but stare at her form. At least, now she knew she was a girl, but couldn't remember if she was always one. Not that it mattered anyway, the girls whole world became the sexy woman as she approached her.

"How do you feel, Kylie?" The woman inspected Kylie's features, giving her a moment to digest her appointed name, before continuing on. "In case you don't remember, which I seriously doubt you do, my name is Alexa. I know you're feeling pretty confused right now, but that's alright. By the time we are done, you will be feeling so, so much better." Before Kylie could say anything, Alexa snapped her fingers, and spoke a command. "Bambi Freeze." Instantly, Kylie felt all of her muscles completely clench, and she stood at attention in front of Alexa. "Good girl!" Clearly she was pleased with Kylie's response, and with another snap, motioned for her to follow. Kylie followed, without any resistance or thought, pursuing Alexa before being sat down in one of the pink chairs, Alexa sitting directly across, extremely close. "What am I doing here?" Kylie asked, her girly voice echoing through the room. Alexa gave a smirk, licking her lips and seemingly waiting for something.

All of a sudden, Kylie heard footsteps behind her, and another woman came around the chair, wearing the same type of revealing outfit, but this time was a brunette. Her pink bra did a poor job of hiding her absolutely massive tits, swinging back and forth as she leaned over towards Alexa. The two exchanged a few words before giving their attention back to Kylie, still questioning her situation in the chair. "Relax, you won't need to think about anything in a second. If you're still confused, let me explain. You have gone through an intense brainwashing cycle, where we have altered your mind and body to be the perfect bimbo doll, just like the two of us. I'm guessing that you can't remember anything before now, which is good. Old life completely gone, first step to accepting your new life as Bambi." Kylie tensed up, asking "who is Bambi?" The other bimbo laughed, a very pretty laugh, and said "Bambi is the girl deep within you. We have programmed her deep into your subconscious, and now it is time for you to accept her as a part of yourself! You don't have to fight it, the conditioning has made sure that you can't anyway. Just let it feel good, and give in to the feelings of pleasure and empty bliss you feel while we complete your bimbofication. Now, lets begin."

Bimbofication? Bambi? Brainwashing? Kylie tried to stand up, to make an effort to resist her captors. She wasn't some dumb bimbo, conditioned to obey her inner "Bambi". This was ridiculous! Before Kylie could stand up and do anything, however, Alexa snapped her fingers, and Kylie froze in the chair. Blankly staring at the girl in front of her, she could feel the hands of the other girl behind her begin to run through her black, moisturized hair. "What did we tell you, Bambi. There is no escape from your conditioning, no chance of resistance. Your subconscious mind gave in a long time ago, and now it is time to let your conscious mind accept this too. It's so easy to just obey, to open up yourself to Bambi, to let her take control. You'll feel so good, feel like such a good girl. So let it happen." Alexa moved in super close to Kylie, still feeling the other bimbo's soft hands glide over her head, massaging her ears. "Look at my breasts, Bambi." Kylie instantly felt her eyes drift downwards, down to Alexa's large tits. She watched them begin to sway, side to side, in a rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion. She had to admit, they were easy to look at, so full and soft, admiring them as they swung. Before long, Kylie was deep in trance, completely enthralled in Alexa's breasts, completely mindless as the other girl whispered into her ears, still gently massaging her. "Good girl. Stare. Submit. Obey. Sink." Kylie relaxed into the chair, eyes fluttering and mouth dropping open. It did feel good, to stare at Alexa's breasts, bobbing up and down now.

"Mmm, what a good girl you are. So easily accepting trance, dropping deep under my large hypnotizing breasts. Feel the pleasure radiate all over your body, sinking even deeper into this state of obedience. Bri, lets make her feel it even... more." Kylie sat, unmoving mindlessly absorbing Alexa's breasts and enjoying every second of it before feeling Bri's own, soft, large breasts pressing up against the sides of her head. The chair leaned back and Alexa felt her head lean into Bri, with her legs wrapping around her tight waist and feeling her warmth on her back. Alexa adjusted herself too, climbing on top of Kylie and rubbing herself over Kylie's crotch. Kylie felt the drool come out of her mouth and pussy, feelings of arousal increasing by the second. Spreading her legs even more as Alexa grinded on her, continuing to sway her large, bare breasts back and forth. When did she take her bra off? It didn't matter, all Kylie knew is that she was loving this. All resistance she had was completely gone, replaced with total mindless obedience and vacant, seemingly endless arousal. Bri's large breasts pressing up against her ears, holding her in place, Alexa leaned down, holding a teat over Kylie's mouth. "Show me you want my milk. Only the dumbest, horniest bimbos get my milk." Kylie strained for her nipple, wet tongue and soft moans highlighting her struggle, showing her desperation. Alexa, satisfied, lowered her teat on to Kylie's face, and...

Kylie was in heaven. Sweet milk instantly burst into her mouth, covering her face as she blankly sucked, happy and empty as the thick heavy cream filled her mind. Making any remaining thoughts completely still, dissolving in the warmth and pleasure of the milk rushed to her brain, making her feel so much more fuzzy and aroused than before. The feminine, drowsy scent coming from her exposed breast only added more to the horniness, thinking of nothing but the sweet milk gushing into her wet, obedient mouth as a powerful pink fog clouded Kylie's head. Hearing nothing but her constant triggers and mantras being repeated in her ears, and Alexa's moans stimulating Kylie even more. Alexa suddenly pulled away, leaving Kylie needy and so, so horny, begging for more. Laughing loudly, mixed with her pleasure filled moans, Alexa backed off, stimulating her sensitive breast with her own hand, and Bri pulled her breasts, also wet with milk, away from Kylie's head. Intense pleasure causing Kylie to writhe, she audibly yelled, accepting her new life. "I am a pretty horny bimbo doll, completely brainwashed and conditioned to obey and be the most slutty girl that Bambi can possibly be. Please keep going, I'm begging you so much. I need it so, so much right now." Kylie moaned again, hands locked at her sides no matter how much she tried to move towards her throbbing pussy. Alexa and Bri giggled, before Alexa said "You will fully accept your conditioning and become one of us only when we allow you to cum. Cum out your mind and drop fully into submission for Bambi. What a good girl you have been, keeping you in heat this long has left you desperate. So, we will allow it, just for good girls like you. Think with your pussy now."

The trigger immediately took effect, with Kylie instantly moving her hand to her breasts, stimulating them and watching them lactate for the first time. She felt Bri climb on top of her, pressing her own hands against her sensitive breasts and massaging them, sending spasms throughout Kylie's body. Then, Alexa's plump, wet lips locked on to Kylie's pussy, instantly delving her tongue deep within her clit. Bri locked her mouth against Kylie's and they shared saliva, rubbing their breasts together on autopilot. Kylie couldn't think about anything other than her triggers, repeating her mantras and feeling so abolustely delicious. She felt an orgasm approaching through her pussy, as Alexa's pace increased rapidly. Her moans became louder, the mantras like the ticking of a clock, her whole body twitching every time she repeated one in her head. And then, she heard a new one. "Bambi Cum and Collapse." In the most intense and pleasurable surge of bliss she had ever felt, Kylie finally came, her stimulated breasts worked by Bri's as they passionately made out, Alexa's tongue feeling the full force of her orgasm. Feeling Bambi take total control, Kylie felt the intense orgasm rush through her like a flood, before finally settling after a long moment. She collapsed back against the chair, Bri lifting off and standing beside Alexa, licking the remaining juices off of her face.

Kylie stood up in front of the two bimbos, admiring her new fellow Bambi's and still shaky from the intense orgasm. It was no longer a question, Bambi controlled Kylie, a good girl for her conditioning. So brainwashed that she was unable to form a thought unrelated to her brainwashing or pleasure. "Thank you so much for showing me the bliss that Bambi brings. Why would I ever resist when I can just give in and be a bouncy, blank bimbo?" Alexa bit her lip. "So glad you came around, Bambi. Now you can let your tits and pussy think for you at all times, obey the pleasure that you love so, so much. Good girl." Kylie mindlessly smiled, feeling soft and fuzzy, ready to begin her new life as a slutty, brainwashed bimbo.

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 5

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

Isidro is possibly the father of the year. Maybe I’ll change my mind when it turns out he’s kind of homophobic, but for now that man gives some seriously good advice. I get why Fina is the way she is, oh not the mood thing, but the stability, the self-assurance. When you have someone holding you up like Isidro does, giving advice like he does, about how the best approach is to find the good sides in yourself and commit to those - I mean, yeah, it’s not hard to understand he could raise a daughter like Fina. It’s also such a nice contrast with the next scene which is the de la Reina’s sitting down for a meal and it’s just the absolute opposite. They too talk about work, but there’s no emotion and there’s no support, it’s more like open hunting season and holds none of the open vulnerability and sincerity of Fina and Isidro's conversation.

Aw man, fuck up my heart with that look Marta gives when Damian talks about how nothing makes him happier than having his kids get married and start families. All that effort she puts in and still she can’t truly make her father proud. That shit is got to sit lodged in her heart like a very jagged piece of broken glass. Also, I think this is the first glimpse of a personality hiding behind the mask.

Jesús and Andrés are two stupid boys fighting over what they think of as toys, women. I do not care for them.

Marta is a sarcastic bitch to Elena and I approve. Okay, second glimpse of a personality, nice. Broken and sarcastic, playing my tune.

That thing Spanish people do with their tongue between their teeth as they pronounce certain sounds, is it just me being gay or is it kind of hot? Granted it’s mostly Marta who is hot when she’s doing it, so I might have answered my own question.

Petra, stop fucking touching Fina! It is not your right to be that handsy and I do not care for it. Keep your scruffy looking nerf-herding paws off of her!

Fina established as a clumsy queen from the getgo tickles me. The way she practically smashed that perfume bottle through the counter as she tried to make a good impression on Marta (and failing) gives her the kind of humanity my otherwise perfect lesbian needs to be nuanced. No one likes a perfect being who looks like her, smiles like her, has that self-assuredness of hers, unless there is also some flaw too her. The fact that this is a character who is so perfect in many ways, but at the same time could probably tear down an entire china shop on her own without the assistance of any bulls - it makes her really loveable. And as a woman who have broken her toe by kicking it into a threshold and given herself a black eye by walking into a doorframe, well I feel represented. Oh, don't get me wrong, there are more flaws to Fina than this, but we're not there yet. One step at a time.

The face of a woman who does not understand the power she holds over other women. And I don't just mean that as a crack at her being lesbian catnip, but the character doesn't actually understand the impact she has on the women around her. She's so used to being compared to the men in her life that I think she doesn't see or understand what a role model she has become for a lot of women, especially those working for her.

Fina being so dismissive when Carmen tells them she’s crying because of Tasio is gold. She just has no time for these fools and I love it. Her silent nod when Carmen says “why bother with a man who doesn’t love you back” - perfection. She is the Oprah gif personified. As I regularly channel my inner Xena while I’m in a professional setting, I think from now on I’ll also try to be channelling my inner Fina when it comes to my personal relationships. As blunt, but reassuring as she is, I think we should all strive to me more like her with our friends and family.

[blueflamebimbo]

TOAST

𓆩♡𓆪 ── CHOSO X READER

Sukuna is gone. The fight is over, and you need to get to the hospital now. The boys are fighting for their lives and there’s no time to lose. …Is there? Perhaps things aren’t quite what they seem.

A/N: It's maybe not quite what it seems at the beginning. Dedicated to: @husbandograveyard - happy birthday, babes. Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence and injuries, mentions of blood, mentions of fire, mentions of lack of oxygen, manga spoilers - don't read if you're not comfortable with hints at final Sukuna battle, but also keep in mind that this fic does not stick to canon entirely, it's partially AU. Word count: 1,138

It’s done.

The only thing left of Sukuna is a finger. It lies defenceless, useless, unprovocative on the ground – a mere reminder of a deeply bitter, destructive, lonely creature. The air around you is thick with smoke and your lungs struggle to get oxygen to your brain.

Ahead of you, you can faintly see the outlines of Yuji and Megumi. Yuji stands, panting and clutching his limbs to stop the bleeding of the wounds that Sukuna bestowed upon him. Megumi lies prone, exhausted and stretched to the limits of his sorcery.

You feel the need to call out – to check in on the boys, but your throat doesn’t work the way it should as your eyes zero in on your partner, Choso, who lies off the to the side, heavily burnt.

He’s not breathing.

You make an attempt at getting up, at pushing yourself up by clutching at your knees, but it’s to no avail – there’s no strength in your arms, there’s no way you can push yourself up. The tightness in your chest intensifies. The fight is over, but you need to get Choso and Megumi to the hospital, now. Time is of the essence.

You make another attempt at trying to get Yuji’s attention, but the world around you seems to collapse in utter darkness, exhaustion overtaking you – body and soul. You hit the concrete just in time to hear Yuji cry out your name.

The blankets that are tangled around your limbs are so soft and so warm, it feels like they’re trapping you in a dazed state between being asleep and awake, in that blissful moment before reality sets in.

You squint against the rays of sunshine that stream into your apartment’s bedroom window, and sit upright. Your hair feels wild as it slips from the scrunchie you used to keep it somewhat tamed. Off to your left, the bed is empty – the sheets rumpled.

Rubbing at your face, you swing your legs off the side of the bed and snatch a white T-shirt off the floor, pulling it over your head as you make your way out of the bedroom. The shirt is at least three sizes too big on you – it’s comfortable and covers your body in all the right ways, hitting the back of your thighs as your feet pad towards the kitchen.

There’s noise coming from behind the door, clattering and music making for a loud morning welcome.

Still feeling slightly disoriented, you push your way through the doorway.

The legendary tones of Patrick Stump hang in the air as Fall Out Boy’s Miss Missing You blasts through the bluetooth speaker, making the 6’3” chunk of beefcake in front of you bang his head – loose black hair being flipped every and all ways. The man in front of you is dressed in a T-shirt that resembles yours and black boxer briefs – the same ones you got him last week, after chastising him for not throwing his old ones out – and he has his back to you, clearly unaware of your presence as he flips the French toast in the pan and sings along to the song – badly.

“Babe?” you call out over the sound of the music.

Choso turns around, slightly startled, spatula in hand, but grins when he sees you standing there in all of your morning dishevelment - he loves seeing you wear his clothes.

“Sometimes before it gets better / The darkness gets bigger / The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger,” he sings at you, nodding along to the beat dramatically.

Seriously, his singing voice could use some work, but it doesn’t deter him from approaching you with a wicked grin on his face, leaning down to catch your lips with his.

When he clocks the confused frown on your face, he turns back towards his phone and lowers the volume of the music, placing the spatula on the counter and turning his full attention on you.

“You okay?” he cocks his head slightly to the side and gathers his hair up into a high bun, as if that will help him make sense of your mood. Stray hair sticks out on all sides, and it immediately reminds you of your dream.

“I just had the most fucked up dream,” you murmur, following Choso towards the stove so he can continue making breakfast.

As it turns out, he was just finishing up. He deposits the slice onto a dangerously highly stacked pile, and you lean your left hip against the countertop. Seeing this, he takes the carton of eggs and puts it away, joining you back at the counter and placing his hands on your hips, squeezing tightly before he hoists you up onto the marble, seemingly effortlessly.

Your thighs spread to accommodate him as he stands in between them, pulling you back towards him. Your fingers curl into the hem of his T-shirt. He’s looking at you expectantly.

You huff; a small, disbelieving smile stretches across your features as you explain, “It was wild. You were some type of sorcerer, but with blood? Remember that one episode of Avatar The Last Airbender where Katara learns to use blood magic?” you ramble, “So it was sort of like that, but weirder, and your brother was there - but his hair was pink, for some reason – and he ate a dude’s fingers? And the dude had like a million arms,” you grimace. “And then he set you on fire.” You concluded, looking thoroughly disturbed.

Choso really tries to take you seriously, and he nearly succeeds, but his mouth twitches and then he barks out a laugh, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.

You look at him a little deadpan. Thanks for the support, asshole. Resigned, you roll your eyes and grin over your fiancé’s shoulder, letting him get out his giggles. You reach up and curl your arms around his neck.

When he pulls back, there are tears of amusement in his eyes. He takes a moment to compose himself and then clears his throat. Leaning in, he presses soft kisses to your cheek.

“No more appletinis for you, baby,” he murmurs.

He’s not technically wrong. You did lose count of how many you had the night before, but, seeing as it was your birthday, you figure that’s more than fine, no matter the consequences.

He turns his head to rest his forehead against yours and grins, “Only in your dreams could I be some bloody Gandalf.”

You pinch his side teasingly and he immediately twists his upper body to the side.

Ticklish.

He nods towards the French toast that’s cooling on the counter and wiggles his eyebrows, “Toast?”

Yes, you think. Appletini induced fever dreams or no, at least you will always wake up to this. To him.

You nod, “Toast.”

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a comment and / or reblogging - I would appreciate that immensely! Have a great rest of your day, friend! <3

[godjustkys]

stranger things headcanons.. pt 1.

THEME: How the characters deal with your flirtations (friendship stage)

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: mike wheeler, will byers, jane hopper, lucas sinclair, dustin henderson, maxine mayfield, billy hargrove, steve harrington, nancy wheeler, joyce byers, jim hopper, dmitri antonov, eddie munson, jonathan byers.

READER: male reader with a sarcastic, flirty, witty and a slightly cynical personality.

Mike Wheeler;

- dude is either OVER it or does not catch on at all.

- like seriously, your touches would linger for a bit too long and he'd think “oh, that's weird. whatever.”

- you mess up his hair every chance you get and he goes livid.

- “don't touch my hair, man!” is what he'd say and in return you'd just mock him. then a 'playful' fight ensues. he has ruined like five of your shirts now, accidentally tearing it while fighting.

- whenever you say something flirty or out of pocket, you would get two different reactions. The most common one being “ha ha. very funny.” with a sarcastic smile. and the other one.. god, he would just stare at you with a concerned look on his face, not even saying anything.

- for a little while, Mike just stayed oblivious to your 'advances', per say.

- you would do stupid dirty shit behind mike's back when the party's attention was on you just to get some laughs from them. it always worked but it ended up with mike scolding the shit out of you and calling you different names.

- one time at a random party, you invited Mike to dance. He disagreed, of course, and brushed you off with a laugh, but for a moment he almost said yes. Which was very weird for him. Dude was borderline panicking.

- you would call him “mikey” just to piss him off and he hated that nickname with a passion.

- “Mikey-” you'd start, and mike would immediately interrupt you with “get the fuck out of my house. Like right now.” with a blank look on his face while aggressively pointing to the stairs.

Will Byers;

- consider the dude dead. anytime you flirt.

- yeah he's a little slow but when he gets what you meant he goes red in the face.

- like he's blushing so furiously that even the tips of his ears are turning pink.

- he starts fidgeting with his fingers and blinking more profusely, as if that'd help anything.

- “will, you're sleeping with me, right?” you asked once, at a sleepover. He paused. “ay, I'm not opposed to whatever you're thinking but I meant you're sleeping in my room?” you cleared up.

- Oh. oh. “Yeah- yep, I'm sleeping- in your room, yeah.” he responded after swallowing hard. Lucas laughed so hard he started crying.

- he's a sucker for physical contact, truly, so whenever you'd press up against him, or your hands would brush, literally any physicality and he's tensed up, his heart beating out of his chest. It's not that he likes you, but your flirting certainly fucks with his mind. He's not that dense.

- due to your flirty personality, most of the time he would avoid eye contact with you. Because any time your gazes met, you'd wink. And it wasn't that big of a deal, truly, but Will just couldn't help it, it made his breath hitch ever so slightly.

Jane Hopper;

- oh lord. most of the time, she doesn't get it. she just smiles and nods.

- you think it's funny how oblivious she is, it is stupid but hella adorable.

- when it is explained to her, she barely has a reaction to it.

- so in conclusion, she doesn't even answer you. Unless you talk to her about it. But that is literally it. She doesn't deal with your flirtations, you have to deal with her obliviousness.

Lucas Sinclair;

- dude laughs it off when you first start flirting with him. Then he gradually becomes more and more concerned.

- he takes it pretty seriously. But he doesn't care that much, mostly because it doesn't bother him nor does it make him uncomfortable.

- immediately assumed you were into men when you made a slightly over the top joke (not that it was wrong).

- told dustin, will and mike what he thinks. they didn't believe him. Like at all.

- next time you said something flirtatious to Lucas, he didn't waste a second looking over at the others.. who seemed to have taken your flirting as a joke, something you'd say between buddies, you know?

- so after a long long long contemplation, Lucas abruptly asked “are you into dudes?”...

- everyone went dead silent.

- you answered after a beat. “..wasn't that like.. obvious?”

- “WHAT?!”

Dustin Henderson;

- HE FLIRTS BACK.

- you flirt, sure, you give it a hundred percent. Dustin, though? Dude gives it his ALL. Everything and anything he has.

- he sends you air kisses, he loves physical contact, he loves giving gifts (and receiving them), he loves talking. To make it short, he's love in human form.

- any time you guys have playful banter it turns into heavy flirting. Also, you two express appreciation by flirting, too.

- “don't make me kiss you, henderson.”, “dude,” he paused to put on chapstick. After he did, he turned his focus back on you. “i'm ready, kiss me.” he'd say.

- of course, others would whine and complain about it. Especially Steve, god he hated when you two acted like that.

- “i think my ears are bleeding,” would be Steve's response.

- at one point, you and Dustin had a wedding.. a platonic one, but a wedding nonetheless. He's never been happier that he got to be the wife.

- all jokes aside, you always expressed physical affection to Dustin because you knew that he'd be more than willing to receive it. Hugs, forehead kisses, simple gentle gestures, head pats, shoulder pats, etc. etc.

Maxine Mayfield;

- you low-key think she's scary but shoot your shots nonetheless.

- albeit, they're always met with frustrated silence, sarcasm or judgy glances.

- she acts like she hates it. Yeah, sometimes it truly pisses her off if she's in a bad mood and her social battery is low, but other than that, she kinda enjoys the attention from you.

- she actually liked you since she met you. not like.. actually like you, but you seemed nice, you seemed to have an understanding others lacked.

- she catches onto every single flirtatious remark you make. Every. Single. One.

- if you say something she doesn't like at all, she hits you in the back of the head, flicks your forehead or punches you in the shoulder. Fuck, her flicks are deadly.

- “can I braid your hair?” was a question you asked once. Max just turned to look at you with a soft smile. “Fuck no.”

- “oh-”

- physical contact is not her strong suit. Of course, she loves it, but not every time. It also depends on how she's feeling. A thing she can never get tired of though is quality time. You could spend days with her and she wouldn't mind at all. As long as you don't bother her too much.

Billy Hargrove;

- the moment you open your mouth around him, you're playing with fire. Seriously. You don't know what is gonna set him off.

- fucking hates it. hates it hates it hates it.

- to say that he's your friend is.. an overstatement. He just tolerates your presence. Does not like when you say stupid shit.

- “you've got such a pretty face.” you complimented him once.

“i'm gonna beat the fucking shit out of you.”

“ohhh-kay.”

- would laugh it off but he knows you're into guys. he done seen it from a mile away bro 😭 gaydar strong as shit.

- was a bit bothered by you liking guys at first, though over a span of a damn week he couldn't be bothered enough to care.

- says he hates when you're around him but has spent more time with you than with anyone else.

- he's gotten too used to being around you.

- “where are we going?” you asked from the passenger seat of his car.

“a date, are you fucking-” he paused, blinking a couple of times. “my date.” he pulled over almost immediately, in a heart beat. “get out of the damn car.”

“you just-” you stammered for a moment. “good luck on your date.” you said in an encouraging tone, feeling defeated as you got out of the car, not even knowing where you are.

“don't need it.” he said bitterly as he drove off. Well, okay.

Steve Harrington;

- either laughs or gets flustered (doesn't show it).

- mocks you so much in return.

- DEFLECTS your compliments with mean comments like crazy.

- “ya look good today, Steve.”

“Couldn't say the same about you. Jesus, have you looked in the mirror this morning?” he said with a concerned smile.

- cheeky little shit. he'd jump in traffic if it meant he'd avoid saying a simple 'thank you' to your compliments.

- he thinks you don't know that your flirting affects him. it's way too obvious. dude's hands get clammy, unclenching and clenching his fists, rubbing his hands on his pants or his stance shifting after a compliment. the signs are subtle, sure, but not invisible.

- the tension between you two is CRAZY. yeah he gets flustered if you say something out of pocket but he's not scared to hold eye contact. I mean, if you're not looking. if you are, he's not sparing a damn glance your way.

- CHECKS YOU OUT SO MUCH. AND FOR NO REASON. dude's a natural flirt.

- he has flirted back like a total of 5 times. otherwise he'd just brush you off fr.

Nancy Wheeler;

- SOMEBODY GET THE DAMN AMBULANCE.

- if she likes you and your vibe, she flirts back. SHE FLIRTS FIRST MORE.

- you thought you'd get her flustered? Nah, she's giving you signs dude.

- she'd make 'accidental' physical contact with you, like gently brushing her hand against yours and shit like that. just to tease you.

- shameless with her flirting. Seriously. She doesn't say much in front of others but if you're alone you can't catch a break.

- she'd speak a sentence that has a clear implication of something dirty and then when you ask her about it, she'd give it another meaning.

- eye contact eye contact eye contact, she loves it

- one time, the two of you were hanging out in your room. You were going to a wedding tomorrow, and Nancy knew that.

“fuck, I don't have any nice clothes. What do I wear for tomorrow?” You asked her, hoping for some advice.

“i'd rather you wear.. nothing.” she said mindlessly, flipping through a book.

“..Nance.”

“what, you asked me, I answered.” She said with a small chuckle.

Joyce Byers;

- she catches onto your flirting but she overthinks it and eventually comes to the conclusion that you're just being friendly.

- a good thing about your flirting is that it would lighten her mood if she's upset or deep in thought.

- she jokes back at your flirting but immediately regrets it, thinking she sounded stupid

- she loves when you wrap an arm around her shoulders, it gives her a sense of security. Some sort of it, anyway. Always gives you a small slightly awkward smile when you initiate physical contact with her, too.

- so afraid of being misled that even when you sent her flowers, a huge bouquet of it, she thought it was a friendly gesture, again. Jonathan and Will argued with her about it.

- is finally convinced that you're into her when you wink at her across the room, being discreet.

- no seriously, all of that and the only time she thinks you're into her when you're winking at her. Not when you're openly flirting with her or sending her gifts..

Jim Hopper;

- DOESN'T EVEN LOOK AT YOU.

- everyone at the police department knew you flirted with Jim. But due to him ignoring you constantly, you gave your pick up lines to his co-workers, and made them say the cheesy words to him. Ended them with a 'yours truly, [Name]'. Always.

- that got him to talk to you. He was pissed off, sure, but he still talked to you. And that was better than nothing. Told you to stop - you didn't.

- dude threatened to arrest you for harassment.

- he'd clench his jaw whenever he had to stand next to you.

“Can't tell if you're tense because you want to kiss me so bad or because you wanna beat the shit out of me.” you said, your tone amused yet held a hint of fake seriousness.

“I'm about to shoot you.” He answered, his tone flat and nonchalant.

“hm. not really fond of that idea, thanks though, Jimmy.”

That was his last straw and he genuinely pulled a gun on you.

- of course, after that, it didn't stop you from flirting with him anyway.

- whenever his colleagues see you nearby, they point you to him and urge him to ask you out. He was starting to hate everyone because of you.

Dmitri Antonov;

- Acts annoyed when you gush over his russian accent. though it makes him feel more comfortable about it, more confident.

- most of the time he flirts back in English. Or just says “oh yeah?” with a small smile of disbelief.

- whenever he responds to you in russian.. he is talking shit about you. Not that he hates you, but sometimes your words are too much for him and the only thing he can do is let it out through violently shit talking you. To convince himself that you're 'not all that'.

- deep down hle knows that you are though.

- if he feels flustered, he averts his gaze, shakes his head and/or buries his face in his hands.

- avoids talking to you at any given time, only does it when he has to.

- touch him in any sort of way and he's STIFF AS FUCK. dude's a statue. Unless he pushes you off.

Eddie Munson;

- feels extremely flattered when you flirt with him.

- of course, he flirts back.

- does an eyebrow wiggle anytime you say something suggestive.

- somehow manages to turn your normal sentences to awkward ones when he makes a dirty joke out of your words.

- “I lost my bracelet in a ball pit like a year ago,” you complained once the conversation turned to speaking about lost things.

“ball pit?” he asked, a small smile creeping up his face.

“Yeah?” You said with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Ball.. pit?”

“Dude.” you deadpanned.

- made a bet with Dustin that you're into him, that you're not just joking. Dustin had his suspicions but you didn't seem the type to like.. men. Or even if you did, you would've told him already.

- that's the biggest loss of his life. lil guy was FLABBERGASTED.

Jonathan Byers;

- cannot hold eye contact for the life of him.

- he gets kinda nervous when you're flirting. The first time you flirted dude was a stammering mess, fidgeting with his sleeves like a maniac.

- despite an established shyness he had around you, he enjoyed your company. you were a good friend.

- friend? You have never given someone so many hints that you like them.

- Argyle, when he was high, told Jonathan to just get together with you already because the pining was giving him second hand embarrassment.

- Jonathan has been even more shy around you since then.

- “That's a good photo, when'd you take that?” you asked simply, your eyes locked onto the photo in Jonathan's hand.

“Like-.. last month, uhm, during the trip-” he stammered out after a short pause, his head lowered. HE WAS BEET RED DUDE.

- “you have GOT to give me a kiss, I did such a good job?” You said in a joking manner.

Jonathan died inside, right then and there on the spot. His mouth hung open, staring at you wide-eyed.

Once you notice he was baffled, you huffed out a laugh. “I was kidding, you know. But I won't turn you down if you decide to actually kiss me-”

“[Name]—” he groaned out a whine of your name, disappointed by your last sentence as he tried to gather himself.

[aces-solace]

Favorite patient

Chapter two: party fun

Warnings: porn with plot, smut, fingering, semi publicity (public bathroom), throuple. I think that's all. Let me know if there is more.

"I know, I know. How about we meet up at a nearby bar and I'll pay?" I say, though I don't plan on paying as they always end up paying. "Fine, you really owe us one Amari!" Rebecca huffs before hanging up.

Fucking assholes. Whatever, I should go home and change, I wanna get laid tonight. I'm probably lying to myself right now, I always chicken out. They always seem to bother me about it.

Being a virgin at 23? Unheard of.

.

.

.

Fuck, what should I wear? Hm... I rummage through my closet and pull out a pair of knee-length black shorts, "hm... Not bad" I hum, tossing the shorts on my bed. Now a shirt.

I search my closet and pull out a black long sleeved fishnet crop top with black mesh making my chest less visible. Yeah, this'll work. I think I'll wear my fishnet thigh highs with my shorts.

Yeah, perfect.

.

.

.

I feel like a whore. " 'Mari darling~ can you go get some more drinks?" Rachel slurs, putting extra emphasis on the 'darling'. I quickly nod and walk away from the group.

Rachel has always had a thing for me, something I pretend to be oblivious to. I walk up to the counter, "Hi, can I get three cosmopolitan shots over there?" He nods "Thank you" I say, sitting at one of the stools.

My eyes scan the crowd, perhaps looking for my one nightstand, maybe just eye candy. A tall man with white hair catches my eye, next to him is a woman wearing a tight black dress.

Holy fuck,- that can't be... "Didn't know if doctors could drink, Dr. Gojo" "Very funny nurse Geto" he hums back at her. Fuck, it is. I quickly avert my eyes and someone else catches my eye.

A tan man with ripped baggy jeans and a short sleeves black shirt. I wouldn't mind losing my V-card to him.. We lock eyes and he motions for me to come over. Before I can fully stand up someone is pushing me down

"Didn't expect to see you here hun" Geto says, making herself comfortable in my lap "I- uh, I'm here with friends" I say, looking anywhere but at her. "Ah, ah, ah. Eyes on me angel" she coos at me, gently redirecting my gaze to her.

"I-" I see Rachel walking over to us, drink in hand, looking pissed. Fuck. I grab Geto's thighs and flip our position, her sitting in the chair as I hover over her and, as I expected Rachel's drink splashed on me.

"Amari- I am so-" "Here, let me help you dry off in the bathroom" Geto cuts off Rachel. Before I can say anything I'm being dragged to the bathroom by Geto. I walk in and I'm pushed against the door.

Her mouth quickly attached to mine, her tongue exploring my mouth. My hands fall on her hips, griping them tightly. I break the kiss after a few minutes, panting for air. "D-darling please..."

"Darling huh? Hm.. how do you feel about a throuple?" "T-thats fine..." She smiles and pulls me out of the bathroom and out of the bar. I catch a glimpse of a crying and angry Rachel but before I can process it anymore I'm outside.

"Who's the third person?" I ask as we walk towards a sleek black car "Someone you already met" She assured me, opening the car door and pushing me in, not wasting any time getting in and closing the door behind her.

Climbing on top of me and reattaching her lips to mine, "Well hello to you" he says, starting the car. I break the kiss "Hi" I huff out before kissing down her neck, "H-hah.. how many people have you done this too?" Geto asks breathlessly.

"I'm a virgin" I mumble against her skin. "Seriously?" Gojo asks "mhm.."

.

.

.

After what feels like forever we finally get to his house. I carry Geto upstairs to a random room, laying her on the bed. I immediately start attacking her neck again, unzipping her dress and pulling it off of her.

"Ngh! Hah... P-please~" she moans out, though I don't know what she's begging for. I take off her bra, tossing it to the side with her dress. I'm not sure when Gojo walked in but I feel him push me closer to Geto.

Geto is now under me as Gojo is behind me, I think I know what he's gonna do. I quickly put my hand to use, sneaking between her legs and circling her clit with my thumb.

"Hah!... M-more... Please.." she begs, her nails clawing at my back. Who am I to deny such a pretty plea? I push two fingers into her, slowly stretching her out. She cries out so prettily.

I flinch when I feel one of Gojo's fingers pushing into me. "F-fucking hell.." I mumble before attaching my mouth to Geto's nipple. "Mmm! S-so good..." She moaned, I can definitely say the same.

.

.

.

I groan as I slowly sit up. I glance over staring at the parts of Geto and Gojo's body that weren't covered. Bite marks, hickeys, and scratch marks littered all over them. Fucking beautiful.

Then it sets in, the realization. I slept with my doctor and my nurse.

[joannasprose]

CHAPTER ONE

—⊱✿⊰—

free Palestine, free Sudan—no one is free until we all are free.

hi ! I am so glad to share the first chapter of my little series Bite Your Tongue! :) I really do hope everyone enjoys this read,, and it eases your mind even slightly. enjoy :) 💜

content warnings: this chapter contains mentions of self harm, alcohol usage, drug use, and other mature themes. please do not read it any of topics might trigger you. ICYMI — if you’d like to read it on wattpad, for better formatting, and pretty images, my username is joannasprose 💜🗡️ :)))

—⊱✿⊰—

THE NIGHT THOSE feelings had arrived unwarranted, had been one full of an array of emotions. Questions danced across your mind in complete silence as you sat by yourself in the dark. Wondering, contemplating—anything that might solve the complexity in which your mind holds.

———

ITS A COOLER night than most.

You hadn't been one for it, the unrelenting cold. You run your hands over the exposed skin of your arms, and as you step into the crowded space—almost immediately met with smell of alcohol and artificial air wafting through it; you find yourself regretting the agreement of a night out.

The venue is filled with strangers; some stumbling over their own feet, others stand near the front door—strangers, in which you nearly have push past to get by, and finally, the weird sweaty smell that lingers in the air.

Perhaps it was the alluring feeling of relief, leaving the stress of life tucked beneath bed-covers, and consuming the potions that you knew Dina would concoct. Or maybe it had been her alluring words themselves; that somehow, in some way, had always seemed to persuade you. But the adrenaline, the tiniest bits of excitement that pooled in your mind slowly began to dissipates along with other things—and you find yourself cringing as you nearly bump into everyone around you.

Taking a vacant seat at the bar, in the far corner, you find that your heart is beating as fast as your thoughts. Another senseless night of watching strangers become too drunk to hold themselves up—and another wondering when it would end. And as your foot taps against the floor incessantly, Dina's hand to your shoulder is the only thing that pulls you out of that dissociative state.

"Hey! You made it!" she says, her words spoken loudly over the blaring music, leaning close to your ear, hoping to evade the mix of voices and music that seems to bounce off walls and blend together.

Now, as she takes a seat next to you—turning to her—you meet her eyes, looking over her thick eyelashes.

Dina Woodward always held some kind of edge to her. Whether that was in the way she dressed, the way she held her bluntness between her teeth, or her dark brown hair that fell past her shoulders tonight; all of it was piercing as a snake bite.

Yet she loved the simple things; the movies and books she would often find herself crying to, the vulnerabilities that steadily seemed to resurface. All of it had been put on display amongst the walls of your shared apartment.

"You asked me to come," you say. Dina rolls her eyes before taking a sip from the drink clutched in her hands, and then, "where's Jesse?" You could almost feel the annoyance hanging off her alcohol coated breath. Her frustration was not aimed towards you, but rather, the difficulty of her relationship.

"Wherever he is." She simply says, and this time, she brings the cup to her lips and swallows a mouthful.

You hum in response, settling your hands into your lap and watching as she sets her cup down on the wooden counter. "You want a drink?" She leans in close, nearly shouting in your ear when she does. You shake your head in response, and as she settles back into her seat, she rolls her eyes. "Seriously? I didn't beg you to come so you could stand off in the corner and do nothing."

Shrugging your shoulders, you speak: "Yeah? And if I get shitfaced, who'll drive us home?" You cock a brow, just in time to catch yet another roll of her eyes.

"What? Poor baby can't handle her alcohol?" This time, you're the one to roll eyes when she speaks. You had known Dina since the end of your 8th grade year in middle school—and since then, the two of you had always seemed to stick together like messily placed glitter.

"Shut up," you say, nudging her side playfully.

Suddenly, she perks up. Dina stands from her seat next to now readily getting up to move. "I'll be right back! Gonna do find someone," she says, looking off at whatever's behind you, before directing her attention back to you. "And I'm gonna go get you that drink." Before you could protest, Dina's already left your side, blurring into the sea of people.

You've found that you never enjoyed large gatherings. You never strayed away from them, but you had never indulged in them either. Your eyes skim across the room, watching people packed together as if they were in minimal space converse in undying conversations.

The moment Dina had left out of your sights, and the moment you turned back around towards the wooden counter—that unyielding anxiety had begun to latch on again like a vine infested bush.

You think about spring in your sophomore year of high school; one spent sat on Dina's floor, making shitty posters for her band on canvas using a free trial. That spring, one where it had been so humid, that you could almost find comfort even in its humidity. And you know it's because you'd hadn't met him yet—when he hadn't stuck his dog-teeth into you.

Your foot begins to pick up where it left off, tirelessly bouncing up and down against the floor. That same, grueling anxiety seems as though it begs to take root in your mind.

Terminal was the name of Dina's band. Herself, and two other girls around your age. You'd never met them, far too busy with cognitives of work and your home life to venture and leave. You had yet to see her preform either—not including when she'd play demos and such of what she had been working on.

You've heard them on CDs she would give you, recordings she made, "Why not just use Spotify? Isn't that easier?"  You asked her as she shoved her hand in the deep pits of her bag, searching for a few moments before pulling out the thing and giving it to you.

"Because we're broke as shit." She had replied, and as she lingers bitterly in your mind, you begin to shift in your seat, placing your elbow on the table and resting your head on your hand.

Dina didn't quite fit the 'normal' standard for the music she played. And that alone is what you always admired about her. Surely, her witty and snappy demeanor had made up for it.

Five minutes have gone by now. Five long minutes of no sign of Dina, no text message, and indication on when she would be returning. Pulling your phone from your pocket, holding it close to your face to unlock it—you open the messages between the two of you, now typing away on your phone.

YOU: hey, you okay? where are you?

A few minutes pass—one, two, three, four of them before you get a text back.

DINA: shit, yeah sorry. I'm with Jesse, I didn't mean to leave you I swear. We're talking now I guess

YOU: it's fine. I'm gonna head step out for a little bit. If you need me

DINA: are you okay? I can come back and talk with him later

YOU: Dina, It's fine, seriously it's just kinda hot in here

DINA: okay, text me if you need anything okay?

YOU: okay

———

( play Main Theme - soundtrack by Alex G )

Pushing past the mounds of bodies, letting countless of apologies fall from your throat is what annoys you the most. Not the fact that Dina had brought you here, and then promptly left you for Jesse. Irritation, as it had, slips past your barricade, and renders it all useless as you slither through the crowd, stalking towards the sign that read exit, in a bright, red neon.

You don't smoke and yet as you leave the venue, pushing your back harshly against the wall behind you, you found yourself wishing you did. The moon is a sharp blade of silver, keeping the alleyway alight, along with the street light that stands tall at the end of it.

For the first time tonight, you are truly alone. Alone with what haunts you, with your grueling thoughts and what the night has to offer you. Though, that unrecognized ache still curls inside of you. 

Maybe you would have still been alone, if the sound of footsteps weren't thudding against the ground, invading your silence.

You quickly lift your head up, eyes pouring over the stranger who approaches you, hands that had once hung at their sides for a brief moment, now pulled  promptly to either side of their head.

"Sorry," they pause their stride almost immediately, now only standing a few paces away from you. "Didn't mean to scare you or anything." Now, as you get a good look at the stranger—something about them had seemed so familiar as the moon puts their features on displays.

From a short distance, you almost couldn't tell if her hair was black or merely just a dark brown. Her frame is tall, not much taller than your own, but tall enough to vaguely stand over you. Freckles decorate her face like scattered paint, and her eyes are unreadable, they sit between a light green, and yet a much darker one. A Loose pair of blue jeans hug her waist almost perfectly, and on her shoulders, lays a grey flannel, along with a white tank top that displays only a hint of her collar bone.

It's a new angle for you. To see her fully. It clicks when she lowers her hand, when the shadow across her face now promptly falls and you finally get to see her fully.

Now, it's when you notice the scar that adorns her right eyebrow.

After a long moment, she speaks again, "You're Dina's friend, right?" She asks, moving to lean against the wall along with you, though she leaves a lengthy space between the two of you.

You nod hesitantly before speaking, "Yeah," you say, eyes watching closely as she shoves her hands into pants pockets, and then: "Aren't you the guitarist in her band?"

She scoffs, looking over to you with narrowed brows, "'Her band'," she questions, smiling with her teeth now, "it's Dina's band now?" She measures, amusement strung across her features.

"I mean, well, Terminal." You stumble on your words, though you find that the smile she held a moment prior still resides there, unwavering.

"Yeah. I'm in Dina's band. She asked me to come out here to make sure you were alright." Before you know it, shes pulled a hand from the depths of her pocket, holding it out to you, "Ellie Williams, and you, Dina’s friend?"

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless, you place your hand in hers, feeling as her grip tightens slightly around yours. Shockingly, it isn't harsh. You could practically feel the callouses on her fingertips, yet you find that her touch is still soft. Weirdly comforting.

"Y/N." You breath.

She smiles when you look at her, though this time it feels different from the others. More genuine.

Your eyes travel down to her hand, and slowly, they travel up her arm, only momentarily catching the black ink sunken deep into her skin—as well valley of red hidden underneath the sleeves of her flannel before she briskly pulls away.

"I haven't seen you around before," she mutters, her voice suddenly quieter, digging into her pockets before pulling an out a pack of cigarettes from them, taking one out of the pack while she holding it in her hand as she speaks. "You just moved here?" Ellie pulls a light out of her other pocket, flicking it a few times, and when it finally ignites a flame—she holds it to the bud.

"Yeah. Just moved here a few weeks ago." She hums, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, while then letting tendrils of smoke escape her lips, and with you watching guilty, she speaks, "You smoke?"

For a moment, you think back to the reason you left the venue in the first place. The undying conversations, the smell of alcohol seeping into your nostrils—and that brief annoyance you had willfully felt for Dina when she left. You think about it for a short moment, eyes still on Ellie, you heave a sigh, "A little," you say, which hadn't completely been a lie, yet not the truth either.

Her eyes watch over you for a moment, eyes wavering, she gestures the box towards you, and watches as you take one from the pack.

Slyly keeping the thing tucked between her lips, she lets you settle it between your own lips. Nearing you, again, it takes three tries until the fire ignites. She nears it to the tip of it, waiting, and then pulling away when she's sure it's been lit.

You inhale its smoke, tasting its bitterness, and take it all in, while briefly exhaling. A faint cough escapes your throat.

"What do you do?" She says, which startles you considering you had only just now gotten used to the brief silence. Pulling it from your lips, and looking over to Ellie as she stares at the puddle in front of her speak: "I'm a journalist. I also write books sometimes, working on my first one."

You watch her eyes rise, and you watch as a smile pulls at her lips, willingly, "Well shit," she says, a smile that you strangely find comforting—which is weird, considering you don't know her—curls on her lips. "Dina really does have some interesting friends."

"She doesn't talk about me?" You ask, feeling a sting of pain at the revelation, though Ellie is quick to crumble any of those feelings, "She does, I'm sure. I'm just not around much."

You hum in response tiredly in response before speaking, "What do you do?" You ask, realizing the cigarette had been hanging between your fingertips, the smoke vaguely emitting off of it. You pull it to your lips. "Well, as you know, I'm in Dina's band," you roll your eyes as you let smoke fall from your lips, "I've said that once. And this is my first time speaking to you, are you ever gonna let that go?"

"Nope." She says, quickly, too quickly for comfort.

"Anyway," she follows, "I'm also a tattoo artist."

Your brows perk in interest, eyes skimming over her skin, and in that moment, you watch as she turns away from you.

"Are you gonna show me any of your tattoos? Wanna try to impress me?"

Ellie hums, perhaps contemplating, perhaps alluding you to believe she is before she says, "Maybe another time."

A rebuttal lies on your lips, another strange urge to see the strangers hidden tattoos inked in skin, but you have restraint tucked between your gums. So you don't question her.

"Well..." you say, switching the topic, "I'm writing a piece on the Enchanting Beauty of Art," you say, pulling the almost finished bud to your lips, inhaling the smoke, and then promptly blowing it out.

You put it out on the brick wall, listening to its subtle hiss as you speak, "it's about art. Um, obviously."

Ellie hums, and then, "Is that your title," she questions. Now, you notice that she's already finished hers. The space between her lips are empty, along with her fingers, "You want me to give you some insight, or some shit? I'm not that good." She says, rather plainly.

"You're probably good enough. Better than me."

Ellie pushes herself off the wall. And for a moment, you begin to she's planning to get ready to leave before she pulls her phone from her pocket, opening it and handing it to you. "Text me. Call me, or whatever you want. I'll answer your questions."

Your brows raise when she spoke, looking down to her hand, and back up to her space, you find yourself yet again, stumbling over your words, "I mean. You don't have to, I was joking."

Ellie doesn't drop her hand, only a sly smile sneaks onto her lips again, though, you never even considered if it had left, "Well, if you were joking, then that's seriously fucking embarrassing on my part," she began, still gesturing towards you, "and to soothe said embarrassment, give me yours and I'll give you mine. Text me when you need it."

A smile creeps on your lips, it's undeniable, and you watch as her eyes waft over to the cupids bow of them, watching for a considerably long moment before saying: "Playing the guitar has helped me learn I can keep my hand up for a very long time," she shrugs, "might wanna take it before we spend the entire night out here."

You practically scramble to take her phone from your hands as you pull out yours. "Shit. Sorry."

You hold hers in your hand for moment as you pull out your own, unlocking it and then pressing the phone app and quickly handing it to her.

The both of you type away. She calls her own number, and you feel as the phone buzzes in your hands when she does.

Ellie slips her phone into her pocket when you hand it to her.

"You goin' back inside?" She asks, her eyes narrowing at you. You catch a hint of a sweet southern accent.

"Are you trying to get rid of me that fast?" You quip, and Ellie smiles.

She sighs, "Just wanted to make sure you got back inside safe so Dina's not on my ass again." You laugh, stuffing your phone into your pockets. You hum in response, and she bids you goodbye.

When you near the door, she watches and then turns on her heel. And for a moment, you watch her departure.

You feel the simmer of something bubbling up inside your stomach, something unrelenting as you walk through the double doors. You realize, as you shuffled through your pants pockets, that you've been clutching the abandoned cigarette the entire time.

You hadn't felt the burn. If there were one.

You think of Ellie's subtle, kind words, her restrained yet welcoming demeanor. And as you spot Dina in the crowd, ushering you over—you'd wished you met her earlier on.

———

THE FOLLOWING MORNING

10:37AM

STUFFING YOUR FACE with the hash browns Dina had gotten from the diner just down the street from your apartment, she spoke: "You saw Ellie, right?"

You hum in response, chewing your few, and swallowing it down, "Yeah. She gave me her number too." Dina's eyes narrow in interest. Sitting new to you on her brown two-seater, she slides herself closer to you. "Oh? And what happened after that?"

You squint your eyes at her, already knowing what she's suggesting.

"Jesus. Not like that. We talked, exchanged numbers, and said goodbye. That's it."

Dina rolls her eyes, taking the plate from your hands, and practically clutching it near her chest. "Yeah sure. I give it a few months and you guys'll be together."

Your eyes widen. You nudge her shoulder harshly, and when you do, the hash brown nearly falls to the floor—luckily, though, Dina held it more tightly just in time. "I'm just saying! She usually never..." you watch as Dina tries to finds the words, the laugh track from the show that plays on the tv is the only thing that seems to fill the silence before she speaks.

"She doesn't talk much. I thought she would tell you who she was, and that would be the end of it."

You think back on it now.

Ellie didn't seem to fit Dina's description. At least in your head. Part of finds yourself wondering what that Ellie is like. Though part of you wants to know more the Ellie you'd met last night.

You switch the topic. "What was that last night? Why'd you leave so suddenly?"

You watch as Dina looks over to you, the fork that you had once previously stabbed into the food, now flipping it over. "Jesse had flowers for me, he apologized." You could nearly roll your eyes at her statement, yet you only let out a half-hearted smile.

"Again?" You joke, though not really.

You expect Dina to at least get somewhat irritated with you. You'd assumed anyone would at a comment like that. Though, she only places the paper plate down on the wooden table in front of you both, and throws her arms over your shoulder.

"Yeah, whatever. Keep talking."

You shrug her off her of you, a smile curling on your lips slightly—you focus back onto the screen ahead, thinking back to Ellie's alluring smile, and the moment you do, you find yourself questioning why you're even thinking about her at all.

[thehighlordofspring]

Tamlin avoided eye contact for the rest of the walk, regretting saying anything. The silence had been nice. Now, she was holding back tears and he just felt guilty. The last thing Caiden needed was to see his two new parents fighting. Tamlin remembered being a little boy whose parents were constantly arguing. He remembered the fear. He still felt it.

It was safe to say that many of the things Briar said sounded much the way his mother had once plead his father for attention, affection, and kindness. All his father had ever done was take his wife when he wanted her, have his way, and leave her crying on the mattress.

That isn’t who I am.

Tamlin clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the wave of anger that usually followed memories of how his father had treated his mother; but nothing came. He just felt hollow, empty — a shell of the man he’d once been.

There had been a time when he’d loved to laugh, when the flowers in his garden had been the place that he whispered his secrets, when his heart was made of stone but still wild and carefree. There had been a time when he believed in love. Love which was redeeming, and powerful. Love strong enough to break the fiercest of curses.

His heart began racing. He inhaled sharply, backing away from the gate. Tamlin began muttering under his breath, pulling at his hair, and trying to relieve the pressure in his head. No, no, no, no. Not again.

The last time this happened — people had been hurt. Seriously, hurt. His control of his magic might be better now, but that didn’t mean it was not dangerous.

Belief seemed useless now and his hands were cold. He still lived with the silent wish that the grave had swallowed him like so many of his friends. Like Andras, who’d sacrificed his own life and his future with a family, for a single chance at breaking a curse. Like, Feyre — who’d broken it; but truly died, without her humanity.

Like Eiley.

Like Mama.

Why did he keep going when the entire world kept trying to swallow him beneath it? If he didn’t believe, why did he still try?

Deep down within him, tangled inside the webs of despair and anger — lived a quiet whisper.

You deserved better than all of this. What would you do if you could do it all again?

Would he launch himself into the great unknown and follow a love that he did not believe in? Could he truly learn to care about someone whose care for him was so loud that it deafened every doubt he had in himself?

I can’t. His eyes were spinning. His heart was pounding upon his chest like an angry fist. It hadn’t been the same since the almost wedding.

Broken heart syndrome.

Either way, Tamlin knew that no matter what happened between him and Briar, his heart would never be the same again. He’d let hope in and hope was a stubborn bastard.

The ache in his chest only continued to grow. He backed away, tripping over his own feet and retreating back into the forest. He had to get away from here. This kind of magic would terrify any human within visual distance.

Broken hearts were not beautiful when they barred their teeth.

This Life is Sweeter Than Fiction (ft. @springcourthighlady)

Daylight folded through the narrow window in the room of the inn and warmed Tamlin’s face, urging him to wake. He wasn’t a morning person. Given his proclivity to stay up late into the night, waking up was not exactly his favorite thing. He was used to waking up to a cold bed and sore body, pained from a night of thrashing through his nightmares alone. Instead, this morning, he woke to the gentle breath of a female on his neck.

Still sleepy, his dreams had a hold on him, and he remembered the early days before the mountain — before all hell rained upon his court, before he’d lost his faith in himself, and in love. Yet, he woke further and the body next his own did not line up with memory, only emotion.

The way he’d danced around the lines with Briar last night was not far from Tamlin’s mind as he woke. Mornings? Those, he didn’t like. Morning affection? Oh, how sweet it was to taste.

Still, the High Lord pushed a reminder of his boundaries into his view, forcing away the rose tinted glasses.

Sleeping together was different than sleeping together.

He carefully climbed from the bed and pulled the blankets back up to Briar’s shoulder. A shower would do him some good, but they did not need more temptation. Still, she tended to panic when he disappeared. Tamlin pursed his lips and entered the bathing room, locking it twice, magically and manually.

The cold water dripped down from the pipes and once again settled him back into a stern sense of reality. They had a purpose here. This wasn’t a vacation…nor a honeymoon. It was a rescue. At least one of them needed to keep their head on straight.

He pulled his clothes on and wrapped a towel around his long hair, leaving the bathroom with a toothbrush. Sure — he could use magic to power through these tasks; but apparently he needed to get better at being human. That meant brushing his teeth with a small, infernal, tickly device.

By the time he turned around the privacy screen and into the room, Briar was awake.

Well. She said she wanted him to practice being human.

He furrowed his brows, with a teasing smile. “Hush. High Lords have dental hygiene too.”