#and I would really like to know why I didn’t get it. because one person on the committee has repeatedly praised my work ethic and how well I

[pastlivesxpastlie]

𓍯𓂃Lovesick

mdni 18+

Summary: Vessel becomes fixated with you after you provide him some comfort at a party. Are you as gone for him, too? Pairing: Vessel x fem!reader wc: 4.7k head's up: vessel x you, smut with plot, friends to lovers, afab!reader, no y/n, oral sex (m receiving), pining + yearning, talk of male masturbation, texting, absolutely idiots in love, angst, bit of a slow burn (?), use of "good boy" and "good girl," tit play, couch sex, cowgirl, light choking, HEA, threats of waxing poetic about progressive metal

Taglist aka Situation Enjoyers™️: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @0hg00dgirl @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder @cheomain @evisnotok

“On your knees….please. Yes, like that. Mmmmph. Thank you.”

Vessel can’t help but still be polite. He can’t believe his eyes. Nor the feeling of the night air on his hard cock. He’s floating above himself and watching himself get jerked off outside at a house party. It’s not enough that he feels the spit on your palm. That could be his hand and this is just an elaborate fantasy. One of many.

But it would be the first about you. You were untouchable. You’re just a friend…just a friend…just a friend…only a friend. 

“Can I use my mouth?”

Holy fuck. This is real life.

In his fantasies, no one asks. Vessel doesn’t dream about giving consent. He dreams of being craved. Taken. Always willing. His breath catches. 

“Hey, it’s ok,” you whisper, “we don’t have to anyth-“

“Do anything to me. Please.”

His head falls back with a soft thud against the house. Getting head was always fun but this felt therapeutic. You had, of course, asked Ves why he seemed down. You always asked him those kinds of things. “Someone who cares asks those things,” he’d told himself, “but someone who loves you does something about it.” Now you’re on your knees in the dirt sucking him off. How did this even happen?

𓍯𓂃earlier...

Vessel slumped in the couch and mindlessly dragged his fingers on his thigh. He had made his rounds and said “hi” to the people he wanted to talk to and smiled awkwardly at the people he sought to avoid or didn’t know. He deserved a little sit down after that. The past few months had put him in a rut. There was always a post-tour slump but this one hit different. Vessel felt down. Down because he had writer’s block. Down because it had been gloomy this week and the week before and before that etc etc. Down because his bed was cold. Thinking back on the hook-ups during tour already got boring. The old encounters going stale. Does he hook up again with someone randomly against his better judgement or does he deal with it?

On more than one occasion, Vessel had been accused of being naive when it came to love, to which he responded, “I’m just being cautious.” Where some might be naive about love and affection and throw themselves at the first person who did the bare minimum, Vessel was naive in that he just figured people were being nice or he just got lucky. Otherwise, people didn’t really want to mess with being in a relationship with a musician. They’re broody. They’re too busy. They’re married to their work. They’re full of themselves. Vessel internalized those things. Sure he was broody to begin with, but that was his brand. But everything else, sure, he could be married to his work and keep himself busy. “Just earth sign things!” Easy as that. And maybe one day someone else’s indifference towards commitment would rub off on him. His rumination is interrupted when the couch sinks a bit beside him and he feels a soft punch on his arm. 

“What does it mean when I don’t get ‘hi’ or your awkward smile, hm?”

His heart warms up a bit. It’s you. You teeter somewhere between “friend” and “good friend.” It’s always nice to see you but you leave it at that. You see each other when you see each other. He shrugs and looks over at you. “Didn’t see you. Bet you were hiding or something.” 

“Tsk. Fine. Maybe I was. We know too much about each other’s awkward little quirks,” you sigh. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you, though. How you been?”

Vessel laughs to himself, thinking of the miserable spiral you interrupted. “Imagine how much more awkward this could get if I told you the truth.” But you don’t laugh at his little self-deprecation. That makes him nervous. His insides churn. You’re just watching him, waiting to hear what he has to say. Why do you do that? So many people ask “how are you” because it’s polite…why do you care so much? “Look.” Vessel finally speaks again and flattens his hair. “I’m not great.” 

You shift and exhale softly. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He can see it in your eyes. You’re not trying to have some misery-loves-company-circlejerk. You have that same “mask” on as him. “Hate to hear that.” For a second Vessel feels something stir within him. Your tone is unenthusiastic but he knows it has nothing to do with him. He’s just glad to bond with someone, even if it’s over something lame like depression or whatever is eating at you both. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh just…general bullshit.” You shrug but Vessel knows whatever it is, you can’t just shrug it off. “Like if I’m so stuck, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. Even if it hurts.”

He makes an “o” shape with his mouth and is lost in thought. He has certainly felt that way before, but hearing you say it about yourself is heretical. He hates that you think that way. “No.”

“Oh. Well…alright. Thanks Ves, you healed me.” You chuckle dryly. He rolls his eyes and pats your leg. “So what’s got you down? For real.”

Vessel’s smile fades. “I feel…stuck as well. Just…going through the motions.” He scratches the back of his neck. “All the excitement of the last couple of months just…ripped from me. Gets hard to keep up with my emotions when I’m…frankly…bored. Bored of feeling this way. My own company.”

“I get that. Like you have to have things changing or moving all the time.”

“Exactly. Like some kind of jump that isn’t a substance or…whatever.”

“Hah…yeah… sometimes I just feel like…” you begin but pause.

“Like what?” Why are you blushing like that, he wonders idly. And why is it suddenly the cutest thing he’s ever seen?

“Uhm. I feel like…I need to get laid. That would fix me, right? Huge load of emotions and hormones released with someone you like…what could be better?”

“Oh is it that simple?” Vessel laughs. A genuine, warm laugh. You’re so silly, he just loves talking to you. And he loves how you laugh with him. He was scared for a second that you might take it personally, but he’s glad to see that you too have a sick sense of humor when you’re feeling unwell. 

“Maybe it is. Guess…we won’t know until…” you trail off.

“Until we try…” Vessel’s throat goes dry. He tries to swallow hard before nonchalantly scoping out how many people were on the patio. 

𓍯𓂃

Vessel always had to make things happen, and he was fucking exhausted from it. Now you were happening to him. You clued in on what he wanted when he suggested you both get some fresh air. Hell, you were the one who found the perfect spot for this tryst. 

“Y-you like doing that?” he whimpers. He can’t make out much of your features but he feels you nod and smile and…fuck, take him deeper in your mouth. He’s holding his breath. He knows he shouldn’t but if he doesn’t exert some kind of control over himself he’ll lose it. But when you grab his waist and start literally fucking your face with his cock he has to let go. He grips your hair, willing himself to resist overpowering you and thrusting harder against your movements. “Ffffff-fffuck.” He whimpers softly and bites at his lip… wishing you had kissed him before you got started so he could imagine it again while you savored every inch of him. His entire body shivers when you moan against his cock, making him realize you like the sound of his whimpers. His pathetic little pleas and moans.

“‘That feel good, Ves?” You whisper, stroking his cock as you catch your breath? “Hmm?”

He nods and whines, trying to not be loud. Thank god it was dark, otherwise you would have seen the tears threatening to spill. The way he bit his hand to keep from moaning out loud. What if you two got caught? What if another friend heard what you pulled from him? “Fuck…you’re gonna make me cum…”

“That’s a good boy.” Vessel feels his stomach drop as you start sucking him off again but with more enthusiasm. Like you need him to cum. And he does. But you don’t move…you keep your mouth on him. And he  might be the one cumming down your throat but he’s not claiming you. No. 

You. 

Own. 

Him. 

Somehow, and much to his delight, Vessel does not lose sleep over the ordeal or his new-found, all-consuming feelings for you. In fact, he’s never slept better. Sleeping once meant loud, restless dreams; now it means a nestling in and wondering about you before dozing off…imagining he’s holding you. He keeps telling himself it’s infatuation. It’ll go away. He’s just starstruck from the way you took care of him. But then…the ruminating started…

Each morning, Vessel wondered about you. Maybe today you’ll share something on Instagram that he can make a little comment on. Send a react. Yes, sure, you’re friends, but you’re not “close.” When he looked into your soft, sweet eyes the other night he wondered how a darling little thing like you learned to give head like that. Suddenly your life story became his Roman Empire. Were you a natural? Did someone give you gentle pointers the first few times? Or did you have to do it a lot to get good? Did you have to go jumping from man to man to find the love you so desperately craved? This made Vessel’s blood run cold. The thought of sweet, wonderful you merely being an option to other men. A small voice told Vessel that perhaps he himself was just an option. Maybe you did stuff like this a lot. One among many. Vessel chided this voice. Locked it in a dark little room with no ventilation. You were good. You wouldn’t use anyone. In fact, you probably did learn this from practice because who wouldn’t love you?

Vessel knows he’s being stupid. You two like each other but he won’t reach out. Then again, you don’t reach out either. That’s ok. He had no coherent plan of moving things forward. He was also terrified the spark you two shared would be gone if you tried hanging out again. What if you couldn’t handle his schedule? Or didn’t find it endearing when his moods never let up? What if that stupid voice was right? Most of the time, he resigned himself back to “I’ll see her when I see her,” and a cheeky wank to take the edge off. But that always left him feeling guilty. Empty. 

This particular morning he had been deep in thought about what your favorite position might be and how many times he could make you cum just from fucking you at a torturous pace that way. Today’s position of choice was doggy, but bent over his desk, on top of his notes from recording and writing sessions. That was what you deserved. You drove him to absolutely hopeless distraction…you should be bent over while he stands behind you, fingers melting into your flesh, holding you in place. He swears this will be the last time he jerks off thinking about you…but because of that he can’t help but edge himself. Thinking about you is easy. Not because you yourself are easy…but because Vessel realizes how naturally desirable you are. Seeing the way you took control and took care of him opened his mind to this entirely new world of fantasies. The heat blooming from his groin to his tummy made him stop for the third time. Yes, in this fantasy you were bent over for him…but there was more to it. You were doing him a favor. Good boys got to take breaks. Good boys stuck in a rut need to empty their brains and fill up their girlfriends. FUCK he wanted you to be his girlfriend so bad. And that thought scared him…as does the sound of his phone buzzing a few times. His train of thought vanishes along with his hard-on. Cursing whoever who messaging him this early, he grabs his phone but then makes the most embarrassing noise known to man. 

You: hey isn’t this a band you like?

the second message is the link to an instagram post

You: they’re doing a last minute show next weekend 

And sure enough, one of his favorite niche prog metal bands was playing in place of someone else at a local venue on Saturday. And tickets were dead cheap. Another message. 

You: if I knew anything about metal I’d go with you. Not sure how much fun I’d be 

Sirens! Flashing lights! All the bells and whistles going off in Vessel’s brain are firing. His inner little voices of reason (and everything in between) begin a debate.

“She’s flirting!” “Obviously, she’s flirting she sucked your dick.” “Can’t be that deep mate, she’s just now talking to you after a month.” “Sure it is, it is has to be flirting! She’s practically begging for you to invite her!”

Vessel: lol I could send you a playlist :)

“Mate, come on, what are you doing?” “Invite her over to hear the playlist. That’ll will be cute” “and then fuck her. Fuck her like the sl—“

Vessel rolls over and screams in his pillow. He will not have a meltdown over this.

Vessel: or we could throw you in feet first? Come with me? 

… … … 

Those infernal fucking “typing” bubbles are killing him. 3 minutes of that. Then no response. Vessel isn’t sure what he did wrong or if he did do anything wrong. He tries to go about his day but there’s still that nagging suspicion that he did too much. But when he least expects it…

You: sorry this is so last minute. are you busy tonight? 

Vessel: no, I’m not. Why?

He bites his lip as he waits to see what you’re planning. He wonders if you want to talk about what happened…or maybe do it again…or maybe act like nothing happened. 

You: I just don’t want to be alone tonight.  Vessel: I don’t want to be either.

It’s set then. He’ll go to your place…maybe have some drinks…maybe get a chance to thank you for the fun. He wanted to taste you. To make you cum like he did for you. Too many nights he spent wondering what you’re into. He had cast you in his mind as a soft domme, probably just because that’s what tickled his fancy at the time. But you had this caring…almost nurturing sense about you that night. You touched him like he was precious…like he would break if you didn’t take your time. He wanted to show you he was tougher than that. He could take it. The mere thought of even getting a chance to kiss you and make you feel even a fraction of the pleasure you gave him made his cock twitch. The time between now and when he was reunited with you would be torture.

But when he gets to your place, he doesn’t feel confident enough to act smooth or even touch you. If anything, he wanted to touch your hair. Literally just brush back the strands you missed when you tucked it behind your ear. Finally he musters the courage to stand beside you as you’re getting him some water. You’ve sucked his dick, the least he can do is move your hair. He moves in for the kill…but perhaps a bit too fast, because just as his hand reaches your personal space, you turn your head to look up at him and... receive a cheek full of Vessel knuckles.��

He moves quickly to cup your face, desperate to show you he didn’t mean to whack you, but he’s greeted with a surprised chuckle and your smile. Not that one you put on for friends or staged photos…your real smile. He could die happy right now. Just absolutely melt. If he ever wanted to write true, honest to god love ballads he would think back to this moment. This gooey, gushy feeling. He feels confident, the same confidence the mask gives him, and presses a soft kiss where he accidentally got you.

“Ves…” 

You still smile but he sees something behind your eyes. Vessel keeps his hands on your face…his heart breaking and stomach dropping. He had noticed you weren’t posting regularly on your socials and even then you seemed a bit less animated. He’s learned your tells. There’s smudges from yesterday’s eyeliner that somehow looks effortless but still betrays the fact that you didn’t wash your face last night. In his mind, Vessel likened you to a shrinking violet. The kindest, most gorgeous girl who ever graced him with her presence trying to hide herself away. This wouldn’t do. Even though he didn’t feel like he had the emotional energy for himself…he desperately wanted to be here for you. After the past four weeks of falling down a rabbit hole imagining you as a soft, caring, dominant partner, he suddenly felt needed. He wanted to provide so bad it hurt. 

“What’s the matter, love?”

“I…” your voice cracks and you shake your head. He backs off a bit, letting you have some space. “It’s been a rough few weeks. I’ve…missed you and felt like…a fucking idiot the whole time.”

Vessel nods and takes a drink of his water. “Yeah. Getting laid didn’t fix us, did it?”

You laugh ruefully and cross your arms. “It’s made me worse. How about you?”

“You first.”

You roll your eyes and stretch your neck. Vessel nearly loses his mind at how you bite your lip as you look him up and down. This is what he wants. To be under your gaze. Please. Keep him there. His breath catches. You could tell him to leave right now and he would. But instead, you keep talking. 

“To be completely honest with you, I didn’t think there was anything between us other than like…being friends. So I don’t know what came over me when I just…literally threw myself at you. I shouldn’t have done that. That’s…stupid reckless behavior.” You wring your hands a little and look down. “How can I expect to be taken seriously if I just—“

Vessel puts his hand up. “Stop that.”

“But I’m serious, Vess-“

“I said…’stop that.’ I take you seriously. I’ve always taken you seriously.” Vessel considers you for a moment. While he’d love to take you to bed, he’s desperate to lift you up. To reassure you. “Love, if you think you shouldn’t be taken seriously, imagine how I feel. You could have written me off as a jerk for letting you—“ but Vessel stops himself before he waxes poetic about your blowjob skills and ruins the moment. “I didn’t even follow you after we were done. Call you. Message you directly. After everything…I shouldn’t even have the chance to be with you.”

You shake your head and look down. “I know you’re not after one thing…I know it. But…why can’t I believe it? It’s nothing personal, I swear I just-“

Something deep within propels Vessel to pull you in for a gentle kiss…and to his utter delight you melt right into his touch. You fit so ridiculously perfect in his arms and mesh so well against his lips. He lets out a soft moan right as you break the kiss. Vessel had already been taken with you, but now he was enchanted. “Give me a month. I’ll show you how serious I am about you. It’s not just the sex…I promise.”

Your breath is ragged…you’re overcome with emotion and desire. You nod up at him. “All the time you need…”

“Good girl…” Vessel cocks his head, amused that he just called you that. He meant it in an encouraging way but…if the shoe fits. “Would you like that? To be my good girl?”

Your eyes get a bit dark, but not out of anything malicious. Your chin raises. “Ves…I would be anything you asked me to be. I don’t think you understand what you’ve done to me…” You pause but Vessel can’t even begin to formulate a thought. Were you as borderline obsessive as him? “You shouldn’t be on my mind the way you are. I mean…what are you doing to me? You’ve shown me so much kindness and your own vulnerability…that shouldn’t turn me on. It’s endearing and admirable, sure, but why do I…I just want to take care of you. I’m sorry I just…I feel guilty for…for falling for you because see me and you let me suck you off…I mean…how old are we?”

He’s taken aback a little. Something in your mind is tricking you. “Sweetheart,” he cups your cheek, “if it makes you feel any better, I feel the same. When I saw how down you looked a bit ago…” he shakes his head and sighs, “took everything in me to not start confessing everything just to see you smile. I want you. I want…everything that makes you ‘you.’ And I get the feeling you want the same…right?”

For a long second, you don’t say anything. You stare up at him, glassy eyed. He doesn’t need verbal confirmation. He’s passed that. He’s no longer timid about you. His lips meet yours in an agonizingly slow, tender kiss. Vessel’s hips press you against your kitchen counter, letting you feel his excitement. It wasn’t pure arousal. It was the excitement of being open and honest with each other. The emotional push and pull of comforting you but also receiving your reassurance did things to him. Oh fuck. Oh no. This was love, wasn’t it? Your hands pull at his hips, bringing one of his legs between yours. You moan softly, and he pulls from the kiss.

“Do you think about me at all?” He whispers breathlessly? You moan as his lips ghost your ear. The feeling of your thighs tightening around him makes his cock twitch. He wishes your thighs were around his hips…or even his face. You bite your lip and whine a little as your hips buck involuntarily.

“I think about fucking you on my couch everyday.”

Obviously the next stop is the couch. Vessel sits down and pulls you to straddle him. His kisses become more ravenous. Finally…the girl of his dreams is on him. He’d do anything for you right now, but he wants you a little vulnerable. You, of course, had been pining, too. What’s the harm in being pathetic together? He pulls off your shirt and nearly looses his mind when your soft flesh comes into view. Your precious tummy. Your squishy tits. Fuck. It was all his. “Get your pants off.”

You hop off his lap and do as your told. Vessel just watches and unzips his pants, adjusting them and his boxers to let his cock out. He bites his lip and strokes himself teasingly as he watches you pull off your leggings and panties. Drooling at the sight of your nude legs…the hint of your pussy. He beckons you forward seductively, a little taste of what’s to come once you’re in reach. 

“How wet are you, love?” He asks, letting his fingers dip between your legs. You moan softly as his fingers trail up and down your slit, enjoying the wetness he’s caused. “I don’t even need to help you, do I? Excitable girl. Aren’t you?” All this gets from you is a nod. You’re so gone. He leans back on the couch and pulls you toward him. He’s still completely dressed in his henley and jeans, but you don’t seem to mind. He positions you on his cock and lets you set the pace. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been fucked, but he knows to be kind and let you adjust to his size. His eyes roll back and his head thumps against the couch. Something about how your body takes his cock makes his insides melt. You run your fingers through your hair and arch your back as you lower yourself completely on him. “Don’t move…don’t move, love.” He adjusts slightly to bring your chest to his mouth. His soft kisses and kitten licks pepper your breasts, causing your pussy to clench. It feels amazing. He’s being so gentle, but on the inside he wants to ravage you. Even after getting off everyday for a month thinking about you, you still excite Vessel into a frenzy. 

“Oh…oh Ves…” you gasp as he takes your nipple between his lips. You both moan as his cock twitches against your sensitive walls, but he keeps you still, cockwarming as he teases and makes out with your nipples. He shamelessly buries his face in your chest and moans, squeezing your ass to pull you close. Vessel can hardly believe it. You’re finally in his arms, his cock is stuffed inside you, and you want his love just as badly as he wants yours. He pulls his face away from your body to look up at you and whisper.

“You’re my girl now. You know that?” He puts his finger that had touched your pussy in his mouth and sucks, making sure you how see gone he is for you. “Gonna make you so happy…”

Vessel can hardly believe what’s coming out of his mouth, but pussy from someone who accepts you unconditionally will do that to you. He thought he was only built for fleeting infatuations and hooks up. But here he was…making promises he’d sooner die than break. After playfully torturing you with how his cock twitched inside you every time you kissed him or made a little sound, he starts to move your hips.  You look positively angelic on his lap completely naked taking his cock. His eyes roll back and he realizes that whatever half baked fantasy he had about fucking you didn’t prepare him for how good you felt. How warm and safe he’d feel under the weight of your body. It’s almost too much. Not that he’d cum yet. No. He just wants to say stupid things like “I love you;” and “we should move in together;” and “please call me a good boy.” That little submissive voice was still in him. He knew you were responding well to him taking control but he wanted that gentle control from you again. 

“Am…am I good for you?” He rasps out as you steadily grind against him.

“Mhm…so good…you…you like being good?”

Vessel’s eyes roll back and he nods pathetically. “Just for you.” 

You bury your face in the nape of his neck and suck little pink love marks up and down it. He moans with each one, clenching your body impossibly close. “I can’t move when you hold me like that…” you say backing up a little. You take his wrists gently and pin them against the back of the couch. He licks his lips and smiles dreamily. “Oh you’re pathetic, aren’t you?” Your fingers intertwine and he lets out a contented sigh.

“So pathetic…”

“You like being good but you like getting in trouble, too, huh?”

Vessel’s brain is mush. He knows you’re lightly degrading him and he fucking loves it but he has no concept of what’s happening other than “yippee perfect girl is being perfect.” He just nods and lets you fuck him for all he’s worth, cumming when you wrap your dainty hand around his neck. 

Later at what can only be described as a debrief at the pub, you share a large basket of fries. Vessel takes a deep breath as he attempts to act normal after having his mind blown and emotions pulled in all kinds of different directions. “This is good, yeah?”

“The fries?”

“For Christ’s sake…”

“Oh sorry, you mean…us…yeah. This is good. Really good. Are you scared?”

Vessel looks at the table and then at you. Honesty is his only option. “Terrified.”

“Same.”

He ponders for a moment and puts his hand palm up on the table. “Do it scared?”

You plop your hand down on his, “and together.”

“Now about this gig next week. I need to start your lectures on progressive metal-“

“Oh god.”

[tinfoil-jones]

Has Stan ever questioned Jerk Ford the reason why he is the only person he isn't a jerk to, since he's an a-hole even to the other members in their family?

"You don't know him like I do."

- Both Stans at the same time.

On Jerk Ford:

Throughout their lives, Stan insisted that just because Ford’s a jerk, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about anyone. He does care! Really! He just has a hard time showing it. No one ever believed him. You could just say that it’s a twin thing when Stan says something along the lines of “You don’t know him like I do” and they’re like well no shit he’s not a jerk to you. But, give Stanley some credit here, he’s more observant than you think he is.

---

Retired tech billionaire "Old Man" Fiddleford Hadron McGucket starts his mornings as he often does; going into his garage/workshop with a cup of coffee so he could re-tune his banjo for a few songs, quietly so as not to wake his wife.

He almost drops his cup of coffee when he see's theres something on his workbench that wasn't there last night.

A multitool.

One he hasn't seen in thirty years, but recognized instantly.

Carefully, he picks it and and inspects it, maybe it's just a replica.

FHM

Engraved in his late fathers handwriting, a loose scrawl that almost looked cursive if it weren't for the letters not being attached.

It's the same multitool. It's in pristine condition.

---

When they were just little boys, they were hiding behind the counter as their Pa was arguing with a customer, who ended up calling Filbrick a word they never heard before. Filbrick kicked the customer out, but it was clear he was more upset than he let off, in fact, he seemed almost sad, something neither twin had ever seen from their Pa. Filbrick then gave them a lecture that they can never repeat the word they just heard the man call him, because it was a very bad word that people used to insult and put down people 'of their faith'. 

A few minutes later, that same customer slipped on a banana peel that ‘came out of nowhere’, and sprained his ankle.

When they were a little older, Caryn was taking the twins out for a walk, when they passed a construction site and the construction workers started whistling at her, and giving her ‘compliments’ that she didn’t seem to like. She ignored it, but her little sons noticed her pace sped up and she almost rushed them away. 

That night, as those workers were double checking the work they’d done for the day, they were baffled to find that the concrete hadn’t set; the concrete had been tampered with, as if someone had poured a bunch of sugar in it while it was mixing. They’d have to redo it all over again, and it’d cost the company extra for the wasted concrete.

When the twins were in high school, Shermie, who had long since moved out but was visiting, was in tears telling their parents that his boss refused to give him the day off on the day his wife was due to give birth to their baby.

A week before the baby was born, his workplace was suddenly so badly infested with termites and roaches, that it would need two weeks to be properly fumigated, so the workers didn’t have to work while the fumigation was going on, and they’d still get paid because they were salary workers. Shermie was there with his wife when she gave birth to their son, and he got to dedicate a few days to just being with his wife and baby.

Their Ma would help out with Shermie's son sometimes, because both parents worked, but she also worked and would have her two younger sons help out with babysitting as well. And although Ford would gripe and complain about 'dealing with a brat all day', Stan had seen more than once that Ford would put the baby to sleep more than once by simply holding him in his arms and lying down with him, and also falling asleep.

In Backupsmore, Fiddleford was being bullied by a professor who looked down on him for being ‘a hick from an inbred, uneducated family’, and he was told to suck it up when he tried reporting her because she was tenured. In the middle of the year, she was unexpectedly replaced by a new, and much nicer, professor, and they were told their original professor was taking ‘an extended leave of absence’. 

She never came back, and it later came to light later on that the dean found a box full of documents and VHS tapes under his desk that hadn’t been there when he left his office the night before. All of which were extensive proof that the professor had been secretly embezzling the schools budget. 

When Ford comes back to their dimension after thirty years in the multiverse, no one who knew him from before is surprised that he’s still a huge indiscriminate jerk, and people who hadn’t personally known him but knew about him because of their yearly holiday that celebrated his disappearance were unpleasantly surprised to find out he was as bad as everyone said he was. And Stan didn’t necessarily disagree, but even after decades apart he could still see right through his twin as if he were made of rude glass.

Dipper's pens are suddenly indestructible to his chewing habit so no more mouthfuls of ink, and Mabel mysteriously never runs out of glitter; lately, it's also been more shimmery and almost... magical?

It doesn't matter where either of them fall asleep, they always end up waking up tucked into their beds, even though they told Grunkle Stan in the beginning of summer that they were too old to be carried and to just leave them wherever they’d crashed. 

Soos had been complaining all summer about his van making weird noises and having really poor mileage. Out of nowhere, Soos’s vehicle starts running like a dream and he’s getting ninety miles to a gallon, when it’s been twenty to the gallon at most as long as he’s had it.

Also, he didn't remember when he'd upgraded the graphics card of his home computer, but he sure is loving the higher FPS when he's playing video games.

Wendy is beside herself distressed and crying to Stan, Soos, and the Mystery Twins that her house had roof leak when a surprise summer rainstorm hit, and her favourite framed photograph of herself with her late mother was water damaged beyond repair, and is nearly unrecognizable.

The next day she asks her father when he’d made a copy of her photograph, and he replies that he has no idea what she’s talking about. She then takes a closer look at the newly framed picture she'd found on her desk that had been placed right next to her damaged one- did someone paint this…?

People assume that Ford only cares about his twin brother and no one else, because he's the only person he's never been a jerk to. But Stanley knows that isn't true; Ford loves just as strongly as he does, he just has a hard time letting people know.

As for Ford not being a jerk to him? Why would Ford bother, when Stan can see right through him? His twin is the only person who can see him, really see him.

---

Hours after Fiddleford had stormed out of the cabin with his bags in tow, Stanley looks over disheartened when he see's Stanford calmly place the multitool onto his own workbench.

"There were other ways to make him leave, Ford."

"I needed to make sure he wouldn't come back. That was too close of a call."

Ford had intended to give it back when the project was over, too bad it was on his belt when he was pushed into the multiverse.

[ashtxrie]

we stay locked in

— alternatively, enhypen as (my) high school classes!

PAIR. high school! enhypen x gn!reader (rest under cut) GENRE. humor, high school au, blurbs WORD COUNT. 1.3k total NOTES. hello enhablr i am BACK. sorry guys this is alternatively known as a super self-indulgent enhypen as my classes this year so i don’t crash out in semester 2 post

이희승 — lee heeseung

philharmonic orchestra. he’s there for the vibes (and to fulfill his performing arts graduation credit requirement) but he’s secretly super invested in music theory. the type to say “i didn’t practice at all lol” the day of the audition but still eat that shi up anyway?? people tell him to stop the cap but honestly, he has the raw talent to pull it off as well so nobody really knows. he WILL be that person clocking people who use the restroom for the nth time in the middle of the firebird suite though, but man, sometimes people really do need that bathroom break for their mental and physical wellbeing. as his stand partner, he’s really good at covering for you if you make a mistake and even takes mutual blame for coming in early even though it was definitely your fault for taking a nap during your 5-measure rest... he’s that one student who gets to conduct the orchestra when the conductor is absent (or “sick” on a vacation to disney world) and the ensemble actually respects him enough to take him seriously.

박종성 — park jongseong

ap us history. we all know this man loves history; he would actually be the type to read the textbook for fun and not just search up summary pdfs or upload the whole dang thing to chat gpt! i feel like quizlet would be his best friend and would probably terrorize all his other friends to build their quizlet flashcard streaks with him. lowk he’s just in this class so he can flex random history facts on uninformed people I’M SORRY he secretly enjoys somewhat resembling the “umm actually!” meme. but honestly you go jay, being educated IS rightfully a flex. i feel like he’d actually talk to the teacher after class just to ask a clarifying question or just to confirm something totally random; he’d be like “was there really a u.s. entomological warfare field test called operation big itch?!” and the teacher would absolutely love him for that. on practice dbq days, he’s the best person to have on your team — you know you’re set when he gives you the look and little nod that communicates that he 100% got this. 

심재윤 — sim jaeyun

ap calculus bc... THIS MAN WILL GLAZE THE HELL OUT OF AP CALCULUS BC. just like how he is adamant about his physics glazing, math is no exception. tell me why he’s legitimately taking advantage of ten minutes at the end of class to get started on his homework? put that TI-84 AWAY and look me in the eyes. he’s the one classmate who’s super nonchalant and sporty and sits in the back of the classroom, but is secretly an academic weapon. “jake sim, wonderful work. you were the only one in the class who got 100.” HELLO??? good thing you always go over to him for a post-exam debrief, because he’s basically the answer key anyway. during class, he’d be quietly doing his own thing and joking around with the people around him, but the teacher lets it slide. everyone in the class is conflicted between loving and hating him, but he’s genuinely so nice and is always eager to help the people around him who need it — that still doesn’t stop the entire class from naming him their D1 opp though! 

박성훈 — park sunghoon

ap biology. the one who spites people who obliterate the curve. he’s also the best frq peer-grader though, he’s going off of vibes! if you mention anything remotely close to the answer key, you bet he’s giving you the point because people suffer enough already. sunghoon is surprisingly good at the labs though, he managed to not kill a single fly in the mendelian genetics lab and he’s super diligent at counting them too. your other lab mates had exhaled a bit too harshly one time and the sedated flies went FLYING across the lab table from under the microscope — you swear sunghoon’s eye twitched because he had JUST sorted them all by phenotype. he didn’t say anything to them though, and just started recounting the flies again because he’s just a chill guy like that. what people don’t know about him is that he actually scores high enough to potentially set the curve, he just chooses not to raise his hand when the teacher asks for top scores because he’s #taking one for the team. what a legend. 

김선우 — kim sunoo

advanced journalism. producing a newspaper? more like an excuse to know ALL the gossip and put everything under the name of investigative journalism. it’s literally his JOB to be on top of all the school events and the niche hobbies and passions that students have, and he absolutely loves it. combined with his social personality and strong writing, he’s for sure the editor of the “spotlight” category. and honestly, he’s the best the school has had in a long time. his feedback is always something to look forward to too — as one of his staff writers, your drafts are handed back with a colored pen circling a particular phrase you used, with the words “someone cooked here” or “OH YES GIRL” written in the margins. he brings the best food for after-school mandatory work days too, from donuts to chips to canned drinks — sunoo knows that the people need the snacks in order to gain enlightenment mid-article! his pages in the newspaper are also the most visually appealing too, this man knows how to use adobe indesign. 

양정원 — yang jungwon

ap english language and composition. with how diligently he uses duolingo, i have no doubts that jungwon will succeed in ap lang. imagine if he applies that study technique to memorizing rhetorical devices? he would be reading something completely random like the instagram terms of service and going “omg wait guys this is anaphora” like okay english king. and the effort he puts in shows in his results too. when jungwon checked his grades to see a 100% on the timed write while every one of his friends complained for a whole week about getting an 80, he knew he was locked IN. he participates a lot during class discussions too, so everyone knows who he is. as a fellow #taking one for the team legend, he always agrees to be the sacrifice to share out to the class the table group’s ideas. also — something not exactly english-focused, but he’s also so alarmingly good at time management. like how is he maintaining a solid sleep schedule and clear skin while watching alchemy of souls during his pomodoro breaks? the world will never know. 

西村力 — nishimura riki

ap chemistry. hear me out he signed up for this class thinking he could blow stuff up. he did not, in fact, get to blow stuff up all year — the blowing was done instead in the form of a huge blow to this man’s gpa. like what do you mean there’s solubility rules, polyatomic ions, vsepr geometric structures and their BOND ANGLES, plus gas law equations to memorize?! he went slightly delirious mid-semester and came up with insane, unhinged references just to drill all the content into his memory, from connecting acetate (CH3CO2-) to his “esteemed rizz mentor” heeseung (3 letter e’s in his name and he breathes out CO2!) and imagining his friends on a fucking seesaw to memorize the <90 and <120 degree bond angles. he tried explaining his logic to you (rapping out the equation for the van der waals real gas law?) and you just went along with it. he actually pulled through though with a B+ at the end of it all, but he swears to never have jake in charge of his course selection ever again. 

TAGLIST: @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic @mygnolia

[honeyscara]

—Hq! Pretty setter squad reacting to you calling them your favorite setter

ּ ֶָ֢.Sugawara Koushiּ ֶָ֢.

It was a quiet afternoon in the gym as you helped Sugawara organize drills. He was laughing as he teased you about being forced into helping him out.

“Honestly, I’m just a benchwarmer these days. But hey, maybe I’ll make a comeback and show Kageyama who’s boss,” he joked, throwing a stray volleyball into the basket.

You paused, tilting your head as if considering his words. “You know… you’re my favorite setter, right?”

The ball he was holding slipped from his hands and hit the floor with a soft thud. Sugawara turned to you, wide-eyed, and for the first time since you’d known him, completely at a loss for words.

“W-Wait, really? Over Kageyama? You’re not just saying that because I bribed you with snacks or anything, right?” he asked, cheeks flushed as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“I’m serious, Suga. You’re a great setter and a great leader. Kageyama’s good, but you’re my favorite.”

His expression softened, and a smile spread across his face—one so genuine it made your heart flutter. “You’re gonna make me cry if you keep saying stuff like that.”

The rest of practice, you caught him sneaking glances at you, his smile never fading.

ּ ֶָ֢.Kageyama Tobioּ ֶָ֢.

The stands were packed as Karasuno battled it out on the court. Kageyama was in his element, setting up spikes like a machine. You leaned over to the person next to you and said, loud enough for him to hear, “Kageyama is the best setter—no contest!”

After the match, you were wandering down the hallway when a familiar voice called out, “Wait!”

You turned to see Kageyama jogging toward you, his hair damp with sweat. His face was a little pink, though you couldn’t tell if it was from exertion or something else.

“Did you… did you really mean that? What you said up there?” he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Of course I meant it. Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?”

He looked away, fidgeting with the cap of his water bottle. “I don’t know. I just— I’m not that great. There are better setters out there.”

You stepped closer, forcing him to meet your eyes. “You’re my favorite setter. That’s all that matters, right?”

His lips parted slightly in surprise before he muttered, “Thanks… I guess.” He stalked off, but you swore you saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

ּ ֶָ֢.Kenma Kozumeּ ֶָ֢.

“Left, left!” you yelled, watching Kenma guide your team to another victory. He was calm and collected as always, his focus unwavering. When the game ended, the two of you plopped down on his couch, controllers still warm from the intense session.

“You’re getting better,” he mumbled, barely looking at you as he fiddled with the console settings.

“Thanks, but I think it’s because you’re such a good setter,” you replied casually. “You’re my favorite, you know that?”

Kenma paused, his fingers hovering over the buttons. He turned to you, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you trolling me?”

“No, I’m serious. You’re amazing at this game, and you’re an amazing setter too.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze flicking between you and the screen. Finally, he muttered, “Thanks.” It was quiet, almost shy, but the slight curve of his lips didn’t go unnoticed.

ּ ֶָ֢.Akaashi Keijiּ ֶָ֢.

You watched as Akaashi expertly set up Bokuto’s spikes, his movements smooth and precise. During a break, you walked over and handed him a water bottle and towel.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“You know,” you began, “you’re my favorite setter.”

Akaashi froze, the towel halfway to his face. “Oh? That’s… kind of you to say,” he replied after a moment, his tone calm but his ears slightly pink.

“I mean it. Watching you set is like watching art in motion.”

He nodded, seemingly unaffected, but you caught the subtle quirk of his lips. “I appreciate that.”

Later, Bokuto loudly exclaimed, “Akaashi’s been in such a good mood today! What happened?” Akaashi simply glanced your way, his expression unreadable but his eyes warm.

ּ ֶָ֢.Oikawa Tooruּ ֶָ֢.

“Don’t I have the most perfect sets? Come on, admit it,” Oikawa teased, leaning against the bleachers with his signature smug grin.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine! You’re my favorite setter, okay? Happy now?”

Oikawa blinked, his smirk dropping. “Really?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, a rare moment of genuine surprise and emotion crossing his face. Then, his grin returned, brighter than ever. “Of course I am! I mean, who else could it be?”

Despite his usual bravado, you noticed him glancing at you throughout the rest of practice, his expression unusually soft.

ּ ֶָ֢.Atsumu Miyaּ ֶָ֢.

“C’mon, say it. Admit that I’m the best setter you’ve ever seen!” Atsumu called out, his voice echoing in the empty gym as you helped clean up after practice.

You groaned, finally snapping, “You’re my favorite setter! Happy now?”

Atsumu froze, his grin widening as he stared at you. “What was that? Say it again, darlin’!”

“Don’t push your luck.”

He sauntered over, practically glowing with pride. “I knew it! Ya can’t resist my talent, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored him, but he was insufferably smug for the rest of the day. Later, you caught him texting someone, probably Osamu, with the biggest smile on his face.

[mumms-the-word]

I know I’m screaming into the void here but do not witch hunt people with AI accusations

As someone whose job for the last two years involved me reading and rereading essays and creative fiction written by my students (a group of writers notorious for using AI despite being told not to because they worry about their grades more than their skills) let me tell you straight up that detecting AI in any written work isn’t straightforward

AI detection softwares are bullshit. Even Turnitin, which is supposedly the best, has an error rate that is slowly increasing over time. They’re not reliable. The free ones online are even worse, trust me

“Oh but it’s so obvious!” Sure. If you’re trained to notice patterns and predictive repetitions in the language, sure. I can spot a ChatGPT student essay from a mile away. But only if they haven’t edited it themselves, or used a bunch of methods (Grammarly, other AIs, their friends, a “humanizer” software, etc) to obscure the ChatGPT patterns. And it’s easier with formulaic essays—with creative fiction it’s much harder.

Why?

Well because good creative fiction is a) difficult to write well and b) extremely subjective. ChatGPT does have notable patterns for creative writing. But it’s been trained on the writing that is immensely popular, writing that has been produced by humans. Purple prose, odd descriptions, sixteen paragraphs of setting where one or two could be fine, all of that is stylistic choices that people have intentionally made in their writing that ChatGPT is capable of predicting and producing.

What I’m saying is, people just write like that normally. There are stylistic things I do in to writing that other people swear up and down is an AI indicator. But it’s just me writing words from my head

So can we, should we, start witch hunts over AI use in fanfic when we notice these patterns? My answer is no because that’s dangerous.

Listen. I hate AI. I hate the idea of someone stealing my work and feeding it into a machine that will then “improve itself” based on work I put my heart and soul into. If I notice what I think is AI in a work I’ve casually encountered online, I make a face and I stop reading. It’s as simple as that. I don’t drag their name out into the public to start a tomato throwing session because I don’t know their story (hell they might even be a bot) and because one accusation can suddenly become a deluge

Or a witch hunt, if you will

Because accusing one person of AI and starting a whole ass witch hunt is just begging people to start badly analyzing the content they’re reading out of fear that they’ve been duped. People don’t want to feel the sting or embarrassment of having been tricked. So they’ll start reading more closely. Too closely. They’ll start finding evidence that isn’t really evidence. “This phrase has been used three times in the last ten paragraphs. It must be AI.”

Or, it could be that I just don’t have enough words in my brain that day and didn’t notice the repetition when I was editing.

There’s a term you may be familiar with called a “false positive.” In science or medicine, it’s when something seems to have met the conditions you’re looking for, but in reality isn’t true or real or accurate. Like when you test for the flu and get a positive result when you didn’t have the flu. Or, in this case, when you notice someone writing sentences that appear suspiciously like a ChatGPT constructed sentence and go “oh, yes that must mean it’s ChatGPT then”

(This type of argumentation/conclusion also just uses a whole series of logical fallacies I won’t get into here except to say that if you want to have a civil conversation about AI use in fandom you cannot devolve into hasty generalizations based on bits and parts)

I’m not saying this to protect the people using AI. In an ideal world, people would stop using it and return back to the hard work of making art and literature and so on. But we don’t live in that world right now, and AI is prevalent everywhere. Which means we have to be careful with our accusations and any “evidence” we think we see.

And if we do find AI in fandom spaces, we must be careful with how we handle or approach that, otherwise we will start accusing writers who have never touched AI a day in their life of having used it. We will create a culture of fear around writing and creating that stops creatives from making anything at all. People will become too scared to share their work out of fear they’ll be accused of AI and run off.

I don’t have solutions except to say that in my experience, outright accusing people of AI tends to create an environment of mistrust that isn’t productive for creatives or fans/readers. If you start looking for AI evidence everywhere, you will find it everywhere. Next thing you know, you’re miserable because you feel like you can’t read or enjoy anything.

If you notice what you think is AI in a work, clock it, maybe start a discussion about it, but keep that conversation open to multiple answers or outcomes. You’re not going to stop people from using AI by pointing fingers at them. But you might be able to inspire them to try writing or creating for themselves if you keep the conversation open, friendly, and encourage them to try creating for themselves, without the help of AI

[itsnesss]

hii maybe a yandere!junho ?? I cant stop thinking about him 😩 i love your writing btw💕

𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | you wake up restrained in a small room, facing jun-ho, who reveals his obsessive love for you. his yandere tendencies surface as he believes he's protecting you from the world. you must navigate his dangerous devotion and find a way to escape

warnings | junho!yandere, kidnapping/restraint, psychological manipulation

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You wake up with a start, the cold floor chilling your bones. It’s hard to remember how you got here. The faint flicker of a hanging light bulb illuminates the room. It’s a small, almost claustrophobic space, with gray concrete walls. In front of you, sitting on an old metal chair, is him: Jun-ho. His dark eyes watch you with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Finally awake," he says in a serene voice, but it’s loaded with something else, something unsettling. "Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?"

You try to speak, but your throat is dry. Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

"What… what’s going on?"

He smiles, and the gesture should comfort you, but there’s something strange in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.

"I saved you," he replies, leaning forward. "They were going to hurt you. I couldn’t let that happen."

"They? What are you talking about?" you ask, your heart pounding rapidly.

You try to move, but your wrists are tied with a thick scarf. You look at Jun-ho in disbelief.

"This… this isn’t real."

He slowly gets to his feet, brushing his hands off like he’s just finished an important task.

"Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever look at you that way again."

His voice, though soft, has a sharp edge. Memories begin to return in fragmented flashes. The last time you saw him was at the café near your workplace. He was always there, sitting at the same table with his black coffee, watching you. There was something about him that unsettled you but also intrigued you, like a mystery impossible to ignore.

"Jun-ho… why am I here?" you manage to ask, though the answer seems clear in your mind.

He leans closer, dangerously close. His warm breath brushes against your face, and you can smell the faint aroma of coffee he always carried.

"Because I love you."

The confession hits you like a punch. You instinctively recoil, but you can’t go far because of the restraints.

"Love me? This isn’t love…" you say, trying to stay calm.

His expression hardens.

"Not love?" he repeats, as if tasting the words for the first time. He paces around you, each step echoing in the small room. "Didn’t you see me? I was always there, watching over you, protecting you from all those men who didn’t deserve you."

"Jun-ho… this isn’t right. Let me go, please."

He stops behind you and places his hands on your shoulders. His touch is firm but not rough.

"Not right?" he murmurs near your ear. "Isn’t it right to want the best for the person you love?"

Your body tenses. The danger in his voice is palpable.

"If you really love me, you wouldn’t do this," you try to reason with him.

He chuckles softly, a sound that makes you tremble.

"You don’t understand. This is for you. For us. You can’t keep living in that world full of people who don’t value you. I’m the only one who can."

"It’s not your decision…" you protest, but he moves quickly in front of you, leaning down until his eyes are level with yours.

"Of course, it’s my decision. Because no one else cares as much as I do."

His gaze is so intense it feels like it could pierce your soul. His obsession is undeniable, but behind it, you see something else: pain, loneliness, desperation.

"Jun-ho, listen… you don’t have to do this. We can talk, find a solution," you say, trying to keep your voice gentle, though inside, you’re terrified.

He smiles again, but this time there’s sadness in his eyes.

"You’ve always been so kind… so understanding. But you don’t get it. If I let you go, they’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen."

"Who are they?" you ask, hoping to buy time to think of a way out.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps back a few paces, as if lost in thought. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Everyone. Everyone who tried to get close to you. Everyone who didn’t deserve you."

The air feels heavier. The idea of what he might have done to "protect" you starts to sink in.

"What did you do, Jun-ho?"

He looks at you, and for the first time, he seems vulnerable.

"What I had to."

His words are simple, but the weight behind them leaves you breathless. Your mind fills with horrible images, but you force yourself to stay composed.

"Jun-ho… let me help you. This doesn’t have to go on like this."

He shakes his head.

"I don’t need help. I’ve already done everything necessary."

You start to notice a slight tremor in his hands, as if guilt is beginning to catch up with him.

"If you really love me… trust me. Let me go, and we can figure this out together."

For a moment, it seems like your words are reaching him. He lowers his gaze, and you can see the internal struggle on his face. But then, he straightens up, and his expression hardens again.

"I can’t risk it. If I let you go, you’ll go back to that world… and I can’t allow that."

Desperation grips you. You need to find a way to make him see reason before it’s too late.

"What do you want, Jun-ho? What do you really want?" you ask, trying to keep his attention.

He steps closer again, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I just want you to be mine."

His answer feels like a sentence, and you know words won’t be enough to change his mind. But you can’t give up. Not now.

"Jun-ho, if you keep going down this path, we’ll never truly be together. This isn’t love. It’s fear."

The word seems to affect him. He takes a step back, his gaze faltering.

"Fear?" he repeats, as if trying to process it.

You nod, even though the fear in your own heart threatens to overwhelm you.

"You’re afraid of losing me. But keeping me here isn’t the solution. If you love me, trust me."

The silence that follows is unbearable. Finally, Jun-ho sighs and lowers his head.

"I don’t want to lose you…" he admits, almost in a whisper.

"You won’t," you reply, summoning all the conviction you can. "But you have to trust me."

For a moment, you think you’ve reached him. But then he lifts his gaze, and his expression is a storm of emotions.

"Fine," he finally says, with an eerie calm. "But if I let you go, promise me you’ll never abandon me."

Your heart stops. You know any wrong response could trigger something worse.

"I promise we’ll talk about this. But first, I need you to give me a chance."

Jun-ho stares at you, assessing you. Finally, he pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the ties around your wrists.

"Don’t make me regret this," he warns.

You rub your aching wrists and look at him carefully. Every move has to be calculated.

"I won’t," you respond, though your mind is already planning how to escape this place.

[quirekey]

Starlita? I would never have thought of that, and personally, I'm not into straight ships... but there really is something about Starlita... I like it, I like it a lot... I think I need more of them... Can I get a ficlet with them? 👉👈

WELL TIME TO CHANGE UR MIND STARLITA MY GOAT IENCEURNI I shall grant you part 2 of a Starlita fic

DISCLAIMER: If you do not enjoy Starlita, pls scroll ^^

[ STARSCREAM ] x [ ELITA ONE ]

[ starscream x elita one ]

Part 1

“… Bumblebee told you, didn’t he?”

”Yeah, but I’m not complaining.”

START OF PART 2

The two stood in silence, the awkward tension rising. None of them wanted to really say anything or make a move. Elita decided to make the first move and pulled him into her. She didn’t care if she was barely shorter, she just needed to take care of Starscream’s cowardly nature. She pulled the both of them flushed together and scoffed at his scowled and tinted face.

”Hey! What are you-“

Elita hugged Starscream harder, telling him silently to shut up and embrace what they're having right now.

”… What are you doing?”

”I’m flirting with you, what else? You're not brave enough to try.”

Elita spoke up sarcastically, smirking. Starscream just sighed and looked away with his face still scowled. He was obviously enjoying the moment but he couldn’t admit it. Elita slowly got off him and decided to make her leave.

“Right, too fast. I’ll see you in the next meeting then.”

Elita took her leave, heading straight to her quarters. She left Starscream with a lingering feeling that mixed his spark. Her straight-forward and sarcastic attitude really did something to him. He hated this feeling as much as he hated her. Why did she come in and love-bomb him so suddenly? She isn’t the type of bot to do that, is she?

Starscream isn’t the type to care or overthink but he had this passive crush linger on him for so long and suddenly Bumblebee decided to tell her his secret? He was absolutely stunned to the core and flustered, heat filling his frame.

‘She can’t just leave me because I’m superior!’ He silently thought. He wanted this stupid femme-bot back right now. The denial he had that he already started missing her was pretty heavy, but he knew he’ll be able to see her in the next meeting.

During the time before the meeting, the encounter brought up so many questions. What were they? Does Elita like him back? Why does he miss her so much? What even is going on? Starscream gripped at his helm and stared down at his command centre, what in the world is he gonna do and what will even happen? He wanted to know but he was also secretly afraid of rejection. But what could he do..?

He got up and decided to walk around outside to freshen his processor. Starscream felt a wave of relief wash over and just walked around the currently-being-fixed Iacon.

A vibration suddenly went off and he opened his database, receiving a reminder that he needed to attend a meeting with Megatron, Optimus and Elita immediately. Of course he forgot… He transformed into flight-mode and flew off.

[fenya-scribbles]

Blind - Part 1

♥--------♥--------♥

Part 2

Pairing: Felix x fem!Reader

Other Characters: Jisung, Minho

Summary: You're not having a great night, but revelations are made and actions have consequences.

Genre: fluff?, friends to lovers

Content warnings: alcohol consumption, jealousy

Word Count: 1,273

A/N: This one got away from me, but I kinda still like it. Also Minsung is a thing here, because have you seen the on stage back hugs? I have. I'm still not okay.

♥--------♥--------♥

You hated parties. Especially when you only knew the person who dragged you there in the first place. And this party in particular turned into more and more of a nightmare by the minute. You were sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the garden of whichever of Felix’s friends hosted the party, and watched Felix talk to an unnervingly pretty girl who made the most obvious heart eyes at him. And you hated everything about this.  

Having a social butterfly as a best friend had always been difficult for your introverted self, but you just couldn’t imagine a life without Felix. He was your bubbly, beautiful, funny ray of sunshine. Your best friend who you trusted with your life. He was also the man you’d been in love with for the past 3 years. And you kept it under wraps as well as you could. Because there wasn’t a chance in hell you would ruin this friendship by confessing to him and finding that he didn’t feel the same.  

But Felix was pretty. He was downright gorgeous. And it went beyond his looks, Felix was pretty on the inside. He was kind, respectful, considerate. He was funny and smart and just wonderful in every conceivable way. When he looked at you with his bright grin, your heart made cartwheels in your chest. When he hugged you, he sent goose bumps all over your body. But he didn’t know. I couldn’t know.  

You took another sip of your mediocre and very alcoholic cocktail and sighed. It was your third glass, and you didn’t know what they put in there, but it sure didn’t work. This was not how you’d imagined the night going. But it wasn’t surprising either. Wherever Felix went, he ended up making new friends and there was always as least one person hitting on him. It was tiring, really, but you couldn’t do anything about it.  

“You look miserable”, a voice said, dragging you from your thoughts. You looked up to find one of Felix’s friends stand in front of you. He looked at you curiously, hair loosely framing his handsome face. “Nah, I’m fine”, you said, trying to get out of the conversation before it had even started. “You’re not though”, he said. “Tell me what’s wrong!” He pouted, giving you his best boba eyes. He was adorable, you had to admit. You sighed.  

“Jisung, right?” He gave you an affirmative hum, as he sat down in the empty chair next to you. “Now, Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you sad at my party?” He remembered your name. You were always surprised when that happened, but it did drag the smallest smile from your lips. It didn’t last long though, because your eyes wandered back to Felix and the girl. You sighed.  

“I see”, Jisung said, following your line of sight, “you’re crushing on Lixie.” “I’m not!”, you replied too quickly and immediately covered your blushing face with your hands. “You so are”, he said, “and I get it. I’ve been there.” You lowered your hands and stared at him. “What?” He giggled. “Yeah, way back when I first met him. Followed him around like a puppy.” “How did you get over him?” Jisung grinned and pointed towards another guy who was currently opening a beer bottle with a chopstick. “Minho. Showed me was real love is.” “So, I just need to find my Minho?”, you asked. “That depends.” “On?” “Do you want to get over Lixie? Or do you really only want him?” 

Exasperated, you threw your head back and let out a groan. “I see”, Jisung said again, still grinning. You had a feeling he enjoyed this conversation far more than you did. “Why don’t you tell him?”, Jisung asked. “Are you insane?” “Just curious, actually.” You sighed. “He’s my best friend.” Jisung raised his eyebrows. “I know. So?” “So, I don’t want to lose that.” Jisung huffed. “I call bullshit. I’m best friends with Minho. You wouldn’t lose that if you got together.”  

You sighed. “You don’t get it.” “No, I do. You think he doesn’t like you back. Which is ridiculous.” Jisung looked at Felix now, watching him brush something off the pretty girl’s shoulder. “You are insane”, you said, taking another sip of your drink, “And blind.” “Oh, her?”, Jisung said, now actively pointing at the girl who seemingly had Felix wrapped around her finger, going by the way he laughed at her every word. “Nah, he’s just trying to make you jealous. She’s in on it.” 

The grin on Jisung’s face was almost as bright as the one you loved so much on Felix. “What?!” Your eyes wandered from him to Felix and back again. “You’re shitting me.” “No, I’m serious.” “No way! You’ve just had too much to drink.” Jisung huffed. “That’s rich, coming from you.” He gestured at the now empty glass in your hand.  

“What? This stuff does nothing”, you replied with a shrug. He raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” “I’m not making up nonsense, now, am I?”, you retorted. Jisung shook his head with a laugh before yelling “Jagi, can you come here for a sec” towards Minho. The older one turned his head, said something to the two guys he’d been talking to and made his way over to you.  

“What’s up?”, he said as he reached you. “She doesn’t believe me that Lix is trying to make her jealous and that Hana is in on it”, Jisung explained. “So, she’s blind?” Jisung let out a short laugh and then boxed his boyfriend in the side. “Be nice, babe.” Minho giggled. “Alright, alright. It’s true”, he said to you, “I heard them plan it out.” “You’re for real?” You stared at him with narrow eyes. “So real”, he replied, and for whatever reason, you believed him.  

You had to blink multiple times to process the information you had just been given. Felix, your best friend, who you’d been in love with for 3 years now, was currently talking and giggling and getting touchy with a pretty girl to make you jealous? How could that be real? It sounded like a wild fantasy to you. A ridiculous dream. Because that would mean that he liked you too. Your heart lurched in your chest at the thought.  

And then, without even noticing it fully, you got up and walked over to him. He beamed when he saw you coming, looking more beautiful than ever and for a moment your knees went weak – thankfully, you didn’t stumble over your own two feet. “You!”, you said when you reached him, finger firmly planted on his chest. “Yes?”, he said, eyebrows raised in anticipation. 

That’s when the alcohol hit. The world started spinning, your legs gave out, your balance was gone in an instant. Suddenly, you were caught mid-fall by two strong and very familiar arms. “Had a bit much to drink, did we?”, Felix said with a smirk. You stared at him, his face so pretty but also slightly blurry. “You!”, you said again, more slurred this time. And you knew there was more you wanted to say, but your brain stopped cooperating. “I think we should call it a night”, Felix giggled.  

The rest of the night was a blur. The alcohol really did a number on you, and at some point you promised yourself to never again drink cocktails with unknown amounts of booze in them. Everything got very hazy and all you were really sure of was that Felix was by your side until your head hit a pillow and your mind drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

♥--------♥--------♥

Masterlist

[its-all-stardust]

Safe

So this is kind of based on a request that I received over six months ago at this point (rip me and my writing capabilities) that I mixed with my own idea in an attempt to make it more realistic than what the request originally called for. Because I feel like I changed the core of what the person wanted, I decided not to include it here.

Masterlist

Matt Murdock/GN!Reader, though it's more platonic and really kind of Matt, Karen, and Foggy being buds with Reader. Sorry not sorry.

Word count: 7.1k

Summary: You love your boyfriend even though he kicked you out of your, really his, apartment. He'll let you back in soon enough. But a cold breeze and falling night don't mix with a thin T-shirt, causing you to seek warmth in an office labeled Nelson Murdock Page.

Content warning for domestic abuse/intimate partner violence. Descriptions are few and not overly detailed.

The sun was just starting to set, but you already felt the chill of the impending night air. The streets felt darker than they should, the tall buildings casting deep shadows, a false night before the true one.

It was the one thing you never liked about the city, especially since you were left wandering the streets alone, at a loss for what to do or where to go. You weren’t worried, though. Dean had done this before. Soon, you were sure, he’d call you and let you back into the apartment.

He had locked you out, something he usually did whenever you made a mistake or got into a ridiculous fight. He was within his rights to kick you out and take the key—it was his apartment, after all. He paid the rent, his name was on the lease.

Once Dean slowed down and thought things through, when he saw the situation from your perspective and understood why you thought what you did, he’d call. You would tell him you were sorry, he’d forgive you and tell you he loved you, and then the two of you would fall into bed, and all would be forgotten.

A gust of wind blew through the street, freezing you to the spot for a moment. Fall was settling in, and the nights were getting colder. Your t-shirt, lounge pants, and flip-flops didn’t provide much warmth.

But it was okay. Dean would call soon. Your phone was clutched in your hand, waiting for it to come through.

You told a friend about these fights once, and she looked more than a little perturbed. She tried telling you that if Dead actually loved you, he wouldn’t do that to you. You knew she was wrong. If Dean didn’t love you, he wouldn’t have given you your phone on the way out the door. You needed it so he could call and find you using the tracking app he set up.

New York City could be dangerous—aliens falling from the sky, vigilantes roaming the streets, people who could fly—and he didn’t want to take any chances. Even when you were fighting, Dean always made sure you weren’t hurt. It was also why you couldn’t stop walking until you found somewhere safe or until Dean called you. If your phone stopped moving for too long, Dean would worry that something had happened to you.

The wind blew again, the sun dipping even lower. It was getting colder. 

Reaching up, you rub the slight bump on your forehead. Dean tried tossing you your phone, but you missed—you were never good at playing catch—and the corner smacked you above your left eye. It ached and started a headache that hadn’t let up yet.

You couldn’t wait for Dean to call so you could go home and find where he tucked away the painkillers this time. He never liked keeping things in one spot for too long.

A light in the gathering dark caught your eye. An office window, still lit hours after their normal closing time. On closer inspection, you saw their sign:

Nelson, Murdock, Page - Attorneys at Law.

It made you pause.

You didn’t need a lawyer, but maybe, since they were around anyway, they’d let you sit in their lobby for a bit. Just long enough to warm up and for Dean to call. And if Dean checked where you were, he’d know you were safe. After all, what thief could run to a lawyer after stealing a phone?

Your heart pounded nervously in your chest as you touched the door handle. You hoped they were nice, that they’d let you inside without expecting anything. Surely, they wouldn’t charge you for waiting in their lobby, right?

Finding your courage, you pulled the door open, only to pause as the people inside turned to stare at you. Two men and a woman.

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately, losing your nerve. “This was a bad idea.” You let the door go and turned to leave.

“Wait!” the woman called. Her voice was loud, and you couldn’t help but obey, your shoulders tensing, your body filling with nerves. She stood and met you at the door.

“Are you okay? Do you need help?” Her eyes scanned you up and down, lines forming between her brows the longer she stared.

“I’m fine. I was just…” you trailed off with a shrug. But the woman and the two men behind her waited for you to finish. You smiled and gave an awkward laugh. “I got locked out of my apartment. I’m just waiting for my boyfriend to call to let me know I can go back inside. I was hoping I could hang around for a bit just to warm up. You guys are the only ones still open this time of day.”

You felt like you were rambling but couldn’t help yourself. 

“Of course! Please come in.” The woman stepped back to let you in, flashing a bright smile.

You cautiously entered, hyper-aware of your flip-flops smacking against the bottom of your feet in the silent office.

You glanced between the woman and the men again. They were all gathered in the lobby, the other lights in the office turned off.

“I’m sorry, were you about to leave? I can—” You stepped back, not wanting to keep them. They would likely rather be on their way home than babysitting you.

“Please, we practically live here. Stay!” one of the men said. He had blond hair and a charmingly boyish smile.

Not seeing how to get out of the situation—and not sure if you wanted to—you carefully sat down in the chair the blond man pulled out for you from the few lined against one wall.

“I’m Foggy,” the man said, holding out his hand to you. Smiling politely, you shook it, introducing yourself. The others followed; the woman was Karen, and the other man, with dark hair and circular red glasses, was Matt.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Matt started slowly, as if afraid to startle you. “If you’re waiting to get back into your apartment, why not just wait in the lobby of your building?”

You froze for less than a second before the tension faded away with practiced ease. 

“I figured I’d get some fresh air,” you lied. “Still not used to the changing weather and was too stubborn to go back when I realized how cold it was.” You laughed, hoping your tale of personal failing would make Matt drop the subject.

The truth was you tried staying in the lobby before, the first time Dean locked you out after you moved in with him. He’d checked the tracker on your phone and came stomping out of the elevator fifteen minutes later, saying you needed to leave the building entirely. He couldn’t think knowing you were still around, saying he could practically hear you breathing. If you wanted him to forgive you, you needed to leave. Otherwise, he would just stay mad, and who knows, maybe you’d have to spend the night sleeping on the floor of the lobby of your apartment building, hoping no one saw you.

Now you knew to leave whenever you’d done something to make Dean mad. You would go to a friend’s place if you could, but ever since you’d moved in with Dean, you’d lost contact with them.

Matt gave a small smile as if he were indulging you. “And now?”

“And now I figured I’d be better off waiting for a phone call. The halls in my place are barely better than outside.” You laughed again. “I’d rather stay here where it’s cozy. As long as that’s okay with you guys.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Karen jumped in to say, shooting a look at Matt, which, the more you studied him, you were unsure if he could even see.

“Do you want some coffee?” Foggy offered, trying to ease the tension between his friends. You rubbed your hands together, the chill from the autumnal air still clinging to them.

“That would be really nice. Thank you.” You almost wanted to say no, but a cup of hot coffee sounded so nice, and it would buy you a little more time in their office.

Foggy left for the kitchen, turning lights on along the way, leaving you, Matt, and Karen in awkward silence.

“I’m sorry, but do you need ice? For your forehead?” Karen blurted out, touching her own forehead above her left eye sympathetically.

Heat rose to your face. “This?” you said, touching the bump, attempting to cover it even though Karen had clearly already seen it. “It’s nothing. Just banged my head off the counter earlier after I dropped something.”

“Are you sure?” Matt asked, drawing your attention to him and the tense grip he had on his cane. “It doesn’t hurt at all?” 

His face was turned toward you, but his eyes didn’t match where yours were. Adding in the cane, you figured he was more than likely blind. At least that was one person you didn’t have to worry about altering your appearance for.

“I barely even notice it,” you lied again. Truthfully, the bump still throbbed, and while ice would be a relief, you weren’t about to let these people, these strangers, know things that could get you and Dean into trouble. Dean always said other people wouldn’t understand the dynamics of your relationship, and you had always trusted him about that.

You could trust these people for a moment of respite and nothing more.

Foggy came back into the lobby with a paper cup in his hand, hopefully saving you from any further interrogation.

They told you about themselves, about their work, and you did the same. Thankfully, no further probing questions were asked. And if they noticed how often you checked your phone for an incoming call or a text, they didn’t say anything.

Not until an hour had passed anyway.

“Still haven’t heard anything?” Matt asked just as you checked the service on your phone for the umpteenth time, almost convinced that was why Dean hadn’t called. It was a little eerie how Matt seemed to know what you were doing, but you brushed it off as simply caused by a lull in conversation.

“Not yet,” you answered, releasing your thoroughly chewed lip. “It’s probably just taking longer than usual. I’ll go, though. I don’t want to keep you guys.” You forced a levity you didn’t feel to your voice. You had hoped Dean would have called by now, but it wasn’t the longest he left you out of the apartment.

You stood, about to run off and leave these very nice people to their night, and missed the shared look between them.

“Have you eaten yet?” Matt asked suddenly, stopping you in your tracks.

“No, but I was just going to grab something on my way back home.” Another lie. You couldn’t go back to the apartment without Dean’s say so. 

“Oh, you have your wallet with you?” Matt asked, his surprise not sounding entirely genuine.

But he was blind. He would have no idea you didn’t have pockets, let alone what may or may not have been in them.

“Yep!” you said, voice pitched a little too high. You moved toward the door.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Karen suggested, “We were just about to grab dinner ourselves.”

“We’ll even be nice and not take you to our favorite bar. Pretty sure you can’t eat anything there without getting some kind of food poisoning,” Foggy chimed in.

It was like they were all telepathically communicating, working together to get you to go with them.

It would have been concerning if you hadn’t felt so at ease with them. Warnings of not letting strangers take you to a secondary location were easily brushed from your mind, not given the chance to linger.

These people weren’t strangers in the usual sense. They were well-known lawyers with their names plastered on a sign right outside their door. Not to mention you practically accosted them, and they were too kind to turn you away.

Plus…it was nice spending time with other people again. You’d lost contact with so many people in the last year you’d forgotten what it was like to spend time with someone other than Dean.

You weren’t ready for it to end. Not yet.

The ache of loneliness and a growl from your stomach had you saying, “Okay.”

The restaurant they picked wasn’t anything fancy, but it wasn’t one you’d ever been to before. You had passed by it on several occasions, but Dean had never been interested whenever you brought it up. He never gave you a reason why, and you never understood his reluctance. 

Now that you finally tried it, you can firmly say you weren’t missing out on much—it was more like any other family dining place—but the food was good. Great for your empty stomach—and the company was even better.

Matt—a sort of gentleman, you came to find out—offered to pay for everyone. You were sure it was more for your benefit than anything, the man somehow knowing you didn’t have any way to pay.

You almost said no, but you were already in too deep. Not to mention, there still hadn’t been any word from Dean.

When the bill was paid and the four of you headed for the door, your demeanor shifted.

It was getting late, and Dean never told you that you could return to the apartment.

He’d never left you out all night before. What if he never called? Did he expect you to sleep on the street, or would you be allowed to go back to his building?

You could call him. You weren’t supposed to during these lock-outs, but you didn’t have much choice, not if you needed to know what was going on.

A light touch to your elbow made you jump.

“Is something wrong?” Matt asked. You must have been so lost in thought you hadn’t noticed him get so close. 

“No.” The lie slipped through automatically, and you prayed you were convincing. “Just thinking that I might finally convince my boyfriend to come here now that I’ve tried it.”

Matt nodded. “Have you heard from him yet?” he asked cautiously. 

You glanced away, glad he couldn’t see your nervous shifting, but then you caught Karen and Foggy watching your exchange from a few feet away. 

“He probably just got caught up bullshitting with the maintenance guy,” you said instead of giving a direct answer.

You pulled up Dean’s contact in your phone. You had to risk calling him, not wanting to look like a fool in front of your almost-friends.

The call rang just once before he answered. Like he had been waiting for you.

You were about to speak, a term of endearment on your lips, when Dean beat you to it.

“Who are you with?” he asked, the words low and full of venom.

You froze for a moment, too familiar with the tone and what it meant. You turned around and stepped away from the others, not wanting them to see your face. You didn’t properly register the newly formed scowl on Matt’s face.

Dean continued. “I saw where you were. A lawyer? Are you lying to him about me?” The anger in him rose with every word.

“No, that’s not it at all!” you quietly cried, trying desperately not to alert anyone. There was nothing you could do when Dean got like this, in this argumentative state that got you pushed out of the apartment in the first place. 

You shouldn’t have called. It just made Dean angrier. You should have waited. You knew better, but you wanted to look normal in front of such friendly people.

“They were just being nice, making sure I stayed warm. That’s it,” you insisted.

“Oh, so, now you think I don’t take care of you,” he snarked back.

The next words spilled out before you could stop them. Years of pent-up frustrations and fear, and, most importantly, anger coming to a head.

“You’re the one who kicked me out!” you hissed before gasping.

You shouldn’t have said that; you didn’t mean it. You needed to say something, do something quickly before—

Dean chuckled, low and deep, without any hint of genuine amusement. “If that’s what you think happened, that this isn’t all your fault, then you’re not coming back.”

“Dean, please, no—” you tried to say, but the line cut out before you could even think of how to start your apology.

You stood there, numb, unsure of what to do.

Where do you go? Do you go back to Dean’s anyway? You’ve been living with him for so long. All your stuff is at his place. Surely he wouldn’t break up with you because of one small misunderstanding? Maybe if you go and explain in person—

Someone softly called your name.

You finally lowered your phone, but you still didn’t turn around, trying to calm your breathing and blink away the tears that threatened to spill.

“What happened?” the voice asked, close this time. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you saw Matt, now standing beside you.

“I um…” You didn’t know what to say. Could you tell them the truth? Would they care? Would they even help you? “It’s nothing. I’m fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

No, you couldn’t tell them. You wouldn’t put your troubles on these people, kind as they were. And chances were, Dean would call you the very next morning, begging your forgiveness. He would tell you how he shouldn’t have said that to you and ask you to come back.

It would be like every other time; you just knew, and the two of you would go back to normal and be happy.

“I need to get back,” you continued, trying to step around Matt, only for him to reach out, his hand hovering by your arm, making you stop.

“You said he kicked you out,” Matt said softly, brow furrowed in concern.

You had hoped he and Foggy and Karen hadn’t heard you. Clearly, you weren’t as quiet as you thought. Knowing your luck, the volume on your phone was likely so loud they probably heard everything Dean said.

You ran a hand over your face, trying to force down your embarrassment and anxiety.

It didn’t work.

You released a sharp, stuttering gasp, still unable to find the words when Matt asked, “Has he done this before?”

You hadn’t meant for it to be an answer, but Matt and the others took it as one nonetheless.

With a gentle hand on your shoulder, you let them lead you out of the cold.

At Matt’s apartment, you didn’t get the half-expected lecture/pep-talk combo that usually came in these situations.

None of the you deserve better, you shouldn’t let him treat you like that, don’t go back to him nonsense.

Instead, Matt, Foggy, and Karen hustled you into Matt’s place—the nicest of the three of them, and completely wasted on a blind man, according to Foggy.

“He should at least have a hole in the wall. Maybe two,” he complained to you.

They only asked if you were okay. If they could get you anything. You thought you saw Karen looking something up on her phone and sharing it with Foggy, but Matt distracted you by handing over a pair of socks to keep your feet warm and the softest blanket you had ever felt.

They spent the night acting as if everything was normal, like you belonged and this was something you had all done before.

You felt…completely at ease for the first time in a long time.

But even still, tears threatened to spill throughout the night, and you kept your phone clutched tightly in your hand, hoping for a call or text.

It was hedging past midnight. Foggy and Karen said their goodbyes an hour earlier and nothing from Dean appeared on your phone. You kept waiting, though. Watching the battery slowly deplete and afraid to ask for a charger. It would have been nothing compared to what Matt has already given you—even offering his own bed—but you didn’t want to add one more burden to the ever-growing list.

Even with the late hour, you and Matt kept talking. At first, about nothing and everything, simply whatever topic came to mind as had been the way since you met him earlier that evening. But then, after a lull, things changed.

Matt shifted on the couch across from you and licked his lips. His glasses were still on, but even so, you were still able to pick up on his nerves. 

“I had this girlfriend once,” he started, and you tensed, afraid of what was coming. As if he could sense you, he raised a hand, a gesture meant to calm, but from Matt, you weren’t sure.

“And…I was in love with her. I met her while I was in college, and from that first night, I was gone,” Matt recounted with a faint, somewhat bittersweet smile. But then he sobered, and his smile faded. “I almost gave up everything for her. More than once.”

A beat of silence passed.

“Why didn’t you? Give up everything?” you couldn’t help but ask. From your limited information, it sounded like it could have been incredibly romantic.

“Because I would have had to give up myself to be with her,” Matt answered, his voice soft, distracted by far-off thoughts.

His reasoning didn’t make any sense to you. You told him so.

Matt leaned back with a sigh. He reached for his tie—already loosened earlier in the night—and tugged on it as if it was still restricting him.

“I almost failed out of school after I met her. She’d ask me to meet her at odd hours—during the day, in the middle of the night. Whenever the urge struck her. I skipped class, missed assignments. The place I’d worked so hard to get to, and I just…” Matt shrugged like he didn’t understand his own actions. “None of it mattered when I was with her. And then she asked me to do something I couldn’t do. Said it would be good for me. I said no, and she left.” If you knew where Matt kept his liquor, you’d pour him a glass. He looked like he could use it.

You wondered what the point of the story was, why he was telling it to you. You toyed with the idea of calling it a night when Matt started up again.

“Years later, she came back. No matter how much I told myself it wouldn’t be like the last time, it still was. I followed her around, did what she asked. It was exciting. That time, though, I had the first with Foggy. He and Karen and I were working on a case I asked them to take, one they didn’t want anything to do with. I thought I could handle her and the case, but I just fucked everything up, and Foggy and Karen left. And then my ex…left again. The only thing I was left with was the mess I made.”

“Did she come back after that?” you asked. The tension in Matt’s shoulders, the way his fingers kept twitching, told you the answer before he did.

Matt nodded but didn’t say anything.

“What happened that time?” you prompted. If he started this story, he might as well finish it.

Matt gave you another smile, this one holding a touch of disgust. “Same thing all over again. I got pulled in and I thought, no matter what happened before, this time, I was going to save her. But I couldn’t, and I almost died because of it.”

“You’re joking,” you said, taken aback. You’ve heard stories about things ending badly between couples, but as far as you knew, you hadn’t met someone like that.

Matt shook his head, looking almost exhausted by the telling. “Couple of broken ribs, a good knock to the head. Lost most of my hearing for a while. And worst of all, I was alone. I’d driven everyone away.”

Though Matt was sitting in front of you, whole and healthy, you needed to know the ending now. What happened to Matt was horrible, but…

“Did you love her?” you asked.

Matt seemed shocked, hands frozen on his tie and brow furrowed.

“I did.”

“And if she comes back, will you forgive her?” That’s all that matters to you in the end—love and forgiveness. “Will you go back to her?”

Matt took a sharp breath and then shifted uncomfortably. “It… wouldn’t be good if I did,” he said.

“Why not? If you love her and can forgive her, then what’s stopping you from being together,” you asked, confused. It’s how you and Dean made it through all your rough patches. You were sure it was how you’d make it through this one.

Matt sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, dislodging his glasses but still keeping them on.

“She wasn’t…” Matt started slowly,  sounding frustrated. “She wasn’t always a good person. I lost myself when she was around. I couldn’t see anything beyond her. Her attention was...intoxicating. And poisonous.”

“She could change. If she promised to do better, be better—” Matt stopped you before you could argue further. You weren’t sure why you tried to in the first place.

“No,” he said, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t go back to her. And it doesn’t matter. She died.”

You flinched, the answer and the revelation striking you harder than it should have. It wasn’t the outcome you…wanted to hear, you supposed.

“Oh,” you offered, your reaction stilted. What was the proper way to respond to something like that? “I’m so sorry.”

Matt nodded and rubbed his face again, looking defeated. Whatever energy he had earlier in the evening was completely gone. “I should let you go to bed.”

That night was awful. You tossed and turned, hardly finding sleep and plagued by nightmares. Every time you woke up, you checked your phone. The lack of any communication from Dean only made you feel worse.

The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon when you finally gave up on sleep. Not long after, you heard Matt rise from the couch and start puttering around the kitchen. He tried to be quiet, but the sounds echoed throughout the space anyway.

“Morning,” you called softly as you left the bedroom.

“Morning,” Matt greeted in return. “Coffee or tea?”

He had his glasses on. They almost seemed out of place with his t-shirt and sweatpants. You had only seen him in his work suit. He still looked good, though, you decided.

“Tea.” You sat at the small table and watched Matt deftly move around his kitchen to prepare your cup.

“I only have black tea,” he said apologetically.

“Good.” You preferred it anyway.

Silence fell between the two of you again, even as Matt handed you your mug and joined you at the table.

After a while, Matt shifted in his seat. “What…do you want to do?”

You knew he wasn’t asking about a stroll in the park.

You leaned forward onto the table, both hands clutching the mug as you stared unseeing into the last dregs of your tea. If only there were leaves to tell you what to do.

Rubbing your lips together, you played with the dead skin there, trying to put off answering. If you didn’t say anything, you could stay in this moment forever.

Matt said your name, drawing your attention, needing your answer.

“I want to go to Dean’s place,” you finally said, trying to sound confident and sure of yourself. If he wasn’t going to talk to you, try to figure things out, then you needed to step up. You didn’t want to be like Matt and his ex; you understood, eventually, what he was trying to tell you, but you wanted to fight for your relationship, no matter how hard it was at times. You loved each other, so it had to be worth it.

Matt’s hands were clutched together in a white-knuckle grip on the tabletop. The muscle in his jaw twitched, but otherwise, his expression was blank.

“Do you want to go back to him?” His voice was low, an emotion you couldn’t decipher tinged the edges. Nothing like Dean, where you would know you did something wrong by the tone of his voice alone.

“I do.” You kept your back straight and your eyes on his face, steeling yourself for whatever Matt might say next.

He and his friends hadn’t given you a lecture about your relationship last night. Maybe Matt would try now.

But all he said was, “Okay.”

He insisted on walking you to your apartment. You had tried to tell him it was far, that he surely had work, you were fine, really—all manner of things. Matt remained steadfast through it all. He didn’t get angry. Didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t say anything about you at all.

“I would feel better knowing you got home safe.”

Well. You couldn’t find a way to argue with that.

The walk to your building was much nicer than your wandering around the city the previous night. The air was still chilled, but the rising sun was able to peek through some of the buildings and cast a warm glow over you. Matt’s borrowed jacket also helped keep you warm, but all you could think of was how you’d have to give it back before Dean saw.

“This is me,” you told Matt, stopping in front of your building. You expected him to let go of your arm—you’d been guiding him the whole walk after you asked if it would be easier—but he didn’t. You only felt his fingers twitch.

“Do you mind if I go up with you?” he asked.

All you could think of was Dean. “I don’t—”

“Please. Dean won’t even see me.” It was like he could read your thoughts.

You chewed on your lip. “Alright,” you sighed. “But you have to take this back.”

You slipped the jacket off and handed it to Matt, the comfortable warmth leaving you all too soon.

You led Matt through the building, your steps slowing the closer you got to the door. When it finally came into view a few floors up, you touched Matt’s arm.

“Wait here,” you said, barely hearing yourself over the pounding of your heart. You told yourself it was just excitement at reconciling with Dean.

Only after your second tentative knock did you finally hear heavy footsteps inside. They stopped at the door, Dean likely looking through the peephole. You didn’t look up at it; he would see you clearly, and you knew to keep your head down when apologizing.

The hinges squeaked when he finally opened the door.

Neither of you spoke.

“I was wondering when you were coming over,” Dean said, his voice light, almost happy. You would have been happy—he seemed to have forgiven you—but your mind stuck on “coming over.” He said it like you were visiting. Like you weren’t living with him and just a new partner with their own apartment in another part of the city.

You risked a glance up at him anyway, a tentative smile on your lips. He looked at ease, and the roiling in your stomach started to ease.

Dean placed a hand on your shoulder, fingers digging into your skin, and pulled you through the door. 

“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” you started, ready to go over the speech you had prepared last night during your bouts of restlessness. Dean hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

Suddenly, your head slammed against the wall.

Dean had used the hand on your shoulder to shove you against the wall next to the door.

Wincing, dazed, you tried to raise a hand to the back of your head as if touching it would ease the pain, but Dean shook you, making your hand drop.

“What did I tell you about disrespecting me, hm?” Dean growled, his face so close to yours that the heat of his breath fanned over your face. He didn’t leave you room to answer before pulling you forward by your shoulder, only to slam you into the wall again. “And then running to some other guy? You thought you could get away with that?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. Your heart started to pound, fear filling you. Dean had never hurt you before. The wall, sure. Occasionally, he got so upset that he’d break whatever item was on hand. But he’d never done anything to you. 

He wasn’t really hurting you, though. You tried justifying it. You weren’t bleeding; nothing was broken. You were sure you’d barely even have a bruise from his grip.

Dean has always been possessive of you. You’d always considered it a part of his charm. A guy who saw no one else and wanted no one else but you, and willing to stake his claim and not back down. It was all very romantic. Sure, it made it hard to keep in touch with family and friends, but you didn’t regret it.

At least, you didn’t think you did until you spent last night with Matt and his friends.

Someone called your name. It wasn’t until Dean whipped his head around that you realized it wasn’t him but someone from the hall.

Dean hadn’t closed the door.

Matt was standing in the doorway, his cane held down at his side, gripping it so tightly you swore you heard it creaking from the strain.

Dean changed instantly. His hands left you as he moved to fill the doorway with his body.

“What’s up, man? Need help with something?” Dean asked, sounding completely at ease and friendly as he eyed Matt up and down.

“I heard you,” Matt said, voice deadly quiet.

Dean acted confused. “Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He gripped the door tighter, ready to slam it in Matt’s face.

“I think you do.” Matt tilted his head, turning his head like he knew where you were, and said your name. “Do you want to leave?”

Dean turned to you, a sneer on his face. “This is the guy you were with last night, babe?” he asked. How he managed to keep his voice sounding so amicable while his expression was anything but, you’ll never know.

You didn’t answer Dean, but he didn’t need you to.

“Appreciate the concern, but we’re good here.” Matt’s hand was on the door before Dean could slam it.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

Dean huffed a breath through his nose, sounding much like an agitated animal. “Go on, answer your friend.”

“I’m fine, Matt,” you said quietly.

“Everything’s fine, Matt,” Dean said with a triumphant grin. He tried closing the door, but Matt’s hand didn’t budge.

“Do you often slam people into walls for fun, or was this a special occasion?” Matt asked, and embarrassment flooded through you. You didn’t like that he knew what had happened to you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean said.

“Sure you do.” Matt pushed on the door and attempted to step forward.

Either Dean wasn’t expecting it, or Matt was stronger because Dean jerked back as the door moved before putting his full weight behind it.

“Who the hell do you think you are trying to come into my place?” Dean spat, trying to force Matt back.

“A concerned friend. And between everything I heard last night and right now, I have every right to be.”

The battle of wills against the door hadn’t even caused Matt to break out in a sweat, meanwhile, Dean was struggling. You wanted to tell them to stop, to ask Matt to leave. You didn’t even understand why he was acting like this in the first place. After last night, you thought he wouldn’t try to interfere.

Matt turned back to you. “I’ll do whatever you say, but I need to know: do you want to leave this apartment?” It was as if the words pained him to say.

You were about to tell him, no, you were fine, that he was making things worse when Dean spoke.

“Stop talking.” He released the door, and Matt stumbled forward a step before catching himself. Before he could do anything else, Dean grabbed the front of Matt’s shirt.

You didn’t know what he was planning, whether he would hit Matt or shove him; you just knew you had to stop Dean.

Reacting blindly, you lunged forward, grabbing Dean’s arm, and tried to pull it back away from Matt. 

“Don’t—” was the only word you could get out before Dean thrust his arm back, shoving you and knocking you off balance.

Falling backward, you had no chance to catch yourself. You hit the floor hard, head banging on the vinyl tile, adding to the damage Dean did mere minutes ago.

Dazed, you laid there for a you didn’t know how long. When you finally came to enough, you heard Dean yelling and Matt calling your name.

Matt had Dean pressed against the wall, one arm braced across his chest to hold him in place. Even though Dean was spitting obscenities, he was still more composed than on his bad days. You didn’t understand it.

Matt wasn’t paying any attention to Dean; instead solely focused on you. 

You could finally make out his words.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, hand holding the back of your head like it would ease the pain. You didn’t think about how Matt wouldn’t be able to see you.

“Grab your things,” Matt said over Dean’s venom, and you realized perhaps he saw more than you initially thought. “We’re leaving.”

You want to say you didn’t hesitate, but you did.

How could you leave Dean, especially when he was so angry? It would be even worse when you eventually came back.

And then you finally realized: it would get worse. Today was already bad, and even if Dean apologized, he still tried to hurt Matt. It took you even longer still to realize you didn’t want to lose another friend to Dean. He never treated his own friends like this, so why was he like that with yours?

Matt called your name again so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

“Okay,” you said and left to grab what little you could carry.

You went back to your parents’ place outside the city after that day. Matt took you back to his apartment after leaving Dean’s. He sat with you as you called your parents, who you haven’t had more than short and—you understand now—supervised conversations with in months.

You spent longer than you meant to with them. If you were being honest, you didn’t want to leave. You were afraid to.

Living without a roommate in the city was practically impossible unless you had a shitty apartment or an extremely well-paying job—the first you didn’t want and the second you didn’t have.

Slowly, though, you relearned what it was like being around other people again. You’d been isolated for long enough that the presence of other people at first left you nervous and twitchy, constantly looking over your shoulder for fear of being caught doing something you shouldn’t. The feeling subsided, and you remembered what it was like not to be alone. You were even able to move in with a friend and their boyfriend. You reconnected with some old friends and spoke to your parents so often that you were almost sick of it.

You’ve never been more thankful or felt more loved.

You hadn’t seen Matt or his friends in months. 

You didn’t know if it was entirely appropriate to reach out to them, even after all they did to help.

You had thought that, perhaps, they had forgotten about you. They helped so many people, surely one night with you wouldn’t have lodged itself into their memory like it did yours. They might have thought nothing of you, but you wouldn’t forget them.

The door to the restaurant slams closed behind you, the wind forcing it shut. You’re happy you didn’t flinch this time, though it’s at least partially because you’ve been hearing the sound all day. The weather is warming up, but the chill is persistent, a wind storm sent to remind everyone that winter won’t go easily.

You glance at the time on your phone again, praying your takeout arrives soon. You had called ahead, but the weekend left the staff busy. Typical for a Friday night. Despite the protestations of your stomach, however, you were willing to wait.

It’s the restaurant Matt, Foggy, and Karen took you to that night. You hadn’t been since, but you couldn’t help but crave the meal you had that night, wondering if the freedom to choose your own food would make it taste better.

“Hey!” someone calls from behind you, whoever threw the door open a moment ago. Probably someone jackass upset that a server hasn’t come to seat them yet. The thought makes you roll your eyes as you swipe between apps on your phone.

And then someone says your name.

As if summoned by your very thoughts, Matt, Foggy, and Karen are standing behind you, smiling at you like old friends. 

“Hi,” you say, at a loss for words despite the grin spreading across your face.

“It’s been a while. How are you?” Karen asks carefully. She looks you over, likely taking note of your weather-appropriate outfit. You’re sure Matt would have told them what happened, but none of them would know what became of you afterward.

“I’m—” you cut yourself off, forcing yourself not to give the same polite ‘I’m good’ you give everyone. “I’m doing a lot better now. Thank you.” 

Thanking her for asking, thanking all of them for helping you.

“How’s Dean?” Matt asks next, making Foggy elbow him in the side. 

“Don’t know,” you shrug. “Haven’t seen him in a while.” Matt tries to hide a smile, but it still forces its way through. 

“Good,” he says unabashedly. Foggy elbows him again with a scolding Matt! under his breath.

“It’s fine,” you laugh. “It’s… it’s a good thing.”

“You should eat with us,” Foggy suggests. “We should catch up.”

Warmth filled you, and you were about to jump at the chance to say yes when the server finally arrived.

“I’m so sorry about your wait. Here’s your order,” the young woman says to you, crushing your excitement.

You offer your thanks and take your bag before turning back to your almost-friends.

“Another time,” you say apologetically, gesturing with your bag. 

“What’s your number,” Matt says before you can make your way to the door. “We can set something up for another time.”

You bite your lip, trying to hide your grin. “I’d like that.”

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀arguing w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: as much as you love your older brother you end up second guessing him, tired of only being allowed to talk to him and wishing you had some friends like other girls did ૮𐔌っ˕ -｡꒱ྀི𑁬

tw: angst, caleb slaps reader, they argue (obviously), tons of manipulation, rape mentions, drug mentions, caleb’s a fake to people, pathetic reader, overall this is really toxic, etc.

caleb was waiting for you parked in front of your uni, toying around with the necklace you gifted him when you were kids while his mind drifted away.

he was so excited for today, friday’s being his favorite days of the week since he took you out to eat and then had a walk by the meadowy park near your house. it was simple but he enjoyed every second he shared with you.

he didn’t need much more than that, really. he just needed you.

all the girls at your uni were hands down for your handsome older brother, trying to approach him every chance they’d get and getting politely rejected, even though he felt disgusted by them and thought they were vulgar whores; he was pretty good at hiding it.

you, on the other hand, started to feel lonelier each passing day.

ever since you were a kid you shared all of your time with caleb up until now. you told him everything, lived every moment together. there was no memory in which he didn’t appear.

and you really really liked that, you wouldn’t want that to change. but there’s been the longing for a friend, someone who wasn’t caleb, someone new.

you’ve always tried to get to know some of your classmates, feeling a little bit guilty when you disobeyed your big brother’s orders. it wasn’t hard for you to socialize, you were actually very good at it!

a nice sweet girl with a pretty voice and nice smile? who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?

well, every single time you thought you made a friend they would separate ways with you in a couple days, which made you sad and insecure.

why are they living you so fast, were you rude, said something bad, appeared annoying perhaps?

far from reality the only one to blame was caleb, who had his eyes glued to you every second of the day and didn’t miss on how you tried you break free from the brainwash he managed to give you throughout the years.

he learnt this would happen every so often, and stopped confronting you about it long ago.

yes, he used to argue with you about this kinda thing, complaining about you getting along with other people and playing the victim, crocodile tears down his face as he begged you to never leave him.

so what he’d do now it’s confront the person in question directly, maybe to threat them, maybe to beat them up, maybe to kill them if they got too annoying.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hey, pips, how was today?” he asked with a boyish smile plastered on his round lips, frowning when he noticed your crossed arms and pouty face, not even greeting him and looking out the window to avoid his purple eyes.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i’m talking to you.” he mentioned your name in a serious manner, locking the doors before grabbing both your cheeks with one of his big hands to make you face him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i want to go to the party.” you simply muttered, avoiding his gaze while you tried to pull away from his grip, making him wrap your throat now. “we’ve already talked about that, princess. and it’s still a no.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“but mom and dad said i could go!” you complied, crossing your arms again. a tantrum is the last thing he needed from you today.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mom and dad don’t know what’s best for you. i do.” he spat, letting you go and mimicking your pose now. “you wanna know what goes down at these frat parties, hmm?” caleb challenged you, tracing the shape of the steering wheel while speaking.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“there’s people getting high on anything they can find, fainting, vomiting because of how drunk they are, fucking everywhere.” he knew the party you wanted to attend was nothing like that, your classmates telling about the party to your parents and describing it as ‘chill’ and ‘safe’.

caleb totally believed that, they seemed fucking boring.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“what? no, that’s not true! you’re a big liar!” you yelled at him, feeling how his hand collided against your cheek; you knew you crossed the lane when you raised your voice at him. so you just took it, going silent after that.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“if you wanna get drugged and raped by the whole fucking class the go ahead, i’m done with this conversation.” he spat, engine vibrating beneath your feet as he drove you two back home. what a failure of a friday.

the whole drive you sat down there, tears rolling down your face as you quietly whimpered, cleaning them with the sleeves of your sweater.

you just wanted to make friends and go on a party for once to at least die knowing how it feels to be like the other girls. but that made your gege upset, and you loved him more than anything, more than you loved yourself.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“it hurts me more than it hurts you.” caleb broke the silence after parking in front of your house, resting his head against the headrest and sighing, looking at you now.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“‘m sorry, gege. i’m being selfish.” your voice trembled, reaching out for his hand to hold it up against your lips, kissing it several times, tears wetting his pale skin.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“I don’t like hurting you like this, you know that. why you make me do it, doll. why can’t you just listen?” he kept on questioning you, his palm pressing against the cheek he slapped minutes prior, caressing the imprint his fingers left.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“I know, I know, i’m truly sorry. please forgive me, please gege. I love you.” you kept on apologizing, rubbing yourself against the attention he gave you, feeling the tears fall again and again.

he wasn’t faced by your crying. sure, he didn’t like to see you cry, but he knew he had to be strict with you in order to make you behave. you really hurt his feelings and you had to know your actions had consequences.

it took him a few days to completely forgive you, days in which you had to wake up without him, in which you had to cook for yourself and come back home by foot all alone.

days in which you remembered your gege was all that mattered in your life and realized that you didn’t need any friends, because no one would know how to treat you or take care of you like your old brother did.

and just like that caleb got away with it again, torturing you to make you behave, obliging you to live without him even if it was just a couple of days to make you see how much you actually needed him.

you finally understood after all; no friends, only caleb. you made yourself believe you were okay with that. ⠀ ⠀ 　　　

a/n: this was a request from an anon! I hope you like it, bunny. I feel like i outdid myself with this one, this is how i see caleb in my mind fr ᥩྀི ´ ᩳ ` ꒱

— masterlist.

[riddlesgrl]

retribution. - rafe cameron. (mdni 18+)

wc: 1.9k

never would rafe have imagined you being under him in his bedroom right now. the vanilla scent of your soft brown skin coated the air as he caressed your sides before gripping your hips again—thrusting harder and deeper inside of you. “this what you wanted, hm? top’s best friend’s cock,” rafe said with a soft grunt as he continued his pace.

he could never admit it, but he always dreamt about this moment. he dreamt about the moment that you’d realize that he was the one for you—that he could treat you better than topper ever could. rafe would always focus on you like you were the only person in the world when you were around him. sometimes he would make it obvious to you; but he just didn’t care. yeah, you were top’s, but rafe always got what he wanted.

you never thought much of rafe. you thought he was just some arrogant asshole who was topper’s best friend. but recently, when he got his buzz-cut and his biceps got bigger, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like for him to pin you down. you felt guilty about it. you were topper’s girl, you weren’t supposed to feel this way about his best friend.

but you ended up mad at topper, blocking him, flipping him off, and cussing him out. that was because you recently found out topper was cheating on you. you confronted him about it, but he of course lied his ass off. it wasn’t good enough for you, though.

so you found yourself at rafe’s beach house door. topper’s infidelity was far out of your mind. you wanted one thing, and one thing only. and that was rafe. you didn’t know why, but you knew that this would hurt topper more than anything; you just didn’t seem to care.

you let out a soft, “hi,” as rafe stood in front of you after opening the door. rafe’s eyes widened at the sight of you; he looked at your sun-kissed skin as you stood in front of him in that short, denim skirt he always loved to see you in with that baby pink cropped tank. your boobs sat in your top so perfectly, he couldn’t stop thinking about dragging you inside to do the unthinkable to you. little did he know, that’s exactly what you were there for.

“how’d you know i was here,” rafe inquired with furrowed eyebrows in concern.

“you’re always here at night, rafe,” you said as you looked at his bare chest. you couldn’t help but be thankful to the gods above that he was home, and shirtless.

“so why are you here,” rafe asked staring into your eyes. it was the type of look that he’d always give you. it was like he was teasing you—like he really knew why you were at his house the entire time. but you were tired and didn’t want to play his little games, so you came closer to him and kissed him. and of course, he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. you knew he wanted you as bad as you wanted him at that moment.

“but, what about top?” rafe said as he pulled out of the kiss for a moment with that sly smirk he always had on his face. “what about him?” you replied, pulling him back in, hungrier than before. you hated to admit this but his lips were so soft and so perfect when they kissed yours. you could kiss rafe for hours on end and not get tired of it.

rafe was confused by your random act of showing up at his house, but he knew what this was about. at least he thought so. either way, he was about to show you what you’d been missing out on. ever since the day that topper introduced you as his girl, he wanted you. he wanted to snatch you up from topper, but he knew that was wrong. he also knew that you would come running to him one day. and here you were, in his arms.

rafe closed the door as he picked you up and held you in his arms, still continuing to kiss you. he carried you upstairs to his bedroom and laid you on his soft, king sized bed.

you were beautiful. the way you looked into rafe’s eyes when he got up off of you to take your clothes off of you, and those soft noises you made when he would kiss your collarbone, and up to your neck.

rafe just didn’t understand how a doll like you could be with someone like topper. you deserved the world and more. in his eyes, it was your oyster. rafe would give you everything you ever wanted, all you had to do was just ask.

rafe moved down to kiss your inner thighs. you let out soft moans as he did. he moved to your laced underwear, removing them from your legs softly. rafe was very gentle with you. yeah, topper was sweet, but he didn’t take things slow like rafe did with you. everything was fast with topper. but with rafe, you were like a delicate glass to him that he was afraid to shatter.

to rafe, you were everything. you were everything he’d ever want in a woman, everything he’d ever need. you were the prize and he was just the winner who ended up being lucky.

he gave a soft kiss to your folds before holding down your legs and digging his tongue deep inside of your hole. rafe ate you out like you were his last meal. you let out soft mewls as he did. you hadn’t felt the kind of feeling that rafe gave you before. he made sure to hold your legs down as they shook from the immense amount of pleasure you were feeling.

“rafe,” you moaned as he continued to do figure eights on your clit with his tongue. he could get used to that noise coming out of your mouth. hearing his name from you drove him insane, and it only made him go faster as he ate you out. and before he knew it, you were moaning loud and arching your back as you gripped on the sheets.

yeah, rafe made many girls moan and scream his name before, but you? it was different. it was like a high he had to chase to hear it again and again and again. admittedly, you were rafe cameron’s drug. you’d always been, and he knew it.

“rafe, i’m so close,” you moaned loudly again as rafe continued at his pace. he began to thrust his fingers in and out of you as he curled them at the top of that gummy spot that made your brain go fuzzy. the band in your stomach only got tighter before it finally snapped. your back was still arched as you came. you couldn’t help but to continue to scream rafe’s name. the loud noises and the taste of you only made rafe want to ruin you more.

before you could catch your breath all the way, rafe hovered back over you to flip you over. he could feel his boxers get tighter at the sight of your bare ass. he pulled them off as he continued to admire your beautiful body. your chocolate brown skin glimmered as you laid there, so pliant, so needy for him. he couldn’t help but to give you exactly what you wanted.

“say you love me,” rafe said as he tightly gripped your hips and began to thrust slow but deeply inside of you. your head buried in the soft pillow, you managed to moan out, “mm, love you rafe,” although you knew it was what he wanted, it felt so right to say it to him.

as rafe’s pace began to speed up, he let out a soft groan before saying, “say i’m better than topper.” and you did. you did and said whatever he wanted. you hated to admit it, but rafe had full control. no guy has ever gotten full control over you the way he did. it was like he just knew all of your weaknesses—all of your soft spots. he was better than topper—any guy for that matter.

“yeah, i know, baby, i bet top can’t stretch you out like this,” he said as he softly used one of his ands to grip the back of your neck, going deeper inside of you as he leaned down further. you let out loud moans as he continued to fuck you like nothing else mattered in the world. you were his, and you knew it—you loved it, and you wanted it.

rafe didn’t care if whatever you said wasn’t true, he just wanted to hear it. he just wanted to hear you. he wanted to hear your moans as he fucked you hard and mercilessly. he just wanted to see you ruined under him because you deserved to feel good, and rafe could do make that happen for you. and you couldn’t help but to know that was the truth.

as rafe’s pace continued, he watched your ass bounce with every thrust. it was like you were made for him. the way you would clench around him, and the way you would moan his name. you weren’t going to ever go back to topper after he was done with you.

the vanilla scent of your soft brown skin coated the air as he caressed your sides before gripping your hips with both hands again—thrusting harder and deeper inside of you. “this what you wanted, hm? top’s best friend’s cock,” rafe said with a soft grunt as he continued his pace. he left you a moaning and babbling mess.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he teased as he continued to fuck you senselessly. cock drunk, you moaned, “i’m soo close rafe,” as you attempted to lift your head up from the pillows. the familiar band in your stomach got tighter as rafe’s pace got faster. the pleasure consumed you as your orgasm chased you. the feeling of rafe drilling in and out of you made you forget about topper’s stupidity. you just wanted rafe. yeah, it was messy, but you didn’t care. you just wanted to be rafe’s. you should’ve been to begin with.

as you came, your brain went all fuzzy from overstimulation as rafe continued to fuck himself into you. before rafe knew it, he was finding himself getting sloppier with his thrusts. “fuck y/n, i’m gonna cum,” he said as his voice hitched and he panted. “inside me,” you moaned as you tried your best to get words out. you were so fucked out that everything was just babbled.

“you want a cameron baby hm, princess? you want me to make you mine forever?” rafe said as his thrusts got sloppier and faster. you let out a soft moan as rafe’s warm liquid coated your walls. as rafe pulled out of you, you collapsed onto your stomach, too tired to comprehend what you just did and who you just did it with.

yeah you knew it was wrong. it was topper’s best friend. but you also knew who would love you better, and it wasn’t topper.

“i don’t care if you tell top,” you said as you turned to face rafe. “and before you ask, no, this wasn’t to get back at him,” you said. “i know,” rafe said as he admired your pretty face even after he had ruined your makeup.

rafe lifted your chin up with two of his fingers before placing a soft kiss onto your lips. “you’re mine now and i hope you know that,” he said as he looked into your eyes in a soft but assuring manner.

a/n: sorry if this is ass, i’m a little rusty…

[chaoticdreamlandphilosopher]

I just saw a video that was talking about vi in season 2 of arcane and talking about how she wasn’t the same and the comments even having complaints of their own and them also complaining about how Vi is written in season 2 and I just need to get this off my chest and say that I don’t agree with what some of the comments are saying about vi because I can’t help but feel like some of the comments are people who just don’t like vi as a character because of how she chooses to react to others or trying to say that she has no right or shouldn’t be reacting this way to some other characters. I saw this one comment that was paragraphing itself and it involved things claiming that vi shouldn’t be mistreating or hating her sister and all of suddenly calling her by other name “jinx” even though the only reason she does those things is because Jinx committed a terrorist attack against piltover and cost the life of her girlfriends mother and causing children to become orphans in zaun, you’d think they would bring that up as reasons as to why she kinda disowns her own sister in the first half of the season before warming up to her but they don’t because they want to make it seem like she isn’t justified to not like jinx. And then other people complain about her relationship with Caitlyn thinking that her whole character revolves around her even though it doesn’t because we still see her be her her own character and still sharing other relationships with people other than caitlyn like with Jinx and Warwick (Vander) like we see her in other relationships and I mostly think that it is the fandom that is just claiming and making it about how she is revolved around caitlyn when even the Caitlyn and Vi shippers make it clear that they don’t want people to see the other as if they’re whole character is revolved around the other only for that to happen even with people who don’t like the ship. So then the comment explains that vi is supporting her for what she is doing even though yes she is participating in Caitlyn’s actions and not saying anything bad about it because she knows that Caitlyn is not in the mood to listen to people having second thoughts about this but we can still see in vi’s face that she doesn’t support the stuff that caitlyn would bring herself to do like when caitlyn was trying to shoot jinx but was also going to shoot isha on accident if vi didn’t step in and prevent her from misfiring also not to mention after that display she confronts caitlyn about it and even ask her what’s wrong with her because she’s begging to see that her mother’s death is really getting to her in a bad way, and when Caitlyn says that vi is no different then her sister because her blood runs through her veins which gets vi mad at her and then tells her then why is she the one acting like jinx, showing that she is done taking the hate that Caitlyn has been giving to her and the people of zaun and also them believing that she is agreeing with what Caitlyn is saying about the under city people is just wow, because she literally doesn’t say anything that makes it look like she is agreeing with her and she says something in return to contradict what Caitlyn said that didn’t involve her agreeing with her. I mostly think that the reason as to why they think vi agreed with what Caitlyn said was because she was hesitant to say otherwise even though that doesn’t always mean that the person agrees with them it will often mean they don’t agree with them but they will keep it to themselves and not say it because they don’t want to start something and that’s what vi was doing in that scene.

Also the comment goes on to explain that vi had no reason to be sad the vander died because she should have gotten over his death long ago even though this was different being that her and jinx had a chance to actually bring him back and start over again so for that to all go to shit because of what happened in act 3 of course she is going to be upset about it and even cry for him again because they were so close to having their loved one back.

And I honestly didn’t want to look at more of the comments because one of them would have been complaining about how vi didn’t mourn jinx in the end even though we had a whole scene of her literally mourning jinx the moment she sacrificed herself for vi and we literally see her just laying there crying over the fact that her sister and her adopted father is dead and that she is the last of her whole family, we even still her crying when it cuts to another scene indicating that she was laying there for a long time before someone found her.

What I’m trying to say is that the video and the comments didn’t feel like criticism it felt more like hate for the character and hating on their flaws even though these are the same people who say that they want more complex female characters but when that character is written to have more flaws she gets hated and the fandom will try and make it seem as though she has no right to feel the way she may feel and thinking she has to have flaws just flaws that they will like not flaws that they won’t like

[colorful-craze]

One thing about the latest Hannibal episode I watched (1.08) confused me at first—why would Hannibal tell Will to investigate Tobias when Tobias himself told Hannibal that he was going to kill anyone who was sent to his shop? Especially because Hannibal had just said in the same episode that he wanted Will to be his friend?

Then I thought that maybe Hannibal really DID want Will to die. Because Will is a source of discomfort for Hannibal right now—after spending most of his life alone, not desiring to be close to anyone, there’s now a person who he wants to know, and who he wants to know him in return. And that’s dangerous for Hannibal. He doesn’t like the fact that he himself wants to be known by anyone. So he wanted a way to get Will out of his life (without killing him himself, because I don’t think Hannibal would ever want to do that), but he realized that he didn’t want Will to be gone, because he’d become too important to him.

Anyway maybe I’m just making stuff up but I guess that’s how I see it. Also I’m literally in love with this show ITS SO GOOD

[obsidianpen]

After reading No Glory and Hauntingly, it's hard to enjoy hetero romance, and it's not just because your way of writing is elite; there could be so many reasons that I went hardcore m/m and f/f shipper. Like, I am dead serious when I say my favorite telenovela pairing is Luisa x Rose from Jane the Virgin. So, I am really, really excited for your original work, and even more stoked that you decided it to be an m/m pair. But yeah, would love to know why you decided that?

you know, it was an interesting thought process that involved a lot of self reflecting. There’s definitely controversy around women writing gay male romance. Most of it is, I think, bullshit, and the arguments such as ‘its fetishizing’ are way off base (no, that would be male directors and producers creating plotless w/w porn, imo). But it was a Big Question: why should I, J…Jamie (lmao I’m almost more OP than myself anymore when I’m online) write a story with a bi male lead, when I’m a female (I love writing bis okay we need more of us!!) ? The reason I like writing Harry/Tom has everything to do with their dynamic and roles in the canon, and nothing to do with the gender. Id ship them regardless. In fact I probably would have realized I shipped them sooner if it was f/m; I was just too young at the time to realize that’s what I was rooting for because I was a bit sheltered in that regard.

anyway - so yeah, why am I still interested in m/m outside of fanfiction? I asked myself, staring at the mirror. So I wrote a little bit out of this original idea, one version as a female lead and once as a male, and you know, it was a pretty interesting exercise. When I was writing a male protagonist, I was… calm? Idk, I didn’t overthink him. I knew who he was and I just wrote what he did and what he thought. But when I was writing a the female version, my anxiety was so much higher! I found myself agonizing over every bit of her personality, worrying if people would find her ‘too this’ or ‘too that’, too predictable, too pretty, not pretty enough, too tough, too weak, etc etc. I felt like no matter who I made her, people would be upset and fucking hate her. And then I realized, oh. This is probably why so many women authors like writing male leads. Because that agonizing feeling, that’s how it is to be a woman, all the time. And it’s so relieving to get to leave that behind when writing a male lead. Maybe this is all deeply problematic on my part, I’m not sure. Internalized misogyny? I don’t think so, just the bleak reality. But yes I likely have issues lmaaao

Another reason was simply that the last original work I wrote has a female lead, so I thought I’d switch it up again. Writing an m/m story is what got me into writing in the first place, so it feels weirdly like have to acknowledge that in new projects I take seriously, too?

and to acknowledge that story I already wrote with the female lead - Starlings - I agonized quite a bit less over her, and in hindsight, I think it’s because she’s a child. She goes through puberty during the story, surrounded by older women, and there are almost no men in the whole thing, so the dynamic is totally different. It’s not big on the romance, either, which also helps. So yeah. No anxiety there. But with a grown ass woman in a story that’s centered quite a bit around a super problematic romance? Anxiety. Anxiety for days. I also feel this anxiety when I write Hermione, btw.

there will definitely be a different kind of worrying writing this new original thing, though - writing a gay magical romance set in southern 1920s America is gonna require a TON of research, and I’m not taking that lightly. But that worrying isn’t nearly as personal, which makes a lot of difference.

I’m interesting in other people’s opinions on this! So please share if you’re willing. 🌸

[skyfallscotland]

Things I loved about Onyx Storm, in no particular order 🖤⚡️

This is an addendum to my overall review post—there’s also one about the things that I didn’t like here.

I do love ride or die riorgail, even if their characters didn't feel quite right to me (dare I say fanon-esque?). In any case, threatening people for the one they love? 10/10, would eat it up every time.

The dragons being every rider's first love? It won't be a surprise to you if you've read BRV but I adore this take so much.

She was the first to choose me, to elevate me above all others, the first to see every ugly side of me and accept it all, and every single person in this fucking canyon will die before they remove a single one of her scales.

Ok then!

And Violet?

“You see, that’s my little one.”

I'm crying!!

Tairn and Andarna? Like that's her father!!!

“Do not go any deeper than your claws!” Tairn lectures, his tail nearly taking out a tree when he pivots to watch her go. “I swear, if you get in over your head, I’ll let you drown.”

Their every interaction made me:

Except for this one, which had me tearing up!

Tairn cranes his neck forward and growls. “You will not raise your voice to her.” Andarna turns her head and narrows her eyes at Tairn. “Do not ruin this for me.” Hurt stabs through the bond and Tairn recoils, his head drawing back to cover Ridoc and me.

Then there's Sgaeyl—mother!!!

“You are an inconvenience for which there is no adequate measurement.”

She wasn't talking to Xaden all book (v upsetti spaghetti) but she still would defend him with her life because she's mum!!

“Tell her the truth. He loathes her,” Tairn suggests. “As does Sgaeyl. The life-giver is lucky she wasn’t scorched this morning, though I do believe Sgaeyl is still contemplating her options.”

Speaking of mothers, I both hated and loved the Hedotis chapters. I really enjoyed them, I thought they were fun, Violet channeled the twin she doesn't know she has (lol iykyk) which was in my opinion out of character for her (threatening someone's kids???) but despite the lack of character growth to get there, I still really enjoyed this sequence for all its emotional aspects.

“How does she”—he points to the door—“ deserve my ten minutes when she fed me chocolate cake on my tenth birthday and vanished later that night? I am the fulfillment of a contract for her. Nothing more. I don’t give a shit how she looks at me, or whatever bullshit she undoubtedly spewed at you. The only reason we’re in her house is because she’s married to one of the triumvirate, and I have no problem using that to get what we need.”

I don't know how chocolate cake is still his favourite food because that would ruin me. (It just did).

Violet's protectiveness in this sequence was everything though! 😭 Fuck you, Talia!

“What I need is for Xaden to be all right. If that means setting this house on fire and leaving without accomplishing anything else on this isle, then I’ll hand him a torch.”

Onto other characters, Ridoc is still hilarious and honestly his humour and one-liners saved my reading experience from being downright terrible, same with Cam—sorry CamLAEN! (lol)

Once again, I really thought she might kill Ridoc for a second there (this is very much a flipped Iron Flame re-write in some aspects lmao) but thankfully for everyone involved, she didn't.

"Violet was out of control. She kicked a queen’s ass and poisoned Xaden’s mom and all three Hedotic heads of state, but secured us an army.”

“Oh, and just so we’re clear, that strike up there wasn’t”—he gestures between us—“ you know. Us.” He flinches. “I mean, it was us because I pissed her off, but it wasn’t us… us, if you know what I’m saying.”

Confirmation everyone knows about the lightning storms.

The representation—as someone living through Australian summer, I really appreciated that POTS was represented more thoroughly in the hot climate of the Isles, though it was still never actually touched on (I think there could have been a line in there explaining why it was relevant/what was happening in her body and that she wasn't just tired) but still, happy to see it there and (don't take this the wrong way but) maybe to see Violet struggle more, just a little.

Then there's Dain.

Dain! My boy, my baby. He was 110% done with everyone and I'm so here for it. He was going through it!

“Was that a compliment? What the fuck is going on?” Dain asks, his gaze flying to mine. “Did you give him something?”

Dain puts both hands up, palms outward at his chest. “How in all that’s holy am I to blame for this?”

“Love wasting my time,” Dain mutters, then shoves the small booklet I recognize as the language compendium for Unnbriel into the chest pocket of his flight jacket.

Aaric sighs from beside Xaden, then proceeds to speak like he was freaking born here. Dain looks ready to murder him.

I also got my wish for him and Sloane, which was unexpected but appreciated! (I created tags for not one but TWO of the ships in this book and I am so stoked about it!). It also makes Rebecca's TS song choice of The Prophecy for him make a lot more sense.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Xaden calls up at Dain as he dismounts, but my focus firmly locks over Brennan’s shoulder. “Following her ass,” Dain replies.

“I don’t coddle first-years anymore, so train. Your. Signet.” “Asshole,” she whispers, and the flush in her cheeks deepens.

I love them, your honour. I would read whole books about them.

Speaking of—

“What the fuck are we going to do with that thing for the rest of the trip?” “Her name is Broccoli, not that,” he mutters.

These two (three?) are iconic and I want more of them. I want Mira recovering from her injuries and Drake coming to check on her and dumping a kitten on her chest, and Mira pretending she doesn't like Broccoli but secretly finding her comforting and letting her stay (and him, too, because it's love).

Professor Riorson. God this was ridiculous and I hated it, but it made me laugh.

The normally sweet drink tastes bitter in my throat.

Absolutely fan service but I'm positive it made us all groan aloud at the same time, which was amusing.

“Agreed,” Ridoc says. “And it’s always the same fight.” He lifts his hand to his chest. “I’ll trust you if you stop keeping secrets!” He drops the hand and scowls. “It’s my secretive nature that attracted you, and why can’t you just stay out of harm’s way for five fucking minutes?”

“You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?”

Also, fan service, which, did I like it? No, but I laughed at (because otherwise I'd cry so).

And then there were lines like this, that made me absolutely tear up and hit me in the feels:

But something is broken between here”—he taps the side of his head—“ and here”—he repeats the motion above his heart. “And I can’t control it.

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me within inches of his face—close enough to kiss. “I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.”

So yeah, even if my overall experience was messy and chaotic, and perhaps not the best it could be, I did still love parts of it and find some of it enjoyable. I'm trying to change my mindset for a re-read, but I think it's best if I have some space before I try again.

In the meantime, what was your favourite thing? 🖤

[leadfort]

Fuck it. Bre'uhn/Brian Masterpost. Because he is my primary player character in a text basted D&D Westmarch I'm part of, and I can't believe i havent talked about him yet cause he's the one I actually PLAY the most. Currently lvl 6 psi warrior, started at level 2. Basically. His whole deal is based on the thought that he needs to kill an illithid in order to be welcomed in with his kin in Tu'narath.

Also I wanted to make a very gith looking gith lol and he has since become a lil more unique in his design, but the biggest inspiration initially was the 5:e Volo's guide to monsters image of a githyanki as well as wanting the funny lil 1:e hair style Overview: Bre’uhn is a githyanki who is haunted by extraordinarily bad luck. He wants nothing but complete his rite of passage into the Astral Plane by killing an illithid and bringing its head to his queen. Life seems to have different plans for him as something always seems to go wrong. The ship that would take him sunk. His party left without him. Adventurers has already killed the illithids he went out to get. The hunting party was stopped by an out of season blizzard. Even casually it seems like bad luck is always right around the corner. He's become extremely superstitious and afraid of things that could cause even worse luck. He adorns himself in lucky trinkets in hope that they will counteract his ‘curse’. Now he’s in his 30s, and he is growing more impatient. If he doesn’t get that illithid head soon, he’s going to die from old age.

Personality: Everything you’d expect from a githyanki. He’s impatient, stubborn, proud and blunt. Values efficiency and shows of force. He does have quite a bit of humor, though it borders on being ridicule and mockery. Wants to be logical, but acts based on emotion. Where he differs is his extremely crippling social and performance anxieties. He hates that he has these though unfortunately, him trying to force himself through them causes more flare ups.

He's also extremely expressive and everyone can read him like an open book. He.. also hates this aspect about himself but at this point he can't be arsed to stop it.

Backstory: Grew up in a creche in the Spine of the World that is pretty far up in a mountainous and a harsh cold region. It’s rather close to a small town next to Mirabar. His upbringing was pretty much standard for a githyanki, and he reflects his culture in his temperament a whole lot. While the creche and the town didn’t love each other, they weren’t outright hostile to one another, and it was not super uncommon for githyanki to sometimes show themselves in the town.

Once Bre’uhn was in his early 20s he tried to join several hunting parties in order to find and kill his first illithid to be "properly" allowed into the Astral Plane. However, something always came up or went wrong for himself specifically. He’d always had a bit of bad luck in his shadow, but this is when it really started to mess with him. In his mid 20s he started to believe that Tymora herself scorned him. He didn’t know why, but started to learn more about the istiks pantheon and religions in order to get in her good graces. He even tattooed her symbol into his ribs, a four leaf clover. Just two months after he got the tattoo, he got into a barfight. In typical githyanki fashion it soon escalated to a knife fight and he stabbed one of the other patrons. The four leaf clover was slashed in the process and Bre’uhn soon found himself in prison.

“Luckily” enough, the man he stabbed did not die, which simply meant that Bre’uhn was not sent to be executed. In hindsight, Bre’uhn maybe would have preferred this… As he then spent six years in prison. Six whole years where he was not able to search or find any illithids. His prison mates also didn’t know how to pronounce his name, thus gave him the nickname “Brian”. As an extra kicker, once he got out of prison the creche where he grew up had completely relocated. None of the townspeople knew where they all had gone (and it's not like the githyanki would've told em), but it seemed they had all just packed up and left three years ago.

Still, he’s determined to find an illithid and that takes precedence over searching for his own kin. A few years into his search, he stumbled across a fortune teller. They told him that his chance to ‘prove himself’ will come when he least expects it. Bre’uhn, fully believing the fortune teller, took this to mean that if he is actively searching for illithids, he will not find them. If he expects them, he will ‘jinx’ it, and thus they will not show themselves.

----

The game then picks up where he is ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN there is a mind flayer colony deeply imbedded in an abandoned mine outside Mirabar. He has rigged this whole cave with explosives, but as he sets up the few last barrels of smokepowder, he slips on the powder as a bright portal to Waterdeep suddenly sucks him up. ... and spits him out, crashing in the middle of the Waterdeep Market. He is quickly punched to the ground as he tries to attack people in his confusion and told about the strange rifts and portals that are opening around Faerun. And now, he is here, still on his quest to bring a single 1 (one) head to Vlaakith. Sure, there's literally a permanent opening to the Astral Sea above him all the time (thanks rifts...) But going there without his tribute is IMPROPER.

Trivia:

Oral fixation - Likes to chew on blades of grass or picks. Nibbles on his lip ring.

Very expressive face, which he doesn't like but he cant help himself.

Obsessively collects luck trinkets because you never know.

As a githyanki, he's not against murder and violence. But he started to curb his behaviour since he is afraid of going to prison again.

Since he's convinced his bad luck is the cause of a god, he is well versed in gods and religious practices. Moreso in that he's ready to fight them at this point.

Midlife crisis. Extremely afraid of growing old and he dyed a patch of his hair because he found white strands.

He got the tattooes in prison, which represents his wish to be amongst the clouds on the back of a red dragon.

Other Thoughts: Bre'uhn is aware that his 6 years spent in prison with humans, dwarves and a half-orc for company has changed the way he acts and talks quite a lot. This is cause for his anxieties since he is worried that even if he were to complete his rite of passage, the other githyanki would find him too different to let him back in. This results in him avoiding other gith at all costs because he doesn't want it confirmed... which tenfolds his anxieties when he's forced to talk to one. (And he is no stranger to panic attacks).

He scoffs in the face of zombies, owlbears, hags and black dragons and has not a single drop of fear for them. But seeing another gith from 30 feet away has his bones crumble.

Thank you for readin!