#and i will continue living in whatever way makes the most sense to me

[meringuejellyfish]

incredibly lame train of thought because of course i would still be troubled for many a reason (just like many others) even if i was more "on my own" so do not think too hard on what this means but i do get a sense of stupid "jealousy" when observing others situations and the selfish pondering occurs which is along the lines of "if i was an only child what would i be doing?" "what if there were times where i only thought of myself?" "what would it mean to live more for myself?" truthfully probably badly in so many ways. but i cannot help but think, briefly, about all sorts of random aspects that would be cause for an entirely different life. though none of it is to say im a miserable person at my core, my life is full of genuine joy and passions. funnily "i wish i was somebody else" was always a thought i would have when i was very little, and the idea that there could be all sorts of different versions of me, had this or that been a thing, was very horrifying. i was glad that i was me, who was nice, and liked art and wizards and minecraft and dolls and music as much as i did. well, i think id like to have a day sometime soon where i do nothing but listen to music or put a movie on loop and draw and draw and a bit of playing in the mud as well

[torgawl]

crack theory: what if the abyss twin isn't a descender because they're an ascender?

[vaguely-concerned]

the things it adds to both of the characters involved that lucanis used to have a thing for viago could not have been more tailor made to be for me. literally the ideal thing to come out of this game for me personally and specifically and spiritually. I mean I'm teia x viago trash until the day I die and nothing will ever change this (and with the best will in the world and even the power of lucanis' big beautiful soulful eyes, that would never have worked out even if viago DID somehow understand he was being propositioned. which I'm not convinced he did. the mutual 'so. snakes are pretty cool huh. and. knives. also' awkward energy without someone of teia's charisma and people skills involved to mitigate it... it would have been dire), but on so many levels I find it so incredibly charming for what it says about them both that the (one-sided) attraction was there once.

what's more, it means the man about whom this legendary paragraph was written:

Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood.

has got some of the hottest coolest deadliest people in thedas down so catastrophically bad it's got them acting unwise. teia had to wait a UST-drenched decade for him to be ready to take his fucking gloves off for her. and she did!! the tetchiest most neurotic least approachable little vetinari knockoff of a man you ever saw has game for days and days and lives rent free in heads for years. in eight little talons viago consistently feels so inadequate up against dante and it's like. man I'm shaking you by the lapels you have what he'll never have. the ability to bewitch body and soul with your terrible personality and long thin legs. do not waste the gift you've been given go get her she's waiting!!!

(lucanis is really good at reading people, so I wonder if maybe he saw through all of that to some of the steadiness and incredible capacity for warmth and tenderness in specific interpersonal relationships you see viago have with teia when he finally opens up enough, and maybe that was part of it. either way it's so perfect that both he and teia have regarded viago with this affectionate intrigued amusement. lucanis still seems pretty fond of him in a 'viago continues to be exactly himself no matter what else happens or goes wrong. comforting universal constant' sort of way, he brings him up quite a lot in party banter.)

you've seen lucanis' game in this day and age, arguably or at least hopefully older and wiser -- can you imagine how catastrophically bad it must have been back when he presumably handed viago, most paranoid man in thedas all years running, a knife like this expressed everything it needed to. people give him so much shit for the cake moment being his big romantic lock-in, but considering where we started that is GROWTH and I for one am so proud of him fhsdkjaf.

also I wonder at what point vis-a-vis that whole Situation teia and viago met for the first time, leading us to ask... just how much was it a matter of lucanis simply being ignored out of a lack of interest on viago's part (tbf, not entirely unlikely). how much was it lucanis truly not managing to make himself understood. (all but certainly. literally how would one understand that. I think it says some sweet things about rook and lucanis' dynamic that they -- somehow -- DO pick up what he's putting down in a similar scenario presumably b/c they know him pretty well by then haha.) how much was it viago interpreting the romantic move as a death threat from one of the most dangerous people alive and freaking out. (1000% and indubitably.) and how much was it andarateia steal-your-girl cantori turning up and thus setting off whatever spectacular, volatile, awesome-in-the-original-sense chemical reaction between the substances of her and viago's souls that goes on to this day and makes everything else kind of a side note at best. a gentle mix of several of these things, perhaps. ...god I love all these characters so much

[tojisth3rdwife]

“Bout time you answered the damn phone..”

You wrinkle your nose at the hint of attitude in Toji’s deep voice, finding it a little cute since you knew that just his personality.

With your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, you continued working down the mountain of laundry in the basket on your living room floor.

��Uhm, rude?” you snort, tossing a freshly folded towel to join its appropriate pile before picking up another.

“What ever happened to ‘hello’ or ‘hey big booty’ ?”

“I reserve those types of greetings for girlfriends that pick up the first time I call.”

At that you roll your eyes, snatching up another towel.

“Girlfriends? So theres others?” you begin folding it. The faint sound of echoe’d music and a muffled voice requesting assistance in the frangrance department let you know Toji was out and about, more than likely at some convenience store.

The big nasty was probably restocking on condoms and that special brand of lube he used on you a while back. The one that resulted in you needing to change your bed sheets.

Twice.

“See, I could play your game and say there are others just to fuck with you....’xcuse me...” he pauses to say to an older woman he squeezed past in the aisle.

“...but you cant take a damn joke and I plan on getting some tonight.”

You pert your lips at the statement but dont argue. Even in the several months you and Toji became exclusive, it was true that his sense of humor surpassed yours when it came to him and other women. You werent nearly as possessive or jealous as he was (usually), but he knew better than to test it.

“Smart. Im glad you value your life. Talk to me nice.” you respond in the most brattish way, making your boyfriend chuckle dryly on the other end of the phone.

“Shut up. Anyway, what kind of soap do you use again? I vaguely remember what it looks like but theres 5 bottles that match what I see in my brain.”

“Soap? Like to wash my body?” you furrow your brow distractedly, continuing to fold clothes.

“Naw to wash your dog.” he tosses back sarcasticaly. If there was a camera crew in your house, you’d be glancing at them with a deadpanned look of annoyance.

You didnt have a dog.

“Would it be so hard just to answer a question? I swear I dont like you sometimes.” you mutter, flapping out the pair of pants you were about to fold and Toji’s smirk is as audidle as his snickering.

“But you love me all the time. Now stay focused. Soap. The kind you wash your ass with.”

You sigh in exasperation at the simple question. And it was for sure simple ,but as many times as Toji had been in your shower, sometimes with you, he should be able to know which damn soap you used.

Old ass..

“Dr.Bronner’s babe. Unscented..”

“The light blue one. See, I knew I remembered it.”

Toji snatches the largest bottle of pure castile soap from the shelves. His massive hand grasps it effortlessly as he made his way to another aisle, squinting at a display of electric shavers curiously.

“Well alright. Thats all I wanted. Carry on cheating or whatever you doing..”

You let out a loud breath, tossing the pair of pants aside.

“Why are you like this? That’s not funny, you know?”

“What?” Toji strolls leisurely down the shave aisle now, eyeing the array of products.

“You saying shit like that. Accusing me of cheating every time I don’t pick up or text back fast. Its irritating..” you huff, aggressively flapping out another pair of sweats that you immediately knew belonged to Toji.

“Is it?”

“Is it?” You mock him, balling up his oversized joggers scornfully and throwing them on the floor. God he was annoying. If he werent so fine, and tall, and big..

And fit.

And sexy.

And intimidating.

And..

What were we talking about?

A breathy chuckle vibrates against your ear, as well as the echoing *beep* of the cashiers growing louder, both yanking you off your tangent.

“Aww, mama. Don’t be like that. I only say it as a joke. I know you’d never cheat on me ‘cuz my dick’s too big.” Toji remarks all too casually, not even acknowledging the way an old man shoots him a disgustingly surprised look at his crudeness out loud as he walked past him.

You snort in amusement and shake your head.

“True. But don’t be so sure. Theres plenty of trees in the forest.” You remark cheekily, glad that you weren’t in front of him after saying that. Part of you wished you were though. Watching those pretty beady eyes of his shrink with his glare was equal parts scary and arousing. To your surprise, Toji finds your rebuttal funny enough to laugh.

“You must really want me to fold your ass like a futon, huh? Just wait, I’ll be by there later.”

Toji turns to get in line at a check out lane. A little girl standing with her mother behind him stares up at his back with wide eyes, probably never seeing a man of his size and stature. Ya boy was scraping at 6’3 barefoot, so in shoes he was surely around 6’4. Even you would find yourself gaping up at him when he stood in front of you.

“Yeah? What you gon do?

*beep*

Toji shuffles forward, the scarred corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

“Fold you like a futon. Duh. You want candy?” He quickly changes the subject distractedly, falling victim to the mini wall of chocolate bars and gum.

The threat makes your core flutter while his subtle way of always keeping you in mind had you biting down on your grin as you continued folding laundry.

“Nooo, Baby. I don’t want candy. Thank you though.” You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“Well dont ask for some of mine ‘cuz I aint sharing..” Toji grumbles, still picking up two candy bars.

“Mmhmm.”

Having folded the final article of clothing and setting it aside, you sink back into the couch cushions with a huff, lifting your hand to untuck your phone and hold it against your ear.

“So wait, thats why you were blowing me up? Over soap?”

“Basically. I wanted you to have your own for when you stay with me. I know you have sensitive skin and shit…” he responds before reciprocating the cashiers greeting as he set his items on the belt.

“Awwww DaddyBear, how considerate of you. I wanna kiss you now, instead of slapping your face”

“Youre too easy to impress woman. Its just soap. You leave shit at my apartment anyway so I figured you’d wanna have something to shower with too.”

“I know but it’s still sweet. Come over now so I kiss on you and touch your butt.”

Toji snorts at your antics, knowing damn well he wasn’t letting your hands go anywhere near his ass.

“Yeah yeah. I gotta swing by Shui’s to pick up some money then Im gonna head your way.”

“Ok. But wait, you still could have just texted me that. Why call and make a fuss?”

“Damn. Maybe I also just like hearing your whiny ass voice y’know?”

You sigh, your giddiness fading immediately.

“Just hurry up and come over, ass.”

“See? Can never take a joke.”

“Bye Toji.”

“See you later Big Booty..”

<call ended>

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! I love your writing. can I request ⁸⁾ a coat draped gently over a sleeping form with remus and shy!reader? congrats!!

Thanks lovely!

Remus Lupin x shy!reader ♡ 678 words

Remus makes Sirius turn down the music. The party’s winding down anyways, most of their friends having slunk off into the night. Lily and James are canoodling in the kitchen despite the former’s claims that they were going to have an early night, and Sirius has just abandoned his hosting duties to follow some bloke he likes to the McDonald’s down the street. 

Remus would usually leave about now, but for reasons he can’t explain he doesn’t want to tonight. (He looks at you, curled up and in the armchair, and…well, maybe he can explain those reasons a little bit.) He decides to start picking up. 

He’s careful not to let things clink or crackle as he works his way around the living room, collecting the bottles and cans well-meaning friends tucked into corners and forgot to come back for. Sirius’ rubbish bag is full, so Remus takes it out and starts filling a new one. When he opens the door on his way in and out, he notices your shoulders bunch like you’re cold, your knees curling closer to your body. 

Remus stops on his way past the coat rack, grabbing his own coat. He drapes it carefully over you. Your cheek twitches like the wool tickles, but then you relax into the warmth. It does something unruly to Remus’ insides to witness. 

He picks up the bag again, meaning to continue, but your face moves again. You take a breath, a disruption of the quiet rhythm of your sleep, and your fingers peek out from the collar of Remus’ coat. They curl around it as though to pull it tighter. 

Your eyelashes peel apart, slowly and in stages like you’re fighting their magnetic pull towards each other. Remus watches you come awake. Those first few blinks where you know nothing but comfort and ease, the gradual realization that the coat covering you isn’t yours, and finally the movement of your eyes towards him, a familiar timidness taking you. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologizes. His voice comes out soft, some part of him wanting to safeguard whatever sleep might still be clinging to you. “You looked like you were cold.” 

You shake your head, seemingly not knowing what to say. Your hand lets go of his coat to cover your mouth, and you yawn hard enough to make your eyes teary. 

“Thank you,” you say once you’re done, voice softer than soft and expression self-conscious. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You look around. “Has everyone gone?” 

“Not everyone. James and Lily are in the kitchen.” 

“Oh no.” You sit up, letting Remus’ coat fall off your shoulder. Immediately, another yawn takes you, so powerful you have to stop to cover it again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Remus chides, “you’re always welcome. Sirius doesn’t mind.” 

You shrug, your shoulders staying up a tad high even when you’ve completed the motion. He gets the sense that you don’t believe him, though it’s not in your nature to argue. 

“Did you drive here?” he asks you kindly. 

Your fingers play with a bit of fuzz on Remus’ coat. “No. I walked.” 

“Are you ready to go home? I can walk you.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to.” You seem to shrink in on yourself. The smile you give him is meant to placate, small and bashful. “It’s not far.” 

“That makes it even easier for me to walk you,” Remus replies. He goes and grabs another coat from the rack. “This one yours?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “But really, Remus, you don’t have to.” 

“I want to. Let me, okay?” He holds your coat, waiting patiently for you to get up. 

When you do you can hardly look at him, passing him his own coat with a quiet thanks for this. He helps you into yours, then leaves you to put on your shoes while he goes to get his scarf from the other room. 

“Don’t leave without me,” he tells you. 

And, well, it’s not in your nature to argue.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) ch3

“So, what’s your deal?” Jason asked, when Danny’s mouth was full of food. “You’re dead, I notice.”

Danny choked. He gave Jason a betrayed look with big blue eyes, a hand clapped over his mouth to contain any mess.

Jason smirked back, unrepentant. “I died once,” he shared. “Got better though.”

“You got be-”

“You were surprised about what it’s like to fight humans,” Jason continued. It was hard not to laugh at the confused outrage on his date’s face. “So that implies you fight someone else? You’re fighting ghosts or something? Or do ghosts have some kinda natural enemy? Vampires or some shit?” He might have been a bit flippant but sue him, it sounded a lot more magical than his daily life.

Danny opened his mouth and no words came out. He looked like he was in pain when he grudgingly admitted, “I do have a lot of beef with this one vampire guy, Vlad.”

Jason threw his head back and laughed. That was such a vampire guy name, what the hell?

“No, no, it’s not funny,” Danny protested. He waved his hands wildly, flinging a bit of bean from his burrito across the roof they were perched on. “He’s also a ghost- well, he’s a half of a ghost, but that’s a long story from when he was in college.”

“The half-ghost vampire has an undergraduate degree?” Jason interrupted. He needed to know what this fucker studied. Was it like, social science? Literature? Theater? That might explain Danny’s implied belief that a theme was an inherent rogue thing. No, wait, business administration?

Danny gave him a withering look. “He’s got a Doctorate.”

Jason flung his hands up in defeat against the world. That made more sense than an undergraduate degree somehow. There was just something about the type of person who got a Doctorate that made them, you know, creeps.

‘Or maybe they’ve just got enough specialized knowledge to act on latent creepiness,’ he mused. ‘...Shit, am I developing an anti education stance? Can I blame this on Crane and Quinn?’

Danny was continuing with his explanation of the vampire’s background. Every word made it nuttier. “He’s a scientist, actually, and the mayor of a small town. And he lives in a cheese mansion.”

This was a sharp divergence from vampire stereotypes and he needed to know everything.

“Is the mansion made of cheese?” Jason interrupted. He was leaning in, intent on every word. Why was this vampire the most interesting man in the world?

He got a weird look for that. “No, it just belonged to the Dairy King,” Danny said, like it was everyday knowledge that you could expect a layperson to have.

“Of course, the Dairy King,” Jason said wisely.

"Enough about me though!" Danny flailed a bit. "How did you get my uh, number?"

Ah. Jason took a big bite to delay while he chose his words.

There was no point in trying to hide his vigilante identity from Danny. The guy probably didn't even understand the concept.

So he might as well top whatever story Danny had.

"The bat guy who taught me all about being a child soldier got grabbed by this group of loser cultists, right?" He gestured in a way that did absolutely nothing to illustrate the situation.

Danny cocked his head. "This is off to a good start."

"They tried to sacrifice him. You gotta remember him - big ugly guy, dressed in black and gray, underwear on the outside of his pants in a way that's never been cool?"

Danny didn't seem to have words, but he lifted his hands to make two ears on top of his head.

He pointed with both hands. "That's the guy," Jason agreed. "At the time, we didn't know what kind of sacrifice it was. We were thinking more along the lines of blood sacrifice?" He shrugged as if the idea of B biting it meant nothing to him.

Danny made a pffft sound of air escaping between his lips. "I tossed him back." He flailed in place. "I- isn't- wasn't that- that was a while ago," he stuttered. "I kinda forgot about him."

"...You got offered a cape, then a few weeks later a bunch of others, and you didn't make a mental connection?" Jason checked.

Danny flushed. "Time doesn't match up between the realms and anyway, I'm really busy!" He crossed his arms and accidentally knocked over his drink. "I've got a lot going on in my life. Anyway, for a ghost?" Danny blew a raspberry. "I'm sorry to break your heart, but none of you dress wild enough to stand out in the Infinite Realms. We've got robot dudes and child pirates and giant eyeballs and stuff." He gave Jason a smug look. It was cute.

Jason acted on impulse and reached out to ruffle Danny's hair. He realized what he was doing too late. His hand froze above Danny's head.

Danny tilted his face up and made an inquisitive sound.

"There was a bug." Jason pulled his hand back. What was wrong with him? He didn't go touching other people just because they were cute. "It flew off."

"...Right," Danny said. "You're being very normal." He seemed delighted by this, the little gremlin. "So. You were a child soldier too?"

Jason nearly fell off his perch.

Danny shrieked a laugh and pointed. "Ha!" He crowed. "I win! I shocked you first!"

"There wasn't a competition!" Jason lied. His face was bright red. It was too late to save face. "What do you mean too?" He demanded. "Were you a child?"

"Somewhat recently," Danny said. He gave Jason a catlike smile. "Adults come from teenagers, teenagers come from kids, kids come from babies. Do you need to know-"

"I know where babies come from." Jason cut him off. He tried to look off put at the way Danny laughed at him but fuck it, it was funny, in a dumb way. "Of course you were a kid, that was silly of me," he admitted. "Ghosts are made from humans, right?"

"Well yes, but actually no," Danny said, philosophical. "Some of us. I was. Other ghosts are made from like, vultures, or ideas."

It kinda seemed like ghost taxonomy was more complicated than he was ready to get into at the moment. Those two things were pretty fuckin disparate.

Jason sighed heavily and picked up his food again, just to have something to do with his hands.

A thought occurred. He didn't let it show on his face but he felt sick to his stomach.

Danny was dead. Danny said he'd been a child recently, and a child soldier.

Someone needed their ass kicked.

Danny: we are having such a whimsical time!

Jason: sirens screaming

[pathologicalreid]

Spencer x fem!reader fic based on “Work Song” by Hozier?? Whatever storyline or category you want!!

work song | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, near death experience, blood, gunshot wound, hospitals. word count: 1.77k a/n: hozier song request makes my brain go brr. i hope the people of tumblr enjoy this bc i most definitely enjoyed writing it.

boys, when my baby found me

Your hair whipped your face as you spun around through the labyrinth of a warehouse that your team had found themselves in. It seemed like an impossible task, trying to navigate this space, but you had already cleared over half of the space.

A small noise, like a shoe squeaking, caught your attention, causing your ears to rise like an animal hunting for prey. Turning a corner, you had your flashlight and firearm raised, coming face to face with Morgan. The both of you relaxed ever so slightly, no longer ready to pounce.

Ricocheting throughout the warehouse, you heard a deafening gunshot. The sound bounced off of the metal walls of the building, making it almost impossible for you to determine where the sound originated from. Meeting Morgan’s eyes, he nodded his head to the left, signaling for you to go that way while he went right.

You affirmed his tactics, turning slowly and making your way to the left. The rusted building was now so eerily quiet that goosebumps were sprouting across your body, even under your bureau jacket.

Continuing your way down the narrow passageway, you saw movement inside of a room. Sliding your back along the wall, you peeked into the room, seeing two bodies on the ground. You whispered almost imperceptibly into your radio, calling for medical. One of them was the local officer that the BAU had been working the case with.

The other one was Spencer.

You pivoted so that you were entirely in the doorway, facing the UnSub, he raised his gun at you, but you were already pulling the trigger, hitting him square in the forehead. Breathing heavily, you lowered your firearm before scrambling over to Spencer.

I didn’t care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her

In your ear, you could hear Morgan shouting, “Y/N, Reid, sound off, dammit!”

Something needed to happen. You needed to do something, but you had such severe tunnel vision that the only thing you could think about was Spencer.

He was gasping for air on the metal ground of the warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. You observed in horror as the red puddle spread with each passing moment.

Launching into action, you tugged your jacket off, stuffing the fabric onto Spencer’s side in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Even Kevlar vests had an Achilles heel, and the UnSub had managed to strike him precisely where there was a gap in the material. All the while, you were muttering the words, “Stay awake.” Just those two words, over and over again, like a prayer.

You hummed, using one hand to apply pressure to his wound and lifting the other so that you could smooth his hair back. His skin was alarmingly clammy, and you knew that, even with your attempts, he was losing too much blood. “Y/N,” he muttered, sounding like he was using all of his strength to say your name.

Gently, you hushed him, “It’s okay, Spence. Don’t talk, you’re gonna be just fine,” you insisted as his blood soaked through the knees of your jeans. You weren’t sure who you were trying to console at that moment.

“It makes sense-“ he said, being cut off by a cough, sending blood spurting out of his mouth. If his lung was collapsing, there was nothing you’d be able to do. You tried to shush him again, but he had more to say – he almost always did. “That I’d see you while I’m dying.”

Choking on tears, you leaned your face onto your shoulder so that you could wipe them away without moving your hands. “I’m here, I’m really here,” you urged, he wasn’t hallucinating, and he wasn’t dying. Not on your watch. “It’s me, Spence. I’m right here,” you told him carefully.

He opened his mouth again to speak, and you wanted to tell him to save his strength. You also didn’t want to deprive him of his words. “You…” his voice trailed off as he searched for the words, “You’ve always been my favorite dream.”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’m not a dream, I’m right here.” You told him, watching carefully as his eyelids grew seemingly heavier, “baby, open your eyes.”

in the low lamplight I was free

His skin was pallid. Even in the dim, orange light of the warehouse, you could see a sickly sheen forming on his skin. His body temperature was dropping, and it was all you could do to not cover his body with yours as you tried to keep him warm. “Spencer, please,” you rasped, urging him to open his eyes.

Your only solace was that his chest was still rising and falling. His breathing was rickety, but he was still breathing, and that had to count for something. “Spencer,” you cried, watching as blood sept through your jacket, flooding between your fingers as you tried to keep him in one piece.

“Love, open your eyes,” you begged, your eyes flooding with tears until everything was just a blur of red.

His heart was beating, you could feel it beneath your hands. A weak, unsteady beat under your trembling hands. “Baby, please, oh my god,” you pleaded, verging toward incoherent babbling.

You were second-guessing if he was still breathing. If his heart was still beating. With that realization, you screamed.

when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

At first, you were just screaming, letting the vibrations of your vocal cords portray your emotions, and then you screamed for your team. You had never felt more alone, kneeling in a puddle of Spencer’s blood, and no one was coming to help you.

This couldn’t be how it ended. You refused to acknowledge it, even as you felt the life leave his body.

Leaning your head to the side, you spoke into your radio, “I need medical. I’m in the upper west wing of the building. The suspect is dead, I have an officer and an agent down.” Tears continued to stream down your face.

You heard footsteps behind you as people piled into the room, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Spencer. Not when there was a chance that it would be the last time you looked at him while you were both still breathing. “Agent,” someone said, but it didn’t register. They kept repeating themselves until two strong arms wrapped around you, dragging you away from Spencer.

Now sat on the floor, you clocked the paramedics that were now frantically working on Spencer, packing his wound, and cutting off the Kevlar vest.

Breathing heavily, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Rossi approached the local officer, checking his pulse. Emily was hovered over the UnSub, collecting his weapon from his corpse.

You were still being firmly held back, trying to pry the tattooed arms of Derek Morgan off of your torso. “Stop, let me get to him. I need to get to him,” you struggled against his grip, but any attempts at freedom were futile. The medics were saying awful things about a weak and thready pulse and pneumothorax.

Clinging to any semblance of hope that you could find, you listened to them talk about Spencer’s pulse, knowing that a pulse meant he was alive.

Your breathing quickened as you looked up at Morgan, Hotch was hovering behind the two of you, “I should’ve called for medical sooner.” Your voice was miserable, you had sat there with your jacket to his side for far too long. He could’ve gotten help from professionals.

“You radioed almost five minutes ago for medical,” Morgan informed you. “The EMTs just couldn’t find you in this damn maze.”

While you had no recollection of calling for help when you first found Spencer, you also knew that Morgan would get no pleasure out of lying to you.

You heard one of the paramedics say there was no pulse, and you didn’t remember anything that followed.

no grave can hold my body down

Crumpled in a ball, you picked at the crusted blood in your fingernails as you focused on the steady beeping of Spencer’s heart monitor.

According to Emily, who had been there when you woke up in the hospital, you had passed out around the time that the medics lost Spencer’s pulse. The doctor said it was just a result of stress. Thanks to some IV fluids and hydroxyzine, you were able to be discharged.

Spencer had been out of surgery for several hours now. The doctors had been careful to use the term “if he wakes up”, while you had made sure to say “when he wakes up.” You were playing the most horrendous waiting game, and there’s nothing worse than playing a game you have no interest in.

You were now donning a pair of black sweatpants and an old Academy t-shirt. Being the only team member permitted to see Spencer while he was still sleeping – girlfriend privileges, as Morgan phrased it – you waited with only the noises of his monitor to keep you company in the ICU.

Nurses came in and out, trying to manage his pain without the use of narcotics, making sure his blood transfusions were helping, and every once in a while, they’d check on you.

At this point, you had been nursing the same cup of ice water for hours, remembering the last thing Spencer had said to you: You’ve always been my favorite dream.

There was something so peculiar about being with someone who read so much, especially when he said such eloquent things while bleeding to death. You sighed, slumping back in the chair, you looked back at Spencer, only to be surprised that he was looking right back at you.

You jumped slightly in the chair, leaning over so that you could look at him, “Hey,” you whispered, maintaining the reverent tones of the Intensive Care Unit. “How do you feel?”

He’d lie to you and tell you he was fine, but you could tell by the way his heart rate increased that it was a lie. His eyebrows furrowed as he clocked the white patient ID bracelet on your wrist and your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been crying,” he observed.

Despite yourself, you smiled softly, “I thought you were dead.” Your voices were each raspy, yours from screaming and his from being intubated.

Slowly, he unfolded his arm so that his hand was extended to you. Without a second thought, you placed your hand in his. He hummed softly, “And leave you? Never.”

I’ll crawl home to her

[oh-no-its-bird]

Obkk modern au where where Kakashi and Obito are online friends who have never seen eachothers faces. It's a years long friendship (and mutual silent crush) where they've helped eachother through what was truly the darkest parts of eachothers lives.

But irl they also happen to know eachother from childhood due to having gone to the same schools and shared the same classes, and they fucking DESPISE the other. You can not stick them in a room without someone starting a fight.

When they interact irl, play into specifically the early dynamics of obkk, with kind of superficially happy/dumb Obito and a "follow the rules to the letter" grumpy overachiever Kakashi

But when they're online, play more into the older obkk dynamic.

Where Obito shows that he has a pretty big mean streak/humor and a serious talent for playing dumb; where he overlays his happier side irl for just social reasons.

While Kakashi shows he's actually super lazy and imperfect with most other factors of his life outside of work/school (and ofc downplays his actual work ethic when it comes to work/school, framing himself as doing bare minimum when he should really do more (bc he genuinley believes that)) and has a pretty wicked sense of humor himself, a love of over-romantic, fluffy porn, and a habit of using endless "cute" emotocons

Kk: Did my proposal today, it was so bad... I really slacked off this time on it. I was so nervous they'd tell me no (｡﹏｡")

Kk: I guess the other presentations must have been pretty bad too because they picked mine anyways? I feel so lucky (╥﹏╥)

Ob: it's ok even if you tried your best!! Im proud you were able to do even as much as you did.

Ob: I'm glad you got it, at least one of us won their proposal today. That jackass had a fucking 30 slide detailed slide with 6 DIFFERENT PIE CHARTS and a scheduled water break inbetween. Fucking kissass

Kk: nooo im sorry ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)

Ob: it's whatever. Just glad you got the thing :)

Ob: want me to kill your boss tho.

Kk: lol

Kk: I'll help hide the body ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

And then one day Obito does some sort of very mean prank on Kakashi. And it goes uhh. Badly.

I mean, badly for Kakashi. Obito thinks it went great!

That is till he gets home and finds his best friend for a decade, and crush for even past that decade, texting him about a very specific mean prank that got pulled on them.

Wait. No. Wait. WAIT. FUCK.

So like. Obito is a bit conflicted now. He doesn't know what to really do here??? Like. What if it ruins everything with his best friend??? But also hey best friend why the FUCK are you such a BITCH.

But also also, suddenly Obito is recontextualizing SO many of their interactions— from Kakashi suffering the devistating loss of his father when he was especially annoying, to explanations of why he reacted certain ways. And oh my god Obito is... also a kind of a bitch???

Obito has NO idea what to do and is just swinging so violently back and forth on what are really his only two options.

And sometimes he's like gleefully feeling vindictive bc after arguing with irl Kakashi, online Kakashi is ranting about "that same asshole again" at work, so Obito is like "I KNEW it was getting to u, haha you're NOT better than me after all!!!"

But then later he feels kinda bad about it bc like. Aw wait no he actually might have genuinley hurt the person he loves. And also he doesn't want to lose getting to see the real Kakashi, a mix of both of his masks, by fucking this up and choosing wrong.

Anyways Kakashi finally somehow figures it out on his own, they fight, they make up, they make out.

The end yay happy ending

There's an alternate universe where neither of them every found out about eachother and continued to be friends online and hate eachother to escalating degrees offline. But one day they start to slowly shift in dynamics. Irl they get closer and online they get so much angrier and more distant. Till we've swapped and now online they just have this GIANT fallout but offline they're actually in love now. And this continues till they're about to get married/no longer on speaking terms with eachother. And so on their wedding day they reach out again online but ONLY to hate on eachother like "oooo fuck you I'm so happy rn I just got MARRIED."

"Oh yeah you bitch??? So did I. And my husbands better than anything your ugly ass could ever pull"

"FUCK YOU MY HUSBANDS FUCKING AMAZING AND YOURS IS PROBABLY LOOKS AND ACTS LIKE SHIT"

"OH YEAH????"

"YEAH!!!"

"PROVE IT!"

And then they very sharply turn and take simultaneous photos of eachothers furious faces and then angrily, instinctivley press send.

And then they stop. And then they have a moment of dead silence.

And then they begin to have an actual, physical fist fight in front of the uncut wedding cake with ALL of their friends and families watching. And the photographers with their very ready cameras.

There was a lot of cake.

Yeah that was ah uhh. Interesting

The good news at least is now they have a photo of them fist fighting like they want to kill eachother while covered in wedding cake in a frame that says "happy marriage <3" on it, and they like to joke about it (to many, many peoples horror)

The end yay happy ending x2

If I were to write this fr I think I'd legally have to write both versions bc both are excellent

[viasdiary]

☆ poolside convo (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 1.7k

☆ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, not proofread

☆ loosely inspired by "self control" by frank ocean, main character is on vacation in hawaii and leaves her summer lover behind

☆ this is my first fic ever!! some inspo from @jjkbambi @raekensluver @burnforyou enjoy!!

the golden glow of the setting sun shining through the palm trees bathes you in an amber light, painting the most beautiful picture you’ve ever seen. luigi being close to you surely made it even better.

the soft light of the pool hit him from underneath just right, highlighting his toned body and his handsome face, peppered with freckles here and there.

sitting next to him by the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water, you both laugh about all the dumb stuff you guys did together this past summer.

wearing a stupid grin on his face, he adds

“and remember that time you got so drunk you threw up in the hot tub?” you playfully push his shoulder. “yeah, i’d rather not.” he looks at you, his perfect smile still plastered on his face. “you know, this summer really was great. i’m not just saying that either.” he says.

his smile drops a little when he realizes he’s speaking in the past tense. in that moment, it hits both of you that summer is finally over. it’s early august, and you’ll be back home by the end of the week. you’ll be back in school before you know it, and it’ll be a while before you see each other again, if you even see each other again at all.

the both of you would rather not dampen the mood with that idea, so you talk around it, even though the sadness is heavy in the air. your eyes shift between his face, his mouth, and his little freckles here and there. he looks so beautiful.

“hey, you alright?” he asks tenderly. you place your hand on the middle of his chest and press your lips to his. he parts his lips into the kiss before you pull away. you swore you weren’t going to make tonight sad, but before you know it, the words fall from your lips.

“i’m going to miss you so much,” you say, barely a whisper.

he furrows his thick eyebrows together and looks you in your eyes. you pull your legs out of the water and fully face him.

“i wish things could stay this way forever. it’s only been a couple of months, but you’ve slowly become, like ,one of my favorite people, and it hurts me so bad to know that in another couple of months it’ll be like there was nothing between us at all,”

you were so scared to lose him, and even though he insisted you guys could make long distance work, you knew better. he places his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into another kiss. he kissed you hard this time, hungrier. as he broke the kiss, he whispered into your lips.

“i care about you so much, and i’d do anything to make this work.” he continued to hold you close, his forehead pressed against yours. the warmth of his breath mingled with the warm night air, and you felt your heart racing.

you wanted to believe him, to trust that somehow you could make this work even with the distance and whatever else came with it. "i know you mean that," you whispered back, your voice catching slightly. "but how? we'll be in different states, different schools. our lives are going in totally separate directions."

he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "we'll figure it out. i’ll call you every night. i'll visit you on breaks. we can make plans for next summer."

you smiled sadly, wanting so badly to share his optimism. "it won't be the same."

"no," he agreed, "it won't. but that doesn't mean it can't be perfect for now." you ran your hands up his thigh. you’d really rather not get too emotional tonight.

“you’re right, lu. i trust you, so please don’t make me regret it." you looked at his pretty face, his concerned expression. the corners of your lips slightly turned upwards, threatening to curl into a full smile. he sensed your shift in mood and gave you another dumb grin.

“god, look at us getting all sad on vacation,” he said, chuckling lightly.

“we gotta stop.” he adds, smiling.

you look at him, smiling sweetly. he looked so handsome with the sunset casting a warm glow on his features. you traced your fingers along his jawline, savoring the feeling of his skin beneath your touch.

"i love you," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

luigi's eyes widened for a moment, then softened. he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours. "i love you too," he murmured against your mouth before capturing it in a deep, passionate kiss.

the world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of his body pressed against yours. your fingers tangled in his curls as his hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer. when you finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

"see?" he said with a soft smile. "we've got something special here.

you begin to giggle a little bit.

“no, seriously, we need to make tonight count. this is the last night of a fucking lit summer, and i wanna keep that energy going." he’s also giggling by the time he gets the words out. you study him, his strong jawline, the small freckle on his right cheek, the pronounced bridge of his nose, his perfect teeth framed by his perfect lips.

he looks so hot sitting there, his head slightly tilted back as he laughs. you want to fuck him so badly.

you bite your lip, remembering all the nights you’d shared with him this summer.

without hesitation, you slide onto his lap, straddling him at the edge of the pool.

his laughter fades as he looks up at you, his eyes darkening with want.

"oh yeah?" you say, your voice low and teasing. "and how exactly do you propose we keep that energy going?"

luigi's hands slide up your thighs, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"i've got a few ideas," he murmurs, pulling you closer.

you grind your hips against his, eliciting a soft groan from him.

"care to demonstrate?" you whisper in his ear, trailing soft kisses down the side of his neck.

“god, you feel so good moving on top of me like that,” he moans as you buck your hips, feeling him harden beneath you. he grips your thighs as you move. he kisses the crook of your neck, the heat from his breath making your whole body shiver.

you run your fingers through his curls and grind down harder. he pulls you in for another deep kiss, and the two of you moan into each other. he feels so fucking good, his dick hardening beneath the thin fabric of his shorts. you want him inside you.

"are we really gonna do this by the pool?" he asks, smiling against your lips.

"god, some things really never change," he adds, beginning to untie your bikini top.

he eagerly removes your skimpy top and begins kissing his way down your neck, stopping to suck and nibble at your collarbone. you throw your head back, giving him better access. his hand reaches up to cup your breast, and you moan as his thumb circles your nipple.

he takes the other in his mouth, and his tongue swirls around it before he sucks hard, drawing a loud gasp from you.

"luigi!" you cry, arching your back. he continues sucking and teasing with his tongue, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. you grind down on him, needing more friction. you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and you're aching for release.

"please, baby, i need you," you whisper, gasping at the feeling of him kissing your chest.

you feel his cock pressing against you, and you can't wait any longer. you pull his shorts and underwear down just enough, exposing his throbbing cock. you quickly slip off your bottoms and straddle him once again, his tip rubbing against your throbbing clit.

"fuck, lu, you're so big," you moan, taking his length in your hand and stroking him.

"you're so fucking eager," he chuckles smugly, watching as you press his length to your slick entrance and slide his cock deep inside you, inch by inch.

"jesus fuck, baby, you feel so good," you cry, starting to bounce up and down. he grips your hips tightly, guiding your movements.

"so do you," he breathes, thrusting into you. "you're so fucking tight."

you pick up the pace, slamming down onto his cock over and over again. his hands resting on your hips, helping guide you up and down. you can feel him stretching you out with each thrust.

"i'm gonna cum," you whimper, feeling yourself getting closer.

"you're doing so fucking good for me, amore," he groans, thrusting deeper.

you grind down on him, desperate for release.

"fuck, luigi, i'm so close," you gasp, the pleasure building inside you. he feels your slick cunt gripping him so tightly, and he knows he can't last much longer either.

"cum for me," he groans, thrusting harder and faster.

"it's too much, lu!" you whine.

"you've taken worse, baby," he replies, driving himself into you more intensely.

"fuck, luigi," you whimper, overstimulated.

"god yes, amore, cum for me," he moans, his voice deep and husky.

you can't hold back any longer. you cum hard, your body shaking with pleasure. he feels your walls clenching around him, and he can't hold back anymore. with a loud moan, he spills himself inside you, filling you with his warm cum.

"fuck," you both groan, collapsing into each other.

the two of you lay there for a while, trying to catch your breath. you can't help but smile as the euphoric waves crash over you. he kisses your cheek softly.

"so, was that enough to keep the energy going?" he asks, a smile spreading across his face.

you can't help but laugh. "god, i love you," you say, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"i love you too."

"i'm going to miss you so much, amore," he says, holding you close.

"i'm gonna miss you too, luigi," you say, wrapping your arms around him.

[avelera]

I'm wondering what you think about how much Viktor knew about his disease and his limited life expectancy before that scene in the hospital?

Because Viktor draws that conclusion before Jayce even says anything. Jayce is clearly very upset about whatever the doctor says, but he never spells out that it's terminal, and Viktor immediately concludes that, so that might make it seem like he already suspected beforehand.

On one hand, he is obviously hiding his symptoms from Jayce, and at this point he might either be in denial, or already suspecting it. I do get the sense his disease is common in the undercity and always fatal, the documents Caitlyn goes through about the grey show pictures of lungs which imply a lung disease the grey causes, which I think is the same disease Viktor has. It wouldn't be a leap for him to conclude that coughing up blood means he has this disease and will probably die.

On the other hand, he does get increasingly desperate to save his own life after he gets the diagnosis, and even has that talk with Heimerdinger about his legacy, which does kind of imply that the truth hadn't truly settled in before then or it was really the first time he found out. Though in regards to the hexcore, he really stumbled into its potential healing properties by accident and it makes sense he'd fall into that obsession when he first gets a sliver of hope

I do agree if Viktor suspected, he wouldn't tell Jayce. He's already quite ashamed of all his medical issues, and Jayce's comment about his disappearing is probably about that.

Anyway, curious what your thoughts are

Oh, I have a VERY specific headcanon that's going to make an appearance the Distinguished Innovators sequel that I'm actively working on but I'm happy to spell it out here too.

Ok, so, I don't think it's possible for Viktor to have fully hidden his degenerative illness from Jayce. Jayce is too loving and attentive and the illness progression over the course of the time skip between 1.03 and 1.04 is too dire for even the most oblivious person to miss.

And no, I don't buy the "cooking a frog" excuse that Jayce would miss it because the progression is gradual. It's not gradual. It's extreme. Viktor goes from a cane he can occasionally set aside to a crutch, leg brace, back brace, dark circles under his eyes, sunken skin, a hunched posture and regular coughing fits that sometimes spit up blood. I mean look at this:

You simply cannot tell me that Jayce hasn't been aware of this progression.

Not to mention, that when Viktor coughs up blood at the Hexgates, he does not hide the blood from Jayce and Jayce does not react to the blood! That means Jayce has known that Viktor's coughing fits regularly bring up blood at this point.

But what did Jayce believe up to this point? I want to explore that and offer my own rather exhaustive headcanon:

So, there is simply no way in my mind that Jayce could be kept in the dark about the fact that Viktor has his leg and another health issue bearing down on him and sapping his strength.

However, I do believe that Viktor knows that he has a degenerative illness that will likely end his life within the next few years and that he has lied to or obfuscated from Jayce just how dire his prognosis is.

I think Jayce expected Viktor to have decades left while Viktor hoped to have a few more good years left, and both were shocked and pained to learn it might be months. However, Jayce in particular seems completely blindsided, which is why I suspect Viktor allowed him to continue to believe he had decades to live when Viktor knew he did not.

I think Viktor would have rather died on that floor than let Jayce know he's dying.

I also think both Viktor and Jayce held out hope that Hextech would lead to a miracle cure for Viktor, but both knew it would take years to achieve. After all, most of their active innovations were around industry, transportation, mining, etc. It makes sense given the spell they had to work from was a weightlessness and teleportation spell Jayce saw the Mage do. Biology and healing was probably possible, and on their radar, Hextech is magic after all, but I truly believe they thought it was going to take years of innovation and a lot of leaps, not to mention luck, before they'd stumble upon runes that would let them pivot to healing. It's not a natural progression based on what they know of magic.

This is part of why I think Jayce believed Viktor still had decades left. Because I think, if Jayce knew it was only a few years, he would have tossed everything out to just work on healing Viktor with Hextech.

And this is where I'm going to make the full leap to headcanon territory. I don't think this is canonical to the text, it's just my interpretation of the text that I use for fic writing. H'ok, let's go:

I think Viktor knew specifically what fissure illness he had and he knew most people who have it do not live past 30. I think he's known most of his life. I think that's why he's so driven to achieve everything he can while young.

Hence Viktor's, "Don't ask permission," attitude. He's always known he's got about ~30 years to live and he's going to make the most of it, hence his meteoric rise, but also why he's willing to take a dramatic lateral leap to be Jayce's partner at the first sight of a potentially world-changing innovation to work on with his remaining years. He's less worried about losing what he's achieved than he is about missing out on the next great scientific leap, possibly because he knows he's only got a few years left anyway.

I think Viktor (and possibly his parents!) believed that if he moved to Piltover where the air was cleaner, he'd have longer to live. This adds to his parents' motivation to make the desperate, possibly criminal move to sneak Viktor into the Academy.

I think getting to Piltover made Viktor relatively optimistic about his prognosis. With better air, nutrition, and sunlight access, he might have a chance to beat the "Dead by 30" inevitability of his disease. And to some extent, he did! He's about 32 when he collapses in Arcane S1 but still, it's not as much time as he or anyone in his position might have hoped for. This explains his weary resignation to the fact he doesn't have much time left. He's known this is coming for a while.

I also think, and this is pure headcanon, that coughing blood signals the beginning of the end for this particular disease. That's why pre-time skip Viktor is motivated but not desperate yet. He's not coughing blood yet. He still has time. But once he starts coughing blood, post-time skip, he goes from motivated to desperate. I think coughing blood means you've only got a few months to maybe a few years left, and Viktor knows this.

I think Viktor knew his prognosis meant "Dead by 30" but he only told this vaguely to Jayce. Like "Yes, this cough is a symptom of a disease that will shorten my lifespan, but we still have time for a Hextech miracle if we work hard."

Jayce, coming from a background of relative privilege compared to the undercity, took "a shorter lifespan" to mean Viktor would live to like... 60 instead of 80. Plenty of time to find a way to pivot Hextech to healing if they crank it and push everything they have into accelerating the use, application, and innovation of Hextech as quickly as possible. The more resources they have, the more widely Hextech is adopted, the better the chance they'll have the time, assistance, resources, and frankly the power to stumble into something that will cure Viktor in the next few decades.

Viktor is more of a realistic about the progression of science. Note his, "It's a leap," about Jinx's potential to crack Hextech. Jayce believes in miracles because he was rescued by one. But I think Viktor knows intrinsically that it would take a very unlikely miracle to pivot from industry to healing uses of Hextech. He humors Jayce, and he's optimistic, but more than he wants to waste time looking for an impossible cure, he wants to leave a legacy and help others while he's alive, rather than chasing the rabbit of a healing application just for himself that they are realistically decades away from.

I think one reason Viktor didn't tell Jayce how short his prognosis ir OR how unrealistic it is for them to pivot Hextech to healing with what they have is that he didn't want Jayce to waste time on healing him with nothing to show for it when they inevitably failed. Even if they did nothing but try to apply Hextech to curing him, they probably wouldn't have time to beat his Dead by 30 prognosis (as of age ~26 when they partnered up) and Viktor wanted to contribute to problems they could actually solve in his lifetime instead of chasing a fairytale.

The Hexcore changes everything there, of course. It embodies the miraculous leap they'd need to skip over decades of incremental innovation in Hextech and it's what causes the pivot in Viktor's motivations from help the undercity to "help the undercity (but actually I just want to help myself and I'm actually such a good and selfless person I can't even admit this very human desire to live even to myself)"

Just to circle back briefly, I think learning Viktor's prognosis was a horrible shock for Jayce. Like I said, he really believed he had more time with Viktor. All his actions point to this. Yes he knew the Council was a bit of a distraction, but it was serving their overarching goal of pushing Hextech as quickly and as far as possible to cure Viktor in the next decade or so. He would never have stolen months away from working beside Viktor if he didn't think Viktor had many years more to live, even with his illness as it was.

Ok, I think that about covers it! If you do want to read the fic where I'm going to include all this, you should subscribe to this series.

[hungermakesmonsters]

The Red Ribbon

Chapter Two

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.1k

A/N : I was feeling well enough to finally get this chapter finished!

CHAPTER ONE

Master List

Chapter Two

The morning after, it felt like it had all been part of some weird, misremembered dream. The kind of dream that you’d wake from with a sense of longing, wishing that a man like that could be real. But it hadn’t been real. That was the point of The Red Ribbon; nothing that happened there was real.

Still, you found yourself thinking about those dark eyes, about your little game and the things he’d let slip about himself.

Not to mention the way he’d promised to find you again. 

You laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how things might be if your life was just a little bit different, if you’d met him somewhere else.

But that was stupid. If you’d met him outside of The Red Ribbon, it would have been you and not Bunny that he’d met, and you were certain that he wouldn’t like who you were behind the mask.

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself from your warm bed and got ready for your day. As you stepped into the foyer of Anvil, you hoped that Mr Russo wouldn’t be there and that he’d been lying about turning up at 5am. All you wanted was a nice, quiet morning where you could get things done without him making you feel like crap.

But you weren’t that lucky. 

As you reached your desk, you could hear him on the phone - you only caught snatched words, but it sounded like he was trying to describe someone - but you thought nothing of it as you sat down and opened your laptop.

You were gifted ten wonderful minutes before his office door opened.

“I need everything we have on the Harris deal and I want my lunch at one,” he instructed.

“Yes, Mr Russo,” you said automatically, reaching for a pen. “What would you like for lunch?”

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” he said, “But get it from that place on 53rd, not the place on 38th.”

“Okay. And do you want your morning coffee yet?”

“Yes. In fact, get it as soon as you’ve pulled those files for me,” he continued before pausing a beat, “and don’t make a mess of them.”

“Okay.”

Then he was gone, leaving you to diligently set about your tasks for the day. 

Getting his coffee went without a hitch, and so did his lunch order, but the files he requested weren’t so easy. 

You managed to get almost all of them ready for him, but there was one - an important financial document, that was giving you problems.

You stared at the screen, trying every way you knew to open the files, only to be met by the same Corrupted File message. You called down to IT, desperately begging someone to come and have a look.

You’d met Ryan on your first day with Anvil, he’d help set up your laptop and give you access to everything you’d need to do the job and, since then, you’d struck up something of a work-friendship with him. 

He leaned over you, looking at your laptop, clicking the file and going through - whatever tech magic it was that he thought might salvage the file. Eventually, he managed to find the file and you quickly sent it to print.

“There you go, nothing to it,” he said, smiling down at you, still leaning ever-so close to you.

“You’re a lifesaver, Ryan. Honestly, you have no idea how much shit I’d be in if -”

Ryan pulled back at the sound of a door opening and you both turned to find Billy Russo standing there.

“I was about to ask why my lunch was late, but I guess I don’t have to,” he said in that cold tone he seemed to reserve just for you.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the clock - fuck-fuck-fuck, you were supposed to have picked up his lunch twenty minutes ago.

Ryan muttered something of an apology and hastily made his way towards the door, seeing himself out.

Quickly, you got to your feet, knocking your desk and causing your water bottle to topple, soaking the desk as it rolled off and onto the carpet. You cringed, watching as water dripped off the desk and started to create a puddle on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, can’t you do anything without fucking up?” Russo sighed.

“I’m sorry, Mr Russo - there was an issue with one of the files so -”

“So you had to call someone from IT to come and flirt with you?” He said harshly. “Look, I don’t care about excuses, I just want you to do your fucking job, okay? It’s not fucking hard.”

“Yes, Mr Russo.”

“Now, clean up this fucking mess, and go get me my lunch. If you don’t have it on my desk before my meeting at two, don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”

You managed to hold back tears until his office door was shut, but you didn’t have time to wallow and cry, no matter how much you felt like you needed to. You threw yourself onto hands and knees and quickly mopped up the spillage before racing out of the building to hail a taxi.

He barely even bothered to look at you when you returned with his lunch with only fifteen minutes to spare, and you were almost certain that he’d wanted you to fail. He wanted a reason to fire you.

Dread followed you for the rest of the day, filling your chest like a weight that dragged you down the depths of despair. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you lost your job at Anvil, especially since you were certain that Mr Russo wouldn’t exactly offer you a glowing reference.

On your way home, you checked your bank account and realised that, once again, you were reaching the end of your overdraft. If you lost your job you were going to run out of money and then...

You didn’t want to think about then...

The next day followed the same pattern; the barista at Starbucks managed to fuck up Mr Russo’s coffee order, so he took it out on you, sending you back to get him fresh cup, despite the freezing cold rain.

By the time you were at home preparing for your next shift at The Red Ribbon, you knew what you were going to have to do.

You got there early, before the club even opened and, instead of getting changed straight away, you headed to the manager’s office. Fortunately, unlike your boss at Anvil, Val who ran The Red Ribbon was a lot more... approachable.

You went in with a whole speech prepared, about how you wanted to change your limits, but it wasn’t really needed.

Negotiated touching, meaning that physical touch wasn’t entirely off the table but patrons shouldn’t expect it. They would need to ask or, if the situation called for it, you would need to ask. And, still, you got to set your own limits, you got to say no and have Rocky deal with anyone who pushed your boundaries.

“Are you sure?” Val asked, looking for any sign of doubt. You gave a nod, not trusting your voice to not betray you. “And just what brought on this change of heart?”

You couldn’t tell her about Anvil, about the day job you were certain you were going to lose; it was too high profile, too dangerous, she’d see it as a conflict of interest, and the last thing you needed was for her to fire you.

You managed a shrug. “I just figured it was time. My rent is going up next month and I’m sick of scraping to get by.”

By rights you shouldn’t have been scraping by at all, even with just the money that you made from working at The Red Ribbon. Val shot you a questioning look, but she didn’t say anything, didn’t ask how you managed to burn through so much money so quickly. Everyone at The Red Ribbon had their own stories, you supposed, and you were no different and, while Val always did what she could to make sure everyone was safe and content, ultimately, she was there to make money too.

“Okay, as long as you’re sure you’re happy doing this.”

“I am. Really. I’ll be fine.”

And, that was that.

As you stepped out onto the club floor that night, wearing the fox mask, you were greeted by Rocky. It quickly became clear he knew that you’d changed your limits and, as he fitted your security bracelet for the evening, he was very clear about what you should do if you felt uncomfortable even for a second. Then, he followed you to the fox room and told you he’d be right outside all night.

Everything was fine.

It was shocking just how fine everything was. While touching was allowed, all you got was the occasional pat on the shoulder, a gesture that you returned in kind, but even with just that, you saw an increase in your tips by the end of the night.

Over the next few days, you found yourself almost forgetting about Tall, Dark and Handsome, as you lost yourself in trying to keep your head above water at Anvil, and making more money at The Red Ribbon.

It was a week to the day that you stood in front of the board, checking your room assignment for the night when you noticed that you were in the cat room, one of the smaller rooms in The Red Ribbon, usually only used when there were one or two patrons that wanted private service. There was a note beside your name in brackets; by request. 

Some of the hosts had repeat customers, people who were so impressed by their skills that they requested the same host every time, but it was the first time that it had ever happened to you.

It was him.

It had to be him.

Your heart stuttered as you made your way to the cat room, saying a quick hello to Rocky as you got your bracelet fitted. He must have sensed your nervousness because he asked you if you were alright, if you needed him outside the door just in case. You shrugged him off, told him it was fine.

You’d never hosted in the cat room before, so you took a few minutes to familiarise yourself with it and to make sure everything was clean and comfortable.

Then the door opened and your heart threatened to stop completely.

“Bunny.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine and brought a smile to your lips.

You tapped the cat mask on your face. “Not tonight.”

“You can put on any mask you want but you’ll still be my Bunny,” he said without a second of hesitation.

(His Bunny?)

Your breath caught as he stepped towards you, your head tilting back slightly the closer he got so that you could see his dark eyes.

“I told you I’d find you again,” he said.

“You did,” you said, trying desperately to calm your racing heart. “Though, I’m not sure if it counts as cheating to pay to find me.”

You smirked at him and watched as he considered the comment.

“I play to my strengths,” he said, shrugging.

“Money is a strength?”

“It is if you have it,” he answered.

He took another step, until there was no space left between you.

“Can I -” he started to ask but then seemed uncertain of something, “- am I allowed to touch you?”

His hand flexed as his side, his fingers seemed to itch and strain, wanting nothing more than to reach for you.

“Yes,” you answered softly, breathlessly.

Slowly, cautiously even, he reached for you, placing his hand on your cheek, just below the mask. Your eyes closed and you leaned into the warmth of his hand.

“What changed?” He asked, still sounding uncertain.

It took you a couple of seconds to figure out what he meant; when you’d last seen him a week ago, you’d been strictly hands off but, now, you were letting him touch you. You shrugged and shook your head a little.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Your hand rose to hold his, keeping it pressed against your cheek for a few more seconds before pulling it away and using it to lead him towards the sofa.

With a playful smile, you pushed him down onto the sofa and reached down to frame his face with your hands. As he looked up at you, it struck you just how tired he looked, and it brought about a strange want inside of you; the desire to take care of him.

“Let me get you a drink,” you said softly, lingering for a few more seconds before pulling away from him.

The bar was a lot smaller in this private room than the one you’d met him in, mostly meant for solo patrons and mostly those that wanted to do a lot more than just touch. Still, the bar was well stocked, and it took you no time at all to fill a glass with some ice and pour him a healthy measure of scotch.

When you returned to him, he took the glass from your hand and looked at you with some confusion as you sat beside him, your leg pulled up onto the sofa so you could face him better.

“Seriously, what changed?” He asked again.

“Maybe I was just optimistic that you’d find me again,” you answered with a shrug.

“So you’re... you’re okay?”

Of course, you knew where the thought had to have come from; he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you were willing to let masked strangers touch you for money, and that there had to be some terrible reason behind it.

“I’m fine,” you told him, reaching to cup his cheek, “so stop worrying about me and drink your drink.”

As if taking your words as a challenge, he lifted his glass and knocked it back in one go. Then, he seemed to settle a little, sitting back and fixing his dark eyes on you. You relieved him of the empty glass and placed it on the table, quickly returning your full attention to him.

“You look tired,” you said, the hand on his cheek moving, slipping your fingers into his hair.

“It’s been a long week.”

His eyes flickered shut and you heard him let out a soft sigh.

“Want to talk about it?”

His head shook, eyes still closed. “Just work stuff I’d rather not think about.”

“Then what do you want to think about?” You asked playfully, hoping to lighten his mood.

“You.”

“What about me?” You prompted, still running your fingers through his hair.

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” you said, letting your fingers still for a moment.

Your breath caught as his eyes opened and he looked at you again. There was something so unreadable in his dark eyes and you couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a promise. He didn’t say anything so you continued.

“And, I think you wanted me to kiss you,” you said before pausing for a beat. “Didn’t you?”

That got a smile from him, that same little smirk that had been stuck in your mind since the last time you’d seen him.

“Wanted to do more than kiss you, Bunny.”

“Yeah, you did,” you said, barely holding back a smirk.

He laughed, daring to reach for you again, his hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips.

“What is it about you?” He asked softly. “How is it that I feel so at ease when I'm with you?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest and you felt heat creep across your cheeks. It took every ounce of common sense at your disposal to remind yourself that the moment wasn't real and that, if he was face to face with the real you, he probably wouldn't be interested.

“The mask,” you offered, “or the fact that there's no expectations beyond this moment. We can be whoever we want to be right now and no one can say that we can't.”

“And who do you want to be right now, Bunny?”

“I want to be your Bunny.”

He seemed almost taken aback by your answer, shifting in his seat, leaning closer to you.

“You want to be mine?”

“For the night.”

“Just for the night?”

Your expression softened and turned into something a little sadder, knowing that you couldn't indulge him even though some part of you desperately wanted to.

“Let's not ruin it by thinking about later,” you said, forcing a smile to your lips. “Let's just enjoy now. Do you want another drink?”

“No, I want another kiss,” he said with all the confidence of a man who usually got exactly what he wanted.

“Oh, you do, do you?” You asked playfully.

Your fingers stilled and, instead, lightly gripped his hair as you lost yourself in his gaze. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game and, while you might have wanted to tell yourself that it was just the job and that all of this was just because he had paid for your time,  there was more to it than that. It was silly but, some part of you wanted it to be real.

After the week you’d had, you wanted a moment where you didn’t feel useless, a moment where you felt wanted, even if the whole thing was just some ridiculous fantasy.

And, maybe, that was exactly what he wanted too, some escape from reality for an evening.

“I do,” he said, but made no attempt to close the distance between you.

He was giving you the choice. He wasn’t demanding or forcing it just because he was paying for your time.

With a smile on your lips, you leaned towards him and kissed him. It was nothing special, just a light peck on the lips, but it felt like so much more. It felt like a promise, an offer of something wonderful, but only for the next few hours.

His hand slipped to your neck, fingers resting above your racing pulse, and you could tell from the slight narrowing of his eyes he could tell that your heart was beating for him in that moment.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“Don’t thank me. I wanted to kiss you.”

Reluctantly, you let your fingers slip from his hair and you sat back beside him, creating a little bit of space between you. As much as you wanted to keep kissing him, you didn’t want to rush or put yourself in a situation that you’d regret.

“So, should I ask how much money you had to spend to make this happen?” You asked, smiling playfully.

“Oh, an obscene amount,” he said, grinning straight back at you.

“Obscene?”

“A truly disgusting amount.”

“You rich guys, you think you can throw your money around and get whatever you want, don’t you?” You asked with mock indignation. 

“I told you, Bunny; I always get what I want.”

You burst out laughing, amused by how serious he managed to sound. Though, in all honesty, you were trying not to actually think about how much he must have paid to make this happen. It was both unsettling and exhilarating to think that anyone might want to spend that sort of money just to be around you.

“You might always get what you want, but I’m starting to think you rarely get what you need,” you told him before getting to your feet.

You grabbed his glass from the table and headed back to the bar, this time bringing the scotch bottle back alone with a fresh glass of ice.

“You think this is what I need?” He asked as you refiled the glass and set the bottle down.

“No, I think what you need is a good night’s sleep,” you told him softly, sinking back onto the sofa beside me. “When was the last time you slept more than a couple of hours?” 

A subtle shift in things followed, a clumsy sort of tension, as if you’d shattered the illusion that you’d both been trying to hide in. For a moment he looked at you and you almost braced yourself to be told it was none of your fucking business. After all, who were you to say such things to him?

“It’s been a rough couple of months,” he said, giving an uncomfortable shrug and you noticed an awkward sort of tension in his shoulder.

Without thinking, you reached for him again and began to softly massage where his shoulder and neck met. He let out what could only be described as a relieved sigh and, for a few seconds, he let his eyes close.

“Are you always so tense, or is this just the effect that I have on you?” You teased.

“I’d be lying if I said you didn’t inspire a certain sort of tension... well, it’s more of a stiffness really...”

Your fingers squeezed a little tighter on his shoulder. “Oh, really? Sounds uncomfortable.”

“I’ll survive.”

You managed to hold your composure for all of two seconds before bursting into laughter. He joined you and you couldn’t help but wonder how often he got to laugh like that. Not often, if you had to hazard a guess.

“I guess I should be flattered,” you said once you managed to stop laughing.

“Is that your way of telling me that you haven’t given me a second thought since the other night?” He asked, almost pouting.

You bit your lip, torn between brutal honesty and the safer option.

“I might have briefly considered you, once or twice,” you confessed.

It was a dangerous game, and a silly one considering you knew nothing about him. In fact, the whole thing was a little ridiculous; both of you were acting like your first meeting had been more than a couple of hours of silly comments made across a bar. Both of you were acting like it had meant something.

But it was hard to deny that there had been some spark of connection and, as childish as you felt for indulging it, you wanted more.

You watched as he took another drink and, again, drained his glass.

“Tell me, when you were considering me, were you considering anything in particular?” He asked.

“Hmm,” you hummed, appearing lost in thought for a moment, “I can’t really remember.”

Before he could answer, you leaned forward, reaching for the bottle on the table when, suddenly, you felt his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. Fingers cold from gripping his glass found your chin and he angled your face towards his so he could kiss you. 

This time it wasn’t just some chaste peck on the lips. His tongue pressed against the seam of your mouth and your lips parted for him, letting him deepen the kiss while your fingers fisted the fabric of his jacket. His lips tasted of scotch and desire, and it was easy to lose yourself in the moment.

When the kiss finally broke, you let out a contented hum, your eyes remaining shut for a few long seconds. 

“That’s what I was considering,” you said, lips pulling into a smirk again.

“Then maybe I should do it again.”

Before you could even think, his lips were on yours again. You fingers ended up back in his hair, gripping the dark strands and pulling him closer, keeping him against your lips as you kissed.

No one had ever kissed you the way he did; hungrily, needily, like he thought he might die if he didn’t have just one more taste of your lips.

And that was how the evening went from there; teasing playful comments interspersed with kisses that seemed to demand more and more.

You felt like your grip on your sanity was slowly loosening and it wouldn’t be long until it was gone entirely. Here was a man you didn’t know, a man whose face you’d never seen, but you were more than willing to spend the whole night on his lap making out with him as if he was your true love.

Every time you caught yourself thinking about it, you tried to rationalise it; he was a customer and this was what he wanted. 

You were both adults who understood the situation.

(Right?)

Eventually you moved from his lap to refill his glass, wanting to at least make a show of being a good host, even though he pouted and complained that you weren’t allowed to drink with him. And, when you moved back towards him, you were quickly pulled back onto his lap, this time straddling him - so he could see you better, he explained with a smirk that tied your insides in knots.

You ran your fingers through his hair again, smiling at him as he sipped his scotch and stared right back.

“Tell me something real, something about you that no one else knows,” he said, still staring into your eyes.

“I like to go to the Rockefeller Center to watch the ice skaters in the winter,” you confessed as if it was some great and terrible thing.

“You just go to watch? You don’t skate?”

You shook your head and bit back a laugh. “No. I’m not... uh, I’m not very good at ice skating. I'm kinda clumsy, I'd spend all my time falling over...”

“I don't believe that, I've seen you balancing trays or drinks and walking around just fine.”

It was strange that you'd never stopped to think about it like that; you couldn't remember ever dropping anything while you were working at The Red Ribbon, while you were hiding behind the mask, but you could barely get through a day at Anvil without tripping over your own feet or making a mess of something. Maybe that was another benefit of spending your nights as someone else.

“Can you ice skate?” You ask, deciding to redirect the conversation.

“A little, but it's been years since I last tried.”

“You should go some time, have some fun,” you suggested. “You look like you need more fun in your life.”

“I've got all the fun I need right here, Bunny,” he answered back without hesitation. 

“I mean real fun, not…”

It struck you that you didn't even have a word for what this was. A fantasy. A pipe dream. A waste of his time - if you wanted to be brutally honest about it.

“Not what?” He asked, picking up on your moment of hesitation.

“I just mean that when you get bored of this - of me - you should do something fun for yourself, something that makes you smile,” you said with a shrug.

His head shook and you could see the confusion on his face despite the mask.

“Who says I'm going to get bored of this?”

“Come on, handsome, we both know how this goes...” you answered as gently as you could. “You can't just spend the rest of your life coming here to see me.”

“Why? Is someone gonna stop me?”

He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze and, realistically, you knew that you should be at least a little bit concerned. He was a customer, this was your job. It wasn’t like you’d just met each other in some bar or coffee shop, and there was really only one sort of person who wanted to come to a place like The Red Ribbon to see the same host every night. But he didn’t seem like that, it didn’t act like some lonely weirdo who thought it was something more than it was.

“You’ll run out of money,” you joked.

“I can always make more.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to refuse,” he countered.

That had you laughing again, resting your hand above his heart, and shaking your head. You leaned forwards, your masked forehead against his, eyes closing tight.

“Carry on like this and I might actually start believing you,” you said softly.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he answered just as quietly.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again and his arm was pulling you closer. The kiss seemed more desperate as he tried to prove what he was telling you was true, and the longer it went on, the more you believed him.

Your chest pressed against his and he groaned into the kiss. A moment later you felt him between your thighs, a hard ridge tenting his pants. His hand moved to your hip, pulling you against him as he pressed upwards, grinding himself against you. You let out a soft moan into the kiss that only got louder as he took your bottom lip between his teeth.

Fuck.

You knew that you should stop but you couldn’t, so you did the next best thing and tried to take control of the situation, making sure he was at your mercy and not the other way around. 

You pulled back a fraction and let your hands glide down the front of his shirt, all the way down to his waistband. Ignoring the trembling in your fingers, you quickly unbuckled his belt and made a strat on the fastenings of his pants. His breath caught as you tugged down the zipper and you hesitated, offering him a brief split-second to tell you to stop. When he didn’t, you slipped your hand into his pants and beneath his boxers to pull out his cock.

Your eyes widened as they travelled down his body to look at him, hard and growing harder still in your grasp. Thick, long and perfect, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. For you. He was hard for you.

“Fuck,” you muttered before you could think to stop yourself.

And he just laughed.

“See something you like, Bunny?”

Instead of answering you bit your lip and started to stroke him, slowly running your hand up and down his shaft. His mouth went slack and his head dropped back, and you paid attention to every little sound and flicker of pleasure on his face, learning exactly how he liked to be touched. Your grip tightened and your hand twisted ever so slightly, and the groan that left him sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your neck, trailing wet kisses along the column of your throat until you almost forgot that you were the one giving him pleasure.

You didn’t snap back to reality until you felt his lips start to suck the skin just above where the red ribbon sat around your neck. Quickly, your free hand gripped his hair and gave a gentle tug.

“You can’t mark me,” you told him quietly but firmly.

The disappointed grunt he gave was almost enough to have you reconsidering, but he was quickly distracted by your hand.

His cock throbbed in your grasp, veins pulsing in time with his racing heart.

“You like that?” You muttered in a soft and sultry tone. “You like me stroking your cock?”

“Yes - fuck, Bunny - yes,” he groaned.

“Are you gonna come for me?” 

There was no telling where your new found confidence had come from, you’d never been the sort to engage in dirty talk before but something about the moment made you feel powerful. That you, of all people, could have some powerful, wealthy man trembling beneath your touch was an intoxicating feeling.

“Come for me, handsome. Show me how much you like me.”

You watched as his jaw set and his teeth gritted, like he was trying to hold back, like he wanted the moment to go on and on. It only made your hand move faster, fingers twisting around his shaft.

When he continued to deny you, your fingers in his hair tightened their hold again, pulling his head up and forcing him to look you in the eye.

And that was all it took.

His cock started to twitch and you felt warm cum running over your hand, but all the while you held his gaze, enjoying the desperate little sounds that were escaping him.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he groaned, breathless and boneless as he sank back against the sofa.

You gave him a triumphant smirk, your hand still gripping his cock as it started to soften. When you finally pulled it away, you lifted it to your mouth and made a show of slowly licking his cum from one of your fingers.

After a moment more, you slowly stood, ignoring your shaking legs as you headed towards the bar to grab a towel to clean up with. You quickly rinsed your hand before returning to him, kneeling between his legs and tenderly wiping him clean.

When you were about to pull away again, you were stopped by his hand on your chin, tilting your head up.

“Tell me it’s not just about the money,” he said.

Your heart almost stopped at the request.

As much as you’d been trying to tell yourself that you were playing the part of Bunny, it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true, not with him.

“It’s not about the money,” you answered, feeling your cheeks start to heat, “I wouldn’t’ve done that with you for money.”

It felt like the most honest thing you’d said to him so far. If he’d asked, if he’d thrown money at you like so many men had since you started hosting at The Red Ribbon, you would have told him no. 

No, you’d done it because you wanted to because, regardless of how strange and fucked up the circumstances were, you enjoyed his company, even if you were both hiding behind your masks.

But, it seemed that he wasn’t willing to hide behind masks anymore.

You recoiled the second you felt his fingers nudging the cat mask upwards, your fingers tugging it back into place.

“Don’t,” you said, begged. “Don’t ruin this.”

“I - I’m sorry. I just - fuck, Bunny - I just want to see you.”

He sat forward and his hand found your shoulder, offering a gentle and reassuring squeeze that really didn’t help matters.

“We can’t. That’s not how this works,” you told him, trying to keep the regret from spilling into your voice.

He nodded and started to tuck himself back into his pants. You took the opportunity to pull back and get to your feet.

Then he was standing, pulling his jacket back on. He reached for you and pulled your body to his, holding you tight as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I told you, Bunny. I always get what I want. And I want you.”

Despite his playful tone, there was a gravity to his words, something that caused your heart to stutter. When you looked up, he caught your lips in another eager kiss, and you let him. You kissed him back, once again losing yourself in the fantasy that this could be something more than what it was, that this could be real.

Then, he was gone, leaving you with the unspoken promise that this thing between you was far from over.

You didn’t sleep that night, laying in bed, tossing and turning, trying to get the thought of him from your mind. The only thing that helped was your vibrator, though once you’d made yourself come, you were right back at square one, trying to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

Fortunately, when you turned up at Anvil the next morning, you were happy to find an email from Mr Russo telling you that he’d be out of office all day, meaning that you could work in peace.

On your way home, you found yourself heading towards the Rockefeller Center, stopping on the way to grab a coffee. You snuggled into your thick coat, occasionally glancing up at the sky, idly wondering if it was going to snow over Christmas.

When you reached the rink, you slowly made your way through the crowd, enjoying getting lost in the hustle and bustle until you saw a familiar face across the ice.

Billy Russo.

It didn’t click straight away - all you could think about was why would you boss be there - but when he reached up to brush back his hair and covered the top half of his face for a split second, the familiarity hit you like a brick.

It was him.

Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome was Billy Russo.

A/N : I hate being ill so much... 0/10 do not recommend (though it did give me time to finally start playing Black Ops 6 which I do recommend). Anyway hopefully I managed to get most of the dumb typos in this one. I know this story probably seems a bit faster than most of my fics but since this is only going to be three parts (or four if I get carried away) I didn't want to spend a lot of time on slow burn or b-plots. Plus it's a Christmas story and I want to finish it while it's still seasonal . Any way, I hope you're all having fun with this one because I certainly am.

Thanks for reading, hope you all have a great week (enjoy new years and stay safe!!)

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @dreadfulxives18 @shwnirwin

@ladyblacky @spitecrow @oliviaewl @snowkestrel @benbarnesprettygurl

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

Jax’s behavior is legit pretty fascinating

Yes it’s time I ramble about the purple twink.

Fast Food Masquerade did something crazy in that it actually got me to start empathizing with the asshole because Jax’s visible frustration throughout this adventure was too real.

And in fact, it’s why I think Jax was acting so “different” towards the latter half of the episode.

This adventure was Too. Damn. Real.

Now, Jax’s character is actually really simple. He even sums up his whole schtick in the pilot.

“I’m fine with doing whatever, as long as I get to see funny things happen to people.”

Then in a hilarious bit of instant karma, promptly gets hit in the face with a gloink

The “-who aren’t me” part of that self description pretty much goes without saying.

Immediately after this happens, Jax’s little laidback exterior gets so rattled that he suddenly feels the need to take control and starts assigning tasks to everyone. And his casual attitude only returns once he feels like he’s not in any position for ridicule, by redirecting the potential for ridicule onto others. This is his defense mechanism.

Jax needs to feel in control, so he deliberately controls whatever situation he’s in to get the results he wants.

Something that I’ve always appreciated about Jax from a meta perspective is that he’s a character who actively moves the story forward, usually because he wants to satisfy his urge to create chaos.

And that’s the main thing about Jax, he’s really destructive.

Like…almost pointlessly destructive.

But, y’know what? It makes sense. Because he’s in a video game.

Where else can you be as needlessly and excessively chaotic than in a game where you can do pretty much anything because nothing is real?

Jax can hurt whoever and wreck whatever because if he’s living by video game logic, then there are no lasting consequences to his actions.

Jax even goes so far as to refer to Pomni, and by extension the other trapped humans, as a “character” in the pilot. Which goes to show how little he wants to consider them as people.

You can’t really hurt a character. And if used correctly, a character can be entertaining.

And that’s all Jax really wants out of his new life in the Circus, entertainment. Because the worst thing you can be while stuck in a game is be bored.

But of course, even in games, your actions have certain consequences that are just unavoidable.

And Episode 4 really beat Jax’s yellow teeth in with that not-so-fun little reminder. Because this bit right here

Pretty much was the precedent for how bad Jax was gonna get it this time.

And it all starts with Gangle absolutely refusing to let his usual bullshit slide by personally making sure that there will be consequences.

This is the first crack in Jax’s mask, he’s visibly concerned and annoyed that he no longer is allowed to be himself lest he risks getting punished. And even more baffling is that for the first time, Gangle asserts her power over him. She actually does something about his behavior, ripping the wind right out of his sails. Not only that but she continually enforces her authority, making it harder on him to get the upper hand again.

Now his interaction with Zooble is really interesting, because it’s the first time we see him at his most normal.

I don’t think he’s trying to tease them here, I feel like he’s genuinely curious about Zooble’s way of “playing” the game, because remember, it’s been a long time since they’ve been on an adventure together, if at all. Zooble’s excuse of wanting to avoid punishment makes sense because they witnessed first hand that Caine’s unstable personality is capable of some legitimate danger.

Of course, Jax believes that there isn’t any real risk involved. The only immediate menace to him and his current desire to just get through the day, is Gangle and her new mask.

At this point he’s not trying to be destructive or disruptive. He’s fully apathetic, because being forced to act like a minimum wage salary employee is not fun in the slightest. He can’t make things fun for himself, so he refuses to participate entirely.

As the clock mocks him with every slow tick, his mask chips more and more.

Jax isn’t saying this to be calculatingly rude or hurtful, he’s not doing this to upset Gangle. He’s being sincere, which is why he’s not smiling.

Because Gangle is much easier to push around and go along with whatever he wants her to do when she’s in Tragedy mode. She’s more “fun” that way.

In other words, he really hates this new dynamic they’ve got going on.

But this little comment, just makes things even worse for him because now Gangle goes from enforcing her authority to straight up abusing it by letting herself abuse him for a change.

It’s crazy how Jax’s main concern here is making sure this torture scene is just between them. He really hates being humiliated, more so than getting physically hurt.

The man has some serious issues, but c’mon we already knew that.

So Jax is finally getting a taste of his own medicine and it completely emasculates him. To the point where he just defaults to doing whatever Gangle tells him to do just to avoid feeling like that again. Now the mask is fully stripped off, he’s openly exasperated and powerless. On top of that he has no real impulse to ridicule or ruffle anyone’s feathers anymore, because for the first time in probably a long while, he’s even more miserable than everyone else.

And what does misery love?

Company

As someone who’s worked in retail for a while, nothing helps keep you sane more than having a little of bit of camaraderie when struggling to survive in corporate hell.

Something that really stood out to me in this episode is the limited use in background music, especially when in Spudsy’s, where you either get muzak to sell the ambiance of a public eatery or silence with the occasional machinery noise.

And yeah, that’d be enough to make shit as immersive as possible. It’s not a coincidence that the restaurant looks like a McDonald’s when Gooseworx even said it was directly modeled after it. It’s uncanny, how real this setup feels.

Uncomfortably uncanny.Jax seething at the clock is a relatable struggle.

The mask immediately comes back on once Jax no longer has any obligation to stick around.

But Jax can’t even enjoy his freedom. His day is officially over, but the sting of the experience still lingers. The adventure wasn’t just boring or frustrating, it was humbling, in every terrible way. This wasn’t a game, it was real life.

And I think the last kick in the teeth was this license plate waiting for him in the parking lot (Why did Caine make them drive “home”? That’s just extra)

One is the loneliest number

Jax doesn’t hide the fact that he’s an asshole, he’s almost proud of it. He practically relishes getting a rise out of everyone. He is well aware that nobody likes him, but I think this where he starts realizing that it actually bothers him.

Everyone has talked about that very brief moment where Jax’s expression changed towards the end of Candy Carrier Chaos, when Ragatha was talking about Kaufmo’s funeral and we get to see him actually get sad for a change, before immediately shaking it off and stomping away in irritation.

Jax showed no concern over Kaufmo’s abstraction in the pilot, so why would he feel sad about it in that moment? Does he secretly care about his fellow humans and just doesn’t want to admit it?

Maybe. But personally, I think the others choosing to morn those who’ve abstracted like they’re dead makes him seriously uncomfortable. Because it serves as a reminder that even in this world, there are still major consequences when some things aren’t taken seriously.

Jax doesn’t want to consider real life consequences. None of them even look like real people, so why should he bother treating everyone like real people?

So when he sees everyone else getting closer and being good to each other, it’s annoying and weird. The idea that they need to look out for one another feels pathetic. Treating abstraction seriously means it’s a real danger, and that would mean that he’s also susceptible to experiencing it one day.

And when you’ve built up a reputation over making everyone miserable, who’s gonna wanna remember you?

In a show that’s clearly all about building relationships, Jax’s destructive behavior is really gonna cost him.

[legalkimchi]

Please learn more than just a Phrase.

I don't expect people to be subject matter experts on issues of global politics.

But false equivalency is rampant in online discourse regarding three major conflicts in the world today. I am using the word conflict in this post, however, when applicable, i will use other words to describe specifics. (Nuance folks... it's a thing)

So i start off with an assumption that most people don't understand the basics of most international events. As an american, i only know some of the stuff that is happening within my own nation. This is not an insult to you, dear reader. Rather, it is a position we all must realize we are in. You do not understand most world issues.

You just don't.

you aren't there. it isn't your life. you don't have the academic background.

I saw a post recently calling for "freedom for Palestine, Sudan, and Congo."

And it bothered me. Not because i am opposed to peace, (how is asking for ceasefire a bad thing?) but rather because i believe simplifying the conflicts with this wording showcases the ignorance of the differences.

Not all conflicts are the same.

In palestine, we have a convoluted mess where two groups claim a territory as home. getting into the in-depth story of this conflict takes time. Foundational elements of it take place thousands of years ago, but the conflict itself is only about 75 years old. So it is a long and short story. Currently, the sovereign state of Israel is engaging in a genocide in Gaza. Asking for freedom for palestinians makes sense. they live in an apartheid state and would like a state of their own. they wish to be free of occupation. you can argue with the details, be pro-israel, or whatever, but that is the basic ask of palestinians. (if you want to get into anti-semetic regional sentiment or the desire of certain groups to eradicate the israeli jewish population or Israel as a nation that's a different topic, not the point of what i'm talking about.)

In the Congo and Sudan, it is a different story.

Let's start with the Congo. First of all, Which Congo?

Let's please understand that there is the Republic of the Congo and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The Republic of the Congo is a former french colony. Then there is Democratic Republic of the Congo. Some of us might remember this country as Zaire.

the DRC is the congo we are talking about in the news. This was a former belgian colony and the atrocities committed by the belgians there rival any genocide in human history. i've seen estimates between 5 million and 20 million deaths. some estimates state the population of native congolese were cut in HALF. since the turbulent start of the country after their independence in 1960, the country knew relative peace until the 1990s. Then a mixture of a weak central government and the Rwandan Civil war (which had it's own genocide you may have heard about) spilled over into what was then Zaire. Zaire dissolved, and the DRC took it's place, But the wars have been raging off an on since then. earlier this year, more civil war violence erupted AGAIN. This displaced millions, AGAIN. while the DRC is a bit of an autocratic and repressive regime, the rebel groups are groups with ties with the Rwandan government and the other group with ties to Isis. It's awful all the way down.

Sudan has had an ongoing civil war for over 20 years. I remember this because i helped lead some anti-genocide protests regarding Darfur when i was in college 20 years ago. I've been following this conflict for nearly my entire adult life. you may have heard about this with regards to the Save Darfur coalition regarding the genocide in Darfur. Well, that genocide has continued (albeit with less intensity) for 20 years. the civil war lasted until 2021, but restarted in a different form in late 2023. the conflict is now between two different sides of the military government fighting each other.

It is an awful conflict full of awful leaders. Sudan's government suffered a revolution in 2019 from a dictator, only to have that government overthrown in a coup by the current dictator. The Sudanese military is supported by folks like Russia and North Korea. you might see that among the other countries that support sudan, bunch of communist countries, and you might think "hey, maybe al-Burhan is a leftist".

no... no he is not.

He is a military despot. He has no ties to any real ideology. He just runs sudan as a military dictator.

So who is opposing him?

The Rapid Support Forces. and you may be thinking "ok, so they are the good guys? trying to overthrow the dictator?"

No... They are the ones that instigated the Genocide in Darfur.

This is a situation is "no matter who wins, the people of Sudan lose."

So when folks claim these are all the same. Or wonder why folks talk about one and not the other.

there are reasons. These are very different conflicts. Please learn about them. It matters more than spouting some 4 word slogan calling for "freedom."

Find out what the people of these areas actually need. Learn more about what is happening. My description above is incomplete. I may even get some things wrong. I am trying to keep informed, but I am not an expert, nor do i live there. Raise voices from the region and find out if there are ways to help.

[bestofmultiverse]

Between the pages || 5

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper. A love like this is a dream.”

– Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

A/N : Idk if it good but i kinda felt like being sappy here.

1 • 2 • 3 • 4

The interview seemed to be going well, Y/N thought, watching from behind the scenes.

Aubrey had a knack for charming people with just one smile. She was relaxed as she spoke to Drew about her upcoming project, her confidence radiating in every word. Y/N felt her heart skip a beat as Aubrey flirted playfully (Y/N couldn’t blame her—it’s Drew Barrymore, for crying out loud!) and teased her fans with a casual grin that always left her weak in the knees.

Drew seemed to enjoy the banter, too. The two of them joked effortlessly, with Drew throwing in a few personal questions—ones Aubrey had agreed to answer beforehand. Y/N could sense the moment she’d been both dreading and anticipating inching closer.

Their relationship.

For some reason, even after months, people couldn’t seem to let it go. The world was fascinated by the unlikely pairing, endlessly dissecting it. Y/N figured it was because she wasn’t famous, nor did she live a very public life. People were either intrigued by her anonymity or bitter, labeling her a gold-digger.

Her social media was private, her career was far from glamorous, and even when her future book will be finally published—her own book, not just something she’d co-edited—she knew she’d still be considered “ordinary” next to Aubrey. She wasn’t an actress, a model, or an influencer. She was just a small-town girl who, somehow, had caught the Aubrey Plaza’s attention—and love.

A montage of pictures suddenly appeared on the screen, paired with Drew’s next question. Y/N watched nervously.

The first photo showed her lying on top of Aubrey on their couch, fast asleep with her face buried in Aubrey’s stomach. Aubrey, meanwhile, was smiling like she’d won the lottery. The second image was a messy selfie of them covered in eggs and flour, laughing with huge, silly grins. The last was from a Marvel party they’d attended together: Aubrey’s hand rested possessively on Y/N’s waist as they leaned in close, noses almost touching. Y/N had a crinkle in her nose, clearly giggling at something Aubrey had whispered.

From her seat, Y/N noticed Aubrey shift slightly, sitting a little straighter. It was subtle, but Y/N could tell—her girlfriend was nervous.

“So, there are a lot of rumors about your relationship,” Drew began warmly. “It’s not new news, but somehow it’s still keeping people on their toes. How do you feel about that? And how’s your girlfriend handling it?”

Drew’s tone was light, like a friend genuinely curious, not a journalist digging for a scoop.

Aubrey smiled softly. “How do I feel about it? Well… I’ve had a few relationships in my life—some public, some less so. Most were great in their own ways. But honestly, this one? This one’s it for me. She’s my person, and I’m happy. I just wish people could be more supportive of that.”

She paused for a moment, glancing briefly behind Drew to catch Y/N’s eye. When she saw Y/N’s encouraging thumbs-up and grin, Aubrey’s smile grew.

“But I get it,” she continued. “People wonder, they talk—and that’s fine, I guess. It’s part of the package deal. I just wish the hate wasn’t part of it. It’s one thing when it’s the media. Neither of us cares what some sleazy tabloid writer thinks. But when it’s from people who call themselves fans? That stings. For both of us.”

Drew nodded, her expression understanding. “Do you think addressing it will change anything? Or are you worried it might even get worse?”

Aubrey shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not counting on this fixing anything. God, I hope it doesn’t get worse. But even if it does, we have a great relationship. I’m crazy about her, and that’s all that matters.”

She glanced over at Y/N and winked, making her laugh softly.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” Drew teased, grinning.

The conversation moved to lighter topics, including Aubrey’s notorious pranks on set and an embarrassing story about the time she accidentally walked into the wrong bathroom at an awards show. The tension from earlier melted away as they both dissolved into laughter. Y/N knew fans would love this part. Aubrey seemed lighter, too, like addressing the issue had lifted a weight off her shoulders.

After the interview aired, the two decided to ditch their phones for the evening. They curled up on the couch in Aubrey’s apartment, embracing the quiet.

Y/N rested her head on Aubrey’s shoulder, sighing contentedly. “Well, that wasn’t a complete disaster,” she teased.

“Disaster? That was amazing,” Aubrey replied, reaching over to run her fingers through Y/N’s hair. “And I killed it, if I do say so myself.”

Y/N snorted. “Humble as ever.”

“Hey, it’s not bragging if it’s true.” Aubrey smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “Besides, you were the real MVP, giving me that thumbs-up when I needed it. You’re my rock, you know that?”

“Stop. You’re making me blush,” Y/N mumbled, hiding her face against Aubrey’s neck.

“Good. You’re cute when you blush.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world and its noise fading away. For now, all that mattered was the warmth of the moment and the peace of being together, on their own terms.

The morning light crept into Aubrey’s apartment, highlighting the lazy entanglement of limbs on the couch. Y/N stirred first, groaning softly as the realization dawned that they’d fallen asleep there. Aubrey, half-awake, tightened her arm around Y/N’s waist.

“Don’t move,” Aubrey murmured, her voice husky with sleep. “You’re my pillow.”

Y/N chuckled, brushing her fingers through Aubrey’s messy hair. “We’re not even in bed. My neck is going to hate me for this later.”

“It’s a small price to pay for cuddles,” Aubrey countered, pressing her face into Y/N’s shoulder.

The moment was warm and serene, but the peace was short-lived. Y/N glanced at her phone on the coffee table, her curiosity getting the better of her. Against her better judgment, she reached for it.

As soon as she unlocked it, her screen lit up with notifications. Dozens of missed messages, tagged posts, and news alerts. A quick scroll through Twitter showed one trending topic: #AubreyAndYN.

“Oh no,” Y/N muttered, biting her lip. “Aubrey, we’re trending again.”

Aubrey groaned dramatically, flopping onto her back like a starfish. “Of course we are. Can’t the world leave us alone for one day?”

“It’s… different this time,” Y/N said hesitantly, scrolling further. “Look.”

Curiosity piqued, Aubrey sat up and leaned over Y/N’s shoulder. What they found was unexpected.

Instead of the usual nasty gossip or conspiracy theories, the feed was flooded with supportive messages and heartwarming edits. Fans had clipped moments from the interview, adding captions like, “Aubrey loves her GF so much, I’m crying 🥹” and, “Finally, they addressed the haters. Good for them!”

A particularly popular tweet featured the marvel party photo that had appeared in the interview. It was captioned, “Find someone who looks at you like Aubrey looks at Y/N. Relationship goals!”

Y/N scrolled further, finding more positive reactions. One user wrote, “I wasn’t sure about them at first, but seeing Aubrey defend her GF so fiercely? Respect.”

Another said, “Y/N’s clearly the happiest thing to happen to Aubrey. Why can’t we just let them be in love?”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow, amused. “Wow. Are we in the Twilight Zone? Where’s all the hate?”

“There’s still some,” Y/N admitted, gesturing to a few bitter comments. “But it’s… quieter than usual.”

Aubrey grinned, clearly pleased. “Looks like our plan worked. I told you people just needed to see how awesome you are.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “Sure. It’s totally because I’m awesome, not because you publicly declared your undying love for me on live television.”

“Well, that didn’t hurt,” Aubrey teased, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s waist and pulling her close. “Maybe I should do it more often.”

Y/N laughed, leaning into Aubrey’s embrace. “Let’s not push our luck.”

They spent the next hour scrolling through the posts, laughing at memes and reading comments aloud. By the time they set their phones down, the tension from the day before had all but disappeared.

Later, as they sat at the kitchen table, sharing a plate of pancakes Aubrey had lovingly burnt on one side, Y/N felt a strange sense of calm.

“You know,” she said, spearing a piece of pancake with her fork, “it’s kind of nice seeing people be supportive for a change.”

Aubrey nodded, sipping her coffee. “Yeah. Feels weird, though. Like, are we actually allowed to enjoy this?”

“I think so,” Y/N said with a small smile. “We deserve to enjoy it.”

Aubrey reached across the table to take Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently. “We do. And for the record, I don’t care if we’re trending, ignored, or completely forgotten. As long as I have you, I’m good.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. “You’re such a sap.”

“You love it,” Aubrey shot back, her grin mischievous.

“Unfortunately, I do.”

They spent the rest of the morning laughing, teasing each other, and stealing bites of pancake from the same plate. No matter what the internet thought of them, they were happy—and that was all that mattered.

[jpitha]

Hospitality

Meandering River and Q'ari sit in the canteen during midday break chatting and drinking some herbal tea. The Humans introduced both the drink and the meal. They call it 'Lunch' and while only the Humans seem to need the calories supplied by the meal, the break and the tea has proven to be a big hit among the other sapients...so long as they stay away from the poisonous teas. There are a lot of poisonous teas. Most everyone can have chamomile though.

The conversation meanders as they do, and eventually, they both come to talking about things they've noticed about the humans, one of the more recent additions to the Coalition. Everybody has their own cultural and biological quirks, but the conversations has been steering towards the humans lately. Everyone is a little too quick to point out that It's not that they're... weird, it's just the differences.

Q'ari puts her tea down with a clink on the small porcelain saucer. "Did you know that the Humans have a whole thing about being nice to visitors? It’s called 'hospitality' and they have almost entire religions about it!"

"What? They have religions about being nice to people you meet?" Meandering River said, as her feathers rustle, reflecting shimmering colors.

"Pretty much! My guess is that living on their world is so hard that they just felt obligated to help people who were passing through their village or peer group or whatever. The idea was that no matter who shows up - even their enemy - you give them a meal and a bath and let them have a nap and point them towards where they need to go if they're lost." Q'ari took another sip of tea. "You weren't even supposed to ask them questions about who they were or what they were doing!"

Meander was baffled. "But that makes no sense! What if the person was going to hurt you or your group? You had no way of knowing. Better to just let them pass by, and not interact."

"Yes, but the idea is the next time it was you traveling, you'd get help from others too." Nancy said from behind them.

Q'ari fur poofed out and Meander's feathers rippled in surprise and they both slid their chairs back to jump away before stopping themselves and sitting down, tea spilled everywhere. Predator/Prey reactions were deeply ingrained in Innari and Sefigans, and Humans were exceptionally good predators, even when they didn't mean to be.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Nancy said, seeing their reaction. "I didn't mean to startle you! I just heard you talking about hospitality. People everywhere don't treat it like the religion it used to be, but it's still a common thing that people do. Here -" she said gesturing on her pad "Let me buy you both another Tea to say sorry for spilling yours. Chamomile, right? I feel so badly about startling you."

"I-It's all right, we know you didn't mean to." Meander says, smoothing their feathers automatically. We were just fascinated by the concept of hospitality. Please, join us." She gestures towards a chair.

Nancy sits down, and wipes away some of the spilled tea with a napkin. "Being polite to strangers is just something that's taught from an early age. It's not done everywhere, and it's not done the same way, but it's still done. It's... complicated though." Nancy said, as a serv platform came over with two fresh cups of tea. After it had left, she continued. "Codifying being nice to strangers and offering them a place to stay and food to eat is a way that people could travel in the time before money and hotels, but also, it could be used as a shield against forming real friendships."

"What do you mean by that? If you're inviting strangers into your house, wouldn't that help make friends?" Meander said, blowing on her tea to cool it slightly.

"Well, it could. But if the whole process is ritualized and formal, then you could use it to keep 'foreign' people at arms length. Sure, you'd invite them in, let them sleep, bathe, eat, but you'd send them on their way in the morning and that would be it. There would be no connection, no friendship. There is a long, long history of being nice without being friendly."

"It's all very confusing." Q'ari said. "There seems to be a lot of implied connections, and ritualized actions that on the surface appear kind, but may - or may not - be, depending on thousands of different things."

Nancy nodded. "Hey, things are never black and white. There is always nuance. I'm sure it's even the same way between you and your people. Q'ari, you're not originally from Sef, the homeworld, right?"

Q'ari's teddy bear shaped ears waggled. "That's right. I grew up on Llamanian, one of our middle tier colony worlds."

"And even though you are a Sefigan citizen, when you go to Sef sometimes you get treated like an outsider, right?"

"Well, I suppose a bit, yes." Q'ari's finely laquered claws slid out of their sheaths, just a centimeter. "They say that my gelbin isn't the same as on Sef. Er, that's a traditional vegetable dish." She adds, for their benefit.

Meander's crest slides up and then back down. "I've had your gelbin Q'ari, it's delicious! What could possibly be wrong?"

She shrugs, a decidedly human gesture. "The spices are wrong, they say. We have different versions due to the ecology and soil of Llamanian, even if I were to use the exact same spices in the exact same proportions, it wouldn't taste the same."

"It's not just humans. Everyone has things that are different, and people - no matter which sapient group they are - will use those differences against them sometimes." Nancy said, taking a sip of tea. "Knowing that it happens, and keeping an eye out for it, and having some understanding, can go a long way. But, that doesn't mean we shouldn't be nice to strangers when we meet them. After all, they might be the Gods in disguise!" Nancy's eyes sparkle when she said that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you see a people called the Greeks believed that..."

[gilbertscurls]

Live a Little (pt. 2) ➵ Chris Sturniolo

part 1!

summary: chris tries to make you skip classes again, but this time, you don't cave.

The next day, you arrived at school feeling the weight of yesterday’s events. The thrill of sneaking away with Chris Sturniolo had been exhilarating, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind kept reminding you that you had responsibilities. When the bell rang, you made your way to your locker, determined to stick to your routine and not let Chris’s charm distract you again.

As you shoved your books into your backpack, you felt a familiar presence behind you. “Hey,” Chris said, leaning against the locker with that same mischievous grin that made your heart race.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but your heart skipped a beat.

“About yesterday…” He stepped closer, his voice low and teasing. “You wanna ditch class again? I’ve got some ideas for how we could spend the time.”

You felt a rush of temptation, but you shook your head, crossing your arms defensively. “I can’t, Chris. I have a ton of homework and college applications to think about. I can’t just skip out like you do.”

His expression shifted, a mix of disappointment and determination flickering in his eyes. “Come on. It’s senior year. You’re supposed to live a little!”

“I am living!” you protested, frustration bubbling up. “Just not the way you want me to. I have my goals, Chris. I can’t just throw that away.”

Chris’s face softened for a moment, and he looked genuinely taken aback. “So you’re saying you’d rather sit in class than spend time with me?”

“Yes,” you replied firmly, feeling a sense of pride in your conviction. “I would.”

For a second, the playful banter fell away, and the air between you thickened with tension. Chris studied you, and for a moment, you thought he might push harder. But instead, he shrugged it off, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. “Fine. If that’s how you feel.”

As you turned to leave, you felt a pang of regret. Was this really the end of whatever spark had ignited between you? You hoped not, but as the week progressed, Chris didn’t appear to be sulking for long.

However, as the day wore on, it became evident that something unusual was happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the atmosphere around the school was charged, a buzz of gossip trailing behind Chris’s every move. When lunch finally rolled around, you found yourself seated at your usual table, surrounded by friends who were animatedly discussing the latest news.

“Did you hear?” one of your friends exclaimed, leaning in conspiratorially. “Chris Sturniolo actually went to class today. Like, attended all of them!”

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “Are you serious? That’s not like him at all.”

“Right? He was actually in Chemistry and History! Apparently, he even took notes!” your friend continued, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What’s going on?”

You felt a strange mix of emotions—curiosity, excitement, and a hint of jealousy. Why was Chris suddenly so interested in class?

As if on cue, Chris walked into the cafeteria, his head held high, looking utterly unfazed. He spotted you almost immediately, a playful grin spreading across his face. He weaved through the crowded tables, drawing attention from students who were whispering among themselves, their gazes shifting between him and the spot beside you.

“Hey, there you are,” Chris said, plopping down next to you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The chatter around the cafeteria quieted for a moment, and you could feel the eyes on both of you.

“Word on the street is you’ve turned over a new leaf,” you said, teasingly raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, a nonchalant smile still playing on his lips. “I figured if I want to spend time with someone like you, I should probably show a little effort.” His eyes glimmered with mischief, and your heart raced at the implication.

Before you could respond, the lunch lady passed by, a look of shock crossing her face when she spotted Chris. “Sturniolo? You in here? Attending lunch and class? Is the world ending?”

Laughter erupted from nearby tables, and Chris shot her a charming smile. “Just trying to keep things interesting, Mrs. Carter.”

Your heart sank and soared at the same time. It was surreal seeing Chris—someone so notorious for his carefree attitude—actually participating in school, and it was all because of you. The realization hit you hard: he was trying to impress you, and that made your stomach flutter.

“Wow, you really are serious about this,” you said, half-jokingly, trying to play it cool.

“Absolutely,” Chris said, leaning closer, his voice low and serious. “I want to be where you are, doing what you’re doing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks as Chris reached out, brushing his fingers against yours, and suddenly, the cafeteria was just the two of you.

“Just wait until you see my skills in Calculus,” he added with a wink, breaking the momentary silence that had enveloped you.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine how different things could be. Chris Sturniolo—known for skipping classes and causing chaos—actually sitting next to you, focusing on the lessons, taking notes, sharing moments that had once seemed reserved for your daydreams. It was exciting, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once.

The following day, you walked into your first-period class, and there he was—sitting in the back, looking slightly out of place but undeniably confident. You blinked in disbelief. Had Chris Sturniolo really decided to attend class?

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, taking a seat next to him.

He leaned back casually, a smirk on his face. “What? You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun without me, did you?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “This is a shock. You’ve actually come to class.”

“Yeah, well,” he replied, a hint of mischief in his voice, “I figured if I want to be around you, I need to actually show up. I’m not interested in any other girl.”

Your heart raced at his declaration, but you tried to play it cool. “You’re going to ruin your reputation.”

Chris shrugged, unbothered. “Reputation? Who cares? I want to be where you are. Besides, I’ve heard you’re the best at explaining things. I might need a tutor.”

As the teacher droned on, you couldn’t help but glance over at Chris, who was now pretending to take notes but occasionally sneaked glances your way, a grin plastered on his face. The rest of the class whispered among themselves, shock rippling through the room at the sight of him actually participating.

The next day, he was there again. And the day after that. It became almost a routine. Every class you attended, Chris showed up. He was hardly ever serious, cracking jokes and making the teachers shake their heads in disbelief, but he was there. He wanted to be next to you, and you felt a mix of confusion and excitement.

By the end of the week, students began to notice. Rumors spread that Chris was trying to win you over. The girls who had once swooned over him now looked on with envy as he dedicated his time to sitting next to you, laughing at your jokes and keeping you engaged during lectures.

One day, after a particularly chaotic Chemistry class, Chris caught you in the hallway. “So, how do you feel about my newfound dedication?” he asked, leaning against the wall with a cocky grin.

You couldn’t help but smile, despite yourself. “It’s surprising, to say the least.”

“I told you, I’m not interested in anyone else. I want you,” he said, his voice dropping to a serious tone. “I know I can be a pain sometimes, but I’m trying to show you that I can be more than just the guy who skips class.”

You felt your heart flutter at his earnestness. “Why the sudden change?” you asked, still trying to understand his motives.

Chris stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Because I realized I don’t want to miss out on you. I get that you have your plans and goals, and I respect that. But I also want to be a part of your life, however that looks.”

For a moment, you were speechless, caught off guard by his sincerity. Chris Sturniolo was notorious for his carefree attitude, and yet here he was, trying to show you he was serious about this. You wanted to believe him, but you also knew how different he was from your world.

“Okay,” you said finally, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’ll admit it’s nice having you around. Just… don’t make me regret it.”

Chris’s eyes sparkled with triumph. “Deal. But I can’t promise I won’t still be a little ridiculous.”

You chuckled, your heart lightening. As the weeks wore on, you found yourself growing closer to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. It was a mix of excitement and fear, but one thing was clear—Chris was here to stay, and for the first time in a long time, your future felt like an adventure worth embracing.

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