#also the finger was always there and never missing!!!

[1-800-local-slut]

Sticky and Disgusting

In honor of my favorite crash out, my favorite tweaker, here's how I feel like nasty sex with JJ would be. I know I was supposed to upload last night but I was bawling my heart out, so I hope this makes up for it <3

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𑁍 JJ fucks, and he does it good too. He's driven women insane, married women, and single women alike text his phone about how much they miss him, how they just can't forget him.

𑁍 But since meeting you, he's elevated his skills quite a bit and knows how to get you in the mood and usually he gets horny first

𑁍 Walking down the street and sees a swimsuit he wants to see you in? Hard. Laying down and randomly thinking about you? Hard. A hug? I don't even have to say it at this point

𑁍 JJ likes listening to something that puts him in the mood

𑁍 Anything with a slow pace he can roll his body perfectly in time too

𑁍 He's willing to get down anywhere anytime, but he's the type that when he gets the chance to make things nice he will

𑁍 His favorite place is your room. You're his kook princess, and you have this fancy ass bedroom with your parents who hate him downstairs and your brother who also hates trying to tone out the noise of you whimpering JJ’s name like a prayer

𑁍 Blue LED lights, a ring light that he fingered out how to set different colors too, and now you two were fucking under a sea of velvet-colored lights

𑁍 He would take it slow depending on his mood. He's slowly rolling his hips into you, his necklace dancing in your face, and your legs are trembling while he's leaving wet kisses down your sweaty neck and whispering perversions in your ears

"Say my name, I know you can do it." "You like that? Yeah, I know you do."

𑁍 And he's so cocky because he knows no one fucks you as good as he does.

𑁍 He knows every part of you, which fleshy part of your body to press down on to have you arching your back off the mattress and wondering what you did to receive a blessing like this

𑁍 Speaking of pressing, JJ likes fingering you. He'll pull you into his lap, shirt pulled up to reveal those tits he loves so much and make out with you slowly but aggressively while he finger fucks you just right

𑁍 Your eyes are closed while he picks up the pace and he's watching you lean back with your legs shaking around his waist as his palm rubs against your clit. The room is hot and JJ's fingers are covered in cream as you let out pleas for release.

𑁍 JJ can never deny you (yes he can, he's done it before when he wanted to see how long he could edge you too and you got pissed and didn't blow him for two weeks) so he keeps going until you boil over to a finish that JJ has only seen in porn. He wished he set up his camera, so he could get that sound on video

𑁍 There was always next time. And you'd let JJ do anything to you and he loved that so much

𑁍 The first night he realized was when his hands automatically went to around your neck and gave you a tender squeeze and when he withdrew his hands an apologized, and you shyly told him to do it again. He came so hard that night his eyes hurt from how they rolled back in his head

𑁍 And it never ends with that, from there, JJ holds up his fingers for you to lick clean and because you're his girl you eagerly do it that makes JJ's heart swell

𑁍 He likes missionary. It's simple, but he gets to look you in the face while he does things to you that would kill your grandmother if she knew.

𑁍 Having you on your back while he sinks slowly into you at first just to see your reaction when he first slides in

𑁍 That warm, creamy feeling, like putting his nuts in warm pudding. He likes to go in, all the way to the base first, just to see you look in his eyes while wearing the necklace with a little 'J' around your neck that you got for your six-month anniversary that made him cry when he first saw it

𑁍 He starts rough though. He just needs too. Sometimes he eases into it, but on certain nights he just can't

𑁍 He loves when you moan his name with a gasp that says that's the stuff that you love, when you let out choked little moans of 'right there' and 'just like that baby'

𑁍 Oh and high sex? Don't even get him started. Its a little ridiculous, the way he twitches a little more and presses soft kisses all over you because JJ is a little love bug when he's high and doesn't have it in him to bruise your ass cheeks

𑁍 Angry sex. JJ gets angry, so very easily. And he loves when you're willing to let him get it out of his system on you instead of someone's property.

𑁍 He's grabbing your face and making you look him in the eyes, he's holding a firm grip on your waist while he plows into you like he was trying to fuck you to sleep (which he has done time and time again), he has you with your ass raised in the air and slapping it like a punching bag

𑁍 He's trembling from rage, and from how good you are for him, how he's shaking and his brows are furrowed while you bounce back against him. Your manicured nails are gripping the sheets, and his hand is fisting your hair while holding you into the pillows

𑁍 Don't be afraid to take control over him though. JJ likes it when you push him on the bed and sit down on his dick like it's where your meant to be.

𑁍 He wants you to ride him like you hardly care about him. He wants you to bounce up and down, nails scraping down his chest ignoring how red he's turning and how he's whimpering out warnings that he was about to cum

𑁍 When you start bouncing up and down harder, while he's twitching and trying to hold onto your hips, and you do that little grinding thing when you circle your hips around and rub up against his abs so he cums inside of you while letting out moans that were so out of character that he would refuse to admit that was him if anyone ever saw that on tape

𑁍 Drunk sex, when you two stumble in from a party tipsy and you're suddenly desperate to blow him and who was he to tell you no.

𑁍 Take him down your throat and he'll cum right there. He's done it a few times. He watching you bob your head up and down, eyes staring up at him with an evil glint in your eyes

𑁍 Leaving kisses all over his chest and down his stomach, your lip gloss and lipstick smearing down his stomach and he feels a warm fluttering feeling in his stomach

𑁍 When you both cum, it makes a mess. He likes it messy, he truly does. When he pulls out and cums on your stomach or his personal favorite is cumming on your pussy so he can't tell when your mess ends and his begins.

𑁍 When you leave a creamy ring around his base, or when he cums on your ass cheeks. When he face fucks you like you're a human flesh light and you have tears and spit streaming down your face before giving him a sloppy kiss that has him weak in the knees, when he cums so hard he drools a bit and you kiss him anyways because you love anything from him, when you ride his face like a mechanical bull and when you get up he looks like he just went down a water park ride.

𑁍 You two always, and I mean ALWAYS leaving a giant stain on your sheets, his sheets, his bike, your clothing (mostly ending up being your swimsuit or panties from him pulling you aside at a kegger and rubbing you through the cloth of your swim suit until you came and quickly had to duck before a group passing by saw you two), and it's always a terrible mess to clean up.

𑁍 Sweat, spit, cum, tears, it's a disgusting mess and by God JJ lives to make it any chance he gets

[pboogerswbb]

a lil teaser... sooooo you guys want this or no?

it's Paige x reader

also toxic!paige warning lol

-

“Been missing you y’know-” Paige starts but I interrupt, knowing she had the tendency to talk herself right into my bed.

“Told you I never wanted to talk to you again, remember?” I say hating how shaky my voice sounds.

���Baby c’mon, you weren’t serious about that,” her hoarse voice filled with amusement.

“What, the screaming didn’t seem serious to you?” I sigh my eyes strictly on the road. Paige let’s out a chuckle and leans forward on the car seat.

“Ion remember non of that, just remember how bad I wanted to fuck that attitude out of you,” she chuckles and the car drifts off the lane for just a moment as i slap her only half seriously across the chest. I pull over on the road, parking the car. She was amused and it was pissing me off, bad.

“Get out,” I tell Paige sternly, rage and annoyance swirling inside me. She had no right to be making light of the situation. Not after how bad she had hurt me.

Paige lets out a laugh. “Man you’re crazy,” she tells me turning to face me. I face her too, the anger turning my cheeks even brighter. 

“I’m fucking serious. Get out,” I repeat my voice rising a little but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Paige just chuckles and shakes her head.

“KK always telling me I pick the crazy ones, I’m thinking she’s right,” Paige groans, not taking any initiative to get out of my car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and groan, leaning over Paige manspreading on the passenger seat, reaching for her door as she grabs my wrist, my face so close to hers I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The air in the car shifts, my annoyance turning into something that made my legs feel weak, as she licks her lips, her eyes on me. “M sorry ok,” Paige says, her voice low and hoarse now.

I fold, once again.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you, mmkay?” I say with a sigh, clearing my throat and pulling back from her before I made some really, really bad choices. Paige's let's go of my wrist, her grip leaving my skin tingling.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, satisfied by the effect she had on me.

I start the car and in silence we drive back to campus, the streets quiet on the dark Tuesday night. Paige fiddles with the zipper of her hoodie, her nimble fingers needing something to do - always looking for something to toy with. 

I tried to shake the feeling of each cell in my body screaming for her, needing to feel her skin against mine. I knew we weren’t good for each other. She wasn’t good for me. Part of me wished she came to tell me she’s done fucking around. That I’m all she wants, better than all the countless other girls that spent nights in her bed. That I was different, special. Worth letting everyone else go for. Frankly, even if she told me all those things, each word I wanted to hear, I wouldn’t believe her. 

When you were with Paige, it never felt like you were one of many though. She knew how to make you feel like you were the only one. It was in the way her blue eyes roamed my face, in the whine of her voice - like she would die if she didn’t have me. She’d remember your favourite movie and your mother’s name and the way you liked your coffee. All just to go see some other bitch later and repeat the same routine with her. Even with the girls she fucked, she had to be the best. Not because they meant anything, but because that’s who she had to be - the best. A winner.

[daisymbin]

promise me ice cream! - jeon wonwoo

warnings: slightly insecure wonwoo?

pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: drunk confessions, friends to ???

wc: 1.3k

a/n: I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve 223 of yall following me but thank you 🥺

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

your best friend, wonwoo is sprawled on the bed, looking more like a puddle of drunk affection than his usual composed self. he's clinging onto you, he wedges your leg in between his own; hugging it like it was a bolster as his head rests on your lap as if it were a pillow, his arms wrapped around your leg, not wanting to let go as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze is hazy, eyes blinking slowly as he stares up at you, his lips curving into a drunken smile, “you're so pretty.” he says as you chuckle while you run your hands through his hair; messaging his head a little to relieve the potential headache.

“why'd you drink so much tonight?” you asked, “its not like you, you're not usually like this.” wonwoo lets out a deep sigh at your question, “you were talking to jun all night and…i dont know, i just didn't like it. i got jealous. it's like…you’ll never pick me.” he says with a pout, eyes closing shut. “jealous? of jun?” you frown, trying to make sense of his words. if only he knew, “don't be silly, you know i talk to jun all the time but you'll always be my best friend. there's nothing to be jealous about.” you reassured. “& i’ll always pick you.”

“you're breaking my heart.” wonwoo mumbles so soft, you almost would have missed it if it weren't for a drunk wonwoo clinging onto you for dear life, heightening all your senses & leaving your heart beating so fast. “what do you mean, wonwoo?” 

"you’re my favorite person," he says, his voice soft and slow, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. "i don’t know if i’ll ever be your favorite, but... you're my favorite." his hand gently strokes the inside of your thigh, sending shiver down your spine. his fingers light against your skin as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of being this close.

you smile as you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. you’re a little amused yet also, a little taken aback by the way he’s acting; he's never been like this. you gently run your fingers through his hair, trying to coax him to sleep even though you're sure he’s already half asleep. & maybe you're also just taking advantage of the situation and being a little selfish; having him like this.

"i’m just me," he continues, voice drowsy and laced with alcohol. "i’m just wonwoo, you know? just regular, plain ol' wonwoo. but you're... you're perfect. sparkly. i don’t even know why you ever looked my way years ago, let alone be friends with me.”

you laugh softly, but it’s mixed with a hint of sadness, wondering how he could ever think that about himself. "you’re not just wonwoo, you know that, right? you’re more than that."

wonwoo shakes his head, but his grip on your leg tightens. "no, no, no. i’m just me. i’m just wonwoo, and you’re... you’re so pretty and you're so kind. you're such a good person...so much better than I'll ever be. that's why you would never like someone like me."

his words sting more than they should, but you can tell he's too drunk to mean them fully, right? that's what you hoped for at least. you want to tell him how wrong he is, how much you care for him, but instead, you sit in the quiet, letting him speak his mind as he clings onto you, his drunken ramblings the only thing filling the space between you two.

after a moment, he sits up a little, his gaze suddenly lighting up with a burst of energy. "ice cream," he says, as if it’s the most important thing in the world right now. "we should go on an ice cream date. right now. let’s go."

you glance at him, blinking in surprise at the sudden contrast. it’s already past 4AM and he’s drunk, this is not the time for an ice cream run date. "wonwoo," you say softly, trying to get him to focus. "it’s really late. we’re not going for ice cream right now, okay?"

he looks up at you with wide, sad, hopeful eyes, and you can’t help but find it endearing, even if it’s a little ridiculous. "why not?" he asks, his pout deepening, and his grip on your leg tightening again as he drags himself impossibly closer to you. "i want to go on an ice cream date with you, please?” 

you laugh, though it's full of affection and fondness. "wonwoo, you’re drunk & it’s really late. we’re not going anywhere. you can’t go out for ice cream right now, I don't think you can even walk straight, did you forget how I had to haul you back here?"

he pouts even harder, his lower lip trembling slightly & he almost look as if he’s about to start crying any time as he sits back and crosses his arms, looking like a grumpy child. "but i want ice cream. now. i’m hungry."

you can’t help but smile at his stubbornness. "we’ll go tomorrow, okay?" you promise. "i’ll take you out on an ice cream date tomorrow. I'll even let you pick all the flavours you want, even if its 5 of them."

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, staring at you with a suspicious frown. "tomorrow? don’t lie…i’m only asking you now because… this is a dream, you wouldnt reject me in my dream, would you?" he asks, his voice filled with doubt. "because i know you won’t really take me for ice cream tomorrow when I wake up. you don’t like me like that. you’re just humoring me."

"wonwoo, i promise, tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream," you reassure him, your voice gentle and warm as you stroke his hair again, trying to comfort him.

but wonwoo still looks disappointed and doubtful, his shoulders slump. "tomorrow will never come. this is all a dream. you’ll wake up, and i’ll be... i’ll be just me. plain wonwoo. i won’t be good enough for you. you will never pick me.”

your heart aches at the way he’s talking. he doesn’t believe that you like him, doesn’t believe in this moment, in the promise of tomorrow. "wonwoo, i’m not going anywhere," you say, taking his hand in yours. "i'll be right here when you open your eyes when the sun rises & i'll tell you all the reasons why you're more than enough. i really do like you, I love you, and tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream. i promise."

he looks down at your hand, still not fully convinced. "promise?" he asks, his voice small and fragile.

"promise," you say firmly, hands finding his as you lock your pinky around his.

wonwoo hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his expression softening. "okay...okay," he murmurs, closing his eyes as he rests his head back on your lap, your hands instinctively go back to playing with his hair, he's completely content now. "ice cream date tomorrow. i’ll wait for tomorrow...even if it doesn't happen it's okay..at least im laying on your lap now…at least you’re playing with my hair now…at least now i know what it's like to hear you say you like me too.”

you smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, watching him drift off to sleep in your lap. even though he’s drunk and unsure, you know he believes you somewhere deep down. & tomorrow, you’ll take him for ice cream, just like you promised. and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, he’ll realize how much you really do care about him, & how much you really do love him.

[concreteangel92]

Do you write angst? Could you write something? You decide 😊

The One Who Never Was

Noah Sebastian x female reader

Warnings: Noah being a complete and utter fuck boy, talks of sex but nothing detailed, breakups, playing with someone’s feelings, gaslighting, love bombing, mental and emotional abuse, depression, co-dependency, unhealthy relationships, fwb, situationship, no happy ending in this story, drinking, self destructive behaviour, let me know if I’ve missed something!

Noah is not a nice person in this fic, if that is going to bother you then please don’t read. I did also picture long haired Noah when I was writing this.

I hope you all enjoy (if that’s the right word for a story like this ahaha) and I’m hoping to get back into my writing this week as I’m not back at work until Saturday (if I’m well enough) and this is the first time in about 6 weeks that I’ve been able to rest and do nothing so I’ll try and be productive with it

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @Ima1986 (never lets me tag you properly for some reason?)

“Hey fancy meeting up today? Feels like it’s been ages”

You nervously sat there waiting for Noah’s response, in your mind already knowing the answer.

You and Noah had been in this ‘situationship’ for a year now, you’d started off as just friends and then one night, it had all changed.

You’d not long been out of a bad relationship when Noah first text you and asked if you wanted to hang out, you knew what he wanted and at first you thought it was a good idea, help you move on from the last dickhead that you’d been with.

“Best way to get over a man is to get under one”

So you went.

After that night, Noah then wanted to date you, he’d asked to take you out for a meal but you’d politely declined as you wanted to stay single longer so you could heal but you spoke about being friends with benefits with him instead, something he was completely up for. Looking back, you had no idea of everything that was about to happen.

•••••

You were sitting on Noah’s sofa, a film was on in the background and Noah was cooking you both dinner.

“What do you think of this?”

Noah had walked back into the living room with his hand under a spoon, you wrapped your lips around it to taste his home made sauce for the chicken he was cooking.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! Since when did you cook?”

He gave you a big smile and a cheeky wink as he replied “I’ve always loved cooking, it’s even better when I have someone to cook for”

You’d both be curled up on the sofa, eating his amazing food before you’d spend the rest of the night together in his bed.

Noah had this power of making you blush with every word he said, he always made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

“You’re like no woman I’ve ever been with”

He’d text you first always, told you how he felt about you and that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Oh shut up!”

“I’m serious, I don’t know how I’ve got so lucky to be with someone as gorgeous as you”

The fact he’d accepted the friends with benefits over an actual date made you feel he would wait for you, that he completely understood that you needed time.

And let’s talk about the sex. The sex was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, he was such a pleasure dom, making sure you were completely satisfied again and again and again.

No man has ever made you feel the things that he did, he was willing to do everything with you.

“Whatever you want to to try, I’m down for it, even the weird shit”

“Weird shit? 😂”

“Any kinks you might not have tried because others think they are weird, I’ll do it all for you”

Noah always held you until you feel asleep, you fighting it, not wanting the night to end.

“Shhh, I’m here”

His fingers would gently caress your cheek while your eyes became heavy, feeling so warm and content in his arms

You’d wish you had longer, knowing that by morning, you’d both be going about your day and then never knowing when you’d see him again due to your schedules.

At some point, during the long into night deep chats, the dinner dates, the small details that Noah always remembered and done, you fell for him.

••••••

“Sorry I can’t today, busy in the studio”

That was it, it was so cold and blunt, there was no warmth in his messages anymore. Not that your heart allowed you to fully see it.

You felt the tears prick at the corner of your eyes as your heart became heavy and you felt the sinking feeling in your gut.

All of your friends have told you to leave him, that he’s making his feelings clear but every time you have tried to pull away, Noah always had the right words to say or a good excuse for his actions.

So you stayed.

And here you were, a shell of the person you used to be, when you first started this with Noah, you had such a spark in your eyes and you felt so happy.

Now, happiness with him was like a drug, he was like a drug. You knew he was bad for you, you knew he was killing you. But you couldn’t stop.

You stared at the screen, almost like your will alone could change the words. You scrolled up and saw it was much the same.

“Hey you about today?” “Sorry I’m working today”

“Fancy some dinner later?” “Maybe. I’ll text you in a bit”

Unless he messaged you…

“Hey baby, you free today? I miss you”

“Yeah I’m free, what do you fancy?”

“You 😏”

“Cheeky haha no seriously, what do you want to do?”

“Come to mine and hang out?”

You knew every time that it would lead to sex, you prayed it would, so you never said no to him.

You convinced yourself that he loved you as much as you loved him. Over the last year, you’d never felt anything like it before.

The only way you could describe it was that whenever you were with him, your soul felt at home. It didn’t matter what you were doing, you could be doing nothing and you were so contented to be around him.

You were always laughing together, you fitted together physically and just overall seemed like each other’s perfect partner.

You saw him for who he was, not this big rock star. You knew the rumours about him but you saw another side to him, a side he wouldn’t let many see. You knew he loved you deep down. Noah just struggled to show it because of his past.

You knew you shouldn’t make excuses for him, what’s the age old saying?

If a man truly wants to be with you then they won’t let a single thing come in between you.

And Noah gave you excuses most of the time, would take hours to reply and then blame it on work. You knew that wasn’t always true but you just accepted the behaviour because you’d fallen in love with him.

You’d fallen in love with the man who made you laugh until your belly hurt, who looked at you like you were the only other person in existence. Noah had recently said that he loved you back for the first time.

••••••

2 weeks ago, the last time you saw him in person.

You’d gone out for a few drinks with your friends and knew Noah was out already so you gave him the invite, not actually expecting him to show up in all honesty.

So when you arrived at the bar so see Noah stood there with your favourite drink next to his, your heart swelled within your chest.

The smile he gave you matched your own, his hug was so warm and for a moment, you felt like the whole world had stopped.

You sat down with your friends, both next to each other and clearly not paying attention to anything else around you other than each other.

In the words that your friend text you later….“A bomb could have gone off in that bar and neither of you two would have known, you couldn’t take your eyes off each other”

You both laughed and chatted all night, it only when you were outside getting some air that you decided to be honest.

“I love you Noah, I know you won’t say it back because you’re scared but I love you”

Noah stood and stared at you for a moment before he smiled and brushed your hair behind your ear.

“I love you too, always have”

The feeling in that moment was indescribable, the man you truly believed you were meant to be with had finally said those words back. He had finally admitted his true feelings.

The rest of the night you felt like you were walking on a cloud, you knew now that everything was going to be ok. All the heartache and loneliness before Noah had lead you up to this moment. To know it was all worth it.

You couldn’t stop smiling all night, even after he’d said that he needed to go, you gave him a big kiss and a hug and said that you couldn’t wait to see him again and finally start dating properly and have a relationship.

For Noah to ghost for you about a week, every message you sent was left unread, all the phone calls ignored.

Every time you felt your heart shatter, how could he do this? Surely not after he’d admitted he loved you? Who can do that?

Your friends were adamant that he was playing you and that you needed to block him.

You sat and cried your heart out, you drank your pain away and tried to find the answers at the bottom of a bottle, you’d do anything to numb the pain that you were feeling.

The feeling of having your whole future ripped away after just being given to you was soul destroying. You have hardly slept, hardly eaten. The weight was falling off your body as the days had turned into weeks.

It was only a few days ago that you’d finally had a response from him.

“Sorry been so busy with work, hope you’re ok”

But when you tried to arrange to see him, you got all the excuses once again. The never ending story of this game of cat and mouse.

You’d even confronted him about his behaviour.

“How could you tell me that you loved me to then ghost me? Who does that?”

“I wasn’t lying to you, I honestly have been busy, I can’t just drop everything for you”

You knew it was wrong, but you still wanted him, you craved him.

••••••

Sipping on the vodka in your glass was the only comfort for you at this moment. You’d text your best friend but of course just had the same old reply.

“Just block him, he’s made his feelings clear, he’s making a complete fool out of you”

You decided enough was enough, you’d walk over to his and see him in person, you couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore.

Walking to Noah’s was almost like a dream, but not the good kind, the feeling of dread was making you feel sick with every step, especially by the time you were outside his front door.

Taking a deep breath, you rung the doorbell, every nerve in your body on edge in preparation for the confrontation you knew was coming.

After a moment, you heard the sound of footsteps before the door swung open to reveal Noah’s tall frame.

“What are you doing here?”

You were sure you looked awful, dark circles around your puffy eyes, hair a mess.

“I needed to speak to you, can I please come in?”

Noah looked annoyed but stepped aside so you could enter.

“I haven’t got long, I’m going out soon”

Your chest became tighter at his words, the excuses already starting.

“Then just be honest with me Noah. What the fuck am I to you?”

He looked slightly shocked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re my friend y/n, I care a lot for you, you know that”

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“Do I? You told me you loved me and then ghosted me! No one is this fucking busy Noah! I’m tired of the games, I want you to be honest with me!”

The tears had already started, leaving a warm trail down your cheeks as you spoke.

Noah seemed to look anywhere but you, not able to meet your eyes as he answered.

“We have already been through this, I’ve just been busy”

“So you keep saying. May I remind you Noah that you originally chased me! You were the one who wanted to date, you were the one texting me and doing everything you could to make me fall for you! And now what? You just can’t be bothered anymore and don’t have the balls to tell me? You scared you’ll lose your booty call if you do?”

The last year was finally catching up with you, all the games and played feelings were coming to the surface, something you could clearly see was bothering Noah.

“Or are you too scared to actually commit because you’re frightened of getting hurt?”

“Are you for real? I’m not scared of anything!”

“Then why?!”

Noah throw his hands up in frustration and paced around.

“Because I don’t want to be with you! It’s that simple! You’re not the only girl I can have or have had! You’re a joke, you’re treating me like I’m your fucking boyfriend and I’m not, we were never dating!”

You stood in shock, how could he say that, although you never had an actual label, you’d been a couple in every way but the title and he knew that, he even wanted the two of you to be ‘exclusive to each other’.

But now it was starting to make sense, why he wouldn’t take it further.

“So you made me feel like I was the only woman for you, why? You told me that you loved me, said you wanted to be with me. Fucking hell, we even sat and told each other about all the dark shit in our pasts! You once said to me that I was the one person you never wanted to hurt!”

Noah’s face had become hard, a sign that he was shutting down from the conversation.

“And I didn’t. I’m not your boyfriend, I never have been and never will be. You’re making this all up in your head and you’re acting crazy. I’d like you to leave right now”

Your body was shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop falling as you stared at him. Your voice came out as barely a whisper.

“Where’s my Noah gone? My Noah would never have done any of this?”

Instead of answering, Noah simply opened the door, void of all emotion on his face. You stood in complete disbelief before you admitted defeat, your pride had already been shattered and you couldn’t take anymore.

You ran out of the door and kept running down his driveway. You collapsed at the corner of his road, the tears never stopping as your crying pulled your breath from your lungs.

You pulled out your phone and found Noah’s chat, the sinking feeling you had was confirmed when you’d tried to call but realised you’d been blocked.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it, your Noah, the man who made you feel so special and loved could never do this. Where was he?

•••••

The days turned into weeks, turned into months and the heartache never stopped.

Noah had ripped out your heart and broken you as a person. Your friend’s were always concerned for your mental state as you tried to navigate a life without him without any closure.

You didn’t see him again, unless it was online, but you knew he was just fine. Every time you saw his photo, he looked so happy and care free, he was living his dream, the band was starting to go viral and you knew this was only the beginning.

The rumours of who he was dating of course started to spread, each one like a knife to your heart.

You never got the closure your mind needed, you had to move on with no answers. Trying to piece yourself back together.

It was the hardest break up you’d ever gone through, and although others may say “well you weren’t actually together”

That was worse, he was the man you had completely fallen in love with, who never truly loved you back but made you feel like he did.

Noah was the one who never was.

[yuvany]

LOVE IS BLIND

( 㦥 ) ❛ — loving in blind , loving as one . to love without judgement , leaving it pure and fragile , like a child to its bed.

CONTAINS ⃫ SIM JAKE x blind!reader + fluff + f!reader + strangers to lovers + slight angst , short / series fic , 1029 wc

─── ꒰ 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⃫ i do not know how it is to be blind, so I apologise in advance if there are any mistakes. Also got this idea from the Veil manga !! This might become a sort series.

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !

YOU HATED THIS, the restrictions and bounds that they had set up. Just because you were blind did not mean you were hopeless on your own. While you understood why they worried so much, you also didn't conprehend why they cared. They rarely looked at you, they only seemed to notice you when it came to your 'disability'. You wanted to tell them that they should stop pitying you and treat you like a normal person. Sure, you might miss a step while walking up or down the stairs, but other than that, you might just be better than them at sensing and understanding your environment. You just never had the courage to tell them that.

Your sisters were busy, and so were your parents. That meant you never had time to spend time with them, so your only company were the maids and butlers that were hired around the mansion. They weren't exactly boring, but obeying the rules seemed to bore you, so once you were sure that you were alone, you sneakily exited the building through the main gate without someone seeing you, because well, how would a blind girl make her way out on her own? While outside, you felt the cold breeze grace your cheek softly, content with the new atmosphere that made you smile.

You walked down the unfamiliar path, feeling something soft and pat from under your boot soles. Recently, the maids had been discussing some dinner for Christmas and that it was soon time to decorate the Christmas tree. You figured that it was winter and that this must be snow. Curiosity was too great, and you bent down, letting your fingers comb through the cold material. "What are you doing?" It was a deep voice, so it must've been a man, and you heard his heavy foot steps trail behind you as he approached you closer. You got up on your feet, and tried to figure out where he stood. "Hello?" You called out, and you felt how someone grabbed you by the shoulder, telling you to face them. "Thanks. I'm just here enjoying the snow!" You answered his previous question with a geek smile. "Have you never seen snow before?" You shook your head and said, "Sir, I'm blind." "My apologies, ma'am."

The air turned stale for a minute, you were clueless, but the man in front of you was sweating due to the tense atmosphere. "May I ask for you name?" he asked, and you placed your pointer against your chin, acting as if you were thinking of something deeply. "No, no you may not." You teased, a smile creeping across your lips. "How else are you suppost to find your way home? I'm sure you're lost." You shook your head at his statement. "No sir, I am not lost. And how can I be sure I can trust you to bear my name?" You cocked back. "If it reassures you, I can tell you that my name is Officer Sim Jaeyun, working for the police in this town." Your lips pursed at his words, not realising what hassle you might've caused with your attitude. "oh! I'm so terribly sorry, officer, my maids always tell me I should calm myself," you chuckle awkwardly. "I'm (name)." You reached your hand out aimlessly to shake his. The leather glove wrapped around your bare hands, yet, you still felt the heat of his palm beam through the thick material.

"You should make your way home, ma'am." "But I just got out and started exploring." you argued, and you heard the man sigh. "Do you even know the adress to your home?" Jaeyun asked, and you stayed silent before answering, accidentally cutting him off, "Then why-" "I know the adress, but walk me around town and then I'll tell you it." You made a preposition, and you could sense how he was agreeing to it. "Alright, follow me." You grabbed onto his bicep, being less careful with your steps now that you had someone to accompany you. "Why were you out alone?" Jaeyun asked, and you replied, "Well, I'm not really let out so I guess I sneaked out." You chuckled, feeling how his palm laid over yours, helping you down the stairs.

"Let's go to the café. It is really popular." He suggested, and you trusted his sense since he was an officer after all. You licked your lips slightly at the sound and nodded your head. "I love cafés! Don't you, officer Jaeyun?" You asked, perking your head up at where you heard his voice. "I quite like them." You heard the small announcement of the bell upon opening the door that led into a nice and warm environment. "So cosy.." you whispered to yourself. "What would you like to order, madam?" He asked, and you told him you only wanted a cup of tea with one sugar cube. "alright." He said, and walked you over to an empty table, telling you to stay put and not scurry off somewhere. You observed the surroundings with your sharp hearing managing to figure out that there were quite a lot of people around and that pets were allowed in when you heard a dog bark.

"And here's your tea, y/n." His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you commented, "Why did you just sound like a server?" "I try my best to make you feel welcomed." He says, and someone's feet kicked against yours from under the table when they sat down. You heard him mutter a quiet 'sorry'.

It's been a while since you actually enjoyed yourself like this. You liked the feeling of friendliness that had already bloomed. You hoped that this new friend didn't feel burdened by you, and that maybe, just maybe he also saw you as possible friend. "Where did your smile go?" He asks, upon seeing that your empty eyes were turned to his hands that encased the small porcelain cup in between his two palms even though you were unable to see. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking of something." He shrugged and went on with his meal while you pondered some more.

[idksmtms]

Plié, Jeté, Relevé (Ballet Master!Cillian Murphy x Ballerina!reader)

A/N: Here you go my lovelies! I have literally never done ballet in my entire life, so any knowledge of this has come from watching tiktoks of ballerinas, movies with ballerinas in them, or my best guesses… anywaysssss, I hope you enjoy it! 

Also, would highly recommend watching the performance of Still Life at the Penguin Cafe on youtube, the music and the dancing is *chefs kiss* 

Summary: You were ready to admit that you hadn’t been at your best the past week or so, but surely you hadn’t been so bad as to deserve this much wrath from Mister Murphy… 

Word count:  3,750 

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, mean!Cillian, SMUT, dub-con bc of the power imbalance (?), fingering (technically?), humiliation (not as a kink tho), only reader orgasms, depiction of toxic teaching environment, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

If anyone out there believed in the stereotype that all Irish people were happy and jovial then they clearly hadn’t met your ballet master. The man may speak with a lilting musical accent but there was not a thing jovial or happy about him. The master was harsh, verging on cruel. If anyone was caught slacking even the littlest bit, something that would go unnoticed by the rest of the troupe, his voice would crack like a whip through the studio. 

Recently, that whip had been directed at you. You knew you weren’t doing your best. You had hit a rough patch in your entire life. You had been late more times than ever before, more times than you ever would usually be, more times than you would like. And your dancing had been affected as well. Your posture wasn’t straight enough, your pliés weren’t deep enough, your toes not pointed enough. Everything was going wrong, and while you had hoped it wasn’t noticeable, Mr Murphy never failed to find every SINGLE one of your mistakes. 

Today differed in no way. You had dilly-dallied a little too long while getting ready in the morning, only to end up running late for rehearsal. It was no more than five minutes, but from the start of training it was the rule that all ballerinas must be lined up by the barre at exactly ten o’clock every day. For every minute you were late, the worse your punishment got. Usually if someone hit the five minute mark, they went home and sprained their ankle on purpose for an excuse. 

At four minutes, you had run into the hallway outside the studio and thrown your bag onto the ground, disregarding the sound of your water bottle rolling away and one of your keychains cracking under the weight of your things. At five, you were throwing the door open and running inside, slipping into the back of the line and getting into first position. 

Mr Murphy paused in his speech to gaze at you. You stared straight ahead, refusing to look directly at him. Slowly, his eyebrow rose, scrutinising you with a frown that made shame curl in your stomach and tears make themselves known behind your eyes. He slowly brought his hands together, rubbing them as he sighed and began shaking his head. 

“Kind of you to join us,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he made his way closer to you, stepping leisurely, dragging out the fear that made your throat hurt. He stood a few feet away, staring at you in that impenetrable way of his, ice eyes sharp and painful wherever they gazed. He clapped his hands once. “Girls, turn and look at Ms. Y/L/N.” He waited until each of them had turned in their spots, some craning their heads to the side to make sure they were looking at you lest they somehow disobey him. You could see the pity, the sympathy, the smug triumph in each of the girls’ eyes, the frowns and subtle smirks, and you could do nothing other than keep staring ahead of you as your hands and knees suddenly began to tremble. “What is wrong with her?” 

He didn’t ask it in a rude or incredulous way, but as if you were a diagram in a textbook, and this was simply an exercise the students were completing. You were sure your shame was visible on your face, the embarrassment turning your spine to liquid. One of the girls put her hand up, near the front of the room, and you only recognised her for the little kiss-ass she was once she spoke. She had always been that way, desperate for Mr Murphy. Always at the front of the line, always gleeful at the downfall of others, always ready to point out any mistakes. And you were always happy to watch her desperation help her in no way whatsoever. A lot could be said about Mr Murphy, but favouritism was not something he had ever displayed. Whichever ballerina was doing well, recognisably well, was given her dues, and it was left at that. 

“She’s not wearing her tights and leotard, or at least, she’s wearing sweatpants over them. Her pointe shoes are dirty, and her hair isn’t in a bun.” You could almost imagine her satisfied little smirk when she finished speaking, that evil little smile that you had always wanted to punch off her face. One swing, you thought, just one swing… 

“Correct,” he simply responded, threading his fingers through each other and raising his eyebrow at you again, as if confused and annoyed at you for not doing something. “Leave, get your shit together, and then come back inside. If you have not returned within ten minutes, don’t bother returning to rehearsal ever again.” He nudged his chin in the direction of the door and you nodded obediently, eyes downcast as you stood up straight and slowly walked back out. 

When the door was closed behind you once more, you stood silently for a minute, eyes clenched shut and hands curled into fists at your sides. You pressed out a scream behind your pursed lips, teeth clenched so hard your jaw began to hurt. You slammed the heel of your hand against the side of your head again and again and again until your shoulder hurt a little from the motion and your brain felt sufficiently jumbled. Your chest was heaving and you were overwhelmed with rage. You wanted to kick something, to throw something, to go back in there and rip that bitch’s hair out of her bun. You resolved to pulling your pointe shoes off and lobbing them across the hallway as hard as you could, letting out another clenched scream before walking all the way down to pick them up and bring them back. 

You stood in front of your bag and took three deep breaths. You picked up your water bottle from where it had rolled between another two of the ballerinas’ bags, and took huge gulps of water until you felt a little less sweaty with anger. You checked the time on your phone to make sure you hadn’t wasted your ten minutes, then set about carefully pulling off your joggers, folding them up, and placing them inside your duffel. You pulled out a new pair of pointe shoes, cursing yourself for not having prepared them in time and preemptively wincing at the blisters you knew you were going to get by the end of rehearsal. You walked down to the bathroom at the end of the hall in the pointe shoes, hoping to at least break them in a little bit with the short time you had, and used the mirror to quickly pull your hair into a bun, securing it with pins in a practised dance you had learned from years of repetition. You checked yourself once more in the mirror and then looked down at your phone before sprinting full on back to the room and sliding through the doors. You made it just in time. 

Mr Murphy glanced at you as you slipped into position at the back of the line, following the exercises he had been calling out to the ballerinas while you had been out. He methodically looked at every inch of your body, from your pointe shoes to your pink tights and black leotard, from the careful set of your bun to the determined set of your brow and sheen of sweat on your temples. He didn’t say anything directly to you, and you took it as a win. 

At the halfway point, you were all allowed a little break to drink water and have a rest before you switched from exercises to rehearsals for your next performance. You were all practising for your various roles in a performance of ‘Still Life at the Penguin Cafe’, and though you would have to wear a huge mask of a ram on your head, you were ecstatic for the performance. While it wasn’t technically a solo, you were the centre of the piece, being the only one not dressed as a penguin. Now, everything felt so precarious. You couldn’t quite be sure Mr Murphy wouldn’t take the role from you after the past two weeks spent in a slump, and the worry was becoming your ever-present companion. 

Just as the girls were all leaving the room to get water and lounge around on the floor of the hallway, Mr Murphy cleared his throat and snapped his fingers at you. 

“Ms. Y/L/N,” and he pointed at the spot right in front of him. It took everything within you not to sprint to the spot. You took careful, measured, steps and stopped a few feet in front of him, spine straight and head held high. You weren’t sure where to look. You could never meet his eyes, something in your soul was opposed to it, so you chose a spot on the wall just next to his head. 

“You will stay for another hour at the end of the session to make up for your failures this morning, understood?” He raised both his eyebrows, hands on his hips. You closed your eyes, trying not to burst into tears like a child throwing a tantrum on the spot. You nodded, whispered a ‘yes, sir’ in a clogged voice, and waited until he dismissed you to walk out of the room. 

You sat down by your bag with a sigh, arms slung over your knees as you cradled the water bottle close and pressed your face to it. You closed your eyes and allowed your head to dip down as some of your friends came to sit around you, offering pats of sympathy and words of comfort. You tried to smile, nodded in thanks, but you just wanted to curl up into a ball and never get back up. 

The next few hours were spent going through each section of the dance. You felt lucky that you didn’t get to the Ram piece, you were sure you couldn’t hold it together long enough for that, only to be doused with cold water at the thought that you needed to stay longer afterward. 

When rehearsal was over, Mr Murphy dismissed everyone right on the dot. He didn’t acknowledge you as the girls started leaving, the chatter slowly beginning to rise as they reached the door. For a moment you wondered if you could get away with leaving with everyone else, but just as you reached the door he called out “ten minutes at most, Ms Y/L/N, then I want you back in here.” Your bones seemed to disappear and you thought you would collapse to the floor in a heap of mushy flesh. Instead you nodded and wobbled your way outside to chug what was left of your water bottle, refill it, then chug the contents again as tears of exhaustion slipped from the corners of your eyes and mingled with the sweat dampening the hair by your temples and ears. 

The ten minutes were up far too quickly and you stood with a groan, heading to the door once more. You gazed at the room from the door, the light hardwood floors, the wall of mirrors and the bar spanning the length of the room, the huge windows letting in swaths of natural light. You often forgot how beautiful the space was. 

You walked slowly to where Mr Murphy stood, typing something on his phone and moving the speaker to face the room again. You stood before him, hands clasped and eyes downcast, waiting for instructions. For a while, he didn’t say anything. He was no longer on his phone, his hands hanging by his sides, and he stared at you. Every few seconds you glanced, trying to glimpse what was going to happen, but he just continued watching you, stoic as ever. 

You could never tell what he was thinking. Never once had you been able to guess at his thought process, to figure out what was going on in his head. Maybe that was one of the reasons he intimidated you so much. 

He walked closer, so close the toes of his shoes almost touched the toes of yours and you gulped, staring at the contrast, the black and the pink, the background of wood. His hand came up and he tapped up under your chin with the side of his index finger, waiting for you to lift your head. When you did, your entire face felt hot under the skin. He was so close, you could see the freckles splashed on his skin, the careful set of his cheekbones and jaw. You gulped. His eyes were so much more terrifying up close. 

“You’ve been given a gift,” he began, slow and firm, “your ability, your natural rhythm, that is a gift. Unless you put in effort to finetune this gift, it goes to waste. Do you understand what I’m saying?” You nodded but he shook his head once. “Speak.” 

“Yes sir,” you breathed out quickly, gulping when your mouth was closed again. 

“I’m not sure you do, though,” and it felt like the hammer falling. His eyes seemed to harden a little, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “The past two weeks all I have seen is a sloppy, unprincipled, uncommitted dancer who deems merely showing up a success.” Each word was a stab to some part of you, and it took everything not to wilt completely to the floor. “You have been given one of the more difficult roles in the performance, and I once believed you deserved it. For the life of me, I cannot remember why.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you closed your eyes, throat bobbing as the despair that felt inevitable finally began to land. 

He went silent, and that felt worse somehow. The backs of your eyelids began to burn and you clenched your hands tighter around each other, hoping the little pain it brought would distract from the tears. You berated yourself in your head. You yelled in your mind that this was a pathetic display, that it would be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done if you began to cry in front of him. He would think less of you, it would only confirm what he believed; you were weak. When you opened your eyes again, one traitorous tear slipped out and down your cheek. You could feel the hot, ticklish track it made down the skin. If you didn’t know better, you thought you saw Mr Murphy’s eyes soften. 

He breathed out, long and tired, and reached up to gently wipe the tear away with his thumb. Your breath caught in your throat. His hand was warm. Your chest felt tight. His skin was soft. You stared into his eyes. He left the side of his hand against your face, as if allowing himself to feel the skin. Something in your stomach writhed impatiently. Everything seemed to have changed within a second. Some deep seated urge whispered in your ear to open your mouth and lick his thumb. You shivered. 

“Turn around,” his voice was low, rough, and you almost moaned at the sound. You gulped again, but obeyed almost instantly. You heard some shuffling, and then the music started, the slow long notes interspersed with the quick little strums, a beautiful, almost joyful piece of music. Then Mr Murphy was pressed right against your back, and suddenly the music was secondary. His chest, firm, solid, was moulded to your back. You could feel the soft fabric of his black shirt, the puffs of his breaths against the back of your neck. Your entire body shivered. He was warm, like a heater on a middle setting, and if you weren’t so tense, you would melt against him. You could feel his nose against your head as he bent slightly. You could feel his lips graze the shell of your ear as he whispered “relax.” You tried, forcing your muscles to loosen like you would before a performance. 

His hands trailed down your arms, his fingertips running down your biceps, then your forearms until you shivered against him again. When he reached your wrists, he hooked his own hands under them and began raising them in time with the music. You turned your head to the right, watched his hand raise your own, your lips parted and breaths heavy. You couldn’t move past the feeling of him pressed to your back. 

You almost missed the cue to move, almost, and pulled away from him slowly, carefully, using the measured steps required by the music. You left your right hand in his, just the barest touch of your fingertips against his, the illusion of contact as you moved to the left, feet lifting high. His eyes seemed to pierce through you, and suddenly you enjoyed the feeling in a sick, scary way. You walked forward until you were in line with Mr Murphy, still an arm’s length away before he stepped forward and your arms moved to a waltz position. He settled into the space, gripping your hands firmly in his. He was pressed as close as he could be, closer than your actual partner would be for the dance, and you set your eyes on his face. Your pulse thrummed in your ears, you were in your element. 

You went through all the steps of the dance like you had been born knowing it. Your bodies were like water as they moved, smooth, graceful. You hadn’t felt this intune to the music in a long time, hadn’t felt this much like a dancer in a long time. You could almost see the crowd in front of you, the blinding lights, the smooth fabric of the dress. 

At the final step, Mr Murphy gripped your hand and spun you into him, changing the ending of the dance. You gasped as you leaned back into his chest. His head was bent down, pressing his face into your hair. You were panting, torso moving up and down quickly but trapped in the confines of his arms crossed over you. You leaned your head back a little, pressing the curve of your skull into the curve of his neck as he pressed his cheek to the side of your head. The music was fading out, and the only sounds in the room were your mingling breaths, heaving into the air of the room. 

His left palm pressed against your stomach, firm and insistent, but you couldn’t be bothered to look down. It seared into your already boiling skin and you closed your eyes. You tuned into the sensation of his hand slowly sliding down, bit by bit, inching down over your stomach then pressing against your pelvis. You gasped as you felt his fingertips brush over the leotard just at the top of your pussy. Your hand moved behind you, gripping his sides, clenching into the soft fabric of his shirt. 

He didn’t say anything, just breathed heavily against the side of your head, and you didn’t stop him. His hand moved farther down, pressing against the softness atop your core. Gently, his index finger moved to the centre line and began pressing in. You lifted up on your toes a little when you felt the pressure through the fabric, the indent of his finger pressing against your clit. You were hot and wet, he could feel the heat emanating from your core against his hand.

He kept his finger pressed there until you became restless, impatient, pressing your hands a little harder against his ribs. Slowly, keeping the pressure, he moved his finger down until he was pressing against your hole. The warm tendrils of pleasure slowly undulated up your insides. He repeated the motion, up then down and pressing a little harder against your hole. 

You breathed out heavily, shakily, and bent your knees to press a little harder into the feeling. 

Up, down, press. Up, down, press. He circled your clit through the fabric, pressing against the pulsing little bud. Up, down, press, drag up, drag down, press. You were panting into the air, face contorted, mouth up and head tilted up, resting against his shoulder. Your eyes were screwed shut, hips moving to chase the motions. He didn’t say anything, just breathed heavily against your ear, held you tighter against his body. 

You were both standing in the middle of the large studio, bathed in the early evening light. Your hands clenched a little harder against his sides. The warm tendrils were lasting longer, becoming more frenzied, curling up into your stomach and making your hole flutter. His right hand moved up and cupped your breast, gripping firmly and burning the heat of his hand into the flesh. 

You were engulfed by him, wrapped up in both his arms as he pressed his fingers harder and quicker against the seam of your core, moving up and down, pressing and releasing. He ran the edge of his thumbnail against the fabric over your nipple and your pelvis shook. You writhed in his arms at the spark it shot to your core, at the electric pulse it created and ultimately pushed you over the precipice. A moan, a high-pitched whine shot from your mouth, echoing in the room. You pressed yourself so hard against him he almost lost his balance, moving one foot back to keep the two of you upright. Your hands hurt from how stiff they became clenched into the fabric of his shirt. 

Slowly, he released the pressure against your core. He grazed his finger up until he could press his hand to your stomach again. He left it there and the two of you heaved breaths in sync. You began to flutter your eyes open, still lost in the blood rushing through your head. His right hand came up and gripped your chin, pushing it so you faced to the left where his head had dropped down. He leaned back a little, you tilted forward a smidge, your eyes met. Your lips were still parted, his mirrored. Then he surged forward, pressing his mouth to yours, his nose sliding into the crease between your cheek and nose. He tasted warm and minty. His lips were plush and cushiony soft. He pulled away and you looked into his eyes again. 

Neither of you said a word.

Taglist: @4ria790

[chernabogs]

A Rainy Wandering

Inc: Reader/Malleus (99% platonic but we had to sneak those subtle feelings in there at the end. Love me some two oblivious clowns) Second person POV Warnings: None WC: 1.8k Summary: Er so that new Malleus card, yeah? (Or: hey your bff scheduled in a 4 hour gargoyle tour, are you coming, orrrr...?) Also s.o to Alexandra with her literal Field Guide to Gargoyles and founding of the Gargoyle Appreciation Society. My hero rn for this hope they are thriving.

The campus is shrouded in grey as the rain falls at a steady rate around you. You grip your umbrella with both hands to combat against the gentle tug of the wind as you stand at the end of your dorms long walkway, shifting from side to side on occasion to look at both ends of the road. Behind you, the orange glow of Ramshackles cozy inside beckons to you, promising an escape from the rain in the form of wool blankets and terrible reality television. You’re half tempted to go back, but you staunchly remind yourself that you had made a promise, and you were not someone to fall back on your word.

That being said, your friend is about five minutes late, but you can forgive him. He’s never been good at keeping track of time. 

You shift on your heels again as you tilt the umbrella back to look at the grey sky. You last all of two seconds before too many raindrops fall on your face and you look back down, blinking the water out of your eye. The motion lets you take note of a pair of boots standing to your right. 

“Oh!” You splutter, moving your umbrella again to look at to whom those boots belong. Malleus stands in a very casual, unassuming manner, his own umbrella in hand and his brow quirked in amusement. “How long have you been standing here for?” 

You know the answer to that already—probably just seconds—but Malleus’ lips curl into a secretive smile as he shrugs a shoulder. “Long enough to observe you taking a makeshift wash.” 

A sour look is what he gets in turn, although yours always lack venom when it comes to him. A quick glance over his form shows you that he’s come prepared for the weather as well. In addition to his umbrella (which is decorated with gargoyles, to your amusement), he wears a black and purple raincoat, gloves, and has tied his hair back in a looped knot you think you've never seen him wear before. Compared to your yellow rubber boots and yellow raincoat, he looks like he stepped out of a high-fashion shoot. 

To serve and observe, apparently, is the agenda for today. You missed that memo. 

“I need to tie a bell to your wrist so I know when you’re coming.” You grumble as he steps back to the road, leaving you to fall in line with him. His warm laughter fills the air as you begin the first few legs of the tour he’s been talking about for ages.

“Now, I do think I recall you saying that once before,” he muses, tapping his fingers against the metal gargoyle at his umbrella's base. “You have yet to follow through.” 

 “I think your students would mob my dorm if I were to try and tie anything to you. Maybe I should just put an alarm on your phone instead—as long as you don’t break it again.” 

Often this would earn you a look of mock hurt, but Malleus seems far too jubilant at the moment to care about the subtle read you’re giving him. He’s smiling away, as happy as can be as he walks by your side. He even has a little bounce in his step. It almost makes you want to laugh at the sight; how can anyone call him intimidating when he’s looking like a child about to get a present? 

“Ah, yes, yes. I have been diligent in keeping my devices in check. Shroud has been of much help in that.” His gaze darts around the campus until he loops his arm with yours and pulls you swiftly to the right. You’re pliant to his guidance, only sighing in response as you let him pull you wherever he sees fit. This is something you’ve come to realize about the nature of your relationship with the prince. Malleus is a chronic wanderer, tending to just go off wherever he wishes, but he’s also mildly codependent. Since you two had firmly established that you are friends—hell, you gave the man a friendsgiving card—everywhere Malleus drifts off to, he takes you like a tether.

“Ah! Our first stop on our tour,” he begins, still brimming with energy. He tries to move his umbrella, only to have it collide with yours in the process. “Actually, before we begin, would you be so kind as to close your umbrella? We can use mine.”

You lean back to look up at your friend incredulously. At well over 6 feet, horns excluded, you doubt that you will remain dry for long should Malleus shield you both with his umbrella. He stares back both unwavering and with expectation in his look. You purse your lips. He raises an eyebrow. You lean back a bit, he replicates the action, his gaze looking you up and down. Daring you.

Oh, girl.

After a second of silent staring with a dash of attitude that the man rarely shows anyone else, you huff a sigh and close your umbrella, scooting closer to him once you do. His expression lights up as you roll your eyes, and he resumes his tangent. 

“Thank you, my dear friend. Now, as I was saying, our first stop on our tour! If you direct your attention upwards you will see what is aptly called a screamer gargoyle. The positioning of its body—with hands behind its head and its mouth agape—is meant to remind those who witness it that torment lay ahead if they fail to fulfill a particular purpose. You may see these on the cathedrals in numerous nations, as they were quite popular to evoke terror in worshippers.”

 You scoot forward to look past the edge of the umbrella at the gargoyle in particular. True to Malleus’ word, the carved figure looks as though it’s screaming in agony, its eyes directed upwards, and its body bent at an angle. You smirk a little. 

“Kind of looks like Ace and Deuce during exams.” 

Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is why they put one on a school ground. To remind students of the torment they will endure should they neglect studying and strike deals for grades instead.”

“So mean,” you chastise, even though you were the one to start this train of thought. The two of you continue your trail along the main road. Malleus keeps your arms firmly linked together as he chatters on, stopping on occasion to point out a particularly significant gargoyle, or a grotesque lined against the wall. You reckon this is the most your friend has talked in a while, considering his need to stop and clear his throat with an apology. 

You also consider that this is probably one of few times that he’s managed to rope someone into a walk with him like this. Out of the joy his joy seems to bring you, you prompt him with several questions as you tour about, doing your best to remember the info dumping you’re being subjected to. A slip up of calling a grotesque a gargoyle by mistake, which earned you a verbal berating in the gentlest of manners, was enough to make you pay closer attention.

As the rain begins to lighten and the sun valiantly fights to break free, the two of you come to a stop in one of the courtyard areas of the main building. You fish out a granola bar from your pocket as Malleus holds the umbrella, offering him half of it before you look around at the building. There aren’t as many gargoyles here as the other areas, save for one impressive dragon carving looming over the courtyard entrance. You gesture to it in silence, your mouth too full of chocolate and granola to speak. Fortunately, Malleus has become more then attuned to your gestures to know what you’re saying—another reward of your friendship. 

“That is one of the older gargoyles present on the campus. Considering that the courtyard we are standing in served as part of the original residence, I would wager that the initial owner of the lands commissioned this.” Malleus taps the base of the umbrella again as he tilts it back to look upwards. A few stray raindrops hit his cheek, making his brow furrow as he inspects the moss-covered structure. He’s looking at the gargoyle, while you’re looking at the expressions he’s pulling. “Most people surmise that the selection of a dragon was done to evoke fear in opponents who may try to take these lands, but I’m of the mindset that it was done to symbolize the wisdom and guardianship the owners held over their subjects. Dragons are, after all, quite wise.”

“So the dragon says.” You reply teasingly as you look at the statue. He’s right to guess that it’s certainly the oldest one you’ve seen. The stone is aged and slightly cracked along the edges. You know that Malleus has a habit of carving statues himself, and you wonder if he’s ever considered trying to repair it. Given his love for all things crumbling and ancient, however, you also wager that the thought of rebuilding something that time has claimed is well against his personal morals. 

“My assessment is free of bias, Prefect.” He counters with a mockingly scolding tone to his voice. You know it to be in jest by the way his eyes remain alight with joy. He really is infectious when he’s in a good mood, dangerously so, and a part of you wishes he could stay this way consistently instead of sliding back to the quiet, brooding form he can be when he’s feeling temperamental. 

You scrunch up the granola wrapper before shoving it in your pocket with a shake of your head. “Oh yes, definitely no projecting going on here.”

“I will leave you out in this rain.” He warns, tilting the umbrella so that you’re out of its cover. You yelp in protest and duck back underneath, practically squishing yourself against him to keep from doing that again. 

“You like me too much to do that!” You argue back as you grip the umbrella handle yourself. He breaks his facade of sternness to laugh as his arm comes around you to rest on your back. The act feels far too natural for the first time he’s ever done it, yet you acquiesce regardless. “Besides, who else will finish this loop with you? Silver is training with Sebek and Lilia is off… well. Doing whatever he pleases.”

Another thoughtful hum vibrates in Malleus’ chest, which you can feel considering the proximity of your bodies in this moment. A sudden awareness strikes you that makes you feel a bit awkward about it all. Out of reflex you nudge his waist with your arm, prompting him to give you some more space.

“I suppose you have me there,” he notes, granting you a half smile as he looks down to your irate expression. He offers you the crook of his arm, and you silently oblige by linking it with yours. He tugs you a bit closer this time around as he beckons to the courtyard exit. “Let us continue, then. I would say we have another hour at least. Oh, I do hope you’re as excited as I am for what’s to come.”

[katerinaaqu]

Oh boy I am certainly honored! Actually that is a genius way to save it! Hahahahaha!

For real! I think so too! The more I do these stuff the more convinced I am to that! The more I analyze the more gems I discover! Like an endless diamond mine! For real I wonder indeed how on earth is it so brilliant and how contemporary at the same time! This timeless classic!

Hahahaha don't wanna sound salty and say that I am glad because hey that would make me waaaaaay too of a meanie-Odysseus hahaha but I am gonna say I am glad that my analysis makes you make some comparison between the modern ideas and the original material that inspired them. My friend you truly have said it better than what I could ever say! You are absolutely right. I feel like what many modern versions lack is that Odysseus was not going only about Penelope this and Telemachus that, which was already a big part of his goals, but it was about his men as well. His goal was not to return home to his wife. It was for ALL of them to return home to their wives and families. That's why he left no man behind; Lotus Eaters, Polyphemus, Circe etc. every time he had the chance to do something he would do it. He never tried to claw himself out of a situation. He always tried to do it so that he could save his men! That was definitely a trope that missed and couldn't put my finger on but you are so right my friend! THAT is exactly what was missing! (for now I have the drafts that I posted here I am afraid! If you ever get interested ^_^)

I am really honored that it had you thinking! For real and Odysseus as I mentioned in some other parts of conversations and analysis is NOT unaffected by his humiliations and misadventures! For starters he is aware of every detail thus trying to hide his identity from the Phaeaces or lie for his identity to the girl of Ithaca (Athena in disguise). He was also ashamed of women for a while. He didn't let Nausicaa's servants to bathe him and requested that he should bathe himself. His reaction against his nurse could also be low-key trauma. He warns her not to betray him otherwise he wouldn't spare her. Was the threat really necessary? I doubt it. But after spending 7 years abused by a goddess and even more years out there at wars and survival battles Odysseus became even more secretive, even more suspicious.

I agree. Even from before. In fact there were many people who claimed that this whole "monster" saga would be fitting for him during his thought of taking Troy by trickery; his guilt speaking for it I believe it was also @aaronofithaca05 who suggested it at some point when we used to discuss about it more, so that I will not claim the credit for that idea. In generl yes I think this whole "turning into a monster" is a very blunt transfer of the Odyssey. Odysseus never lost his moral compass. It is just his moral compass was not the same as a modern human to begin with. Hehehe I am very happy that you feel that because to me that was the beauty of the Odyssey to begin with; he was a man fighting against the elements, against all odds, torn apart by the sea and the storms but still insisting to go home. Gosh my friend I am gonna cry! You are so right on that! Yes no matter what he did, tried hard, prayed and tried to correct his mistake and yet there is no guarantee that he will get what he wants and he doesn't; his men die, he is left alone. Arguably his ultimate goal to return was of course fulfilled after so much effort but the price was great; despite his best efforts his men are gone and he lost 10 years more of his life in the process Hahaha "more edgy" sounds a perfect description here hahahaha and oh gosh "when younger" makes us feel old! Hahahahahaha! But yes as I said to another post reply of mine; the beauty of the Odyssey for me is that Odysseus could be any one of us; anyone who struggles to survive and achieve a goal and also to learn along the way.

So yes to repeat one more time yes I think so too "Monster" is a very strong song, not gonna lie, and it could fit perfectly on Odysseus but not in that context. Odysseus might as well consider himself a monster for what he did to Troy or that he is more than capable of doing things that others wouldn't but yeah the way it was played as if it was some transformation from Jekyll to Hyde somehow doesn't do it for me. Odysseus could have had a mental breakdown and accusing himself for being a monster sounds more like it and even then that would be dangerous theme to play around but much more suitable. In fact as I have written in several analysis Odysseus was definitely violent many times over but never did I think "monstrous" when I read the Odyssey. So the theme should probably revolve around a turmoil through his heart rather than an actual "transformation" song.

Not at all! You always make brilliant points!

Hmm that is actually a very interesting point and I agree. Despite the fact that it was clear as day that whoever lived in that cave was not human (huge cave and tools and bed etc) Odysseus did want to give them the benefit of doubt. Perhaps his instict was already tngling that a monsterous creature lived there but he wanted to give the element of doubt some space; he wanted to take a gamble and not judge directly. And honestly the misadventure of the Lotus Eaters kinda proved to him that Xenia can come from different places (Odysseus admits the Lotus Eaters were peaceful and did not wish them harm it was just the fruit that was harmful to them) and as I mentioned to another Analysis of mine, he also spoke on Polyphemus's pain as well as his emotional side when he describes what he said to his favorite sheep:

Oh! Calypso is actually another good example. Arguably one could say that yes he had no choice. What could he do? Hold a grudge to a goddess? But yes he did try to see it from her point of view. He tried to sincerely talk to her. He even was brutally honest with her. He said that she has nothing to be jealous of his wife that she was much prettier and younger than her and yet his desire to go to his wife was deeper. He reconsiles with her and later despite the fact he often refers to him as his jailer he still tries to talk tenderly on the fact that she saved his life. I myself believe so indeed! Which is what I partially try to convey to my retelling as well:

"So I think it's a good moment of self reflection for him, it shows that he is not in search for enemies but he just wants to go home." DUDE!!! YOU SUMMERIZED BETTER THAN WHAT I COULD EVER HAVE SAID!!!!!!

Undoubtedly. Odyssey and many other myths like that teach us "never to mess up with the gods". The gods are to be respected and they dectate the lives of mortals but also the fact that blasphemy (hubris) brings punishment (nemesis). Hahahaha lol don't remind me please! Hahahahahahahaha!

Indeed I thought so too! It does seem to reflect to that aspect and honestly a great part of the epic cycle involves Odysseus do things that others wouldn't. I so agree! Which is what I tried to convey to my story "Guilt" because honestly Odysseus thought he could bring quick results so that the war would be over. Arguably if he knew about the prophecy that he would return home in 20 years he might as well hope he could make the prophecy shorter. He himself new he as playing dirty and he thought he could take it but ironically that comes to bite him later for at Scheria he cries out of pure guilt when he is reminded of Troy.

In one way it would fit indeed if we talked about the turmoil in his soul. That HE considers HIMSELF the monster for the decisions he makes. And as people said before me there is a differene between ruthlessness and cruelty. Odysseus was often ruthless but at least in Homer he was never cruel. It could be interesting hearing him speak of himself being a monster without making the cruel actions of the latest. His ruthlessness can be seen in many occasions such as the hanging of maidens (which yes I made a retelling about! Hahahaha)

Basically he performed a ruthless judgement on them but didn't prolong their torment. Sure there is a thin line between ruthlessness and cruelty but still Odysseus doesn't seem to cross it very often yet alone in Homer. So yes the song could absolutely work in homeric poems if it was more like Odysseus's self-critisism than actual reality

Hahahahaha don't apologize you brought up so many amazing points! And you are right the song had potential! Like most of the songs in the musical had! Hahahaha like I said not sure if I will make it a reality but for now I only write the small things around. Maybe one day I will generate them to an actual book!

Hahahaha I feel ya dear! If only indeed! Hahahaha I wouldn't mind a non-musical but I understand. Musicals are really fun and technically speaking Odyssey was also sung! If only I could do an experiment and try to create the Odyssey in the original tongue and into a play with songs and all! Hahahaha unfortunately do not have the knowledge or skill! Hahahaha but who knows!

(Not at all! I understand definitely how you mean it and like I said I am really open to discuss like this! No need to apologize at all! DUDE! I love the long reblogs!!! No worries at all! As you see I live for them!!!!)

Why didn't Odysseus's crew stage a mutiny against him in the Odyssey? (An analysis based on Homer's Odyssey)

It has been a while since the last time I did some Odyssey Analysis and here is an interesting question that goes on in this. A very valid question actually.

During the arduous trip in the Odyssey, the Cephallinians suffered greater loss than anything they suffered at the 10 year war at Troy. They lost almost all ships and all men were dying. They were reduced to a ship of a crew with less than 40 people and they didn't seem to get much hope. So of course one could ask; what was holding them back and didn't fight back against Odysseus apart from the indirect mutiny they did when he turned his eyes away from him to pray? Why their only mutiny was to disobey his orders and slay the cattle of Helios Hyperion? Surely more than 30 men could do plenty of damage to one man right? Why didn't they? And why is it important for the story?

So while thinking about it I came down with some possible explanations as to why that happened;

Odysseus was beloved to the gods

Regardless of their terrible situations, Odysseus probably still had the fame of someone beloved to the gods. He used to be directly communicating with Athena and was under her protection. Despite the fact that he was cursed by a god, there could be some sort of a thought running to their minds; what if we harm him and the gods strike us for it? What if there will be consequences for directly wishing harm to one who was blessed to be appreciated by gods? It could possibly be a risk that they didn't want to take. And it makes sense given how much Odysseus interracted even with minor gods during the trip (for example Aeolus or Circe). Quite frankly they might as well have wished that at some point Odysseus would appeal to yet another god for help.

Odysseus was beloved to his subjects

If you look at my other analysis here You can remember how beloved leader Odysseus was even to subjects such as slaves who in theory would have no real reason to be loyal to him. Odysseus seemed always to be a just and beloved leader and his men on the ship were not an exception. Regardless of whether they had lost faith hin him in his capability to bring him home or if they doubted his judgement, they couldn't get past the emotional connection; Odysseus had protected them during the war to the point of suffering the least possible losses, during the trip he was going to extreme measures to protect them (even the cruel misadventure in which Odysseus cut the rope from his ship to save the last ship from the Laestrygonians might as well have spoken volumes to the men that were saved). It would be hard for them to completely ignore that even in the face of mistrust. Somehow it would also be them thinking that they "owe him" till that part.

Odysseus was hiding stuff from them that could be important

Ironically the very source of their mistrust was protecting Odysseus. Odysseus didn't share with them the nature of the sack of Aeolus even if he seemed pretty clear that they couldn't touch it (and that led to their first tragedies). Later he hid the information that they would have to go through the Sirens till the very last moment where he warned them about it. Later he hid completely the information that they would go through Skylla and Charybdis. His men could think "How many more things did this man know on their way home and hid it from them?" if they captured or killed him in a mutiny how were they sure there weren't more dangers ahead that Odysseus was hiding from them and could either be informed the last moment or not at all? What guarantee did they have that Odysseus didn't know even MORE about their course? They had none. So ironically the very reason they began to mistrust him in the first place became the reason Odysseus was safe from their rage.

No one wanted to take responsibility at time of crisis!

Last and definitely not least comes for me the most important reason of all at least story-wise that shows how excellent writer Homer is into writing human nature. His men didn't stage a mutiny because no matter how displeased they were with his decisions, literally NO ONE wants to have the same responsibility to take decisions in time of crisis! Honestly, how many times do common folk feel themselves find a scapegoat usually to the face of their leaders when things go south? (and for good reason that is given that they are the ones with the responsibility to take decisions). When something goes wrong we blame the leader, the government or someone that has come forth and not only takes the decisions but also is responsible for the blame as well.

During their arduous trip Odysseus took some of the most painful decisions they could imagine in order to save what he could; he advised them to leave the Cicones and they didn't which led to their first tragedy; he tried to correct his mistake by appeasing the god Aeolus, he took the decision to sacrifice his ships in order to save the one he could knowing full well that they would never be able to fight against the Laestrygonians. He knew the 11 ships were lost cause so he acted fast cutting the ropes of his own ship and sailing away, making sure to save what he could even if that meant to the terrible loss. He traveled to the underworld even though he was alive, he chose Skylla over Charybdis knowing that the sacrifice would be too great but still not as great as to lose them all.

Regardless of their emotions at that moment; they put themselves in his shoes and realize that none of them would take the burden of leadership and take those decisions for them. Odysseus with his nerves of steel managed to save them so far even if they had so many losses and undoubtedly they realized that in his shoes they would never be able to act so efficiently and so fast. And knowing their own reactions against him; blaming him for the losses, they realize that none of them would have the guts to take not only the painful decisions but also the blame and hate that follows them. Odysseus was lifting on his shoulder as much hate and anger as very few others; not only his previous experiences at war and his actions but now his decisions of the trip. I have no doubt that even in their anger the men admired how he could carry it all.

Conlcusions:

Homer is a master of words and plot. I have no doubt that if he thought it served the plot he would have mentioned his men staging a full on mutiny against Odysseus or in one way I am almost certain he thought of the possibility being quite doable given as I said above that Odysseys was one man and the others were over 30. However knowing how great he is in protraying human emotions to his writing I think his choice of plot was deliberate.

Not only was Odysseus someone that could erupt not only controversy but also superstition given his close relationship with gods before, his leadership was always admirable regardless of the results (knowing his prudent nature and how plenty of his orders that were disobeyed ended up in a tragedy and let's face it Odysseus was also a brilliant fighter. I doubt anyone would easily take the first step to fight him one on one either!) and above all he was one of the best when it came on taking some really difficult decisions, carrying on his back not only the personal guilt he felt while taking them but also the anger of others and their retalliation. And in an amazingly human writing Homer speaks on times of crisis. When people do not wish to take responsibility at times of Crisis because they know full well that their decisions rarely ever would be painless!

Therefore they couldn't retalliate against him; they didn't want the responsibility of leadership or the blame for the losses. They didn't want to stand against authority directly either. So they took the indirect mutiny decision; when authority is not present they disobey or they break their will when the force of authority.

Could we perhaps one more time appeal to the usual theory of "unreliable storyteller" and speak on how Odysseus doesn't want to mention a mutiny in his story to Phaeakes because he doesn't want to appear as weak leader in their eyes?

We could but in my opinion this doesn't seem likely. Odysseus is already humiliated; shipwrecked and a beggar in their house. He mentioned how it was ellegedly his fault that the whole domino of reactions began when he mentions how he was yelling to Polyphemus being blasphemus that not even Poseidon could put him back together if he had killed him (which let's face it is too much given that gods had no probelm resurrecting some dead before). He had already mentioned his men not listening to him and disobedience was already a heavy thing. He didn't hide most of the unpleasant experiences during the trip so why miss the opportunity of shifting the blame to his men, saying that they stage a mutiny against him thus himself being unable to react instead of stating that he fell asleep during the prayer? To show that his men fear him so they do not dare to face him? Perhaps but it seems unlikely given the whole story in which Odysseus doesn't hide his bad sides from them.

What do you guys think? Let me know to your comments and reblogs below! ^_^

[metamorphesque]

Short Story: "Why do flowers die so soon?", Vardges Petrosyan

(translated from Armenian by Tathev Simonyan)

…I remember the last days of my life, which were unlike any that had come before. To the world, I seemed so happy: I had brothers, a sister, a family, a child who was a bell and a brook’s murmur. What else could one need for happiness? And yet, something was missing, for I was not happy. And then, out of nowhere, she poured into my life.

Has it ever happened that, on a hot summer day, while you’re standing there, dazed by the sun and dreams, someone playfully poured cold water on your neck? At first, you might startle, maybe even scold the one who did it, but then you suddenly feel that’s exactly what you’d been standing in the sun for, perhaps you’d been standing your whole life just for that.

That’s how she poured into my life—wild and astounding, asking for nothing, careless as could be. Now I can’t even recall if she was beautiful. In her eyes, there was an inquisitive sadness, a sliver of sky, and a bit of rustling. It felt as though those eyes were always gazing at life, asking, “Why...?” She came uninvited, wrapped herself around my days like a grapevine curling up its wooden stakes, offering me all the clusters of her youth—everything she had. And she asked for nothing. Nothing at all. Until the very end, I couldn’t convince her that I loved her too. Perhaps I didn’t truly believe it then, for I kept reminding myself every moment: I have no right to love her. And maybe that’s why, when she laid her whole life at my feet, I kept glancing at my watch; she brought me the full nakedness of her youth, while I closed the curtains and turned off the light. I never went out in public with her, and the world never found out that I was finally happy. Our love was akin to a fire we tried to cover with our hands, though the flame was scorching and uncontainable.

I’m afraid my beginning is dragging on too long.

I was ill before I died. All day long, my mother, my brothers, and my wife—sorrowful and pale—remained by my side, though in those last days, we no longer understood or recognized one another. Only she was missing, the one I waited for and loved most. She couldn’t come to our house. My brothers knew I would die; the doctor had told them so. They believed it, perhaps even expected it—sad and resigned. Only my mother didn’t believe it, though not because she was unaware of what the doctor had said…

Perhaps it’s best if I tell you about my last day. By then, I already knew I would die that very day. That’s why I wanted to laugh when the doctor tried to give me an injection, examined my stomach, and then prescribed some medicine: “Give him this twice a day for a week.” I didn’t blame him—this calm, warm-handed man; he just didn’t understand me, and no doctor understands that people only die when they’re truly exhausted. Someone might grow tired at eighteen, and another at seventy. I was tired. But I wasn’t sad. My bookshelf was in front of me, though I didn’t think about the fact that my fingers would no longer touch those books. I knew that other fingers would, and for books, it makes no difference. Books are a bit like gossipers—they reveal their secrets to anyone, so I knew that they’d share them with someone else, too. With sadness I only looked at the acacia tree rustling below my window and at the sky in the distance. I wished I could take with me, to that place beneath the ground, just a bit of that rustling and a sliver of sky. But I knew it was impossible.

“I’ll go grab some cigarettes,” I suddenly heard my older brother say, even though I knew he didn’t smoke. He was either heading out to send a telegram to our relatives or he simply didn’t want to see me pass. I understood and said goodbye with a glance, knowing we would never meet again in this world. He left. I asked my wife to take our child outside for some fresh air. “I’ll take him,” she replied, not realizing she’d never hear my voice again. I also said something to my mother, but she didn’t leave. This saddened me deeply, and I slowly closed my eyes. I don’t know how much time passed, only that I suddenly heard my mother’s gut-wrenching scream and knew I had already died. Through my closed eyelids, I saw everyone come rushing in, saw them carry my mother out—the first to sense my death, though the only one who hadn’t believed it was near.

After that, everything unfolded as it always does.

For two days, people gathered around me, and I saw many familiar faces I hadn’t seen in years. They cried or stood somber and silent, then left. Sometimes, those sounds or that silence wore me out, and I wanted to ask them to talk or be quiet. But there was such calm within me that I didn’t dare to open my eyes. With a strange sense of wonder I began to observe people—many of whom I thought I knew well. Not knowing I was watching, they felt no need to pretend. I recalled what I used to think of them when I was alive, and, truthfully, at times, I felt embarrassed by those old thoughts and judgments. But that wasn’t what preoccupied me the most; every day, I searched for the one who never came. I knew she couldn’t simply come and stand quietly by my side like the others. I knew that as soon as she entered, everyone would know. My heart ached with longing; I missed her deeply, even thought of asking my mother to call her, but I was too worn out to open my eyes. I was so tired, and for the first time, I could think of her in peace, knowing no one would interrupt—not with a phone call, nor a glance, nor love, nor hate. I thought of her even when they carried me down my street, the street where I’d grown up, loved, and grown weary.

The street was full of sunlight, but for the first time, I didn’t feel hot; instead, I wanted even more of the sun, bigger and warmer. I looked at my street: trams, cars, people stood with a kind of sadness that wore my heart out. I didn’t want to be the reason behind anyone’s sadness; thus, I didn’t feel bad at all when I saw a boy and girl under a tree, holding hands and smiling into each other’s eyes. At first, I thought they hadn’t noticed the procession, but then the girl looked directly at me and smiled again. The boy looked too, with kind and happy eyes. I wanted to smile back, maybe even wave, but I was too tired, and besides, if I lifted my hand, the flowers would fall.

Then we walked into the cemetery, and that’s when I saw her. I saw her and smiled—or rather, that smile had been there on my face the whole time because I’d been thinking of her in my final moments. For two days, through my closed eyelids, I saw that no one understood that smile; some even looked at it strangely and confused. But at the graveside, she understood; I even saw her smile back at me. Then her figure was obscured from my view by my relatives, my loved ones, and I remembered our last night together…

We were walking through the darkness. Only in darkness could we love each other freely in the open world, which is why we despised not just electric lights but even the stars when they shone too brightly. We were walking through the dark, and she wanted me to say that she was the one I loved most in the world. I was silent, perhaps already sensing that I was too tired of keeping that sentence unsaid, one I longed to cry out through all the speakers of the world. I was tired—tired of this darkness, of the lights, of everything—yet she waited. And later, under the ground, I deeply regretted that I hadn’t said those words meant only for her, belonging only to her, but it was already too late.

As I reminisced about our last night together, they started to lower me into the ground. I caught a final glimpse of her between my relatives' feet and heard her gaze. "Should I come with you?" she asked. "Should I?" That’s how I used to hear her voice through the receiver back then. In that final moment, I realized that if I just nodded, she would come, but she was only twenty-one, so I replied, "Stay." She heard my gaze, heard silently, just as she always had. Soon, she was obscured from view, and I realized I was already beneath the ground. After that, I heard the familiar sounds of stones and soil. And then, nothing more; only the thick fragrance of flowers lingered, frozen between me and the earth, then, thinking of her, I grew numb: I tried to recall the date and the day, but could only keep track of the calendar for a week or two.

Thus, days turned into months, and perhaps years went by. And I remember the words I never said to her, to the world, which is why I began to murmur this belated confession from beneath the earth. I began to exist through those unsaid words. Each day, I tried to remember how long our love lasted. A few... months? days? years?…

One day, I looked up and saw the sky once more; they had torn down our cemetery and replaced it with a garden of grasses and flowers. I had become a flower. I looked around in excitement, eager to find her and give her the words that were meant for her, belonged only to her... But she was not there; all around me were unfamiliar flowers that I did not recognize. I realized I must have been beneath the earth for perhaps an entire century, and she, too, might now be a flower, a blade of grass, or a handful of grain—who knows where in all the fields of the world... I was ready to search the globe for her, but I was just a flower, and I died as soon as I tried to lift my feet from the soil. I died for the last time. When I once more turned into soil, only then did I understand why flowers die so soon: all flowers might once have been people who rose from the earth in search of that someone, only to not find them and wither away, dying one last time. I realized that nothing in this world can be found twice, and I longed to cry out with all my floral voice, “Don’t let go, people, don’t lose what you have!”

[galaxysupreme17]

Agatha's Trial

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader

Alice Wu Gulliverx fem!harkness!reader

Y/n stirred, blinking sleepily as she lifted her head. Around her, everyone was still asleep. Alice's arms were snugly wrapped around her, making Y/n smile softly. She carefully extricated herself, trying not to wake her girlfriend, then stretched quietly as she scanned the campsite. The first thing she noticed was the absence of her mothers—a detail that, in her experience, was never a good sign. A familiar presence appeared behind her, and she turned to see Rio standing there.

"What do you want, Mother?" Y/n asked, meeting Rio's eyes with a guarded expression.

Rio chuckled as she stepped closer. "Now, now, Mija, no need to be so defensive."

"With you? Defense is always the best option," Y/n replied coolly, crossing her arms.

Rio's expression softened, though she tried to keep her tone light. "Oh really? Just a few hours ago, you said you missed me. Admit it—I was always your favorite mom."

Y/n's eyes flashed. "You were also the mother who abandoned me. At least Mama stayed, even when losing Nicky destroyed her."

Rio's face fell, but she recovered quickly, pointing a finger at Y/n. "You don't know the whole story, Y/n. I had to leave. Your mother never forgave me, and you know that."

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head. "You don't get it. Mama forgave you the moment it happened. She still loves you, even after everything. What she hasn't forgiven is you leaving without fighting for her. For us. She was shattered, but you actually listened when, in a fit of grief, she told you to leave and never come back. The one time you should have fought her, you didn't. Not only did I lose my brother, but I lost my mother too. Mama tried hard to be there for me but couldn't help feeling she'd failed."

A tear slipped down Y/n's cheek, which she quickly brushed away before turning on her heel and heading back to the group. Rio opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came. Y/n had understood far more than Rio realized, even at ten years old.

Back with the others, Y/n noticed Lilia stirring awake with a gasp. "They're coming! We have to go!"

Y/n frowned as she gently shook Alice awake. "What? Who's coming?" she asked, helping Alice to her feet.

Hurriedly putting on her jacket, Lilia replied, "The summoning spell—we left the door open!"

Alice tightened her grip on Y/n's hand. "What did you see?"

Before Lilia could answer, Rio appeared, smirking. "Go on, Lilia. Tell them."

Lilia glanced at the others, her expression tense. "The Salem Seven."

A shiver ran down Y/n's spine as Lilia continued, "When Agatha killed her original coven—"

Jen interrupted. "By stealing their powers."

"Because her own mother tried to have her executed," Rio added defensively.

Jen glared. "Are you seriously defending a known serial killer?"

Y/n, irritated by the insult toward her mother, took a step forward. "Back off, Jen."

Alice pulled her back, looking around anxiously. "Come on, someone finish the story!"

Lilia continued, a little shakily. "Agatha spared the young children of the coven she killed..."

Rio gave a dark smile. "And now they're a feral, hive-minded coven, hell-bent on revenge."

Just then, Agatha burst around the corner, shrugging into her jacket. "Lesson learned: always finish what you start. And mercy? Overrated. Alright, everyone, grab your stuff! Let's go!"

The group bolted, running until they reached a dip in the road with a thick brush surrounding it. They heard a wolf's howl ahead and strange noises behind them.

Teen, thinking quickly, suggested, "What about a hexenbesen?"

Everyone except Rio and Y/n immediately shot the idea down, but Y/n's face lit up. She'd always loved flying on brooms.

Soon, her mothers were setting up, and Jen and Lilia also paired up. Seeing the odd number, Y/n turned to Alice. "Trade partners?"

Alice gave her a reluctant look. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I'll ride with you," Y/n replied with a reassuring smile.

Teen's face lit up as he realized Alice would trade with him. Meanwhile, Agatha and Rio looked puzzled when they saw Y/n standing alone. Y/n caught their expressions and shrugged. "I'm riding with Alice. I'll be okay."

As Teen finished his broom, one of the Salem Seven lunged at him. Quick-thinking, Alice struck it with her broom, allowing Teen to complete his spell. Agatha and Rio led the group into the air, and Alice soon followed, pulling Y/n up onto the broom, wrapping an arm around her waist while Y/n clung to her shoulders.

"We need to get off the road!" Y/n shouted over the wind. Everyone gained altitude, Alice laughing with exhilaration. Y/n leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, which made Alice smile. She turned her head and caught Y/n's lips softly, letting their foreheads rest together afterward.

They soared onward until the air around them shifted strangely. The group began to panic as they felt an unseen force dragging them downward. Alice tightened her hold on Y/n, determined to keep her safe.

"The next trial!" Teen shouted as a small house appeared in the distance. Just then, one of the Salem Seven appeared, insects spilling from its mouth as it prepared to attack. The group sped toward the cabin, dismounting as they reached it. Alice held Y/n close, shielding her from the chaos around them. They barely made it inside before Agatha slammed the door shut.

"Alright, we're safe," Agatha panted, trying to catch her breath.

Jen pointed to the dark figures gathering outside. "Safe? The entire Halloween aisle is outside waiting for us!"

Agatha rolled her eyes as she adjusted her hair, picking a few bugs out. "They can't get in, can they? We must complete the trial and get out before they break through."

Alice looked down at herself, then at everyone else. "So... what? Kiss, marry, kill?"

Y/n wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, I really hope not."

Teen suddenly realized he was missing his spell book and started to panic. While searching for spells, Y/n glanced down, noticing that her outfit matched Rio's almost exactly—except for a purple trim on her clothes. It was ironic, she thought, as if fate was screaming who her parents were.

Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by Teen's voice cutting through the silence. "Whose trial is this?"

Rio leaned against the window, gazing out at the blood moon's eerie glow. She chuckled softly, though there was little humor in it. "Agatha's."

Y/n's head whipped around to face her mother, worry flooding her expression. Sensing her daughter's gaze, Agatha turned, catching Y/n's anxious eyes. She tried to reassure her with a gentle smile, but an unmistakable hint of fear lingered beneath her calm facade.

"The blood moon," Lilia whispered, glancing at the crimson glow in the sky. "When the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest."

Teen looked to Lilia, confused. "Wait. I thought talking to the dead was your department?"

She gave him a small, knowing smile and shook her head. "A common misconception. I read people; I read time. But spirits? Talking to them was just a con."

Rio stepped forward, smirking as she raised her dagger disguised as an ordinary hairbrush. "And who better to commune with the dead than someone who's put so many in the grave?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "That's rich, coming from you."

A board game flew off the shelf as if on cue, skidding across the floor and landing with an ominous thud by Teen's feet. He bent down, picking it up and examining the dusty box. "Looks like the road wants us to Ouija," he remarked, holding it up to the others.

Then, a sharp beeping echoed in unison from everyone's watches, signaling instructions for the next part of the trial. After a brief scuffle over who got to read the message first, the group reluctantly agreed to gather around the board. Each placed their hands on the planchette, and Y/n chose a spot close to Agatha, her protective instincts kicking in.

They began the session, and Agatha's hands soon lifted from the board, her fingers twitching as if guided by an unseen force. Her body started to jerk, her eyes rolling back as her voice became unnatural. But Rio, unfazed, just rolled her eyes.

"She's just scared," Rio muttered dismissively.

At her words, Agatha dropped the act, blinking and returning to herself, though Y/n shot Rio a glare of pure frost. They resumed, and this time, the planchette began to spell out words slowly but surely: "P-U-N-I-S-H A-G-A-T-H-A." The message repeated, each time faster and more aggressively, until Agatha yanked her hands away from the board.

The room seemed to pulse with dark energy, a chorus of low, guttural voices rising around them, chanting, "Punish her."

Agatha slumped to the floor, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut as the chanting grew louder. Y/n stepped toward her mother, but before she could reach her, Rio grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Rio warned.

Y/n pulled free, her protective instincts overriding caution, and rushed over to her mom, checking to ensure she wasn't injured. Agatha, noticing this, removes her hands and covers her daughter's ears, attempting to protect her.

"What do we do?" Alice asked, looking between her friends, panic etched across her face.

"They already told us. Punish Agatha!" Jen shouted, and the voices went dead silent as if by command.

Y/n rose to her feet, planting herself firmly between Jen and her mother, her expression fierce. "Like hell, you will."

Jen crossed her arms, unfazed. "I'm sorry, Y/n, but that's the only way to pass the trial. Your mom's done... terrible things. We all know it."

"Oh, and you're a saint?" Y/n snapped back.

Teen tried to ease the tension, but his voice was gentle. "Come on, there's got to be another way."

"We could tie her up," Lilia suggested, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice.

"You can't be serious," Alice said, inching closer to Y/n as a show of support.

"Or," Rio interjected, lifting her dagger and tilting it thoughtfully, "we could just slit her throat." Her tone was casual, but Y/n knew her mother well enough to sense the underlying bitterness in the remark.

"Let's not be so hasty," Agatha cut in, her tone calm but firm as she pushed herself up, standing protectively in front of Y/n. Y/n took a step back, her heart pounding.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, casting the room in darkness, then snapped back on. Alice looked around frantically, a pang of dread in her voice. "Where's Y/n?" Her question hung in the air, and the group's expressions shifted from confusion to fear.

Agatha turned sharply, scanning the room. "Y/n? Sweetheart, where are you?"

Rio's face hardened as she called out, a note of worry slipping into her voice despite her best effort to hide it. "Y/n, Nena, come back. We won't hurt your mother."

The lights flickered again, plunging the room into darkness once more. Teen fumbled around, finally finding an old lamp. When he switched it on, he pointed it toward the ceiling, gasping at the sight above him.

"Oh my god, what happened to her?" Jen's voice cracked as she staggered back, pressing herself against the wall.

"Someone, get her down!" Alice cried, her voice laced with panic as she stared up at Y/n, who was somehow contorted and suspended against the ceiling, her limbs twisted in unnatural angles.

Rio stepped forward, her voice steely. "No one is touching her."

"But she's going to get hurt!" Lilia protested, her hand covering her mouth in horror.

Before they could make a move, Y/n's body dropped from the ceiling, hitting the ground with a hard thud. Alice stepped toward her, but Teen grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"That's not Y/n," he whispered, eyes wide with fear.

Y/n's body began to move in unnatural jerks, her limbs twisting as if controlled by an unseen force. Her head snapped up, her gaze vacant and hollow.

"She's possessed for real," Teen gasped, backing away.

Rio took a protective step forward, her voice firm. "No! She could get hurt. No one is to touch her."

"Then how can we help her?" Agatha cried, moving to Rio's side, both torn between the need to act and the fear of making things worse.

Before they could decide, Y/n's body went limp, collapsing to the floor. But before anyone could reach her, she disappeared again as the lights flickered and dimmed.

"Where is she?" Rio's voice cracked with desperation as she searched the room frantically, her face pale.

Just then, a white fog began to form by the stairs, curling upward, thick and heavy like smoke. Rio's face darkened with recognition. "That's a ghost. I hate ghosts," she muttered under her breath.

Agatha's gaze sharpened, her breath catching in her throat. "Mother?"

At the top of the stairs, Y/n reappeared, looking dazed as she cradled her injured knee, struggling to heal it.

Agatha's face contorted with rage as she glared at the foggy figure. "What did you do to my daughter?"

Evanora Harkness's ghostly figure smirked, her voice dripping with malice. "You must continue the witches' road without her."

A horrified gasp escaped from Alice. "No! No way!"

"Leave her with me, and you may go free," Evanora taunted, her smirk twisting cruelly.

"You will not take my daughter!" Agatha shouted, her voice breaking, tears pooling in her eyes.

Rio placed a steadying hand on Agatha's shoulder, her voice soft but fierce. "She's coming with us, Agatha. She's not staying here."

Evanora's gaze turned venomous. "You do not deserve to have any children. You were evil the minute you came into this world. What makes you think I would let you continue this rotted bloodline? I certainly succeeded with the other one."

Her words hit Agatha like a physical blow. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Y/n, finally healed, locked eyes with her mother, her expression fierce and unwavering.

"Mama, don't listen to her. You are amazing. You made me who I am," Y/n said softly, her words cutting through the room's darkness like a beacon.

Before Evanora could respond, her figure flickered and vanished, but not before her malevolent presence seemed to seep into Y/n, whose body twisted again, contorted and crawling down the stairs. Alice, anger flooding her features, pushed past Agatha.

"Leave my girlfriend alone, you Bitch!" she yelled, unleashing a blast of magic.

"Alice! Be careful!" Agatha shouted, reaching for her.

After a tense struggle, Evanora's spirit finally left Y/n's body. Y/n crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath. Alice was the first to reach her, pulling her into her arms. Agatha and Rio knelt beside them, their hands trembling as they checked her over.

Agatha hugged Y/n tightly, her voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry, my sweet girl."

Y/n managed a weary smile. "It's okay, Mama. I'm okay, I promise."

Rio brushed Y/n's hair back, her fingers lingering. She embraced her, Y/n melting into her warmth, and then turned to Alice, who held her close, her face buried in her shoulder. They watched as the door creaked open, signaling that they had passed the trial.

Later, the group began working to make a fire, while Rio and Agatha stood off to the side. 

Rio turned to Agatha, her expression soft but uncertain. "Agatha, I... I'm sorry."

Agatha looked at her, surprised. "For what?"

Rio chuckled bitterly. "I always thought you hated me for what I did... for leaving."

Agatha's eyes softened as she reached for Rio's hand. "I was hurt, Rio. I wanted you to stay, to fight for us."

Rio's gaze dropped. "I see that now. Agatha, I have always loved you. I just... I hope you can let me back into your life."

With a gentle smile, Agatha squeezed her hand. "You've always been a part of me, Rio. I'd love for you to stay."

Rio pulled her close, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that was filled with years of longing and forgiveness, a promise of a new beginning.

As they pulled apart, Y/n nudged Alice and whispered, "Looks like they finally figured it out."

Alice grinned. "Three centuries is a long time to wait."

Hand in hand, Agatha and Rio joined the others by the fire, the warmth of new hope settling over them all.

[pboogerswbb]

Too Lost In You

Paige Bueckers x reader (no use of y/n)

reader is a bartender at ted’s! and had a falling out with paige after fucking on and off for months. now paige is back at ted’s, needing her again.

Warnings: SMUT! also toxic!paige and language etc. you know the drill

A/N: wrote this because i'm stubborn and competitive and that one anon (who since apologised ily lol) thought english wasn't my first language lmao. also, this COULD become a multiple part series if people want but idk, idek if i'll ever write anything else lol. but we'll see! please let me know, would love to hear you guys' thoughts :) ily. ALSO the title comes from the song Too Lost In You by Sugababes (which will be the inspo for the series if this actually becomes one). SORRY THIS IS SO LONG OMG

-

“Yo I’m about to get fucked up tonight” A strong voice comes through from the bar entrance.

I would recognize that voice anywhere. Before I even lift my gaze I’m brought back to the memories of her talking into my ear mid shift, hands on my waist, soft whispers in my ear telling me how good I looked. Or the flashing images of her in my bed on top of me, sweat dripping down her back, talking me through it inbetween groans. The images I replayed over and over in my head, a lot more than I’d like to admit - more than was okay for someone who had called the whole thing off between us anyway. 

In a panic I quickly bent down to hide behind the bar, pretending that scrubbing the sticky liquor stains off the floor was of the utmost importance. All just to get away from having to serve her.

“Hey, can you get this one, I’m dying for a break” Natalie, my co-worker, says - clueless to the hiding or the cause of it. For a moment I consider faking a heart attack, throwing a glass at her, or simply screaming “no”. But her round eyes (and the fact I needed to keep this job to pay the bills) softened me. With a deep breath I nod and stand up behind the bar, as Natalie walks off. Leaving me face to face with her.

She’s standing in front of me - Paige. It had been weeks since I had seen her last, doing everything in my power to avoid her. My eyes can’t help it though when they travel from her long fingers to her veiny hands to her broad shoulders that I swear had filled out even more in the weeks I hadn’t seen her. My gaze roams over her neck and my knees almost buckle at the memory of burying my head there, leaving open mouthed kisses on her pale skin. The way it bruised and reddened. The navy blue Uconn trackies made her skin even brighter, and I swear she glowed a little. Finally, my eyes land on her bright blue eyes that are already staring at me, heavy lidded, needy even. The way they always looked when she made her way to my dorm in the middle of the night, needing me.

Her eyes widen. “Oh… didn’t know you were working today” Paige says. It’s a lie. It’s clear in the strain of her voice, the way her fingers twitch. Last time we talked I told her I never wanted to see her again. But right now as she towered over me forcing me to tilt my head up to meet her gaze, I nearly forgot why.

“Whatchu want?” I ask, ignoring her statement already instinctively reaching for the grenadine. I knew her too well to pretend anything else. My stomach twisted uncomfortably thinking about how we had left things between us.

Paige pretends to think. “Uhh… a dirty shirley.” Her words are slightly slurred. She’d already been drinking. I move my eyes away from hers, unable to take the severity of her stare. The tension is broken, however, by a very drunk KK crashing into Paige and leaning over the bar. “also shots” KK adds and nudges Paige who smiles weakly, her eyes never leaving mine. With the way she looked I might’ve thought she had missed me - but I knew better. Paige Bueckers did not yearn for any girl. Certainly not me.

I smile widely at KK. “You wanna be more specific?” I ask, making the shirley with a rehearsed ease. I had made quite a few since Paige had taken a liking to me earlier in the year, coming over to Ted’s almost every night, sitting in the corner with her teammates watching me, tipping me way too much with that smug grin of hers. It would’ve pissed me off if she wasn’t so insanely, out of this world hot.

“Anything strong” KK snorts and I let out a chuckle, reaching for the vodka. “You got it.”

I set the drinks on the counter but Paige is quick to grab hers, her fingertips pressing into mine for just a moment. I nearly whimper at the contact, seeing how Paige’s jaw flexes and cheeks blush. She felt it as much as I did, the tension from the last time we slept together.

“Thanks…” Paige murmurs uncharacteristically quiet. KK rolling her eyes and scoffing, grabs the shots for her and the team. “Bro” KK shakes her head at the interaction, leaving the blonde alone with me to pay. I try to ignore the burn between my legs, watching her long fingers shuffling through cash in her wallet. It would take a gun for me to admit I had been thinking about those fingers during lonely nights and fuck, even nights spent with other people. No matter what no one ever measured up to how those fingers knew exactly what to do, which buttons to push.

“Keep the rest, ma” Paige says, snapping me out of my daydream. My mind is too hazy to take in the nickname. I can’t get a single word out before she’s already turning away, dirty shirley in hand and a stupid grin on her face. She had got to me and she was enjoying every moment.

–

Paige dangled over the bar, her eyes wide and searching, finally setting on me walking out from the back. She’s pushing her blonde hair off her face with a sloppy, uncoordinated movement, clearly feeling the alcohol. I stop her before she can speak though.

“If you want another one you gotta ask Natalie, I’m off my shift,” I tell Paige, refusing to give her my attention the way I knew she wanted.

“I know, you’re off this time every week,” Paige chuckles and leans forward with her elbows on the bar. She was in a Uconn tee now, her biceps flexing. It takes all my willpower not to stare. “We should talk.”

“We really shouldn’t,” I say sternly, taking off the name tag I had been wearing. “Pretty sure I said I never wanted to talk to you again.”

“Sure and you also called me a bitch but never stopped us from fucking before either,” Paige says, a slight annoyance in her voice, preferring to have her way. She’s licking on her grenadine stained lips, chasing my gaze. I finally meet hers, ignoring the aching I felt looking at her eyes on me. I knew how this ended up unless I left. Now.

“I have class tomorrow,” i sigh, walking around the bar towards the exit and throwing on my jacket. Before I know it Paige’s hand grips my arm holding me still. I can smell her around me. Grenadine and alcohol sure, but also the scent of her. The scent I looked for everywhere. Her eyes were pleading, like I was water and she was on fire. I almost forgot why I hated her, just for a second. 

“Lemme drive you ma,” Paige pleads. 

“You can’t drive, you're drunk” I scoff, brushing her hand off of me. A feeble attempt as Paige’s free arm quickly snakes around my waist and pulls me in, her scent so strong now it’s making me dizzy.

“But I need to talk to you, been driving me crazy,” She murmurs with a slight whine in her voice. For a moment I waver, her hand firmly on the small of my back, all her height towering over me. It made my head spin.

Paige takes it as a sign and leans closer, pulling me in tighter but I place my hand on her chest holding her back, suddenly aware of how empty the bar was and how the most famous person on campus probably shouldn’t be doing this in public. I notice the way her chest is heaving, mine doing the same. The fabric of the shirt underneath my fingertips felt all sorts of wrong, I needed it off of her immediately. No, I had to be stronger than this. 

But I wasn’t.

“Do you need a ride back to campus?” I ask her and swallow. The way her tongue slides over her lower lip as she watches me forces a deep blush to set on my face. 

“Yeah, bad,” Paige murmurs and I push her hands off me, wordlessly heading to the door with Paige following close behind. She hurries past me to open the car door for me. I would think it was sweet if I didn’t know that it was just one of her plays. One of the ways she made girls like me think she actually cared. She didn’t. She just wanted to fuck.

The air is tense as I start the car, praying Paige doesn’t notice the slight tremble of my hand. I’m not sure if it’s anger or how weak her touch had made me feel. Either way I had to get rid of her fast. Paige slouches on the passenger seat, watching me with hooded eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. Her legs were spread wide apart, sweatpants pulled low enough for her the logo Nike Pros to peek out. For a second all I want to do is pull up somewhere desolate and climb on top of her - from the smirk on Paige’s face I can tell she’s having the exact same thoughts.

The quiet hum of the car motor soothes my nerves until her voice cuts through the air.

“Been missing you y’know-” Paige starts but I interrupt, knowing she had the tendency to talk herself right into my bed.

“Told you I never wanted to talk to you again, remember?” I say with a slight shake in my voice.

“Baby c’mon, you weren’t serious about that,” She groans, her voice filled with amusement.

“What, the screaming didn’t seem serious to you?” I sigh, my eyes strictly on the road. Paige let’s out a chuckle and leans forward on her seat.

“Ion remember non of that, just remember how bad I wanted to fuck that attitude out of you,” she chuckles and the car slides into the passing lane momentarily as i slap her only half seriously across the chest. I pull over on the road, parking the car. The amusement in her tone pissed me off bad. I had enough.

“Get out” I tell Paige sternly, rage and annoyance swirling inside me. She had no right to be making light of the situation. Not after what she did, how bad it had hurt me.

Paige lets out a laugh. “Man you’re crazy” she tells me turning to face me. I face her too, the anger turning my cheeks even brighter. 

“I’m fucking serious. Get out,” I repeat my voice rising a little but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Paige just chuckles and shakes her head. I wanted to strangle her, she drove me crazy.

“KK always telling me I pick the crazy ones, I’m thinking she’s right,” Paige groans, not taking any initiative to get out of my car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and groan. I lean over Paige manspreading on the passenger seat, reaching for her door as she grabs my wrist, my face so close to hers I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The air in the car shifts, my annoyance turning into something that made my legs feel weak, as she licks her lips, her eyes on me. “M sorry ok,” Paige says, her voice low and hoarse now. Her eyes plead again.

And I fold, again.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you, mmkay?” I say clearing my throat and pulling back from her before I made some really, really bad choices.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, satisfied by the effect she had on me.

I start the car and in silence we drive back to Storrs, the streets quiet on the dark tuesday night. Paige fiddles with the zipper of her hoodie, her nimble fingers needing something to do - always looking for something to toy with. 

I tried to shake the feeling of each cell in my body screaming for her, needing to feel her skin against mine. I knew we weren’t good for each other. She wasn’t good for me. Part of me wished she came to tell me she’s done fucking around. That I’m all she wants, better than all the countless other girls that spent nights in her bed. That I was different, special. Worth letting everyone else go for. Frankly, even if she told me all those things, each word I wanted to hear, I wouldn’t believe her. 

When you were with Paige, it never felt like you were one of many though. She knew how to make you feel like you were the only one. It was in the way her blue eyes roamed my face, in the whine of her voice - like she would die if she didn’t have me. She’d remember your favourite movie and your mother’s name and the way you liked your coffee. All just to go see some other bitch later and repeat the same routine with her. Even with the girls she fucked, she had to be the best. Not because they meant anything, but because that’s who she had to be - the best. A winner.

Paige stretches her arms behind her head, the grey Uconn tee hiking up just enough for the skin on her lower abdomen to peek out as I park the car. Jesus. I quickly look away.

There’s a moment of silence, Paige staring at me intently.

“Look, I-” she starts but I quickly climb out of the car, not wanting to hear it. She’s quick to follow me though, her long limbs catching up to me faster than I liked.

“Ma, c’mon-”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, doing my best to sound stern as I head towards my dorm in a hurry, Paige right next to me. The campus was empty, most students already in their dorms, spending the night in.

“Bro you gotta listen to me-”

“No I don’t, you got your ride home now fuck off!” I yelp, entering the building as Paige holds the door open for me, still persistent on following me. “You said you’d keep your mouth shut so… keep it shut Paige.”

“Well… I lied” She murmurs rubbing the back of her neck, still on my tail all the way to my door. For a moment she watches me struggle with the lock, my hands shaky from the mix of anger and how bad the need between my legs had grown just from being near her. Paige reaches over, unlocking the door for me, her hands brushing against mine. I close my eyes and sigh - I really had to get it together.

“Well yeah you do that huh,” I say bitterly entering my dorm. Paige leans against the doorframe, not letting me lock her out.

Paige chuckles and shakes her head. “Bro you’re being so dramatic, we both knew what this was when we got into it. It’s not like you didn’t fuck around too!” Paige raises her voice, slightly amused, slightly bitter.

The truth was, I hadn’t slept around. Since Paige first fucked me, she took over me, consumed me. I would never admit this to her but I couldn’t even think about anyone else. 

“God, you can be such a bitch I swear to-” I groan loudly, rolling my eyes but Paige interrupts me, stepping into my room.

“Me?! You’re the most psycho bitch I ever met-” 

“Psycho bitch?!” I’m screaming now, my body hot with rage. “It was you who told me you weren’t fucking anyone else with some other bitch’s bra under your bed! Not me!”

Paige groans and shuts the door behind her, throwing her head back in frustration. “It’s just something people say! You were in those purple panties too ma, I’m not responsible for the shit I say when you wear those,” Paige argues. I chuckle, turning to face her. She was staring at me, heavy lidded and jaw sharper than usual from grinding her teeth together. Paige was getting pissed off, wondering if any pussy was worth this much trouble.

“You’re a fucking sociopath P!” I yell at her as she takes a step towards me, her eyes darkening. The blue in her eyes nearly gone from the way her pupils were blown out.

Paige grins smugly at me, licking her lower lip, looking me up and down. “Yeah? What else?” she says smugly, her big hands coming to hold me by my waist. The moment my eyes meet hers I knew it was over for me. Suddenly my legs felt weak, and my head spun.

“An asshole too,” I answer, my voice breathy and more quiet. My body was immediately responding to her touch, Paige’s fingertips sliding underneath the hem of my shirt sending goosebumps everywhere.

“Yeah?” Paige grins, with a smug tone. I nearly fall over.

“Yeah,” I repeat, my chest heaving. 

“That’s too bad ma…” Paige murmurs, her eyes roaming from my eyes to my lips, down my body. 

I furrow my brows, fighting to not let out a whimper as her fingertips rubbed up and down against my sides, carefully over each rib. Up and down.

“It’s too bad 'cause I’ve been dying to fuck you,” She says with a low voice, eyes returning to meet mine. “Shit baby, watching you tonight, the way your ass looks in those jeans? Fuckin' killing me,” she adds shaking her head. Paige’s hand drifts down from my waist to my hips, all the way to my ass. Gripping it hard as she groans.

I can’t fight the whimper that spills from my lips, the way my eyes flutter shut just for a moment. Paige grins, watching my reaction. She pulls me closer by my ass, my body pressing against hers as she towers over me. Paige leans down, nuzzling her nose against my ear. And I don’t stop her. I bite my lip, feeling the way my panties were growing damp already. Only Paige could have this kind of effect on me - one touch and a few words and that grin and I was hers. She knew it as well as I did and I hated her for it.

I was too weak to hate her right now though. Too far gone.

“But since you hate me so bad…” Paige whispers into my ear, her lips brushing against it as she leaves a few wet kisses right under it. “I should probably leave.”

In a haze I reach up to wrap my hands around her, my hand pressing against the back of her neck to keep her there. To make sure she didn’t go.

“No…” I nearly whine. Paige chuckles against my neck, kissing it slow and soft. Her hand kneads my ass again, like she had been dying to feel it.

“No? You want me to stay?” She says, teasing.

“Want you to stay,” I murmur, tilting my head to the side, my eyes shut now.

“Want me to get you right ma?” Paige asks hoarsely. My body feels like putty as she holds me against her, like she could do whatever and I could do nothing but watch. I didn’t feel in control. I never did with her.

“Y-yes,” I finally admit with a sigh.

Paige pulls away from my neck, her lips ghosting mine. Her breathing was heavy. She needed this just as bad as I did.

“Attagirl,” she murmurs and finally presses her lips against mine. I moan against her, Paige’s lips slide against mine hungrily - like all these weeks apart she had been underwater and I was air. She could finally breathe.

With a swift movement, Paige pulls my shirt off, leaving me in a bra and jeans as her lips return to mine with a groan. Paige’s tongue slides against my lower lip, begging for access. I open my mouth, my tongue meeting hers, my hands pulling on her t-shirt, feeling the muscles on her abdomen, earning a small whine from her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers and walks me back without breaking the kiss. The backs of my legs hit the edge of my bed, forcing me to fall over. Paige watches me hungrily, her mouth ajar just slightly as her eyes roamed my body. “So fucking sexy,” she groans, pulling her shirt off over her head before climbing on top of me in her sports bra.

Paige starts kissing my neck roughly, sucking and nibbling enough to leave bruises to remind me of her later. Her leg finds its way between my legs, quickly pressing against my core as her free hand roams my side, fingers sliding underneath my bra and kneading my breast.

“Fuck, P…” I whimper arching my back off the bed. The friction provided by her leg was the opposite of relieving, making me more aware of all the layers of fabric between our bodies. “Need these off,” I murmur breathlessly, my hands pulling the blue sweatpants down desperately as Paige’s open mouth moves from my neck to my jaw.

“Whatever you want baby,” she whispers, kicking off her pants. She was now on top of me in a sports bra and Nike pros, a silver chain dangling against my chest. Paige leans back a little, eyes roaming my body, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe I was real. Her blonde hair was down and tousled from the way I had been gripping it. She grabs a hair tie from her wrist, tying it back messily, licking her lips.

“Baby, I need to taste you or I might die.”

With that Paige brings her lips back to my neck, making her way down with a trail of wet, sloppy kisses between my breasts, down my stomach, my hip bones, her hands unbuttoning my jeans, shaky with need.  

I watch as she gets on her knees on the floor between my legs, her blue eyes my face as she pulls down my jeans painfully slowly. I buck my hips, needing her mouth on me so bad I felt lightheaded. Paige’s hands pin my hips down with a grin, eyes moving to my panties and the visible spot that had grown wetter under her gaze.

“Fuuuckk ma,” she groans, finally bringing her lips to my core, kissing over my panties.

I whine and grip the sheets beside me, trying to buck my hips closer but Paige shakes her head, still holding my hips still firmly against the mattress. “Thought you hated me,” she murmurs against my core. I wanted to cry, needing her lips on my bare skin. The feel of her mouth through my panties wasn’t enough.

“I do,” I whine, squirming in frustration, throbbing with need. I wanted to hate her, I really did. But when she was between my legs, pinning me down, a chain on her neck and that smirk on her face, I simply couldn’t. 

Paige brings her hand to my hip, finally pulling my panties down to my ankles, her eyes never leaving my core. With a bite of her lip, she brings her finger to my cunt, already soaked, all for her. Her fingertip presses against my clit menacingly, enough to make me gasp.

“If you hate me so much then why are you this wet huh?” Paige teases with a gravelly voice, starting to circle my clit slowly, drawing out whimpers from my lips. My legs immediately trembled, and I watched her with heavy eyes and furrowed brows, nearly unable to think yet alone speak.

“You’ve been such a bitch all night shoulda known you just needed to be fucked,” she chuckles, pressing her fingers harder against my clit, making me let out a moan. It had been weeks since we last did this yet the way she touched me seemed practiced and effortless, like she had been doing it every single day of her life.

“Fuck you,” I moan arching my back as Paige bit on my inner thigh, the veins in her forearm turning visible from the strain of rubbing my clit. 

“Nah ma,” she breathes out, shaking her head. “I’mma fuck you. Just need to taste this pussy first,” Paige groans and leans over, both her hands gripping my inner thighs harshly, forcing them apart as she dives in face first, her lips quickly attaching to my clit.

“Shit. Paige, I-” I moan, unable to come up with any comprehensible thought, Paige’s tongue lapping me up like she really would die if she didn’t taste me. Paige’s eyes are fluttering shut and she’s moaning against my cunt, unable to get enough.

“Fucking missed this pussy so bad,” she murmurs against me, wrapping her lips around my clit and sucking. “Taste so fucking good, never gonna get enough of you,” she rambles on, making a quick mess of me. It doesn’t take long for the coil in my stomach to tighten, my hand gripping onto Paige’s blond hair, falling out of the bun now. 

“Paige-” I whine, throwing my head back, feeling her tongue swirling in my folds. The sheets underneath me were growing damp, wetness dripping out of me from how good she was eating me out.

Paige pulls away spreading my folds apart with her fingers. “Shit ma she loves me huh,” she groans at the sight of me dripping all over the bed. Her words make my eyes roll back. Without warning she pushes two fingers inside me, all the way, as deep as she could. 

“OH fuck P” I gasp loud, bringing my eyes to her face, glistening with the mess I had made on her. She groans, my cunt tight and wet around her fingers as she curls them against me, her bicep flexing as she does. I moan loudly, throwing my head back, my legs shaking bad. Paige’s thumb rubs against my clit harshly as she pumps her fingers into me, other hand holding my squirming body still.

“P… mmph, please,” I cry out, not even sure what I'm pleading for. 

“Shh,” Paige coos, her hand reaching up to cover my mouth and shut me up. “Listen ma,” she says and groans. The room is filled with the sound of my wet cunt, as her fingers slam into me faster, curling harder. My cheeks burn up, almost embarrassed at the state that she had me in.

Paige grins watching my face. “Don’t sound like you hate me, huh,” she murmurs, a bead of sweat dripping down her face. “No one else gets you this wet right? No one fucks you like this,” she groans, hand moving from my mouth to gripping my jaw, making me watch her finger me.

“Mmmh,” i whimper and grip the sheets harder, overwhelmed with the fullness her fingers were causing. I wanted to look away, unable to take the way her arm looked, muscles flexing, veins prominent, as she worked me. It was all overwhelming me as the pleasure built enough to make me shut my eyes.

“Answer me,” Paige commands, her voice stern and her hand moving faster. 

“Shit… No one.. No one fucks me like this,” I cry out, unaware of what was coming out of my mouth. Too fucked out to care.

Paige moans. “Shit, that’s right. No one baby, only me,” she murmurs, her mouth returning to my clit, tongue working against it as her fingers fill me up, overwhelming me and getting me to my peak.

“P- I’m close,” I cry out, my legs nearly shutting but Paige grips my thigh with her free hand, spreading me open for her.

“That’s it ma, s’ good for me,” Paige coos working harder, her fingers curling inside me, tongue flicking against my clit. “Come for me baby,” she praises, groaning against me.

“Oh-” I whine and my head lulls back as my core tightens around her, my legs trembling, Paige fucking an orgasm me to my orgasm. Who cared she slept around, who cared I was supposed to hate her. In this moment, it was just me and her. And no one made me feel like she did, no one took care of me like this.

“Perfect fucking pussy, all for me,” Paige groans against my cunt, working me as I released all over her, the pleasure washing over me in waves. My moans turn to whimpers as I slowly come down, her movements slowing too.

I let out a breath, feeling the aching emptiness inside me as Paige pulled her hand away. She watches my pulsing cunt, mesmerised and hungry. The thing about Paige, one was never enough for her. Her lips kissed around my clit before pulling away, licking her lips from my mess. 

“Missed how you taste baby,” she murmurs while I lay back, trying to catch my breath. Paige brought her fingers against my lips, sliding them into my mouth. I wrap them around her fingers, tongue swirling against her, tasting myself. Paige hisses, watching me sucking on her fingers. With a groan she climbs back up, kissing me hungrily. The taste of me, and her saliva all mixing together. 

Her lips move against mine, the kiss filled with something more tender than pure lust. My arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in as we move up towards the headboard of the bed. Paige breathes heavily through her nose, kissing me with all the need she had, her hand holding my face by my jaw. I move my hand from her shoulder, down her arm, squeezing her bicep, all the way to the band of her Nike Pros, tucking on them.

“Need to feel you P,” I admit in a moment of weakness, my heart fluttering with how good it felt to be underneath her again. I needed all of her.

Paige pulls back a little, breathing heavy and I swear her eyes are filled with tenderness for just a second as they meet mine. Her fingertips trace my jaw and lower lip before letting go and pulling down the fabric I was tugging on, lips parted from need. My eyes roam her sports bra covered chest, down the muscles of her abdomen finally to her core. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly going dry.

I reach up and flip us over, with some help from Paige who was much stronger. She grins, watching me on top of her, straddling her thigh as I lean down and kiss her hard. Paige is quick to place her hand on my ass, gripping it harshly and hissing at how good it felt to touch me. My hand trails down her abdomen, fingertips itching to feel her cunt but she grabs my wrist, shaking her head.

“Ride me ma,” she says, half commanding, half pleading. I open my eyes meeting her eyes and I realise, she is fully pleading. 

“Need to feel that pussy on mine.” Shit.

Too weak to fight or to make her beg, I maneuver myself between her legs, angling her body just right, Paige’s other leg up in the air in my grip. Paige watches me, leaning back against the bedframe, eyes half shut and mouth agape, looking so good I could’ve burst.

Finally, I lower myself against her, feeling the slick of her cunt press against mine. 

“Ohhh shiiit,” Paige groans, watching our cores grinding against each other. I whimper, pressing on her lower abdomen to find just the right angle. 

“Oh,” I whine, feeling her pressing against my clit just right, my body immediately trembling, still sensitive from my previous orgasm.

Paige’s head lulls back at the same time, as she lets out a guttural groan, gripping my ass and forcing me to start moving my hips.

I do so, slowly, drawing it out for her - just the way Paige loved and simultaneously hated. Her breathing was getting heavier as she watched me. “Just like that,” she whimpers, trying to keep herself together. It never lasted for long.

I moan, grinding my cunt into hers, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. Her hands snake around me, unclasping my bra with ease, letting my tits fall out as she groans. 

“Look so fucking good for me,” she murmurs, a slight whine in her voice as she leans forward, her mouth attaching itself to my nipple, tongue circling it as i ride her faster, mind spinning once more. “Such a bitch huh who knew you’d be so good for me,” Paige whines and I grip her shoulders, steadying myself, letting my nails dig into her skin as she hisses.

“You’re the bitch,” I whimper breathlessly, letting out a gasp when she bites my nipple. Paige’s hand are digging into the skin of my ass, forcing me to move faster, her hips bucking into me. She chuckles, breathing heavily, head falling back against the bed frame. “Shut the fuck up and ride me ma,” she hisses, gripping my jaw and forcing my gaze to lock on her face.

I hiss, furrowing my brows as i look down at her, moving my hips desperately, our cunts grinding together harshly, igniting that familiar burn inside me.

“Pisses me off, pretending you don't want me. Pretending you don’t want me to fuck you, it’s bullshit,” Paige groans, fighting back her own orgasm now. Her voice shook and the muscles in her abdomen were contracting as she looked up at me. “Look at you now riding my shit, being a slut for me,” she rambles on. “You’re my slut ma,” Paige moans bucking her hips into mine, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure.

My nails dig into her skin harder, my whole body trembling. I was close, and her words only made me ride harder, grind against her faster, the slickness of her cunt making me wetter. Paige’s hand squeezed my jaw, forcing my eyes open.

“Tell me.. Shit- tell me you’re my slut,” Paige whines. She’s desperate for it, barely aware of the words coming out of her mouth. I can tell she's close

“Mmph, P-” I moan, my cunt throbbing.

“Aw shit- I- Tell me,”

“Fuck I am, I’m your slut P, please,” I mewl, my eyes growing wet as they shut.

“That’s right ma, fuck- ride me so good you’re gonna make me come,” Paige murmurs out inbetween moans, hands gripping my jaw and ass so tight I’m nearly bruising underneath her grip.

My whole body shook and I cried out, barely able to keep grinding my cunt into hers, her clit pressing against mine. But when I heard the moan that slipped from her lips, and felt her mouth attach to my neck, I knew I’d do anything to get her to fall apart beneath me.

“P- I’m-” I cry out but she interrupts me.

“Me too baby, shit- ride me so- aw fuck- fucking good,” Paige rambles on, barely able to form sentences as she moves underneath me, the friction growing unbearable between us as she lets out a guttural moan, her body coiling underneath me. 

“Fuck-” Paige finally moans.

That’s enough to get me there too, coming against her cunt, fingernails leaving marks on her shoulders as I kept grinding my hips, movements turning sloppy as i whimpered on top of her, riding down waves of pleasure.

My body trembles, eyes still closed when I feel Paige’s hands wrapping around my body and pulling me down. My naked body presses against her skin as she soothingly rubs my back, nuzzling her nose into my hair.

I sigh, listening to her trying to catch her breath. After a while, she breaks the silence.

“Meant it when I said I missed you,” she murmurs into my ear, still out of breath. I bury my head into the crook of her neck, brushing her hair gently. It was moments like these that got me confused. You didn’t do this just for someone you fucked. Except Paige did.

“Don’t like fightin' you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss on my temple. I feel my heart fluttering in a way I didn’t want it to. But I’m too tired to fight it. I press a kiss on her jaw, gently and pull my head back to meet her gaze. She looks completely fucked out, mascara smudged under tired eyes. Her hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair off my face before she leans over and kisses my forehead, as tenderly as humanly possible. Maybe this was her trying to show me I was in fact different, that she was done with the other girls. She just wanted me. 

“Don’t like fighting you either,” I whisper, resting my chin on her chest. Paige’s eyes are filled with relief, as she smiles weakly. 

“I’mma get us some water, okay ma?” Paige hums and I nod, letting her crawl out of bed from underneath me. I watch the blonde pull her clothes back on and turn to me, smiling affectionately. She leans down and presses another kiss on my temple, smoothing over the blanket to make sure I was comfortable. “Just a sec,” she whispers before walking into the kitchen. Surely you don’t do that just for a girl you fuck. There’s no way you look at someone like that and proceed to sleep around with other people. My heart flutters as I let my mind wander, finding myself fantasising of getting to call Paige mine. All mine.

Just then I heard Paige’s phone buzzing on the bedside table. Without my better judgement, I reach over, seeing countless missed calls and messages from a girl, asking where she was and when she’d be over. My heart sinks, the reality quickly bringing me back down from my daydreams. Paige wasn’t here because I was special. No. She was here because I was whipped, and she knew it. And I had given her every single thing she wanted. 

-

taglist (ppl who commented on the teaser or urged me to write lol): @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @uwupaige @lovegalor333 @celestixldarling @mrsbueckerss @t0ygirl @thesecondgaycousin @jnkfaist @rosemariiaa @sierrale8ne @janaelalfysblunt @tndaqlifwy @xxloveralways14 @vbueckers @bueckersfive

ty everyone enjoy this idk if i will write again lmao

[erasinglines]

even when things were different between them, when things weren’t laced with uncertainty and misunderstanding, miller was never quite able to grasp the inexplainable connection they shared, the power she had over him. and if he couldn’t explain it then, he definitely can’t now, as he finds himself wrapped up in her, kissing her in the familiar way that he does, the outside world fading to a quiet blur, when they’re in each other’s embraces. despite its openness, the display of love itself, it’s an intimate act between them, as if they’re the only two in existence, right now. he doesn’t shy away from it, from her, like he has done with someone else; uncaring as to who witnesses such a grand public display of affection. the world moving around them slowly comes back, as they part, lips buzzing, heart racing, hands shaking. he tucks them away, as he follows her to the front door, as if he could quell that need, desire. not for anything further, but just to… do that again, and again. until they’ve both run out of air and they’re turning blue in the face. god, how has he ever gone so long without something like that? because it’s love, he understands now, that still circulates between them, bringing them together again and again— how could he be so stupid, to try and convince himself that he could survive without it? heart beats a steady pattern in his chest, echoing in the cage of his ribs, as she unlocks the door, taken back in time to when this was their normal routine. when he would stand behind her, distracting as always, lips pressed to her neck or shoulders, his laughter against her skin, fingers against her waist, her hip. despite how much he may want to do that, now, he forces himself to hold back, as if to not overstep, to maintain some resemblance of a boundary, after what they’d just shared outside. that all goes out the window once they’re past the threshold of the door, his arms wrapping around her waist once she’s back against him. “ missed you, ” he echos back. “ so fucking much. ” and it’s one of his most vulnerable confessions of all, thinking back to those nights he’s spent alone, thoughts drifting to her, to wishing that she could be here with him. he transmits that into the kiss they share, here, in the apartment they used to share— the walls whispering memories of laughter, of tears, of late night conversations, early morning goodbyes before they went about their day. it’s dirty coffee mugs in the sink, and books against the wall, paint splattered on the floorboards. it’s the two of them sharing a breath, a life, a home. and it’s still present, in the kiss they share, in the smile chiseled into his features as they part for air, a quiet chuckle departing his lips. “ no, well… i also wanted to see what you’ve done with the place, ” he teases, gaze of endearment, as he looks down at her, lips tingling for more. “ i hope this is real, though. that it isn’t a dream— it feels real to me, ” but then again, she always has. and he can’t accept the alternative; that he was halfway across the country, merely thinking of her, dreaming of her, of this, of the love that still clearly flowed between them, held them together. “ but, i… i don’t have any expectations, coming up here, you know? ” he wants to clarify. “ i mean, we can just talk, if you want, ” somehow, that feels like it exposes a lot, how it’s an absent piece of the puzzle in his life. disguising it with a soft chuckle, he allows his hand to find her own, intertwining their fingers. “ i’ve really missed talking to you. ”

everything else ceases to exist the moment his lips meet hers; all that previous aching and longing and pining comes rushing from her system, replaced with something sweeter, something warm, that fills all that hollow space inside her. it’s been so long since they shared anything like this, since they allowed themselves to forget the boundaries that confined them. yet with how he’s kissing her, it feels like the very first time all over again, or at least different, somehow, like it wasn’t just a kiss out of need, but to transmit something more, something that felt a lot like love. regardless, she’s returning it full force, her lips gliding against his effortlessly, as if they were made for one another, to fit together so perfectly, even after all the time and distance that separated them, before this moment. she pours every ounce of herself into it, fingers curling against his jaw, trying to tamper her own desperation, forcing herself to slow down, to take all of it in, instead of allowing her impatience, her need for him, to take over. it’s difficult, though, with how long this desire has compounded in her system, and not even just from tonight, but over all the years since they last found themselves in this position. it really never went away, did it ? she can feel it, in the sparks that fly, that catch on her skin, leaving her buzzing and breathless by the time he pulls away, the taste of him still ever-present on her tongue. god, she’s not even sure she could form a sentence right now after a kiss like that, let alone make it to the door of her apartment, but she finds herself chuckling along with him, forehead pressed against his. “ fuck, you’re so good at that, ” she breathes, smiling against him. “ maybe we can just count that one as practice, though, ” because she didn’t want it to be the last time, no, she wanted it to happen again, and again, until her lungs stop working, until they’re both too exhausted to keep going. “ think you’ve earned the right to come inside after that, yeah, ” she teases, remaining close as she leads him up to what was once their door, shaky fingers unlocking it with haste, suddenly overwhelmed by how familiar this was, struck with a sense of deja vu, like they traveled back in time, to when this was a normal, every day occurrence. once they’re tucked safely inside the sanctity of her apartment, she turns back to him, wasting no time in pressing herself against his frame once more. “ i’ve missed you so much, ” she breathes, eyes scanning his features carefully, gaze filled with nothing but endearment, with love. “ one more, ” she whispers, leaning in to kiss him again, knowing they’re well past their limit, but losing herself within the kiss, anyway. “ you didn’t ask to come inside just to kiss me, did you ? ” she teases, yet she pauses, still, to reassess, to make sure he did want this, that she was reading it correctly. “ we definitely can, though, if that is what you want. i’m just… i don’t know, i feel like i’m in a dream. i’m not, right ? this is real ? ”

[chiptrillino]

ID: three drawings showing a sequence of sokka and zuko from avatar the last air bender. Aged up rather soon after war. sokka is leaning over zuko, you see them mainly on the left side waist up. The background is kept plain withe. On the left side the artist signature "chiptrillino . 2023" on the right side isthe request to "please don't repost"

The first drawing shows sokka looking down with slightly zoned out expression. zukos hands are reaching up.

The second image shows sokkas surprised face held between zukos hands, who raised up his face inches away from sokkas.

The third images shows sokka leaning into zuko. Both of them kissing. zuko holds on to sokkas shoulder and neck. Both look happy. End ID

Small shoutout to that person that tagged, once upon a time (last year), the sketch with "mermaid zukka". And would you look at that! Its meremay! And this is not really mermaid themed, but... it remained me to finish it! -sweats-

oh shoot! also happy zukka week! i guess whops...

---- if you want to deal with all my reblogs may I direct your attention to my side only my artworks blog?

@chiptrillino-art

[berlingotesque]

I forgot about pride month but the second I remembered I knew I had to literally beg you on my knees to draw more Norman x Sammy content. (Also I literally love your style so much🩷)

I was literally so caught up in other personal projects, I completely forgot about my asks !! So happy end of Pride Month, everyone ! :D

(And thank you so much, I’m delighted that you like my artstyle 😭💖)

[keeps-ache]

api's got chores in the morning :)

[+ a smaller doodle :3]

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

Do you have any Zhongli/Zhongchi fic recs? I haven’t found any that are nearly as good as yours 😔😔

funnily enough someone already asked this, but it was quite a while ago and tumblr is a mess to search old shit thru so here, this is the post this was asked during the ao3 crisis of- .......last year? i can't remember. either way, the post starts w me saying i don't have all the names and links but dw, after ao3 came back up i edited the post so you should see all authors and links in the recs.

i have to admit that for reasons unrelated to the fandom i haven't been reading many zhongchi fics as of late? so like- bear in mind i don't have an updated mental picture of any of the recs after the post was made. so if one went off the rails or if one of the WIPs finished, i'm not aware;; i also mention in the post that i'd add more recs if i had access to ao3 (which i didn't at the time bc it was down), and while that is true, it's been so long since i read any of them that i wouldn't be able to confidently reccomend them outside of 'i somewhat remember the plot and i remember liking it'. also i don't remember half of their names. so uh- yeah that's the list i think