#and i know that it's stupid but it means so much to me

[clairaworlds]

Hey thank you so much for this post. I'll admit i have both eyes but I need to ware a patch over my left eye every so often because of a headace condition I have. I sort of always tilt my head but I do it SO much more when I patch my bad eye. And ive noticed I walk closer to walls one eye days and bump my hand into literly everything. I could never tell if this was a universal thing or just me. Bc I'm not *always* down an eye, just sometimes (i don't have as much trouble gauging depth but that's probably bc when I have to patch my eye I'm ushally in enough pain that I avoid doing most activities for saftey reasons so i just dont run into the problem as often) this post made me feel so much better about the little habits I have when I ware my eyepatch. Like they're normal processes other people go through and not just me being really bad at life.

Seriously, thank you.

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[kooqitas]

#pairing: jungkook x reader.

#genre: smut MINORS DNI | #w.c: ~1800

#synopsis: crying on jungkook's shoulder might not have been the smartest idea in the world since now he's fucking you while your ex is calling.

#warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f.), namjoon ex bf, rough sex. jk has a bick dick. maybe phone sex?

★ m.list | inbox :D join my taglist

it was friday when jungkook texted you asking if you were gonna the college party, and of course your answer was 'no'. breaking up with namjoon was one thing, but seeing him at a party where he would probably kiss several girls in front of you was a bit too much

"you can't stay home while the biggest party of the semester is going on"

'"yes i can, and i will!"

"god, why are you so complicated? at least come over to my house, i won't leave you suffering alone'

"i'm not suffering, jungkook!'

that's a lie. you were. a lot.

you ended up accepting jungkook's invitation, at first feeling bad for ruining the party for him, but jungkook was always the person who made you comfortable, usually when you went to parties with namjoon, he was the one who always stayed by your side while namjoon got drunk with his friends, he was the one who took you and namjoon home, the reality is that jungkook spent much more time by your side than your, now ex, boyfriend.

jungkook was excited, he came over and offered you wine and before you knew it you were on the couch, with your legs over his while he tried to convince you that it was namjoon who had lost you, not the other way around.

"he fuck so good, jungkook," you admitted, clearly overcome by the drink (added to your fertile period that made your panties damp at that very moment). "that pisses me off. he's arrogant, stupid, i hate him... but damn, the sex was so good"

jungkook laughed, as affected by the alcohol as you were, it's not like he'd never heard namjoon talk about sex with you, how wild and rough you two were.

it wasn't like jungkook had never heard you two...

but in that situation, knowing that you weren't together anymore, it was a little different...

"he pulled my hair, hit me, called me a whore, damn, it was so good, i can complain about him in many ways, except for this one, the son of a bitch made me cum like no one else"

"jesus!" jungkook said, taking a sip of his drink.

okay, things need to be pointed out, yes, jungkook was gorgeous, damn, he was hot, but you had never thought of him as a 'man' he was just your boyfriend's best friend, who always hung out with you at parties, who danced with you on the dance floor, who complimented your clothes and makeup, who complimented your smell, your lip gloss...

"i hope one day i can find someone who fucks me like him," you blurted out.

and jungkook took a deep breath, motivated a little by the drink, but deep down he knew that if it wasn't right then he might never have another chance. i mean, it was crazy, of course it was, who in their right mind would try to have sex with their best friend's ex-girlfriend when it hasn't even been a month since they broke up...

but jungkook wasn't the sanest person at the moment, in fact he never was when it came to you, not when he jerked off in the bathroom of namjoon's parents' beach house last month after seeing you parading around the pool in a red bikini.

"i can fuck you like him, in fact... i can fuck you even better"

"what?" you choked on your own saliva when you heard that.

jungkook took advantage of the fact that your legs were on top of his and started to leave a mischievous caress on your knee

"i told you i can fuck you better than him"

"jungkook..." you scolded him, but deep down that idea excited you.

"hi, love"

"fuck, that's not right"

"why not, why the hell are you so scared to do that?

"it's not for me, it's for you"

"well, i don't care... i've wanted to fuck you for a while now"

you choked again, but before you could say anything, jungkook took the glass from your hand and laid down with his body on top of yours.

you were going to ask again what the hell was that, what the hell was he doing, but jungkook kissed you, and there, fuck any lucid thought you could have.

the taste of wine in his mouth, his hot tongue entering your mouth with voracity, fuck any conscious shit, you needed to fuck with jungkook at that moment.

it was a blur until you were only in your panties underneath him while he sucked your tits, using his hand to play with the free nipple in a somewhat abrupt way, he seemed desperate, in reality, he was desperate, jungkook had been thinking about fucking you for so long that it seemed like a joke from the universe.

he finally took off his shirt and you smiled with his chest exposed, and jungkook just grunted, going back to kissing you while the tie of his shorts hit your waist. you knew he would be big, but nothing expected you for what you saw when he pulled down his shorts with his underwear all at once.

jungkook's cock was big, thick, full of veins and the purple head was already leaking precum. you couldn't hide your scared face when you saw it, making jungkook laugh.

'what's wrong?'

'fuck, that won't fit...'

'yes, it will, love, i'm gonna suck you and open you up for me, you're gonna take every inch of it and be a good girl on my cock!'

you gasped, agreeing, and jungkook laughed again, trailing kisses down your belly until he reached your panties... you quickly lifted your hips, a silent request for him to remove the fabric right away, and he obeyed.

the first thing jungkook did was smell your wet panties, the scene almost made you cum.

"if you taste as good as you smell, fuck, kitten..."

and jungkook sucked your clit, you moaned loudly, holding his hair. it was a mix of desperation and pleasure that you only felt when you had sex while stoned with your ex, and there was jungkook, ok, not 100% sober, but wanting you so fucking much...

you didn't even see when he inserted a finger, but at a certain point you were grabbing the couch's upholstery because he had three fingers inside you while he sucked your clit, your hips lifting desperately seeking more contact, at the same time trying to pull away, jungkook's long hair tickling your belly nicely, the way he put his fingers deeper and deeper...

you saw the ceiling of the room spin, and the next second jungkook had only his mouth on you.

sucking every drop.

you had never been sucked so well, but you were far from satisfied, so you were just grateful when without any prior warning jungkook entered you.

fuck, it burned, he was so fucking big. jungkook laughed, trying to contain his own arousal while you got used to his size. he ran his hand over your nipples, squeezing the tip, rubbing his fingertips on your belly, on your thigh... all while looking at you as if he wanted to devour you... and he did.

"jungkook..."

just his name was enough for him to understand, and then he thrust, his balls hitting you full on made you see stars. and the rhythm only increased, along with the brutality.

"i've wanted you like this for so long, fuck, imagining my cock destroying that tiny pussy"

you grabbed his shoulder, immersed in your own feeling and the noises you were making.

but something took you out of orbit.

ir rather, someone.

the shrill ring of the phone with the name 'namjoon' on the screen. you ignored the first call, the second, but on the third jungkook got irritated, he swiped right and simply accepted the call. your eyes widened, mumbling a 'what?'

but all jungkook said back was an 'answer', stopping his thrusting into you.

you obeyed.

damn the time you obeyed.

"where the fuck are you? why didn't you come to the party?"

"i... hm?"

"i'm asking why you didn't come to this fucking party, i got all dressed up, i bought a fucking bouquet, i bought your favorite chocolate, where the fuck are you?" namjoon was irritated, visibly irritated.

"i..." you tried to answer, fuck, what would you say to him? "i jus-OH" you moaned loudly, when jungkook moved inside you again, a little less aggressive than before, still strong.

you whispered a 'stop' but jungkook ignored it, laughing when you put your hand over your mouth trying not to moan loudly.

"you what?" namjoon questioned from the other side.

"i... i'm not very- very well" you choked on your own moans, while jungkook laughed.

you looked at him desperately, but he just laughed, whispering for you to continue talking on the phone. and of course you could hang up and end it all, but that feeling was so good... you felt like a slut, but you had never felt so good.

jungkook slapped your breasts audibly, enough for namjoon to hear.

"what's going on there?"

"nothing... is just thFUCK, JUNGKOOK!" you screamed without thinking as jungkook thrust even harder, the couch scraping on the living room floor as his balls slammed violently against you.

"wait, what? you said WHAT?"

at this point in the game, fuck any shit, you just ignored your ex-boyfriend, moaning loudly as jungkook fucked you like an animal, you knew namjoon was listening, he was following the line, but fuck any shit, you needed to cum, and thanks to this disgusting situation you would cum soon.

"are you fucking with my best friend? what type of whore are you?"

"my whore." jungkook took the phone from your hand, still thrusting angrily. "i'm fucking her delicious pussy, the one you kept telling me was tight, that it was delicious, fuck, you were right, it's so fucking delicious!"

and jungkook hung up, still laughing at you.

namjoon returned the call, the phone vibrating in jungkook's hand as he laughed evilly.

jungkook pressed the phone to your clit, the vibration being enough to make you cum exactly 10 seconds later, but jungkook went further...

he accepted namjoon's call, only to turn it into a video call, and then show his (maybe now ex) best friend, a video with a perfect angle of him cumming inside you.

before namjoon could say anything, jungkook hung up, his heavy body falling on top of yours.

"fuck that..." you tried to say.

"shhhh, let's think about it later? i just lost my best friend"

"do you regret it?"

"it depends... will I be able to fuck you more often?"

you thought, and it was pretty clear that you wanted to again, so why lie?

"if you want..."

"then no, fuck, i only regret not trying before..."

"u are crazy..." you laughed.

[3liza]

i mean the truth is that we do not need and should not have all this stupid plastic clutter in or houses. no one should be producing or selling this shit. everyone make your own merchandise and charge a living hourly wage to sell it 🤷 sorry to be so simplistic about this but it's one of the results of the lack of class unity specifically in the means of production-owning creative class, who is not mentioned or dealt with by the core Marxist texts as far as I know (i asked about this earlier on here, did marx ever address in his analysis people like, for example, a professional photographer who owns a camera ans prints his own dagguereotypes? or a portrait painter or idk, independent milliner or seamstress? these people all own the means of production and do not employ anyone, and the answer from better educated people than I was that no, Marx didn't mention them), I'm not well read on this at all, there is just a big void where leftist analysis of what modern economists call "the creative class"

I'm getting off topic. my point is make your own keychains in your kitchen. it's actually not hard. you can even mass produce (on a small scale) little plastic crap if you want, with resin and a UV lamp, or a 3d printer, or a laser cutter and acrylic sheets (or just use balsa wood damn, at least its biodegradable and less tacky).

all this stuff is available to little creators AND there are hundreds of people who already own these machines who will take work for you and produce your designs. you just have to actually find them and know them and email them. that's what I mean about the class unity issue with creatives. we have no large scale union, we have no large scale class consciousness, and we're all sending our orders for little plastic crap to sweatshops instead of emailing a guy with a laser cutter in his garage and saying "hey Keith can I get uhhhhhhhhhhh 50 laser cut keychains of this twerking Diggler design I made, like how much would that cost" and he's like sure here's the work and materials cost and tbh it's always always less than i think it's going to be. you just have to do some basic arithmetic and then order shipping, and I hate order fulfillment with my life but you can actually pay or barter with someone to do that for you too. learn to delegate and then factor that into your unit cost. this is basic shit every commercial creator needs to know. they should teach you this in art school but they dont

don't give me crap about "I can't afford a laser cutter" either because I just told you to email Keith. and all these machines get sold secondhand when a manufacturer or hobbyist needs to upgrade. i got a color laser printer perfect for making zines and wheatpastes and shipping labels from a retired lesbian on capital hill for $75 and it was still full of ink. my friend gave me her 20 year old canon dslr because she just didn't need it and didn't want to bother selling it. it works fine because I spent the time finding the right drivers and shit for my computer. and card readers exist. Craigslist. Facebook marketplace. nextdoor sales section. eBay. everyone always forgets eBay. eBay lets you save searches and will email you when it finds a guy selling his vinyl plotter in your city with local pickup. I'm serious

[lilasboudoir]

Even if you think it's pointless, try anything to survive. Call a help center online. Call for a trusted loved one. Ask for help and when you don't find it, try again. Don't listen to the voice in your head saying "it's pointless" or "the world would be better off without me anyway". That's the desease talking. You matter. Even if I don't know you, even if I only barely know you only online through likes and posts, you matter to me. As part of communities I love or just respect from affar, you matter. Because the communities I love are made by people, and that someone desapearing is a tragedy that impacts us all in different ways. I'm not good enough in english to express how much even if we don't know eachother it's so so important to me that you survive. Because just by existing you make the spaces I care for so important. Maybe thanks to you, through the strange logic of the algorithm I learnt something that matters to me today. Maybe we liked the same post. Maybe we know the same artist. I can't stress out how much of a black hole you would leave if you weren't there anymore. In those trying times, we need to support eachother the best way we can and if you're not here anymore, it's one less supportive soul for us. It's a community sibling we will all mourn, without even knowing it. So yeah, let's fight together. And by fight, I mean any kind of fight. Yes, surviving is a fight. The most important one I might add. Outlive the stupid people who hate us. You bring so much more to humanity than them, just by existing. You don't even have to do anything to bring joy, warmth, and meaning to us. Just being you is enough. Just loving what you love is enough. Just sharing your passion or knowledge by rebloging or liking is enough. Just interacting with us is enough.

Just being part of our community is enough. So please, stay.

I hope none of you disappear in the coming days. Seriously don't do anything that can't be undone.

[shanastoryteller]

Sam seems convinced this is going to work, but Dean’s pretty sure it’s just a load of crap. Bobby’s even more convinced that it’s a whole lot of nothing, although he had admitted that he couldn’t read every symbol that Sam had added to this mess up devil’s trap. That didn’t mean it would work. It just meant that Sam had thrown everything he could think into it.

The real reason that Dean is going along with this, and probably Bobby is too, is because it means that Sam wouldn’t be alone after Dean is dragged to hell. Although standing in the middle of Bobby’s junkyard in a mess of spray paint isn’t exactly how he’d wanted to spend the last hour of his life.

“You really think Lilith is going to show?” he asks. He doesn’t know why she would. She just has to send the hellhounds, who’s howls and yips Dean has been hearing for days. And those things have never been stopped by any sort of devil’s trap.

“Yes,” Sam says, tense, not looking at him.

That’s another thing. For weeks Sam has barely looked at him, barely talked to him. Which sucks, because he’d really wanted to spend the last weeks of his life just looking and talking to and spending time with his brother, but Sam hadn’t been interested in that. At all.

He shares a look with Bobby, who just shrugs, hands tight on his shotgun.

Then the hellhounds come, just like he knew they would, no Lilith in sight. “Sammy,” he says, reaching out for his brother. Not because he thinks he can do anything, but because he wants to touch Sam one last time, one last memory to sustain him through hell.

Sam snaps out his hand and the hellhounds go skittering back, letting out pained yowls.

Dean stares, not understanding. “What did you – wait. You can see them?”

Only he should be able to see them. He’s the one that made the deal.

Sam still won’t look at him, damnit, even as Dean fists his hand in the back of his shirt. Sam's voice is low and pained when he says, “I’m sorry.”

Fear clenches in his gut. But before he do anything, there are demons surrounding the devil’s trap, appearing one by one in Bobby’s junkyard. They’d needed to take down his protections so Lilith could get in, but they hadn’t expected this. Of course she brought a freaking audience.

“Which one of you is Lilith?” he barks out, dragging Sam behind him. He refuses to let the last thing he sees be his brother hurt, or worse.

Dozens of demons stand there, human vessels with pitch black eyes. The hellhounds whimper and slink around them, but don’t seem interested in getting any closer. Dean can’t blame them.

Sam pries his hand off of him, stepping away before Dean can grab onto him again. He leaves the safety of the devil’s trap, which is fucking stupid. Dean’s lunging forward to stop him, but then there’s Bobby’s arm holding him back, face pale with a horror Dean doesn’t understand. He hadn’t looked like that even at Cold Oak, when they’d seen the gates open to hell.

The demons bow.

He blinks, not understanding what he’s seeing.

Sam is standing there in front of them, no protections, and they’re all bowing to him.

Except one.

Ruby is there, stupid red leather jacket and blonde hair and the smirk he hates so much. She walks around the demons up to Sam, who’s face is cold and expressionless. “She’s coming.”

“I know,” he says. “If this doesn’t work, I’m going to kill you.”

“Promise?” she returns. “If this doesn’t work, death will be a mercy.”

Dean tries to push Bobby off of him, to get in between Sam and this bitch, but he doesn’t let go.

Then there’s a little girl in a white dress, head tilted to the side. “Something here belongs to me.”

Ruby flinches, stepping just slightly behind Sam.

“Not you,” she sneers. “You haven’t belonged to me in a long time, I fear. You really think that this boy can save you?”

“Sam,” Ruby says.

He sighs, like this is a trial, and raises his hand.

Lilith’s sneer drops from her face. Her upper body yanks forward, but her legs won't move. “You bastard,” she snarls, raising her hand in return, but nothing happens.

For the first time, fear flickers across her face.

Ruby steps forward, her own terror swallowed up by arrogance, by delight.

Dean tries to move, but finds he’s just as frozen as Lilith, even more so. He can’t twitch a single muscle. Going by Bobby’s unnatural stillness next to him, he assumes he’s in the same boat.

“Samuel is the heir of the light bringer,” Ruby says. “He has taken his birthright. You can’t touch him.”

What’s she talking about? What birthright?

What has Sam done?

“No,” Lilith snarls. “He’s nothing more than one of Azazel’s experiments.”

“A night, a full day, and then morning,” Ruby says. “That’s what he was. Then he rose on the third day.” She shoots a mocking look his way. “If it weren’t for his brother, he would have died nothing more than a failed experiment. But he has risen.”

No. What does that mean? What’s she saying? He had just wanted Sammy back.

Did he do this? Is this his fault?

“Ruby,” Sam says, a note of warning in his voice.

“Right, right,” she sighs. Then, back to gleeful, “Her eyes.”

Sam’s finger twitches and Lilith’s eyes bleed black tears.

She screams, the sound even worse because her vessel is a child.

Ruby lists thing after thing, pulling out her fingernails, peeling her skin. Her blood is black, none of it red, and the injuries shouldn’t really be hurting her but they clearly are. Dean watches helplessly as Sam tortures Lilith at Ruby’s command, enacting one terrible thing against her after another.

Lilith lies there, moaning, limbs broken, body in pieces.

“That’s enough,” Sam says.

“Enough?” Ruby hisses, turning to face him. “You know what she did to me! She – she–”

Sam’s stoic mask breaks, creasing in sympathy. Dean would prefer it wasn’t for a demon, for Ruby, but at least he now recognizes his brother. He raises his free hand to her head, his touch an oddly gentle counterpoint to everything he’s done to Lilith. “I know. But it’s enough.”

Tears glint in her eyes, just for a second, then she swallows and nods, stepping away from Sam’s hand.

He steps forward, crouching in front of Lilith. “You shouldn’t have come after my brother. Now we both have to live with the consequences.” His mouth twists. "So to speak."

Whatever she would have said in response is lost in her screams. Black smoke pours from her, then lights up, like a spark in steel wool, the fire moving through her reminding him almost of the Colt.

Lilith dies. Sam kills her, no Colt, no devil’s trap. Nothing but his own terrifying powers.

“Will you bow to me now?” he asks.

Ruby tears her eyes from Lilith’s corpse and her irritating fucking smirk slides back into place. “Now?” She steps closer, tilting her head back almost like she’s about to kiss him, then falls gracefully to her knees in front of him. It looks more like she’s about to give him a blowjob than a form of subservience, but he thinks that for a moment Sam almost seems amused. “I bowed to you first.”

“So you did,” he says softly. He raises his voice. “Move out. Casey. You know your job.”

“Yes, sire,” says one of the demons, voice almost familiar.

Then Sam’s walking away, Ruby just a step behind him. The other demons follow suit, the hellhounds not even glancing at Dean as they get caught up in the procession.

Sam still won’t look at him. He only sees the back of his brother’s head as he leaves him behind

The only demon left is Casey. He knows her, he recognizes her, the demon he’d been trapped with in that city full of sin, the one that Sam had shot and killed. He’d seen him kill her.

She gets to her feet, offering him a smile as she draws closer. “Hello, Dean. I bet you never thought you’d see me again.”

She steps right into the devil’s trap and presses a hand to him and Bobby each. As soon as she touches them, they’re able to move, darting away from her and leaving her stuck in the devil’s trap.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, wishing his voice wasn’t shaking, but he has more important things to worry about.

She turns to face them. “Samuel does not want you to die. He did what he had to do to ensure you wouldn’t.”

“The fuck you talking about?” Bobby asks gruffly.

“I told you back then I was ready to follow Sam,” she says, stepping out of the devil’s trap like it’s nothing, which she definitely shouldn’t be able to do. Bobby hadn't thought that this thing would be able to contain Lilith, but Casey’s nowhere near Lilith’s level. It should work on her just fine.

Bobby’s hand darts out, throwing holy water over her, but it doesn’t so much as steam.

She just looks amused. “That won’t work on me now. Neither will an exorcism, or any of the usual tricks. I have been purified.” She holds out her hand to Dean and it’s the Colt, the one that they’d lost when Bela sold it. “This is the only thing that will kill me now.”

“And you’re just handing it over?” Dean asks.

“I have my orders,” she says steadily. “Samuel wants you to have it.”

His entire body goes gold.

“What do you mean purified?” Bobby asks, shooting Dean a concerned look. “You’re a demon. Purifying you should kill you.”

“And was Lucifer a demon?” she asks. “I have taken the sacrament.”

Dean doesn’t know what that means, but Bobby’s expression shifts from disgust to shock to a horror filled curiosity. “You drank Sam’s blood?”

She did what?

“I have taken the sacrament,” she repeats, lifting her chin. “Samuel purified me.”

How the hell would Sam’s blood do that? Why had she drank it in the first place? She’s a demon, not a damn vampire. Dean pushes those questions aside and instead asks, “How are you even alive?”

“Samuel resurrected me,” she says. First he can kill demons, and now he can bring them back? “He knows we had a rapport and he thought it would be easier if it was me.”

“What would be easier?” he asks. His head is spinning and his heart hurts and he doesn’t understand anything that just happened. At least being dragged to hell would have been simpler.

She presses the Colt into his hands. “Samuel doesn’t want you to die. He knows this will be difficult for you, that you’ll make poor choices. I have my orders. I am to stay with you and keep you alive. We’re going to get to know each other very well, Dean.”

“Like hell,” he says gruffly, hand tightening as he takes the Colt and raises it to her head. “What’s to stop me from killing you?”

“The same thing that will stop you from killing Samuel,” she says and he flinches. “Nothing.”

He stares at her. He can’t bring himself to speak.

“You’ll have to hunt him down the old fashioned way,” she says casually. “But if you can find him, you can kill him. We’re all under orders not to touch you. Samuel won’t stop you if you want kill him. The same way I won’t stop you if you want to kill me.”

“Why?” he asks.

She shrugs. “It’s always been up to you, Dean. He trusts you. If you decide that he must die, then he’s willing to die.”

Dean sold his soul for him. He’s not going to fucking kill him.

But the Sam he sold his soul for wasn’t capable of doing that to Lilith. He wouldn’t have even wanted to be.

“What about your demon lover?” Dean asks, thinking of the priest that Casey had embraced and kissed, the demon she’d begged to spare Dean’s life before Sam had killed them both. “Sam bring him back too?”

Grief chases across her face before she smooths it away. “He will. If I am good, and obedient, and loyal, then Samuel will bring him back for me.”

Dean’s stomach rolls to hear Sam described like that, like some sort of tyrant or king. Like Dad. “You really believe that?”

Casey meets his gaze steadily as she echoes the words she’d said to him in that basement as she spoke of Lucifer, except now she’s talking about his brother. “I have faith.”

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 16

content warning: angst, recreational drug use, mentions of food, 18+ so MDNI (not spoiling the positions this time, so you’ll just have to read and see)

word count: 8.2k (thank ya once again @slushycoookie 😚)

If you really love Xina as a character, then don't read this. Nothing crazy happens, it's just so far removed from her original character action-wise that you’ll definitely get angry. That's all. 🥸👍🏾

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GymRat!Miguel who should have taken the edible.

He held his head down, everything over the past years starting to click.

The touches, the stares, the treatment. Xina wasn’t just close to him because they were friends.

She was in love with him and he was too dumb to see it, too naïve to even think it was a possibility.

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Xina speeds out. “Or maybe you can just let it sit with you.”

“Ok.”

Xina widens her eyes, “O-ok? What do you mean ok? Ok as in you…you like me back?”

“Ok as in I hear you. I understand.”

Xina nods, hand holding her elbow.

“And I’m sorry that so much happened to you. I wish you would have reached out. It sounds traumatizing and no one should have to go through that on their own.”

Xina waits, heart beating out of her chest.

“But?”

“But, it doesn’t excuse anything you’ve done to me. Not a single fucking thing.”

She opens her mouth, eyes burning and eyebrow pinched, “I-“

“-need to let me talk first,” Miguel finishes. “You know how much you mean to me, so you have to understand that what you did was so low, Xina. It hurt, genuinely.”

“I know.”

“You know and yet you continued. It’s funny because after you were being weird to my girlfriend the first time you met her, I still defended you. That’s how much I had faith in our friendship.”

Xina blinks rapidly, pulling her hair back.

“Now, I feel even more stupid because this,” Miguel pushes his hand in and out between himself and Xina, “looks exactly how she thought it was. But that’s what you wanted, right? You wanted her to feel like you were someone to look out for.”

Her lip wobbles, “For just a second, I was relieved. I was so relieved that someone finally fucking beat me to you. But then I saw how you looked at her and I, I felt something boil over.”

Miguel wanted to laugh in disbelief.

“Xina, that doesn’t make it ok for you to go in my phone, plot and scheme, then lie like you didn’t. When has that ever been right?”

“Miguel, I know that so please-“

“You don’t love me.”

Xina falters, a tear falling down her face. A light from a car outside brightens the room for just a second, and she sees Miguel give an unfamiliar look of disdain.

“Yes, I do. I do love you. How could you say that I don’t?”

“Because you really don’t,” Miguel pushed his hair off of his face, only for it to fall back in place. “Love isn’t seeing me happy and trying your best to ruin it. Love is not control. If this is what you do to me, I would hate to see what you’re willing to do to someone who wants to be yours.”

She squats, hands wiping away the sorrow on her face.

In the past, Miguel would have been at her side arms open for comfort, heart hurting to see her like this. Right now, he just wants to plead at your waist for forgiveness.

“I don’t really want to look at you right now. I think you should go.”

He starts to get up, tired.

“M-Miguel? I, I’m sorry.”

“Me too. About a lot of shit I need to fix. You have more than just me to own up to and whenever you’re ready to do that, let me know. Right now though? You can see your way out.”

“Miguel, just,” she grabs his arm. “If I- Do you-“ her quiet sobs rack through her body. “I don’t want to lose you. Y-you don’t have to like me back.”

He turns and grabs her arms softly, eyes going back and forth between hers.

“Go home, Xina.”

GymRat!Miguel who opens the door to a flustered Gabriel and a nonchalant Tempest sitting on the floor.

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Tempest cuts Gabriel off. She looks past Miguel to a mourning Xina. “C’mon, girl, I’ll walk you to the door.”

Miguel steps aside as Xina shuffles over. He does his best to ignore the last tug she gives his hoodie before she leaves.

GymRat!Miguel who crosses his arms as he looks at Gabriel.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to put a smile upon my face,” Gabriel grins. “It’s like watching your dreams come into fruition. I feel like I have enough adrenaline to run to New York and back, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. This isn’t funny, Gabri.”

“Uh,” Gabriel peers left and right. “It’s a little funny. To me.”

Miguel reaches into his pocket and threw the gummy into his mouth. The taste was interesting, to say the least.

“This is a good thing,” Gabriel tries again. “It’s one step closer to what you wanted, right?”

Miguel thought about you from last week.

He didn’t want you to look at him like that again.

“It is. I just don’t know how I let it get this far.”

Gabriel squeezes his shoulder with a pout.

“Because you’re an idiot, to be frank.”

The squawk that Gabriel lets out when Miguel hits him on the back echoes through the hallway.

GymRat!Miguel who goes back to his room to see a knocked out Lyla and Winston with a plate piled high with wings and yams.

“Yo,” he whispers, but his voice is still unbearably loud. “I think she’s trying to steal my fucking food.”

Miguel looked to Lyla who was folded over a beanbag, neck bent awkwardly. Her mouth was open and a little wet, but she was snoring up a storm.

“No, she’s not,” Miguel laughs. His friend's eyes are blown wide, horrified, like he’s in the middle of a haunted house.

Winston observes Lyla before turning back to Miguel, slow like he was made of wires and metal, “Don’t say shit to me when you’re next.”

GymRat!Miguel who shouldn’t have turned on your playlist as his limbs got heavier.

He was going to try and write something down in his journal, thoughts from before too much for his head.

It started with what just happened down the hallway. Was he right or wrong for what he said and what he did? Should he have done more?

Was it enough for you to see the truth?

You. You and everything you brought him. Your being, your emotions, you core, your love.

Now, he’s staring at the page full of your name alone scrawled across it with slow blinking eyes.

It feels like your hands are all over him and you’re whispering in his ears. You’re going through his hair from his scalp to his neck. Your tongue is hot on his skin, in his mouth. You taste like cinnamon and whipped cream. You’re pressing your chest against his and your heartbeats are becoming one.

His heartbeat.

Your heartbeat.

It’s sinking him. His heart is on the marked paper before him. It’s in red and graphite, smudged and darkened.

He’s falling. The clothes on him are rubbing against his bones. The chair under him is slipping from his grasp but he thinks you’ll catch him.

GymRat!Miguel who gasps for air as his back hits the cold metal of his desk chair.

Winston’s cackle refocuses his train of thought and he breathes in deep as he tries not to let you drown his thoughts again.

GymRat!Miguel who joins Winston on the floor to finish off the variety bag of takis.

Lyla shifts to a better position and Winston clutches his purple bag for dear life. Miguel laughs until he cries.

GymRat!Miguel who ends up on Gabriel’s fluffy rug, rubbing his hands over the fur like it’s a cat. Winston is bopping his head in the corner, music making him worry less about whether or not he’s being watched.

“Why is he so soft? What did you put on him?” Miguel asks.

Gabriel snickers as he watches him, “My feet.”

Miguel makes a face like a disgruntled cat.

“That’s fucking weird. Why would you ever do that? Is that why he smells lie that?”

“No, that’s your breath.”

Miguel gasps and covers his mouth, blowing straight through his fingers. He waits for a minute, then sniffs the air.

“You’re such a liar. It smells like apples. You need to be nicer to your rug, Gabri.”

A snap from above makes Miguel pose at the very last second. He thinks he’s posing at least. His smile is big but his eyes are closing every time the camera clicks and his peace sign is hidden somewhere in the fuzz of the rug.

“Say ‘party gal!’” Gabriel sang.

“I’m not at a party, nor am I a girl, so…no?” Miguel says with squinted eyes. “Why are you taking pictures of me?”

“Because you’re just so adorable that I have to share with your girlfriend.”

Miguel stops rubbing the rug and sits up, “Is she here? Where is she?”

Gabriel pushes him away with his foot.

“Chill out, Mig. I’m just sending her a video.”

“But,” Miguel stiffens. “It’s too dark in here. How is she supposed to see me?”

Gabriel looks at the several ambient lights his room is sporting then back to Miguel, “She can see it.”

“Was my shirt off in it? She likes it when my shirt is off.”

“I’m not filming your striptease, you hornball.”

“But Gabri-“

“No!”

GymRat!Miguel who snowballs his way through telling Gabriel his plans for when he visits New York for the next twenty minutes.

“And then,” he pauses and giggles like he’s holding the world’s greatest secret. “We go to the bodega. Ham and cheese. Orange drink. You know the one.”

Gabriel joins in his endless bubble of laughter, “Who taught you that?”

Miguel spaces out his giggles just enough to let your name fall through.

“Do you think she still loves me, Gabri? Because sometimes I get scared that she doesn’t.”

His brother sighed, head upside down as it hung off of his bed, “Yeah, I think so. It’s your first big fight, but what is love if not war?”

There’s a silence in the room.

Winston is giving a silent performance in the corner of the room now, his audience being Gabriel’s closet door of scarves and belts.

“War is what keeps humans apart,” Miguel mumbles.

“Uh oh,” Gabriel turns to look at him. “Don’t start this.”

“Statistically speaking, all first marriages have a 50% chance of surviving.”

“You just made that up.”

“No,” Miguel closes his eyes, hoping that would stop his million and one thoughts. “She could find another guy and last longer with him. It’s science. Proven.”

“You’re not even married.”

Miguel opens one eye and checks his empty left hand, “Holy shit you’re right.”

He starts to pat down his clothes, cotton pulling against his fingers.

“Where did it go? I just had it.”

Gabriel thought for a second.

“The Funyuns you just ate?”

Miguel starts to flip things over, papers and chip bags going everywhere.

He finds the bright yellow bag, opening it up and finding nothing. He turns it over and shakes it much to Gabriel’s annoyance who snatches it from his hands.

Miguel is about to cry until Gabriel throws another bag into his hands.

“Let’s switch topics,” Gabriel grumbles. “I feel like I’m watching a big ass baby.”

Miguel opens the bag and starts crunching.

“I think stars is such a good theme for the nursery. And penguins.”

“I’m turning on Spongebob.”

GymRat!Miguel who is out of his mind watching Squidward run around a blank screen.

The colors were there and now they’re not.

It does a number on him.

GymRat!Miguel who sits staring at Gabriel’s door. Watching. Waiting.

He said that you were coming around eventually.

It was sure taking you a long time to open the door.

GymRat!Miguel who is disappointed when Tempest and her pink-tipped locs bang the door open instead of you.

His slow turn and look of disappointment towards Gabriel is comical.

GymRat!Miguel who is guided back to his room by a more relaxed Tempest who asks Gabriel to distract Conchata.

“Did she say something?” Gabriel asks.

“No, but we need to act normal. She asked me some shit about some seasoning I used and I think dozed off mid-explanation. Can’t remember.”

GymRat!Miguel who finds a picture of you under his pillow right before he goes to sleep.

It’s a part of the polaroids you gave him last Christmas with your tank and panties.

He presses his lips against the film, eyes closing as he groans against it. The action repeats, his mind putting him in front of you.

A pain hits his hip, ache in his bones matching his heartbeat.

He looks down to a gray, metal hand covering him and screams.

Two of his friends jerk up from across the room while Winston throws a pillow at him.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to sleep.”

Tempest squints as she removes her eye mask, “Why did you throw your arm at him?”

“He was making weird sounds,” Winston replies as if the answer was obvious.

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up to Tempest shaking him for dear life.

His eyelids are heavy and the sun peaking through the windows are bright.

His arm covers his eyes as he tries to block it, feelings of his muscles slowly coming back to him.

“C’mon, buddy. You feeling ok?”

Miguel only yawns and nods into the pillow.

“Need to pee? Feeling sick? I got some water right here.”

Miguel slowly sits up with his eyes closed, hair sticking up every which way. Tempest opens his hand and places a glass of water there, helping him guide it to his lips. One taste of the liquid and he’s gulping it down like he’s never drank before.

“What time is it?” he asks, throat dry.

“Noon,” Tempest takes the glass away. “You guys were sleeping like babies. Very cute.”

Memories of last night slowly come back.

He’s pretty sure he texted you a string of random things, but he doesn’t even know if it went through.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Come to the kitchen and eat some food.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes his friends promise to text him when they make it home.

Sure, they’ll probably be on the call tonight playing some game or watching obscure compilations, but he was nothing if not a worrier.

“And don’t forget to-“

“We know, dad,” they say in unison.

GymRat!Miguel who spends Thanksgiving near his grandma.

His mom is giving him sideways looks all day and he feels that something is coming.

GymRat!Miguel who watches his brother place his cousins in formation for a video for the nth time.

“It’s swing, back a-round, grab your pants, thumb up with ‘I’m cool’. Feet out and in at the same time then CIRCLE your arms really high. What is so hard to understand about that guys?”

He runs to his phone on the tripod.

“From the top!”

GymRat!Miguel who hides with his grandma in her bedroom as his mom starts to bark orders. She was doing a lot for someone who didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving.

The two of them are watching some random sitcom under a giant quilt sharing coconut cookies that she snuck from the kitchen.

“¿Abuela?”

“¿Si nieto?”

“¿Alguna vez has experimentado un desamor?”

His grandmother looks up, chewing as she thought.

“Yes, but only for a short while. I didn’t really have the time to sit with my feelings.”

“But, what if you did? Does it feel as terrible as it sounds?”

“Sometimes. But we’re human. If you’ve put in effort to love, that means you can put effort into yourself to heal and grow.”

Her arms wrap around him and squeeze, kissing his cheek like he was still the chunky baby she met decades ago.

“Now, relax and watch these two teachers avoid love. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

GymRat!Miguel who is leaning on his grandma, cheek pressed against her chest, when Gabriel comes in to plop on the bed.

“Move over,” he whines to Miguel as he tries to push him away to be in the middle.

“I don’t wanna sit next to you. You’re disturbing my peace.”

“And you’re hogging Abuela.”

“Go to her other side!”

“But this side is already warm!”

“My daughter has raised two giant babies,” their grandmother laughs as she moves the blanket to let Gabriel into her other side. “What am I going to do with you two?”

GymRat!Miguel who was nearly asleep when George comes to get them to eat.

It’s deep in the evening and the crickets are loud outside of the window.

He and Gabriel pout, the darkness of the room and the smell of their grandmother’s perfume making them lethargic.

“Your cousins are going to eat up all of the empanadas if you don’t hurry up.”

Miguel perks up and stumbles out of the bed, foggy mind registering his willingness to stuff his face with doughy goodness.

“Like a moth to a flame,” Gabriel says as he helps his grandmother up.

GymRat!Miguel who is on his third or fourth plate, not that he’s really counting, when his mom does what she always does every holiday: annoy him.

“Mijo, have you checked on Xina today? I saw Tempest walk her out the other day. Was she doing alright?”

Miguel glances around the table, mouth full of turkey as he sees his family perk up.

“No, I haven’t,” he answers slowly. “I’ll see her next week. Probably.”

Conchata brings a cup to her mouth while giving him a miffed look.

“And you’re not worried about her? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing has gotten into me,” Miguel replies calmly. His relatives are staring at him like he’s grown two heads.

“Did you two fight?” one of his aunts asks.

Miguel didn’t understand how this was anyone else’s business, but from the looks of it, it seems that his mother has already told it.

“Can I just finish my food, please?”

His mother thumps her cup against the table with more force than necessary.

“You’re never going to find a suitable woman if you keep acting like this. I know you hurt her somehow and you need to fix it.”

“Ma,” Gabriel interrupts with a hushed tone. “Right here? At the table? Seriously?”

She ignores him and stares at Miguel, as it’s supposed to urge him to obey her. His appetite is long gone.

“I have a suitable woman-“

“Mijo, no. You have stars in your eyes. You’re young, so I know you can’t see it yet, but it’s almost time for you to start planning properly for the future. I can only let your playing go on for so much longer.”

Miguel stares at her, eyes not blinking once. Gabriel anxiously looks back and forth between them.

“Who is up for Abuela’s famous cake? Mm mm mm, I know I am!” he tries, only getting a small portion of the table to move.

Miguel gets up to follow them, plate in his hand heavy and half-eaten.

They’re back at square one.

He’s not sure how many more times he can restart.

GymRat!Miguel who texts you before he knocks out.

He stares at the blinking line, thinking of all that he wants to say, but not really knowing how to put it.

“Happy Thanksgiving mi luz”

“I miss you more than ever today”

“I miss you every day”

He stops himself and turns his phone off.

GymRat!Miguel who does a light jog Friday morning.

He’s been having far too many days of wallowing and feasting.

The November air wakes him up completely.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks he still has THC in his bloodstream when your name pops up on his screen as he’s checking his miles.

He opens it too fast, heart racing faster than what any exercise could do to him.

It’s a link to your calendar, blocks of blues and pinks covering the screen. He sees that your last final is next Thursday, and his plan is already in motion.

He hearts your text and stops himself from spamming you with emojis and pictures.

He’s ready to see you.

GymRat!Miguel who has never been more happy for his coding professor being a recluse and making their final submission online.

He knew for a fact Xina was definitely still processing everything. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to see her unless she was ready to apologize to you.

He tried not to stew on it, his mom’s insinuation putting a bad taste in his mouth.

He had finals to focus on and a girlfriend to win back so he pushed thoughts of crumbling friendship to the back of his mind.

GymRat!Miguel who sits in the hallway of the art building. It was becoming a familiar sight for someone who couldn’t draw a stick figure to save his life.

He waits for the studio door to open, leg bouncing involuntarily. He wasn’t sure when it would end, so he got there about thirty minutes after it started.

Maybe that was a bad idea, simply because he feels like he’s about to sweat out of the stupid button down and sweater he chose to wear. The thick knitting was starting to suffocate him.

Pulling at the chain around his neck, he wonders if he can appeal to you like he did around this time last year.

The door opens in the middle of his tenth time rehearsing what he was going to say. A few students walk out, arms full of canvases as they chat about whatever.

Miguel stands, big bouquet in his hands and heartbeat in his ear. The students notice him and shuffle out of his way as he heads towards the studio entrance.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you talking with a classmate.

You’re both bent over some, engrossed in conversation.

Miguel sees you laugh before you stand up straight. The guy next to you looks familiar.

He rises too, and his build and height become all of the focus. His hand lands on the middle on your back and slowly begins to fall down.

Miguel is building the formation of your name at the back of his tongue, anger climbing before he can really think about it.

You grab the guy’s arm and yank it off, a smack on his shoulder to follow.

Miguel stops himself with an ugly sound, alerting you both to turn and look at him.

GymRat!Miguel who hides the bouquet behind his back, not wanting you to see it yet. Not when your friend was making him shoot daggers with his eyes.

You walk over to him eyes curious, and Miguel thinks that there was no way in this lifetime, no way in this timeline, that you weren’t made for him.

“Hi,” Miguel starts.

“Hi,” you repeat back.

“We’re matching.”

Miguel couldn’t help but to sound giddy about it. He was more than ecstatic about it. You both looked like a couple, therefore you are a couple.

You purse your lips and nod, “That we are. Did you spy on me?”

Miguel copies you and shakes his head.

“You look different.”

“Ah. I uh, I ate good.”

You pat his stomach, fingers tentative and soft, “I see.”

Miguel wants to say something back but your eyes are scanning him with a small light similar to your anniversary night.

He breathes in and puffs his chest up a bit, like a bird trying to show off his pretty feathers to win over his lady. The corners of your lips twitch, holding back your smile.

That alone brightens Miguel up.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to deflate when your classmate slash friend slash him-imposter makes his way into an A and B conversation.

“I haven’t seen you around campus before,” he puts his right hand out, “I’m Royce.”

Miguel’s eyes flit to you and you look up to the ceiling avoiding his look with your hands behind your back. He brings his left hand out, still poorly hiding his gift for you, twisting his wrist to shake Royce’s hand.

“Miguel.”

“Strong grip you’ve got there, Miguel,” Royce smiled, lip piercing shining. The chains attached to his pants clinked together as be let go.

“Just happy to meet new people.”

Royce pulls the sleeves of his sweater up and grins, like he knew something Miguel didn’t. The fullness of his tattoos contrasted his skin.

“Likewise. What else do you have there?” he tilts his head.

You push him in his side, Royce’s laugh echoing of the studio ceiling, “Go away. You’re so irritating.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going. I’m guessing this means our late night session is rain checked?” he asks as your eyebrows raise.

He barely dodges as you pick up a ruler and swing at him, laughing as your professor tiredly asks you both to chill out.

Royce calms down, grabs his things, and hugs you goodbye, black hair brushing against your head.

“See you later. Bye, Miguel,” he sings, hand waving.

Miguel makes a line with his lips as he watches him leave.

“Interesting guy.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty fun,” you say, watching Miguel’s lips. “You ok?”

His face shifted, “I should be asking you that after everything.”

“Hm,” your eyes casted down. “Well, you’re here, so I think that counts for something.”

GymRat!Miguel who presents the bouquet to you, nervous of your reaction.

“It’s a small start, but I, I hope that we can still be together. I talked to Xina like you asked and I want to go somewhere with you to really say everything. All truths on the table.”

Your mouth wobbles as your eyes light up from the fairy lights woven throughout the green and golden roses.

“I’m sorry it’s not as big as it’s supposed to be.”

The woman he ordered them from was stacked with birthday and anniversary bouquets. He paid more than he should to get his flowers finished faster.

“‘You are my Evangeline’?” you ask, fingers going over the silky petals.

“Sí,” his hands cover yours over the bottom of the bunch. “La luz de mi vida, mi estrella. Mi bella Evangeline.”

You pout, stopping yourself from falling, only to plant your face in his chest, glasses and all.

Miguel wraps his arms around you, confused.

“You make me so weak,” you mumble.

His hands clutch onto your sweater, heart warm.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing.”

You move your head, cheek pressed against his chest, “Of course you don’t. C’mon.”

His sweater is a little damp but he doesn’t mention it.

GymRat!Miguel who wants to skip as he follows you back to your dorm, but your wet oil paint canvases are in his hands. One wrong move, and his pants will be stained with whatever color landed on him.

He watches as you cradle your flowers to your chest, glancing down whenever you were waiting to cross the street.

“Do you like them?”

“Yes. They’re beautiful.”

He could do a backflip.

GymRat!Miguel who takes his shoes off by your door.

Your dorm smells like oranges and cherries, something so different than the pinecones and brown leaves outside.

“Where do want me to put these?” he asks, holding the sides of your paintings with all of his focus.

You turn and laugh at his stiff stance. His arms were stretched out to a slanted T and his feet were placed together.

“Just sit them up against the wall. They won’t bite you,” you say.

“Ok,” he says and awkwardly puts them down. He pauses his hands in front of them afterwards in case they fall.

You go to sit at your desk, placing the flowers down.

“Is Jess here?” you hear Miguel ask.

“No, she’s gone for winter break already.”

You survey your desk, looking for anything else to focus on. You brought him here, you asked for him to prove himself, yet it’s barely been two weeks since you told him that. You feel silly for it.

Still, when you don’t hear or feel him for a while, you call his name.

“Miguel?”

“What’s this?” he asks.

Spinning around, you see he’s by the end of your bed, on the floor rummaging through a box.

“You packed my stuff up?” he holds up a hoodie that you only let him wear shortly before it finds its way back into your closet. His eyebrows turn, limbs heavy as he pulls out gift after jacket after picture. So many things that marked his time together with you.

“Looking at everything was too much for me. I did it the night we fought. It helped me to focus and not,” you threw your hands up, “simmer on my boyfriend sleeping with someone who is practically the opposite of me.”

Miguel pushes the box to the side and crawls towards you. It was an odd sight to see him inching steadily across your big rug. He stops and sits in front of you, face upset.

“I really wish you would listen to me. I wish you would believe me.”

“I’m trying-“

“No, baby,” Miguel says, pulling your chair towards him. You were too far away. “You’re not. You’re blocking me out.”

You blink, fingers picking at your nails.

“Do you remember that time I said I wasn’t going to let you go?” Miguel wraps your legs around his sides and slots his head on your thigh. “I was serious about that. You aren’t supposed to let me go either.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”

“So if you know, why did you let me go?”

You took a deep breath.

“Because I was hurting, Miguel. I painted this picture in my head of you two being this perfect, ideal couple because of….jealousy? Insecurity? I don’t know. I would see you two in the library sometimes or standing in line for food together, close and wrapped up in a bubble. I kept telling myself that you both were friends. These are the things that friends do. I would leave before I could give myself time to get stupidly upset. But when we were all hanging out together, you kept defending everything she was doing.”

Miguel thinks back to the comments and snide remarks he let slide and wants to shake that version of himself out of delusion.

“Then, there were the messages that weren’t going through, the calls that were getting dropped. Sometimes, I saw Xina holding you,” your voice faltered. “And she’d wear things I could find in my closet and I thought I was being punked. So, when I saw you on your birthday and took a leap of faith, I was destroyed when she was texting your phone.”

You couldn’t take it. You thought he lied to your face for months.

Miguel closed his eyes, trying to form what he wanted to say.

He’s thinking about how stupid he was to not see your pain. The signs were all there, or at least, the times when he should have stepped in were.

That aside, he was upset. Upset at the situation, upset that his relationship has been torn by someone who barely acknowledged him for a year, upset at you.

He didn’t want another girl, he didn’t need another girl, and even if by some sick and terrible decision, he decided to part ways with you, he would never choose Xina.

She couldn’t love him the way you do and what she did to him showed that.

She couldn’t make him feel the way you do. You left him with butterflies, you made him excited. You brought him so much joy.

She couldn’t care for him the way that you did. She would rather hang him out to dry to make herself look good before she thought about how he felt about something.

She couldn’t even confess to him without hurting him, without trying to shift her chances of being with him. It sucks that her life was changing so rapidly against her will, but that didn’t mean she had to create a whirlwind for him to suffer through, too.

It’s so irritating how she came in and swept up his time, his life, and your confidence, but it’s more frustrating for you to have to even wonder if she could replace you.

Miguel’s mind is going a thousand miles per minute, head starting to hurt with how aggravated he was.

“Don’t cry,” you say reaching up to his face, sniffling. ���Please, don’t cry.”

He didn’t even notice he was. He realizes then that his thoughts were made aloud.

“’M sorry,” he says, face scrunching up. He leans into your hand, eyes closed as the tears fall. “I’m sorry for everything. But I’m angry that you keep thinking that you’re not worth my love. You’re worth it. You’re worth so much more than what I can give you. But I feel so lucky that you’re giving me the chance to be a part of your life, so I want you to love yourself, too.”

You nod once, twice, before your palms cover your face and you’re sobbing. Miguel pulls you down to his lap, holding you tight. He hated that you were fighting these thoughts alone, but now that he’s aware of everything he’ll try his best again to give you the love you needed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair like a mantra.

Through your sorrow, your relief, you everything, you echo his words, “I’m sorry, too. I should have trusted you more.”

“True,” Miguel says and you laugh in the midst of your aches. “But I still love you.”

“I love you, too. I never stopped.”

He squeezes you tighter, heart feather light.

GymRat!Miguel who eventually gets you comfortable, the two of you settling down on the giant plush bean bag sofa that you’ve stuffed under your dorm bed.

He was prepared to wine and dine you, but you insisted on videos and some warm, fulfilling fast food. The true college dream.

You laid on his chest, watching as the man on screen yelled as his character opened the door to a bathroom and a stranger was fixing the sink. Miguel tensed under you, hands gripping the waist of your lounging pants.

It was making up for the Halloween you two spent apart.

“Too scary?” you move your head to look at his face.

His mouth was twisted up, heart beating, “No…”

“Then, why are you holding me so tight?”

“A boyfriend can’t hold his girlfriend?”

You grinned.

You didn’t know how much you missed him calling you his girlfriend until he was less than a centimeter away from you.

A scream followed by a line of curses comes from your laptop speakers, Miguel gasping and squinting at the screen, eyes almost squeezing shut.

“You know, we don’t have to watch this,” you try your best to turn your body so that you were fully on top of him. “We can watch something else.”

Miguel focused on your face, eyes fighting to not look at your lips, “Like what?”

“We can watch a cooking competition. I know you have some documentaries and video essays saved up. We could watch those.”

Miguel thinks he could really be a lip reader. Your lips were moving pretty fast, but he thinks he got most of it.

“You want to use the kitchen this late? It might be closed.”

You slide your hand up his chest, comforting through the thin shirt. Your lips move again and Miguel blinks slowly trying to keep up.

A touch on his jaw has him look up.

“Did you hear me?”

Miguel moves his head in a circle, answer going from yes to no.

“What are you thinking right now?”

He feels you out, hands slowly going down your back and circling the area where your thighs curve out into your ass.

“How much I need to kiss you.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Then maybe, you should put those words into action.”

That was all he needed to pull you up, mouth going to yours like a magnet. You make a startled noise as he opens his mouth to slide his lip from your jaw to the bottom of your lip.

You open your mouth with his, thumbs rubbing against his sideburns as he hums against your tongue. The sound of the push and pull of your lips fills the small space under your bed. The tale of the girl and her winter vacation long forgotten in the background.

His hands go under your waistband, palms bringing extra warmth as he squeezes over your underwear.

“I missed this,” he sighs, mouth and hands working together to make you melt into him. He was starting to grind you against him, humming low in his throat.

“Kissing me or something else?” you open your eyes a little, watching his eyelashes against his cheek.

He pushes up against you, bean bag shifting down, “Everything.”

“Cheeky.”

“More like charmed.”

The two of you were glued to each other long enough for the hour long video to end, only the glow of your fairy lights and lamps lighting your room.

Both of your shirts were pulled up, your chest smooshed against his. Miguel had one hand around your waist, massaging your side, and another pulling your underwear between your lips so that you had something extra to feel as you grind against his groin.

“Bebecita,” Miguel says after you let his tongue from your lips. He pecks you in between his words, hungry. “Let’s move this to the bed.”

He kisses down your jaw, making no effort to get up.

“I don’t have any condoms and unless you’re willing to drive out to get some-”

Miguel removes a hand to reach into his pocket.

“Did you just have that on you?” you ask looking at the pack of condoms in his hand.

“No. I got them when I went to go get clothes.”

You tut, “So you just thought we were going have sex? You’re not even supposed to be in here right now.”

He slides his fingers down between your legs, pressing on your lips over cotton, “Of course not, bebe. I’m not an animal.”

He rubs and sucks a kiss into your neck. You’re so lost in him that you didn’t even realize that you were beginning to push back against his fingers. The moan you let out brings you back to reality.

Seeing Miguel’s smug face made you hide yours in his chest.

“Just try not to be too loud. I don’t know if my neighbor is still here or not,” you muffled into his skin.

GymRat!Miguel who really didn’t give a fuck about the neighbors.

He thinks he wants them to hear. It’s been too long since he had you, his decency was thrown out of the window.

Right now, he was head first, indulging, sucking at the entrance of your heat. You were on your knees, ass in his face, and feet hanging off the bed. You were already so wet from earlier, but now he has you dripping down his face onto the floor, moaning into your pillow.

He didn’t hear you over himself as he gripped your skin to spread you over his tongue. Your thighs were shaking like a leaf, feet occasionally kicking as Miguel found his pocket to make you suck him in.

You sounded off into the silk case below you, trying not to make yourself louder than the music you put on.

Miguel was satisfied that you came on his tongue, but didn’t like you censoring yourself not one bit.

“I want to try something new,” he states into your skin, sucking your clit through the aftershocks.

You only give him a shaky thumbs up, mind still finding its other pieces.

GymRat!Miguel who has you flat against your stomach along the bed. There really was barely any room to do this, but he was going to make it work.

You had a long mirror in your room that wasn’t attached to the wall, so beforehand, he brought it over to lean against the desk and turn it towards the top of your bed. He saw the confusion in your face through the glass, but he only smiled and went right back to you.

Now, he was holding one cheek over as he slid in slowly. From the mirror, he could see your face scrunch up. He shifted his knees, watching.

“¿Estás bien?” he asks. “Want me to slow down? Pull out?”

“No,” you keen, constricting around him. He sucked air in through his teeth, feeling you suck him in. “I just haven’t felt you in a while.”

He leans to kiss up your back, taking fat in between his lips to mark it as his. He fights the urge to just bite and stay there for a while.

“Whose fault is that, pretty?” he teases, dragging his lips to the back of neck.

You look to your left and pout at him through the mirror. He looks back, eyes scanning your naked upper half.

You arch your back and tighten around him. He thinks you’re a menace.

“Yours,” you tease back.

“Yeah?” his left hand grabs your waist, thumb pressing into the small of your back. He slides out a bit, hips elevated. “Let me fix that, then.”

His hips dip back into you, smack of his skin against yours. The bed creaks and Miguel watches your eyelids fall.

“Do you want a fast solution?” Miguel says right in your ear. “Or should we do some deeper research?”

He snaps his hips again, leaning down and pressing his weight onto you. Your hands curl up against the mattress, mouth open but only letting out gasps and breaths. Miguel nearly pulls all the way out, then swerves back in, pushing your voice out of you.

“It sounds like you want to pull from some scholarly articles,” Miguel whispers. He’s barely picking up a sweat while you’re hot everywhere. “It’s unclear.”

The springs of the mattress sing, metal and wood bed frame keeping a steady tempo against the wall.

You can’t even focus enough to tell him to shut up, the position you were in knocking the wind out of you. You start to hide your face in your pillow again, overwhelmed.

Miguel releases an offended sound.

“Nuh uh,” his right hand wraps in front of your neck. He pulls head up and turns it towards the mirror. “Look how pretty you look. Don’t hide.”

Your boyfriend might be a little nuts.

Your eyes can’t even focus but he’s holding your head steady and nibbling your earlobe as he waits. Your glasses are crooked and fogging up, you can’t even really see.

His name tries to fall from your mouth, but that “M” sound comes out broken and loud. He’s too busy being enchanted by how good you look.

“Mi preciosa princesita,” his hips stutter as you clench in response. “So gorgeous.”

He’s hitting your spot over and over again. You’re losing track of time.

“Don’t you think so too, baby?” Miguel huffs.

“Y-yes, Miggy, please.”

“Are you close?”

You nod, watching his eyes get darker.

“Ok, bebé. I still have some follow-up questions, though. Gonna answer them?”

A yell comes out as your answer, Miguel stroking faster.

He kisses your cheek and takes your glasses off. They were slipping and he was scared you were going to break them.

“Question one, do you want to do something for winter break?”

He opens your legs a bit, leaning and wrapping his hand under your body. His fingers find your clit and rub nice and slow. Overstimulated, you scream into the pillow. Miguel kisses your shoulder as he hums.

“I think that’s a yes,” Miguel says. Your back arches as you try to move your hips to match his pace. “Question two, what do you want for Christmas? It’s getting late, but I’ll find it. I swear.”

“Fuck, Miguel,” you say as his hands move to your breasts. He can’t do much, but there’s still something so good about him all over you.

“You want this again? We can arrange that.”

He was close and you could hear it in the way his voice wavered.

“Last question,” he rose off of you, hands pushing against your back. Your body couldn’t move as he slapped his pelvis against your ass. The recoil sounded off in the room and the entire bed jumped with his movement.

“Are you still mad at me?”

Your back arched as you felt him breach deep enough to make you go crazy. He was mumbling something but your thoughts were swimming with his dick inside of you about to introduce another orgasm.

“Say it back, baby. You gotta say it back,” Miguel’s voice sounds out.

There might be a pool of drool growing under your face. Your boyfriend didn’t care, though. He would still want you to say that declaration through any obstruction.

“I love you, Miguel. Te amo tanto.”

His hips quicken, bed against the wall like a drumline.

When he cums, his body tightens and releases, weight letting go as he covers you. He’s breathing hard, “te amo,” his proverb to you.

You blink at the mirror, vision blurry, but the comforted and satisfied expression of Miguel still recognizable.

You could stay like this, breaths slowly becoming tighter until you fall asleep in his arms.

The bed gives a loud snap, scaring Miguel into nearly falling off of it with you on top.

It’s leaning a little more to the back left than it should.

“Did you just break my fucking bed?”

He panics, “I-it was a joint effort!”

“Miguel.”

GymRat!Miguel who thanks whatever entity it is out there afterwards that it was just a screw that came out and not the bed actually completely splitting.

“This is why the beds are tiny in the first place,” you say from the bean bag, watching him screw it back together.

“I would have covered the costs if it was actually broken. We should look into sturdy bed frames for the future, though.”

“Oh?”

Miguel pauses, “Not that I was thinking about that!”

“You already have a list, don’t you.”

You watch his hands stutter as he puts your screwdriver back in your bin.

GymRat!Miguel who suggests you lay on top of him in the bed.

The two of you were freshly showered and ready to close your eyes any minute now.

“We should take breaks more often. I feel like jelly,” you say with a low voice, drawing circles over his chest.

He grabs your wrist, voice serious in the dark, “Don’t joke like that.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right. You made up for the last time you didn’t make me come.“

“Baby.”

You giggled into him as he pinched your sides.

“What about you and Royce? Your friend whose name starts with an R and ends with an E.”

“It’s not my fault rose and Royce are similar!”

“But you knew what you were doing. How cruel,” he pouts.

You pat his cheek!

“Well, you don’t have to worry because he has a boyfriend.”

“Oh! So, he’s gay.”

“Bi. Open relationship.”

“Oh,” Miguel replied, less happy.

“I kind of just want one lover, though.”

“Oh,” Miguel says again, more happy. “What kind of lover?”

You stay quiet for so long, Miguel thinks you’ve gone to sleep.

There’s a lot of things that you love about him. His kindness, his heart, his determination, his wit. Tonight, though, he truly took your breath away.

And you realize, he’s always done that.

“The kind that loves me the way that you do.”

Miguel’s chest rises and falls like a wave that gets weaker as it hits the shore.

“Me too, mi luz. Me too.”

divider by: fanguro + adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Our family is has been brought back together!! Also, if you get which horror game they were watching, you get a gold star.

Please very mindful, very cutesy, very demure in the comments. Don’t ask about the next part unless you have something nice/constructive to say to go with it. And no, this is not the last time Xina will be in this story. But it’ll get better!

The taglist is full, so if you would like to be informed of future updates, check my blog occasionally (💀) or subscribe to the story on AO3!

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[sweetshuga]

The moon is pretty, isn’t it? ✧ CS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bsf!chris! Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve—all the possibilities kept eating at you, until he showed up knocking on your window unannounced. [angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of everything]

wc. 1.1k

note. English is not my first language!

You and Chris had a falling-out.

You had accidentally laid your feelings bare during a harmless game of 'Truth or Dare'. The look on his face alone made you feel that twist in your gut, but what he said after his silence made your stomach feel like it was dropping down 10-stories.

"Are you fucking serious with me right now?" The almost mad sounding tone made your heart beat faster as you tried to backpedal, "no, Chris, that was–" he cut you off, standing up, looking pissed. "I’m going home, can’t fucking believe this shit," he stormed out before you could utter another word.

The front door slammed shut after him and you sat in silence for a while, your brain unable to comprehend what had just happened. When the realization finally dawned over you, you couldn’t help the tears from forming in your eyes nor the painful clump in your throat.

Not only did he reject you and get angry at you, he left as well. Was he that angry? Were your feelings such a bad thing? Questions swirled in your head like a broken record.

You didn’t know what to do, what to think or what to say. All you could do was sit there and cry, completely shocked with the turn of events. Some people may call you oversensitive or dramatic, but they don’t know how much it hurts—how much more painful it was than any physical injuries.

You curled up in bed, thinking about everything that you could’ve done differently, everything that would’ve been if you didn’t tell him about your stupid crush on him and everything that should’ve been – in your selfish fantasies.

𓆩♡𓆪

You had fallen asleep on your bed after crying. Feeling slightly better but your sleep was plagued by memories of his face, the way he reacted to your feelings and the words he spoke.

You were jolted awake by the sound of knocking, looking around in confusion as you sat up on your bed, only to see Chris looking at you through your window.

You nearly had a heart attack, staring back at him with wide eyes and your hand on your chest. After all, your room was on the second floor, how the fuck did he climb up?

You scurried to the window, opening it to let him in, all the previous hurt gone, replaced by pure bewilderment. His expression turned pained when he saw the dried tear streaks and red puffy eyes, "don’t look at me like that." You blinked, finally realising you’ve been staring at him with wide eyes and a gaped mouth, quickly closing your mouth as you schooled your expression.

"What was that?" Chris sighed, "what was what?" He questioned back, "how the fuck did you climb up? Better yet, why the fuck are you climbing in through the window?" He rubbed his temple, looking frustrated, "look, I knocked on your front door but you didn’t open it, just forget about me climbing in and let’s... let’s talk about—"

You cut him off with a stubborn "no" , he blinked, surprised at what he was hearing, "what?" He asked confused, making you repeat yourself, louder this time, "no." He looked at you bewildered, like he couldn’t believe he was hearing what he was hearing.

"Don’t be a brat," Chris inhaled deeply before continuing, "listen, I know I reacted a bit too dramatically and I’m sorry for that, but you have to understand how surprising it was for me," you scoffed at his words, eliciting a heavy sigh from him.

"Please, just..." His voice trailed off into another sigh, "I can’t... I mean, we shouldn’t," his voice was barely above a whisper, the uncertainty and vulnerability in his eyes caused your heart to race. "Why?" A simple question really, but the answer wasn’t so simple.

"Because..." His voice trailed off, knowing he doesn’t have a good excuse as to why they couldn’t, "because we’re friends." That made your expression harden, "right, of course Sherlock, I know." Chris groaned, "you’re not making this easier—" you cut him off, "and you’re being insensitive."

"Don’t be like that, i just..." he trailed off again, biting the side of his bottom lip nervously, he was fighting a losing battle between what he wanted and what was the better choice in his opinion. "Please..." you looked at him, "please what? What do you want me to do Chris? You know what, never mind—"

His eyes widened at your dismissive tone, realising he might lose you if he wasn’t honest, "no, no, I’ll— we’ll—fuck, let’s do it." He stammered, making you pause, "what?" He quickly added, "let’s date." You looked at him for a good minute, "what?" You asked dumbly, "let’s date," he repeated himself.

"Are you serious? You were just saying you won't and can't when i asked you just now," you raised your eyebrows, completely taken aback, to which he let out a quiet chuckle to. "I know, I just realised something, forget about it and come here," he pulled you closer, and you eagerly complied.

He hugged you tightly, "I realised I couldn’t fight it anymore, you’re too important to me, I can’t lose you no matter what," you let yourself melt in his embrace. "You serious?" You whispered into his chest, nuzzling into it, making him laugh softly. "Yeah, dead serious." You sighed, in relief and contentment.

Suddenly, he walked backwards with you still in his embrace and plopped on the bed, taking you down with him. "Hey–" he shut you up with a kiss, a soft chaste one, and you smiled into it, your heart feeling lighter and warmer.

As you deepened the kiss, his hands wandered over your body, inching down to squeeze your ass before smacking it gently. The sudden feeling made you squirm, causing you to grind on him, making him let out a small groan into the kiss.

You could feel the heat and hardness under you, the only barrier being your thin clothes, and the friction was almost too good to stop. Your hips rolled as you chased after that friction, only for Chris to hold your hips in place.

Groaning as you broke the kiss, "why?" you whined breathlessly, "I wanna feel you, can I?" He whispered, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts. Nodding as you helped him take off your sleep shorts, followed by his sweatpants.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your world blurred as he fucked you senseless, you didn’t even remember how or when you got into the doggy style position. Your orgasm crashed over you for the nth time tonight, gasping as you tried to control your loud moans, your wrists were pinned on the small of your back by Chris as he pounded into you. "Fuck—so beautiful, ma."

As you two lay in each other’s embrace, content and relishing in the afterglow, you couldn’t help but make a comment about the full moon glowing brightly in the darkness of the night.

"The moon is pretty, isn’t it?" Chris chuckled softly, pulling you closer, nuzzling his face in your hair, "yeah, as pretty as my girl."

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 1,183

Isa's notes. I know my fics always end with smut or something suggestive... I try to make it any other genre, i really do, but the voices— lmaoo I'm js fucking around, i just like me some smut 🎀

xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪

Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist

Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya

© sweetshuga

[justplainlovely]

@northwest-cryptid’s explanation is great, but I have some experience I’d like to add as well as a plea for any men on the left

From 2016 to 2019, I got a tad lost in libertarian/right adjacent spaces. I truly believe the only things that stopped me from going further were sexism and racism from others.

I had a “come to Jesus” moment around early 2018 when I went from “Trump is just an idiot” to “Trump is a dangerous dummy who emboldens the worst aspects of masculinity and, especially, white masculinity”.

For various reasons, I have little problem admitting I am wrong and fixing that when I am. But in late 2017, when I started engaging in what I can now label derad work, I found that a lot of men in those spaces had completely different attitudes towards change. I spent a lot of time talking with these guys. I even invited a couple of them into my bed which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t a great idea. Lonely people make stupid decisions and whatnot.

Anyway, when talking to some of these individuals and trying to get them to see the world through my “female eyes”, they had a tendency to reject my stories; every moment I was SA’ed, every catcalling story, every time a man brushed past me, every time a man treated me like less than a person (especially moments that could be excused as “but he didn’t know better”) was invalidated.

No matter how much or how often I told these men my story, comforted them when they told me theirs, and been there for them when they needed company, the lack of respect was still palpable. I was 17-22 back then. Maybe it has something to do with my age, but in truth, I know it had much more to do with my sex.

American men have a problem that only American men can solve. And that is they don’t respect women as full beings. That doesn’t mean they hate women outright. It’s just the kind of patronization that leads to weird attitudes like “women are like children and should be preserved”. It’s the kind of attitude that leads to men, whether they observe it or not, treating women like property.

And all that said, my main call to action is for left wing and centrist men. You guys have a lot of work to do. So do I, as a white-passing woman (white women broke 53% for Trump, if I’m not mistaken). Based on my experience, men will not accept help from women when they see us as beneath them. A lot of men entering alt-right spaces, whether or not they realize it, do believe in that hierarchy and for that reason it is crucial that centrist and left men engage in the hard work of deradicalization.

Got any buddies that are getting a little too weird? Talk to them. Ask them what’s going on. See what they need. Do this before it’s too late and they become a “Q-er”. Your isolation is precisely the power the alt-right weaponizes.

“Your buddies may have left you, but we don’t care what you believe. There’s many more of us. Come hang out!”

It’s that and more, so please. I’m begging you. Do ANYTHING you can.

the idea that reactionary spaces are attractive to men because they treat them kindly unlike The Left is so odd because whenever I come across that content it's essentially the same dynamic as pro ana "meanspo". if you don't know what that is, it's "motivation" based on degrading the viewer to the point where they can't "make excuses" and not become anorexic, or in this case a true Alpha Male. I feel like thisis objectively worse for someone's mental health than The Left

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

You wake up in the comfort of your home, snuggled in thick fluffy sheets. Despite the cold, birds still chirp outside advising you to start your day already. You stay in bed a little longer today, staring out the window, trying to get a hold of your thoughts.

It's been a good few days since you left that Orcs house, a few days to think about the experience and mull over what to do next.

You jolt out of your thoughts when you see, out the window, quick anxious scampering behind the snow covered bushes. Jumping out of bed, you hastily get dressed, fumbling with your boots and grabbing your trusty bow hanging by the door and a few arrows. You peek outside, sneaking as quietly as possible on the old wooden floor of the stoop, arrow already notched against the bowstring. You can only see the critters ears, twitching, listening for any trouble. It's either a rabbit or a hare, you hope for the latter.

You wait there for a good fifteen minutes, bow strung, waiting for the thing to move just a little to the left of the bush for a better shot. Your fingers burn on the string, didn't have time to grab your gloves. The second it hops slightly out of the bush, you let go of the arrow and send it flying right into the cotton tailed critter.

When you step back inside your warm cottage, you make a beeline for the kitchen with the hare in your hand. It's quite a lucky catch, a large jack. You use this as an excuse, you actually come up with plenty excuses while you prepare a hearty stew. "There's so much meat here, it would be wrong not to share." "If I don't repay him, it'll weigh on me for far too long." "I need to bring him his flask back." "I need a good hike anyway."

Stupid rationales for the absurd idea you have conjured up. Nevertheless, you get out your fanciest ceramic pot and cook your best hare stew. You fret, far more than you'd admit, over how little ingredients you have due to the winter. Come afternoon, and you're trekking the woods, past the Human territory and into unwelcomed lands. You clutch the handle of the basket holding your steaming pot of stew tightly inside and his flask, which you filled with your favourite Red bush tea. This is just so you're even and then you never have to think about this Orc ever again.

Somewhere in your mind you know that's not true, You'll never be able to forget what happened. You were content in your woods, pretending you weren't lonely, why has this Orc changed that? It was easy pushing the cravings down before why is the hunger suddenly so present, so consuming.

You eventually step into the clearing where his home lies, Your thoughts continue to meander as your feet take you straight to the steps into his home. Now, you can't just leave it out for him but you can't just knock on the door and run away either...

You knock on the door three times, taking a deep breath and then cursing yourself for needing to do that. What if he doesn't want to see you again? Sure, he saved you from dying but that doesn't mean he'd want you in his home ag-

The door opens slowly, it takes you a minute to look up from the stone floor of the small veranda but when you do, it's those same dark brown eyes looking back at you. He looks shocked to see you, you expected as much. After a few awkward moments of staring, you hold the basket up with both hands, opening the top to reveal the red ceramic pot and his flask. He looks down at the parcel with a rather blank expression and it makes your skin crawl with anxiety. You gesture for him to take the basket and he quickly, with frustratingly gentle hands, takes it from you. He takes a peek inside the pot, letting the built-up steam poor out and his eyes grow even wider, you can't tell if he likes it or not and it's killing you.

Of course he didn't want to see you. The last time you were together he woke up to you, a stranger, on top of him watching him sleep! Your face is hot with shame, you turn to leave but then hear him say something in Orcish, you turn around to face him. You're a little taken back to see the hopeful look in his eyes as he holds the door open for you, waiting for you to accept his invitation.

Timidly, you step inside. Being here again sends a shiver down your spine. The Orc gently rests the basket on his little (in comparison to him) living room table, then heads to the kitchen. He comes back with a tray of two bowls, two mugs and cutlery. It shocks you how easily you take his silent invitation to stay for dinner as you both set the table as if it's a normal thing for basically strangers to do. While he dishes up hearty portions of steamy stew in rather large bowls, you pour the red tinted tea into the two mugs he brought.

You sit down on opposite sides of the wooden table and dig in. The spoon, like the bowl, is rather big and made out of what appears to be a hard dark wood. As you taste your stew, doubts trickle into your mind. Is it too runny? Is the meat too tough? Do Orcs prefer tougher meat? Is it too bland for him?

The scrape of his chair on the floor interrupts your thoughts and you look up at him. He's scooping up more stew with the serving spoon and plopping it into his empty bowl. You stare at him bewildered, he's already going for seconds. How did he even swallow all that so fast?

He notices you staring and looks embarrassed, like he's done something wrong. You shake your head lightly and gesture for him to continue. He smiles rather bashfully for an Orc and plops another spoon full onto his heaped bowl. You hide the smile that creeps onto your face behind a hot mug of tea.

After the pot has been thoroughly emptied and your stomachs are full, he starts clearing up his side of the table. You go to follow but he swiftly takes your bowl from you, sets it on the tray with everything else and walks off to the kitchen. For a second you sit rather dumbly at the empty table, the sound of splashing water comes from the kitchen as you look around the Orc's abode.

Your eyes are drawn to a packed bookshelf in the corner, you try not to be that impressed that an Orc would willingly read so many books. You imagine you would be pretty insulted if someone said that about you, and you know full well that reading is a lovely way to pass the time in such a quiet life as yours and his.

He steps back into the room holding two mugs of what was left of the tea, you suppose that means he likes it? He places them on the small table in front of the couch and takes a seat. He doesn't show any indication that he expects you to sit with him but you find yourself sinking down next to him anyway.

He picks up a little book on the low table and pages through it, it's green with bold Orcish on the front. You try to seem uninterested with what he's doing, staring down at your tea until he shuffles closer to you, pointing to a specific page in the book. You scrunch your eyebrows and lean closer, reading the text he's pointing to.

"Thank you."

Your breath catches and you read further down the page, seeing bold Orcish words followed by Human Common words.

It's a translation book.

You laugh (more like wheeze) in surprise and disbelief. The Orc looks nervous, looking back at the book to make sure he pointed to the right word. You gently take the book from him and page through it, searching.

After quite a while you finally find it, in what you assume is the "Helpful phrases" section and point it out for him.

"You're welcome."

He lets out a hearty laugh and you grin at the sound. You made him laugh. His eyes crinkle, deepening the crows feet just above his cheeks which seem a darker green than before.

After that you sit together in quiet comfort, drinking the rest of your tea and peeking at the words in his book as he pages through the translations. The book is new, the spine isn't creased from use and the pages are still firm and fresh. Did he get this book because of you?

The thought stirs something strange in your belly and you can't tell if you should invite it in or reject it. Your eyes shift to the window near the door and you jump when you see the sun is setting. How has it been that long?

You rise from the couch and grab your basket, shoving your now clean ceramic pot into it. The Orc looks at you confused, looks towards the window, and then shoots up himself, quickly heading to the kitchen. You shrug your fur coat on at the door and wait patiently for him to return, basket in hand.

He returns with the same flask he gave you the last time you left in a hurry. He may be even more bashful this time he hands it to you and you don't need to open it to know what's inside. You nod your head again in thanks and he smiles wider than you'd think an Orc capable, if you hadn't met him, that is.

You walk out of his house, flask tucked in your basket. When you reach the end of the clearing you turn around and there he is, standing on the veranda watching you leave. You hesitate for a moment and then give him a little wave goodbye. He returns it with his own.

As you walk through thick trees you wonder if the nearby human village has a book vendor. Not for any particular reason.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

<- Previous

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean–it’s nice,” Kon says, smiling just as helplessly into his collar and keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as they walk. “Just, you know, it’s not the kinda stuff you usually get me. Like–it’s just, you know–pretty, or whatever. It’s not for anything. Like, I can’t wear it for you and it’s not, you know, food or a game or anything.” 

Tim did not actually realize that he hadn't bought Kon anything that didn't count as “useful” yet, though given the video games and candy and jewelry he's pretty sure they just have different definitions of what “useful” actually is. Also he needs to take a moment to not burn alive over Kon saying the phrase “wear it for you” again, which definitely takes the full moment, because Jesus Christ. 

That has not gotten any less affecting, yeah. 

“Oh, I guess,” he says in his best imitation of a normal person's normal voice. “I didn't really think about that. I just thought you might like it, so I got it for you.” 

Kon somehow finds a new shade of red to turn that honestly might actually be a Kryptonian-related one, considering the intensity of it. It is, unfortunately, cute as fuck. 

“I mean, I do like buying you clothes and stuff, obviously. You look really nice in that outfit, for one,” Tim says, and Kon glances away again, still smiling helplessly and still just as red-faced. He really does blush so easy. It’s weird, Tim thinks, given how much flirting he does. But maybe Kon’s just the “can dish it out but can’t take it” type, he guesses. 

Alternately, maybe people just aren’t complimenting him as often as he deserves and he's not used to hearing it. 

. . . Tim makes a mental note to pencil in some affirmations in Young Justice’s next training session and also to buy Kon even more flowers than he was already planning to. Flowers that come with little hand-written cards that say nice things about him, specifically. 

“You better think I look nice in it, pretty boy,” Kon says, biting his lip around another grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me all fancied up.” 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked the crop top too,” Tim allows, and Kon bursts into laughter and then lets go of his jacket collar and just–beams at him, actually. Just–literally actually beams, brighter than anything in Gotham that doesn’t run on electricity. 

Tim manages not to step off the sidewalk into traffic by Robin-reflexes alone and literally nothing else. 

Jesus, that expression. 

“I like, uh–that,” Kon says, and then blushes a little darker again. “Um–I mean, I like that you, uh . . . like to get me stuff you think I look good in. Uh. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding weird, fuck, just–just I like it.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. The warehouse district in his brain is a lost cause; the fire has officially spread to the docks and across downtown. His mental Gotham is going the way of 1871 Chicago, he’s pretty sure. “Uh–um, good. I’m glad.” 

“It’s just, um–I dunno, it’s just nice to look nice for somebody,” Kon murmurs a little bit shyly, tugging his jacket collar up over his mouth again but still obviously smiling behind it. Tim isn’t sure if that’s a line of thought he should be concerned by after the kind of things Kon was saying earlier, if–“Instead of, you know. For everybody.” 

. . . Tim decides that actually, never mind the concern. Kon can look as good for him as he wants to, if what Kon’s used to is being stuck having to look good for some stupid ad campaign or magazine shoot or what the frick ever. And like–it’s not like he has a problem with Kon wanting to wear things he thinks he’ll like. That is pretty much the opposite of a problem for him, in fact. 

It probably explains the makeup, too. There were definitely not any ad campaigns with glitter eyeliner or nail polish involved. 

. . . not that Tim’s seen all the ad campaigns or anything, just–

Alright, fine, he’s seen all the ad campaigns. That’s just Bat SOP, alright? And definitely only Bat SOP.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

part 5 of 12

Synopsis: Morning confrontations bring afternoon coffee showers? Dealing with the aftermath of the bonfire

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

Warnings: luke being a shitty dad

masterlist

----

The morning sun filtered through the wide-open windows of the Chateau, casting lazy golden beams over the worn but welcoming space. Y/N had woken up early, unable to sleep much after the emotional rollercoaster of the previous night. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was distant but soothing, a sharp contrast to the unease she still felt in the pit of her stomach.

She had wandered into the living room of the Chateau, the place the Pogues often gathered, now quiet after the chaos of the bonfire. The remnants of last night's party—the beer cans, half-empty bottles, and scattered towels—were strewn across the floor, evidence of the good times they’d shared. But the joy from last night felt distant now.

Y/N settled into one of the couches, looking out at the ocean. She was lost in her thoughts when she heard the soft creak of footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Kiara walking in, wearing her usual calm expression, though Y/N could tell her friend had already sensed something was off.

“Hey,” Kiara said gently, taking a seat beside Y/N. She looked out at the water, then back at her. “You alright?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to start. She had been so caught up in her emotions last night, trying to laugh it off, but now, in the quiet aftermath, the weight of it all was harder to ignore. She bit her lip, looking down at her hands.

“I just… I don’t know,” Y/N started, her voice quieter than she intended. “Last night, the way they all were talking… I mean, it’s nothing new, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Kiara’s expression softened. “The jokes about you not hooking up with anyone?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. It’s like, they don’t see me as a girl at all. Just one of the guys. And I know I’ve always been… the bookworm, or whatever, but it’s different now. I don’t know why, but it just hurt last night. I wanted to be seen, you know? I’m not just ‘one of you.’”

Kiara let out a sigh, clearly understanding the struggle Y/N was dealing with. “You’ve always been one of us, Y/N. The Pogues, we’re a family. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be treated like more than just the ‘girl version’ of one of the guys. You’re allowed to feel that way.”

Y/N turned to Kiara, her eyes searching for reassurance. “But why does it feel like I’m always in the background? Like no one really notices me for who I am, just… who I’ve always been to them.”

Kiara gave her a small, knowing smile. “Because it’s easier to see you as the bookworm, the one who’s always steady and reliable. It’s easier than admitting that you might want something more. But you deserve that, Y/N. More than anyone else.”

Just as Y/N was about to respond, the door to JJ's honorary bedroom opened, and JJ walked in, his hair still messy from the night before, his signature carefree grin on his face. He paused for a moment when he saw them, then sauntered over to the couch, plopping down beside Kiara with a playful look.

“Good morning, ladies,” JJ said, his voice light and teasing. “I see we survived the bonfire chaos.”

Kiara rolled her eyes. “You look like you survived a tornado.”

JJ chuckled. “The waves were rough last night. But I made it through, don’t worry.”

Y/N couldn’t help but give a small laugh, but the knot in her stomach tightened again when she remembered the night before. She glanced at him briefly, her heart still doing that strange flutter whenever she saw him, even though she’d tried to shake off her feelings for him.

“Did you have fun last night?” Kiara asked, her voice casual, but Y/N could sense there was a little more to it.

JJ grinned. “Yeah, met a tourist. She’s cool. Gonna show her around today.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a sudden pang of jealousy that she couldn’t ignore. Of course, JJ would find someone else to hang out with. He always did.

She didn’t say anything, though. Instead, she glanced out the window again, her mind racing. As if on cue, the door to the spare room opened, and a girl Y/N didn’t recognize stepped out. She was smiling, stretching as she made her way toward the kitchen, clearly in no rush to leave.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed instinctively. That was the tourist. The one JJ had been flirting with last night. She felt her chest tighten as the reality of her situation hit her harder than before.

Kiara must have noticed the change in Y/N’s expression because she shot a quick glance between her and JJ. “Everything okay?” she asked softly, but there was an underlying understanding in her voice.

Y/N didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she just nodded, trying to hold back the hurt and confusion she was feeling. JJ was already looking toward the door where the girl had gone, clearly not noticing the subtle shift in Y/N’s mood.

But then, he turned to her and noticed her distant expression. He gave her a questioning look, and for a moment, their eyes met. Y/N wasn’t sure what to do with the way his gaze lingered on her—whether it was concern or curiosity—but it only made her feel even more unsure of where she stood.

The awkward silence was broken when Kiara spoke up again, her voice a little firmer than before. “You should talk to him, Y/N. If there’s something you need to say, now’s as good a time as any.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. The words Kiara had just spoken hung in the air, and she felt a surge of emotion bubbling up inside her. She didn’t know what had changed in her since last night, but it was like something inside her had cracked open—something she had kept buried for a long time.

She glanced at Kiara, whose expression was a mix of concern and encouragement. It was like Kiara could see right through her, and in that moment, Y/N realized she didn’t have the luxury of keeping things in anymore. She had to say something. She couldn’t keep playing along like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stood up, the muscles in her legs tense. She turned to JJ, who was still lounging on the couch, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing in the room. She had to get this out, had to make him see.

“JJ,” she started, her voice shaky but determined. “Can we talk?”

He looked up, his grin faltering slightly as he met her eyes. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Outside. Now” Y/N and JJ made their way out to the hammock. Taking a step closer, her eyes narrowing as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “What the hell, JJ?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, her frustration and hurt now spilling over.

JJ blinked, clearly taken aback by her tone. “What are you talking about?”

“The way you act like you’re in love with Kiara, but you’ll hook up with anyone who’s not her.” The words were sharper than she meant, but she couldn’t stop them. “It’s like you get to keep her on this pedestal and pretend that she’s the one, but you don’t treat her like that. You treat her like… like she’s just another girl to play with.”

JJ, who had been about to make a joke, suddenly went silent. He straightened up on the couch, his expression turning more serious, but Y/N didn’t let up.

“I’m sick of it,” Y/N continued, her voice shaking with emotion. “I’m sick of being the ‘good girl,’ the one you all forget is… well, a girl. You make these jokes about me, like I don’t care. But I do. I just don’t understand why you keep doing this—acting like you’re so into Kiara when you’re out there with anyone else who shows up. What about her? What about me?” Her breath hitched, the words coming out in a rush.

JJ’s expression shifted from confusion to defensiveness. He leaned forward slightly, running a hand through his messy hair. “Look, Y/N, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, don’t,” Y/N cut him off, her voice rising. “I’m not asking for an apology, I’m asking for you to think for once. Maybe stop acting like you don’t have feelings for Kiara when you clearly do. And maybe, just maybe, think about how I feel when I see you with someone else, acting like I’m just… background noise.”

There was a heavy pause. JJ’s eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might say something—anything—to try and fix it. But then he stood up quickly, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he pushed past her toward the door.

“Look, I’m just trying to have a good time. Maybe you’re overthinking this,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the intensity of the conversation.

Y/N’s heart sank. It was like he didn’t even understand what she was saying, like he was so caught up in his own world that he couldn’t even recognize the hurt in hers.

Without another word, Y/N turned on her heel and stormed off, her pulse racing. She didn’t want to be in this space anymore. Didn’t want to feel like this anymore.

As she made her way back to the house, JJ called after her, but Y/N didn’t stop. She needed air. She needed to get away from all of this for a moment.

The front door swung open just as she stepped onto the porch, and she stopped, breathless, seeing the girl from the night before leaving the kitchen with a carefree smile. JJ’s tourist. Y/N felt a bitter sting in her chest as the girl waved goodbye to him before heading out, not even sparing a glance at Y/N.

The jealousy coursed through her, but it was more than that—it was the feeling of being unseen, of not being enough. And in that moment, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

—

Later, Y/N started her shift down at the country club. The rhythmic clinking of glasses and soft hum of the lunch rush kept Y/N focused, the kind of steady routine she needed to distract herself after everything that had gone down last night and this morning. Cleaning the bar, wiping down counters—anything to keep her mind from wandering back to the bonfire and the sting of the Pogues’ comments.

But just as she was about to grab a fresh cloth to wipe the countertop, the door to the club swung open, and in walked Rafe Cameron.

Her eyes widened slightly. Rafe was looking like he’d just had the worst day of his life—frazzled, hair a little more messed up than usual, and his eyes wide with some mix of panic and annoyance.

“Y/N!” Rafe’s voice was a little too loud for the low-key atmosphere of the club, and he made a beeline for the bar. “I need your help. Like, right now.”

Y/N leaned back slightly, trying to hide her grin. “Cameron, here? What’s up? Your dad cut you off already?”

He shot her a look that was somewhere between exasperation and helplessness. “I wish. No, listen, my dad invited me to sit in on some huge business meeting today, right? It’s a big deal, but I—” he glanced down at his pants and then back up at her, “—I spilled coffee all over my pants. It’s bad, Y/N. Really bad.”

Y/N couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing, the image of the Kook prince—immaculate and untouchable—standing there with a coffee stain on his fancy pants was just too much. “You spilled coffee on your pants? Really?”

Rafe scowled, clearly embarrassed but too proud to admit just how serious he was about the whole situation. “This is a huge deal, alright? I’m meeting with some important people, and I can’t go in looking like this. I need help, please.”

Still trying to stifle her giggles, Y/N nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll help you. But you owe me one.” She grabbed a towel and motioned for him to follow her. “Come on, we’re going to the bathroom. We’ll try to clean them up. Don’t get too hopeful.”

“Anything,” Rafe muttered, following her through the back of the club.

The bathroom was quiet, and Y/N could already feel the light tension between them as they stepped inside. She motioned for him to wait by one of the stalls. “Alright, take a seat in there. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Rafe shot her a doubtful look but did as she said, squeezing himself into the stall. Y/N was left with his coffee-stained pants, feeling both amused and slightly sorry for him. The stain was big, but not impossible to fix with some elbow grease.

As she worked on scrubbing the stain out, the silence between them stretched on, and after a while, Y/N broke it with a quiet sigh. “You know, I took your advice last night,” she began, her tone soft, almost uncertain. “The whole ‘don’t hold back’ thing. But… it kind of bombed.”

Rafe’s voice came from the stall, more serious than she expected. “What do you mean? I thought it was good advice.”

Y/N shook her head, her hands still moving over the fabric. “I mean, I told them exactly what I was thinking, and it didn’t go over well. They just made fun of me more. I thought maybe it would feel good to get everything off my chest, but instead, it just made things worse.”

There was a long pause before Rafe finally spoke, his tone softer than she had ever heard it. “I’m sorry. I was drunk, and honestly, I didn’t really think through what I was saying. I guess it’s not as easy as just throwing everything out there without consequences.” He let out a small, almost rueful laugh. “I wasn’t really thinking, was I?”

Y/N smiled slightly, feeling the weight of her own frustrations lift just a little. “No, you weren’t. But it did feel good to be honest, even if the timing was… well, off.” She looked at him over her shoulder, finding him still in the stall, his face partially visible, eyebrows knitted in concern.

“You know, I never really thought about it that way,” Rafe admitted, his voice quieter. “Like, yeah, I’m always the one telling people to do whatever the hell they want. But sometimes you gotta be careful what you say. Especially when it’s about people who matter.”

Y/N felt a flicker of understanding between them—something unspoken but real. “Yeah, I get that.”

She finished cleaning the pants, carefully checking to make sure the stain was almost gone. “Alright, I think we’re good. You might still look like you’re working overtime at a coffee shop, but it’s better than it was.”

Rafe finally emerged from the stall, straightening up and looking down at his pants. He sighed in relief. “You saved me. I owe you one, big time.”

Y/N shrugged, brushing her hands off and turning to face him. “Don’t worry about it. Just—next time, maybe don’t go around giving relationship advice while drunk.” She grinned, teasing him.

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then, after a beat, he added, “But seriously, thanks. I didn’t think you’d even care to help me with this.”

Y/N smiled back at him, feeling lighter than she had in days. “What are friends for, Rafe?”

—

The evening sun was beginning to fade, casting an orange glow over the island, but Y/N’s shift at the country club wasn’t over just yet. The events of the day had played out in such a whirlwind—Rafe’s unexpected visit, the heart-to-heart they’d shared, and the awkward tension that still lingered between Y/N and the Pogues. It was a strange mix of emotions she couldn’t quite shake off.

She wiped down the bar one last time, scanning the room. The club was quieter now, the steady flow of people dying down as dinner hour approached. She could already feel the exhaustion setting in after an emotionally charged day, but it wasn’t over yet.

The phone behind the counter rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She answered it quickly, as she always did in the quiet moments.

“Hello?” she asked, her tone soft from the fatigue she’d been carrying all day.

“Y/N?”

Her heart skipped at the familiar voice. It was JJ, and there was something in his voice that made her stomach tighten.

“JJ? Everything okay?” she asked, glancing around the bar to make sure no one needed her attention.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice shaky and strained, like he’d been holding something in for far too long. “My dad… he—he had another outburst. And it was bad, Y/N. Really bad.”

Her chest tightened as she set the rag down on the counter. “JJ… are you alright?”

There was a pause on the other end, and then a sharp, almost hollow laugh. “I’m fine, I guess. Just… it’s the same shit, you know? But this time, I… I don’t know. I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

Y/N’s heart ached for him, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. She had seen him at his worst, but she knew how much it meant when he opened up like this.

“I’ll be there in a few,” she said without hesitation. “Just… stay where you are. I’ll come to you.”

“Thanks,” JJ muttered, the relief in his voice barely audible. “I knew I could count on you.”

The line went dead, and Y/N immediately grabbed her bag, rushing to clock out. She wasn’t about to let him go through this alone, not after everything he’d confided in her before. Even if she didn’t know what to say to fix it, she’d be there.

When Y/N arrived at JJ’s house, she wasn’t sure what she’d find. The atmosphere felt different, heavier, as she stood at the front door, glancing at the dim lights flickering through the windows. There was no sign of movement from inside, but she knew he was there. He had to be.

She knocked softly on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet of the evening. The door creaked open, and there stood JJ, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair messy, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Without a word, he stepped aside, letting her in. The silence that followed spoke volumes—no words needed to be exchanged, as Y/N understood exactly how he was feeling. She had seen this before, the way his father’s outbursts left him fragile and raw. She just didn’t know how much longer he could keep holding it all together.

“Where is he?” Y/N asked, glancing around.

“Out,” JJ muttered, running a hand through his hair. “He left after… after everything. I don’t even know where he went. Doesn’t matter.”

Y/N nodded, understanding that he was just trying to hold himself together. She stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone, JJ.”

He looked down at her hand on his shoulder, then back up at her, his eyes searching hers. “I know. I just… I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” she replied quietly. “We’ve been through too much for me to walk away now.”

JJ let out a shaky breath, then nodded, his eyes lingering on hers for a beat longer than necessary. “I don’t even know how to thank you for always being here. You… you’re the only one who gets it.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. She had always been there for him, but sometimes, it felt like she was the one who needed to be saved. She gave him a small smile. “It’s not about thanks. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Y/N said, breaking the silence. “You’ve been through enough today.”

JJ didn’t argue. He simply nodded, allowing her to guide him toward the small couch where he’d likely been sitting alone, stewing over everything that had happened.

–

The air in JJ’s house was heavy with unspoken thoughts. Y/N had helped him clean up, patched up the immediate mess his father’s outburst had left on him, but the emotional damage was still raw. JJ, sitting on the worn-out couch, looked every bit like a kid who’d seen too much too soon. His shoulders were slumped, his face shadowed by exhaustion, but Y/N knew better than to push him. They’d both been through enough for one day.

She sat down beside him, the room quiet except for the occasional hum of the old fan in the corner. No words were needed right now; sometimes, silence was the best comfort. They didn’t have to say much to understand each other.

Y/N glanced over at him, her voice gentle when she finally broke the silence. “You know, when we were kids, I never imagined things would turn out this way.”

JJ shifted slightly, his eyes downcast. “Yeah, me neither,” he muttered. “But I guess the world doesn’t give a shit about what we imagined, huh?”

Y/N let out a quiet, sad laugh, knowing that was the bitter truth. “Nope. We get what we get, and we have to figure out how to make it work.”

They both sat in the quiet for a moment longer, the weight of everything they’d been through growing heavier. She’d known JJ for so long, seen him go through so much, but tonight it felt different. There was a certain vulnerability in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, something raw and unspoken.

“Did you ever think about leaving?” Y/N asked suddenly, the question hanging in the air before she could stop herself.

JJ met her eyes then, his expression guarded. “I think about it all the time. But I know I’d never make it far. It’s just easier to stay and pretend like it’s all fine.”

Y/N nodded, the truth of his words cutting deeper than she expected. She’d always admired JJ’s ability to keep going, even when everything seemed to be falling apart around him. But she knew, like he did, that sometimes the hardest part was pretending it didn’t hurt.

“I’ve thought about leaving too,” she said quietly, her gaze falling to her hands in her lap. “Not for the same reasons, but… sometimes I wonder if there’s more out there for me than this island. Than everything that’s tied to it.”

JJ’s lips twitched upward in the smallest smile. “You’re one of the only ones I know who can get away from this place, Y/N. You could actually make something of yourself, get outta here.”

Y/N chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe. But every time I think about leaving, I remember that everything I want is right here. Even if it’s all a mess.”

“You really think that?” JJ asked, leaning back slightly, a new kind of curiosity in his voice.

Y/N met his gaze, her tone steady. “Yeah. I think I’ve spent so much time thinking about leaving, I forgot what it means to stay. To fight for something that matters. Even if it's messed up and broken, at least it’s real.”

JJ looked at her for a long moment, his eyes softer than they had been all night. “I get that. I think… Maybe I just don’t know what it means to stay. Not with how things are.”

Y/N’s heart twisted at the words. She’d known about Luke’s temper, the violence that simmered beneath the surface of the man JJ had called father for so long. But she was the only one who knew how bad it really got. The others saw the bruises, the scars, the broken things, but they didn’t know how much of it was a product of a man who couldn’t control his rage.

She sighed, her voice quiet but firm. “You don’t have to carry this alone, JJ. I’m here. You know that, right?”

JJ glanced at her, the walls he’d built up over the years starting to crack. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, he just nodded, as if the weight of everything was finally getting to him. He let out a breath, a shaky laugh escaping him.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N smiled, though the ache in her chest didn’t fade. She knew she was the only one who truly understood what he was going through. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what kept her coming back—being the one person who could hold the pieces together, even when everything seemed to fall apart.

JJ shifted slightly, his tone quieter now. “You ever wish you could’ve had a different childhood? A different family?”

Y/N let the question sit for a moment, knowing it wasn’t easy to admit. She leaned back against the couch, thinking back to her own complicated relationship with her parents. It wasn’t as bad as his, but it had never been simple either. They’d always been distant, more focused on their own lives than on her. She shrugged, her voice soft.

“I think about it sometimes. I wonder if things would’ve been different if they’d been different. But then I remember… you and me, and the way we survived this island. Maybe that’s all we need. To survive.”

JJ let out a dry laugh, the humor in his voice soft and weary. “Yeah. We’re good at surviving.”

The silence stretched between them, and Y/N realized they were both carrying the weight of things they couldn’t change. But at least they had each other. At least they had someone who understood. And for tonight, that would have to be enough.

Eventually, JJ shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of them. He laid back, his head resting against the worn fabric, while Y/N curled up beside him as they’d done when they were kids. The tension in the room, in both of their hearts, started to ease as they settled into the familiar rhythm of being together—no words needed, just the warmth of shared history and unspoken understanding.

Eventually, JJ shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of them. He laid back, his head resting against the worn fabric, while Y/N curled up beside him as they’d done when they were kids. The tension in the room, in both of their hearts, started to ease as they settled into the familiar rhythm of being together—no words needed, just the warmth of shared history and unspoken understanding.

As the night grew darker, Y/N felt the weight of her eyelids heavy, the exhaustion from the day, from everything, creeping in. It had been a hard day, a hard week, but for now, in the quiet of JJ’s house, with him by her side, it felt like they were just two kids again—no worries, no pain, just the comfort of each other’s presence.

“Hey, Y/N?” JJ whispered into the stillness, his voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah?” she murmured, her eyes already half-shut.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N’s lips twitched into a sleepy smile, her voice soft as she responded, “Same, JJ. Same.”

And with that, they both drifted into a peaceful, familiar sleep, the kind that only comes when you know, deep down, that no matter how hard life gets, you’ll always have each other.

Before fully drifting off, Y/N thought to herself, Once we graduate... we’re leaving. Together. No more broken families, no more staying behind. And with that, they both let the quiet of the night pull them under, dreaming of the future they would build away from the island and all that had hurt them.

And with that, they both drifted into a peaceful, familiar sleep, the kind that only comes when you know, deep down, that no matter how hard life gets, you’ll always have each other.

---

Next up: a return to how it was, more or less

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Taglist:

@hockeybabe87

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A/N: last one for night.. wish me luck for my presentation in the morning!!!!

[aropride]

much like the recent US election i'm calling it early bc i want to see the results

first of all, the raw data:

data excluding the ace sweep as a percentage and as numbers (for me percentages are easier to understand so i included both):

this is basically what i expected, my psych book said 8-10 years old was normal and i went "huh, what if i tried to find the accuracy of that by polling the most insane population on planet earth." it wouldn't hold up in a peer review (for many reasons) but it answered my question. (also i do wonder how many people answered a different question than the one i asked, but that's inevitable on here)

and the percent of aces who voted in this poll!!:

part of the reason for the ratio here is that the first addition from me was bc my follower base leans HEAVILY towards asexuals (possibly because i'm aro and the two communities are super intertwined, and also bc i'm not an asshole towards them). the other reason is that once i posted the ace sweep it started circulating in those circles bc it's funny. and it got reblogged by a few big ace blogs too which is how this poll i whipped up in 5 minutes doing my psych homework got 35k votes (36k now jesus christ). but even if half the website did identify as ace that'd be awesome, cool, and not representative of the entire human population. nobody say stupid shit in my notes

one last thing [eyes turn red] [growls] DONT... FUCK WITH... MY ASEXUAL FOLLOWERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [i kill everyone with laser beams]

one actual last thing: a) u are normal and ur experience of sexuality and lack thereof is normal. no matter what answer applies to u it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with u. and b) message to ace teenagers everywhere: if anyone tells u ur too young to know ur sexuality u can hit them over the head with hammers

[miaoua3]

Aa you asked me to say it here, can you make a “husband svt reactions to their wives fighting with them” pls☺️☺️ tysm

hii! sure i can, sorry i made you wait for so long, it's been a few hectic days :((

Seventeen And How They Would React To You Two Fighting

scoups: he will try his best to remain calm and collected, but sometimes even he loses his self control and ends up yelling back at you, which results in a screaming match between you two. he isn’t yelling so much because he’s mad, but rather because he feels like you aren’t hearing him out and because he feels like the fight isn’t going anywhere. in the heat of the moment he might unintentionally say something very hurtful to you. but the moment he sees tears falling down your cheeks, he’s hugging you closely to his chest, so tight that you can only breathe in his smell. will probably tear up himself, all while apologising to you. in his deep voice you will hear him say in your ear “i’m so sorry baby, i didn’t mean it, i’m an idiot, don’t cry because of me, i’m not worth your tears, sweetheart”

jeonghan: i can see him either trying to calmly talk it out or getting so defensive that he becomes emotionally unavailable for that moment, scoffing and rolling his eyes at almost anything you say to him. it’s just frustrating how you both can see what he means and how you aren’t to just let it go, even after he went in detail explaining how he was right and you were wrong. will probably respond only with sarcasm, scoffing he will say “yeah you would know a thing or two about that wouldn’t you”. he doesn’t mean to turn that cruel, but the whole situation is just so frustrating to him that he doesn’t know what to do anymore, plus you putting the blame on him makes him become so defensive that naturally he starts responding with cruel and mean words. but the moment he sees your shoulders shaking, he’s abandoning both his pride and anger, and is instead running to you, your face immediately being developed in his big and warm hands. will mumble something like “didn’t mean to make you cry pretty girl, i’m sorry, i don’t even know what the fight is about anymore. forgive me?”

joshua: i honest to god can’t see this man getting so angry at you to the point that it would make you cry, he’s always so gentle with you and your heart i just can’t realistically see it happening. he would try to make his point come across, if a bit forcefully but it wouldn’t escalate (at least not from his side) beyond that. if he sees that the fight is leading nowhere, he would suggest taking a few minutes for yourselves, before making you both sit down on a couch and talking it out, speaking in turns. you would still end up crying but not because of him yelling at you, but because at some point his own eyes would well up with tears, making you realise just how stupid both of you are. the moment he sees you crying, he’s pulling you onto his lap, hugging you so tightly to his chest, his own tears hitting the skin of your neck where he’s hiding his face. eventually, you two would end up falling asleep like that, the fight forgiven and forgotten from both sides

jun: oh this sweet baby would actually be the one to end up crying please never raise your voice at him. the fight would start as normal as fights can be, but the moment he sees you losing it and you raising your voice at him, it’s done. he will try to respond in a trembling voice, his hands shaking next to his body out of fear. the fear wouldn’t be because he’s afraid of you, like that you would do something to him, because he knows you would never. no, his voice would shake out of fear that this is it for the two of you, that he has officially fucked it all up and that you will break up with him. he would stress himself out so much he will eventually just break down, soft cries escaping his plush lips. the moment you see it, you’re running to him, hugging him close to you and repeating your apology like a mantra. the most heartbreaking thing, the thing that will make you cry too, will be hearing his broken voice whisper “please don’t leave me” in your ear🥺 protect jun at all costs my baby i miss him sm

hoshi: oh fighting with this man would give me a headache, genuinely, i would just leave and/or apologise just to end it lmao. not only would he respond kind of rudely, scoffing at every remark he doesn’t agree with, he would also yell over you, trying to make his reasons be heard loud and clear. what he doesn’t realise is just how much this hurts you, how unheard and silenced you feel, with him just yelling and yelling. his words wouldn’t be necessarily cruel, but he might slip in some truth that cut deeper than he thinks it would. the moment that he sees you running to the bathroom, tears staining your cheeks, he would feel his mouth dry up. after giving you a few minutes, he would just sit in front of the bathroom door, softly apologising and asking if he can give you a hug. just hearing your soft cries echo off the tiled walls of the bathroom would break his heart so much, he himself would let a few tears slip out.

wonwoo: i genuinely can’t really tell how he would react in a fight with his significant other. he definitely doesn’t seem like the type to yell at you, not would he be a wild one like hoshi is. i think the most realistic scenario is him just repeating his point over and over again, slowly getting more and more frustrated, sighing and massaging his temples in an effort not to lose it. at one point he would be so fed up with it, he would either say “im not talking to you anymore”, ignoring everything you say after that and also you in general, just sitting down and either staring at something or being on his phone, or he would just get his keys and walk out while saying “i can’t do this anymore now, im going for a walk, we will talk more later”. the walk would give him the space to think about your fight again with a calm mind, he would end up understanding your points and what your thought process is. this would help him out so when he gets back, he would talk it out gently with you, holding your hands on his lap, softly brushing his thumbs against the back of your hand. after coming to a mutual agreement, he would hug you close to him, kissing your forehead softly as an apology

woozi: i think it would take jihoon genuinely a lot to get him truly pissed off, and if it gets to that point, expect his words to cut so deep, you two might never come back to the point you once were. he would try to be reasonable in the beginning, talking as calmly as he possibly can, trying really hard to make you see his point of you. but eventually, as you start losing it, so will he. he won’t ever raise his voice at you, there’s no need for something like that- especially because his words will be venomous enough that it will hurt much more than him raising his voice at you ever would. he would say such horrible things because it’s his defensive mechanism, he wouldn’t realise just how hurtful they truly are until he sees you running out of the house, crying so much, you don’t even think about taking your coat. he will stay behind for a minute, thinking about what he said before he’s running after you too. after the most stressful 20 minutes, when he finds you on a bench in a park, he will be getting on his knees to beg for your forgiveness, the rarity that are his tears would make their appearance. his voice would tremble while saying “you have no reason to but please forgive me. i can’t live without you, you are everything i have ever dreamed of and im taking it for granted. please forgive me so i can make up to you and treat you like you should be treated”

minghao: the most rational one out of all of them, so soft spoken and kind to you even during a stressful situation like a fight. he wouldn’t even get it to the point where you might completely lose it, the moment he sees that your anger is about to boil over, he takes your hands in his and puts one of your hands on his chest, where his heart is. while gently holding the eye contact, he would say “my love. i understand where you’re coming from, and although i don’t really agree with what you are saying, i understand where you are coming from. but i feel like this fight isn’t going anywhere. can we sit down and talk it out? find a middle ground that both of us can stand on? i just think otherwise we won’t stop fighting for a while-we need to agree on this one way or another.” 30 minutes later, the fight is over, the middle ground has been found, the tea has been brewed, and cuddles have been shared. i just can’t imagine him reacting any differently in this type of situation- the most extreme scenario would be him going to a room alone to calm down for a few minutes before coming back to you to make up.

mingyu: i feel like this one would try to play victim big time every time and it would personally piss me off lmao. he genuinely doesn’t understand how you think that this is his fault and why you’re still fighting him. like it genuinely baffles him that you aren’t seeing your own faults in this situation. would definitely scoff at every other sentence that lives your mouth, saying things like “oh so this is my fault too? so it’s everything that isn’t according to your standards my fault now? if im so bad, why are you even with me?” at some point you will start crying out of frustration for being with such a dumbass lmao. the moment he sees your tears however, every word dies before it gets the chance to leave his mouth. when you turn away from him, he will gently tug on the hem of your shirt before mumbling “im sorry. i wasn’t thinking clearly and was very rude to you by not responding to you properly.” after a few seconds he will shyly ask “can i hug you? please? im so exhausted because of this fight and… i miss you”. after a few millions of kisses all is well

dk: oh this baby, he would NEVER let the fight get so far as for you to end up crying because of him. you two will go back and forth for a while, but the moment he sees you getting annoyed, he’s rushing to you, your hands teleporting themselves into his, his gentle eyes looking at you while saying “my love please don’t get mad. im sorry, i didn’t mean to push you this far, please forgive me.” and just like that it would be over. this is of course in case that you two just misunderstood each other. if you did something very hurtful to him however, expect him to yell at you in the heat of a moment, before ignoring you for the next two to three days. he would avoid you at all cost, although you will still find your morning coffee ready for you and the dinner heated up for you, but he won’t talk to you, still mad at you for what you did. that is, until one night you corner him in the kitchen and hug him from behind, your soft voice breaking as you utter the words “im sorry”. the feeling of longing and hurt and anger will finally subdue enough for him to return your hug, saying “ im sorry too.” after a few second he would add “im still mad though. i want cuddles and kisses tomorrow, all day, the whole day, as an apology” because he wouldn’t be our seokminnie if he didn’t add something like that.

seungkwan: oh god may god help you if your fight with seungkwan ever turns very serious, it will be so loud and painful and illogical it will drive you mad. we all know that our diva is a bit sassy, but once the sassiness turns to annoyance and anger oh you will get it in the neck. at some point the initial cause for the fight would be forgotten by both of you, just throwing insults at each other, trying to hurt the other more than it hurts you. the fight would get so messy you would just walk out, slamming the door behind you. after an hour or two, you will be welcomed with seungkwan jumping off the couch, his eyes bloodshot, yet again yelling at you “where the hell have you been?!” before speed walking to you. the moment he’s within the arms reach, he’s pulling you to his chest, so tightly it feels like he’s tying you to himself. in a most broken whisper, he will shakily exhale “i was so worried about you, don’t ever do that again…please…i thought- i-i thought that you left me…” cue more tears from the both of you

vernon: i know that a lot of people deem vernon to be clueless and stoic and somewhat emotionless, but i really don’t think that’s the case. vernon is one of the most mature ones out of all the other boys, he’s so emotionally intelligent and careful with his words. and he can definitely get angry if something rubs him the wrong way. although he wouldn’t yell at you, his frustration would be very visible due to the frown caressing his face and also with how animatedly he’s moving his hands. and because he’s a bit thick headed, i feel like he would repeat his points over and over again in an effort to make you understand what he means, even when they aren’t making any sense or aren’t really that relevant to the argument. eventually he will just walk into the other room to calm down, saying “i can’t do this anymore right now, we will talk later”. once he’s calmed down, he will go over both your pointe, finally hearing you out, but also making you understand what he meant more clearly. over all, arguments with vernon would never last that long because he wouldn’t let them last that long. once the movie is turned on and you are all cuddled up into his side, all so forgiven and forgotten

dino: see, dino is one of the only ones who i can’t really tell how he would act during an argument. while generally more on the quieter side, i can see him lashing out a bit once he has reached his limit, but i feel like he would immediately feel guilty about it and would apologise to you for saying it that way. he would probably feel a bit repressed, thinking you don’t care about what he thinks, which would make him yell out “you never hear out what i have to say! is that hard for you to just listen to what i say?” the further it escalates, the worse he’s going to feel, until eventually he inevitably starts crying. feeling a bit embarrassed, he will just walk out and lock himself in the bathroom for the next few hours. channie is so sensitive, that your words always get to him, making him overthink about everything-is he a bad boyfriend? does he even deserve to be with someone as amazing as you? were you maybe right, was he in the wrong after all? he would spiral so much that you will have to talk him into joining you outside to talk about the fight and to make up. cue more tears from him, he would feel so ashamed and embarrassed, he would be looking down at his lap the entire time until you put a finger under his chin and raise his face so you can kiss his cheek as an apology. after the apologies are said, he will need you to hug him for the next several hours, just holding him like a little child until he feels better about both the situation and himself.

[nakylvr]

hiiii can I request gp!sophia x fem!reader with angst prompt 1 + smut prompt 10 where basically reader just had a huge fight with her ex bf and went to sophia bc she’s her best friend (that she’s also lowkey really attracted to) and sophia tries to cheer reader up (by fucking her) but she’s really sweet and fluffy during it🫶🏼

(sorry if this doesn’t make any sense but I hope you get what I mean😭english is not my first language💜)

bestie this is so good...you made perfect sense i understood completely 🫶 thank you so much for requesting!

— ALL I WANTED ⚓️

sophia laforteza (katseye) x fem!reader

summary: angst prompt 1("i didn't know where else to go") + smut prompt 10("don't worry, i'll take care of you") from my 100 follower event OR you have a big fight with your boyfriend and break up. going to your best friend sophia, things take a turn by how she "cheers you up"

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, g!p!sophia, soft dom!sophia, sub!reader, soft sex, lots of praise, unprotected sex, cumming inside

you stood in front of the door of your best friend's apartment. your arms were folded in on yourself, practically hugging yourself as you waited for the door to open. it was cold outside, feeling the chill breeze as you wore merely a thin sweater and leggings. you glance away for a split second, and suddenly the door opens revealing sophia, whose expression quickly goes from happy to concerned at the sight of you.

"oh my god, are you okay?" she immediately questions. "here, come inside. you're probably freezing." she grabs your arm and pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

"sorry for showing up like this," you apologize quietly as you look down at the ground. "i didn't know where else to go," your voice cracks as you say this.

sophia can instantly tell something is wrong. the first thing being you apologizing when she would never be upset with you for randomly showing up in the middle of the night. second being the way your eyes won't meet hers. and third, the crack in your voice.

"hey, hey," she says softly, placing her hands on your shoulders. "what's wrong? what happened?" her tone is so caring and genuine like she always is with you. she hates seeing you upset to the point of near crying, but she doesn't know how to help if she doesn't know what's wrong.

"it-it's just my boyfriend and i got in a huge fight...he broke up with me and basically kicked me out so...i came here," your voice is quiet as you speak, still not being able to meet her eyes.

sophia's eyes go wide for a second at your answer. but when you finally look at her, eyes filled with tears, her breath hitches in her throat. she can't lie and say she doesn't think this is a blessing in disguise given the fact she's been pining for you for years now, but couldn't do anything with that stupid boyfriend of yours around, cause she does think it. she knows you feel the same, at least she thinks it with the lingering stares you've been giving her more recently and the way you've talked to her lately. she tries to think quickly of what's the best option to do right now, too many different thoughts running through her head as she stares back at you. hesitantly, she moves her hands from your shoulders to cup your face in her hands, seeing the way your eyes subtly widen at her action and hoping she isn't fucking this up. "how about i help cheer you up?"

you're frozen in your spot as sophia asks you the question, and you're not sure how to respond. you don't have a complete understanding of what she's meaning, your mind going in a direction you assume would never happen ever no matter how much you wanted. "what do you mean by that?" you respond quietly.

"whatever you want it to mean," sophia answers in the same voice. "i'm here for anything you need or want."

those words are enough reassurance you need to finally say what you've been wanting to say for a while now. "kiss me," you whisper.

sophia tries to fight the smile that creeps on her face at your reply, but fails miserably as she leans in and closes the gap between you and her. she can taste the remainder of your lipgloss on your lips that you applied earlier in the day, sighing softly against your lips. your arms wrap around her neck, pulling her closer to you before parting from the kiss. your face is inches away from hers, and your fingers play with her hair as you stare into her eyes.

"you're a really good kisser," you murmur. "how were you planning on cheering me up?" you ask next.

"will you let me show you?" sophia responds. "let me take care of you like you deserve." her hands move to your waist, somehow managing to pull you even closer.

"please," you say in a quiet voice.

that's all sophia needs to hear before she's pulling you to her bedroom, kissing you continuously and almost tripping when she hits the bed. she swiftly picks you up and lays you down on the bed, crawling above you and peering down at you. her hands find the hem of your swearer and she looks at you, silently asking for your permission to remove it. you nod your head, and she slowly pulls it up over your head, leaving you in your bra and leggings.

"you're so beautiful," sophia murmurs, her hands drifting up and down your torso. they stop at the waistband of your leggings, her fingers hooking around it and lightly tugging them down your legs and off along with your panties. "you have no idea how much i've wanted this," she says, her eyes wandering over your body, her cock throbbing in her boxers at the sight of you in front of her. she quickly discards her shirt and shorts, leaving her in her boxers that had a wet spot from the precum leaking from her tip. she brings a hand between your legs, fingers dragging along your folds before slowly slipping two into your wet heat.

"s-sophia," you whimper out when she slowly thrusts her fingers in and out of you.

your walls suck her fingers in greedily, making her only want you more as she pulls her fingers out after a few seconds, needing to feel you around her cock. she strips off her boxers, her cock springing out, the head red and dripping beads of precum. supporting herself up with one of her arms near your head, the other holds the base of her length, sliding up and down your dripping pussy, collecting your slick on her tip. "don't worry, i'll take care of you," she tells you softly. "are you ready?"

you nod your head, whimpering at the feeling of her rubbing against you. "yes- please i need you so bad," your voice comes out whinier than you wanted, but you can't find it in you to care seeing the way sophia's eyes darken at your words.

slowly, she pushes inside of you, watching the way your eyes roll back at the size of her filling you up. sophia curses under her breath at your walls squeezing around her tightly, stopping once she was fully in you. "you tell me when you want me to move, okay?" she presses a quick kiss on your lips.

your jaw falls open as you feel her stretching you out, a quiet whimper coming from you when she stops. you nod again at her words, taking a few shallow breaths before speaking. "y-you can move now."

inch by inch, sophia pulls out before sliding back in, the wetness of your pussy making it oh so easy for her to build a slow pace. "you're so pretty," she says, leaning down and kissing you. "god, you're so tight," she hisses against your lips.

quiet moans fall from your lips as she sets a slow pace, almost embarrassed of getting too loud, whimpering at her words as she kisses you. your arms hook around her neck, pulling her closer. parting from the kiss, you breathe heavily as you stare up at her, biting down on your lower lip to try and keep quiet.

sophia's eyes don't leave yours once, keeping eye contact while maintaining her slow pace. she didn't want to get rough with you in your current state, she was happy enough for this to be happening in general. plus, she seriously doubted your dumbass boyfriend gave a fuck about whether you actually came or not. so she was going to make sure you would. "don't be shy, princess," she pushes some of your hair out of your face. "let me hear you, my love. i wanna hear the pretty noises you make."

your face heats up at the realization that she wants to hear you, finally letting go of your lip from your teeth and freely moaning like she wanted. "sh-shit sophia," you whine her name. you're surprised at how slow and gentle the girl above you is being, as if she was worried she would hurt you when you know she would never even think of hurting you once. but, it was nice. she was right, she was making you feel the way you deserved.

hearing her name coming from you in that whiny tone has sophia's cock twitching in you, letting out quiet grunts with her gaze still on you. "how does it feel, baby?" she asks you, genuine. she needs to know she's making you feel good, she needs to hear you say it. she doesn't know how she's keeping up this slow, almost agonizing pace, but seeing your reactions each time she slowly pushes back in is enough for her to keep at it. "tell me how it feels."

"g-good," you manage out through moans. "it fe-feels so g-good- fuck- you're making m-me feel so good," you emphasize on 'you're' so that she knows that she's the only one on your mind. it was true, you couldn't even think about anything else except for the way she feels like this. you didn't even remember why you came here, and you didn't care, either.

"fuck," sophia breathes out at your response. she can tell you've long forgotten why you originally came to her place, and that mixed with you emphasizing that she's the one making you feel this good has her swelling with pride. "you're so beautiful like this. i love you so so much," she mumbles, not realizing the way her words could sound to you.

you can barely process her words, only hearing the 'i love you', and that alone has you clenching tightly around her cock, somehow getting even wetter than you already were. "i lo-love you too- o-oh my god!" your eyes roll back when you feel her tip nudge against your g-spot. "fu-fuck!" you feel tears welling in your eyes as you feel yourself getting closer to cumming.

seeing the tears in your eyes has sophia cooing at you, cupping your cheek with one of her hands and wiping the stray tear that falls. "shh, you're close, yeah?" she says quietly. she slowly speeds up her thrusts just a little bit, pushing so deep into you that she can practically see the outline of her cock bulging from your stomach making her twitch again. "i'm close too- shit!- tel-tell me where you want me," her words are starting to get interrupted by little whimpers escaping her throat as she feels herself get closer.

you nod your head quickly at her question, murmuring out, "ye-yes," through your noises that are getting louder and whinier. her next words have your head spinning to come up with a response. staring up into her eyes as she stares down at you, you know the answer you're going to give. "i-in me, please, i'm o-on the pill, please cum in me, please," you're begging for her in a way that would be embarrassing to you in any other moment, but you can't find it in you to care.

sophia's eyes go wide when you tell her what you want, but she isn't going to deny your requests in any shape or form. "don't worry, my love," she tells you before kissing you, moaning into the kiss and speeding up just a little bit more.

whining her name as she kisses you, you pull her down impossibly closer to you, your bodies practically pressed against each other. your legs wrap around her hips, bringing her even closer to you. pulling out of the kiss, you rest your forehead against hers, looking deeply into her eyes as short breaths and moans of her name leave your mouth. "f-fuck, sophia 'm so close,"

"go on," she pecks your lips quickly. "cum for me, my pretty girl. so pretty for me like this, god," she groans quietly.

after one final thrust, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you cum so hard you end up seeing white, your hands clawing at her back. not even a minute later, sophia is putting her face in your neck and letting out a long drawn-out whine as spurts of her cum fill you up to the brim. she stays there for a moment or two, breathing heavily into your neck before slowly pulling out of you. a whimper falls from your lips at the feeling, your arms still hooked around her neck and holding her close to you.

"do you...really love me in this way?" you whisper quietly.

sophia pulls her face from your neck at your hesitant question, looking down at you and nodding her head. "of course. i just didn't want to do anything while you were with him," she answers truthfully.

you nod slowly, clearly hesitating about asking the next question you were thinking of. "do you want...to be with me?"

there's a look in sophia's eyes that you can't figure out, as if she's struggling with a response. "yes," she says in a quiet voice.

"then i'm yours," you smile at her, moving your hands to cup her cheeks. "i love you."

sophia's face instantly lights up when you speak, a wide smile tugging on her lips. "i love you too, so much."

[crazyvik97rpg]

Sebastian was so happy that William was now here too. He got a kiss, then William sat down next to him, held his hand. He told him right away about all the things he did before coming here and the reason why he was late. Sebastian understood of course – the fact that William even came to visit today despite being busy himself was already more than enough.

„Thank you so much, love. Surely by the time I‘m back home Snowflake will love you just as much“, he grinned, „And please, don’t worry about any stupid speeding tickets, really“, that was so not important right now anyway. Sebastian was was more curious about what their friends said, because clearly it was them that William spoke to today. Grandma Lillian listened attentively as well – so far she could already tell William was a very pleasant, friendly and endeavored young man and she could tell he cared for Sebastian a lot.

„I‘m…fine I guess“, Sebastian answered William’s question first, „I mean, honestly? Dr Cole said during her ward round in the morning that everything looks fine. But…still, all feels sore and uncomfortable, I guess that’s normal but it’s annoying. I‘m still on that pain meds IV of course but they don’t want to give me too much too often, so the wound generally just hurts all day. I can’t leave the bed, I can’t eat solid food, it’s really…okay. Not more and not less“, he sighed, kind of defeated and yet he still showed William a smile, „But…I don’t want to complain too much. I feel way better now that you are here“.

Well, Sebastian never cared if he was particularly cheesy in front of others – it wasn’t like his grandma didn’t know him. She found it amusing and also quite endearing.

„But now tell me. You told the others, right? What…what did they say? And…how was your day anyway? Tell me everything“.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

HIIII do you have anymore tid bits for you au.... (share all of them. go ham. I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

So many. SO MANY!!

— After Ford gets his body back, Bill makes excuses to himself to watch over Dipper and Mabel when they’re dreaming, and interjects if they have any nightmares. This is definitely important to his evil plans, okay.

— McGucket definitely knows something is wrong with Stanfraud, and makes a scene whenever he sees him, claiming him to be the ‘devil in disguise’, or ‘the beast with one eye’. When Dipper and Mabel ask about it, Bill brushes it off as McGucket’s memory loss making him recall their fallout as worse than it was.

— Bill was roped into helping Stan teach Soos boxing when he was younger. He thought it was stupid at the time, but Stan wasn’t taking no for an answer. Soos still appreciates both of them for it, and Bill doesn’t mind the kid as much anymore. He’s smarter than he looks. He just has to put his mind to it.

— Bill actually likes stargazing. Stan’s surprised when he first catches Bill on the roof doing it, and Bill gets defensive when Stan pushes him on the matter, but he doesn’t exactly hate the company. When he’s left alone with his thoughts and the stars, his mind goes to a place that’s too dark, even for him. So, sometimes he and Stan will grab a drink — usually beer for Stan and some barely drinkable cocktails for Bill — and they’ll watch the stars. When Mabel finds out about it, she joins him. It’s one of the few places that he seems a lot… calmer. Not by a lot, mind you, but it’s noticeable enough for Bill.

— During Headhunters, there’s a lot of conflict between Stan and Bill. Bill thinks it’s weird how Stan is treating the wax figure, that just because he can’t pretend Bill is Ford, doesn’t mean he has to go speaking to a lump of wax. He has a lot of uncomfortable feelings surrounding Ford as is, ones he prefers to bury deep in the back of his mind, and this whole funeral deal, Stan’s genuine grief, it’s really putting a damper on his mood. Plus, he may be a little bit jealous. And maybe, just maybe, a bit concerned. I don’t have the details figured out yet, but I know for a fact they get into an argument over it, and the subject of Ford comes up again — no more avoiding it.

— Stan and Bill are banned from one of the town’s main bars for life. Why? That’s between them and the raccoon.

— I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but Bill actually dyed his, or, well, Ford’s hair brown, though he’s pretty bad at keeping on top of that so the grey roots tend to be showing.

— Dipper Vs Manliness actually has a small bonding moment between Bill and Dipper, where Bill essentially deconstructs gender and also tries to boost Dipper’s confidence, in his own Bill way.

He’s a strangely good influence in general when it comes to masculinity and gender and what not, being as he doesn’t conform to any human expectation. And he would absolutely sing Disco Girl with Dipper too. He loves that song, bitter memories be damned. Why would he let Sixer kill his groove.

And I shall leave it at that for now! If you’d like anymore tidbits I’m always keeping a thousand up my sleeves! And if you’d like any about specific characters, let me know!