#and refusing to see what’s on the screen

[sooniebby]

an idea; a (bottom) male reader who’s apart of an indie jpop boy group. The members are just you, a childhood friend, and three other people you met through college/random events. Your group was lucky one of the members comes from a rich family that doesn’t mind spending some money to help you guys out—waiting until a company finds interest and asks to manage you.

The first month or so is rough so you all find part time jobs in the mean time. But regular jobs just don’t interest you so it takes you awhile to even apply for any… mostly getting fired after the first week or so because you end up showing late all the time.

You’re left wondering what to do when you come across a website of camboys and camgirls. Some of them show full nudity while others stay dressed for the most part.

It intrigues you enough but you don’t do it without running it through your members. They’re mostly shocked you even want to do that… but other than that, they just tell you to not speak and wear a mask.

Easy peasy. You chose a simple and almost silly name, “Shy Usagi” since your mask resembled a rabbit.

The first stream is awkward, you had to figure out a way to talk. Surprisingly, a few of the people that dropped in were intrigued by your refusal to talk. You had expected them to immediately want you naked but it seemed you attracted people that liked the teasing aspect of camboys.

Though you were 99% sure it was only men watching you. The first few weeks, you only wore skimpy clothing and did anything they requested. The most sexual thing you did was suck a dildo.

Occasionally you’d masturbate on live and that would always garner more attention. But there was always one person who would tip you no matter the stream.

“Hitachikoi”

You were sure he was probably an old man but you didn’t care, money was money. He knew how to flirt so you never felt weirded out with his attention.

Things were going reasonably well until after your group’s performance at a little festival. You had spilt away for a second to look around when you bumped into someone. He had his face covered with a mask and baseball cap.

You were going to apologize and go about your way when you caught that he was holding a poster of your group. He didn’t say anything as he simply held up a marker.

It took a second before you finally realized what he wanted. “Oh! Sure.” You were a bit excited, having never really signed anything before. Your signature was a bit messy but still legible.

“Here you go, thanks for coming to see us!”

“I only came to see you.”

“Hm?” You leaned in closer, wondering if you had heard him right. Only you?

The man let out a laugh as he reached up and pulled down his mask, leaning down so you could get a clear look at his face. “Mhm. Only you… (Name)… or ah,”

His hand reached up and cupped your face, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. It was only when he pulled off his cap that you got a good look at his face.

He… he wasn’t some random guy. He was a famous actor… a famous actor knew about you?

“Shy Usagi? It’s nice to see your entire face… that mask never hid your lips.”

You could stare as he pushed his thumb into your mouth. The only thing you were thinking of was if he was about to ruin your career before it even took off? But why would he care? Why was he even—

“Don’t worry your pretty little head. Someone like you isn’t made to think so hard,” he said, a slight frown on his lips. “I just, well I got tired of watching behind a screen. I wanted to touch you…”

His other hand moved to rest on your hip, pulling you closer as he pressed his lips against your ear.

“To be inside of you instead of that dildo… I mean, I’m paying you so much money, it’s only fair I get to have you, right? Mhm? I can have you, yea? I’ve thought of fucking your mouth for days now.”

“(Name)! Where are you?”

He pulled away, rolling his eyes. You only watched as he slipped back on his mask and cap, pulling your shirt back down. “You’ll stream tonight.” He said, as if he was giving you an order, not asking.

“I’ll see you tonight, baby. Wear something red tonight… that’s my favorite color.”

With that he left you standing there, mouth agape just as one of your members walked over to you.

You… were so fucking screwed.

In more ways than one.

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @secretivemessenger @chill-guy-but-cooler @star-3214 @tehyunnie @remdayz @cherry-blossoms-187 @tomoeroi @mello-life25 @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @smellwell @iwishtobeacrow @euthymiko @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @love-kha1 @anchoredphoenix @yuzuukix @bensontrechic

I already made a face claim lol.



[isak-dot-gov]

Operation Surprise Paige

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, but Paige’s busy practice schedule keeps her from spending the day with the reader. Wanting to make the night special despite the circumstances, the reader surprises Paige by setting up a cozy indoor picnic in her dorm,

Word count: 1069

My Masterlist :)

You stared at your phone screen for what felt like the hundredth time that day, rereading Paige’s last text:

PB: I’m so sorry, babe. Practice is running late. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

You sighed, setting your phone down on your lap. It wasn’t like this was a huge surprise—basketball was Paige’s life, and you knew that when you started dating her. But Valentine’s Day was supposed to be special. You had hoped for at least a few uninterrupted hours together, maybe a cute brunch date or a late-night dinner after practice. Instead, Paige was stuck in the gym, and you were sitting in your dorm, alone, wondering if you’d even get to see her before the day ended.

A part of you wanted to wallow in your disappointment, but another part—the one that loved Paige more than anything—refused to let this day be a complete letdown. If Paige couldn’t take you on a Valentine’s Day date, then you’d bring the date to her.

You wasted no time putting your plan into action. First, you grabbed your coat and headed off campus to pick up a few essentials. A quick stop at the store got you everything you needed: a fluffy picnic blanket, a string of warm fairy lights, a few battery-operated candles (because real candles in a dorm were a fire hazard), and, most importantly, all of Paige’s favorite snacks.

Then, you made a second stop at a bakery that you knew Paige loved. They had a special Valentine’s Day section, and you couldn’t resist grabbing a small heart-shaped cake with pink frosting that read, Be Mine? in white icing. It was cheesy, but you knew Paige would love it.

By the time you got back to her dorm, her roommate was nowhere to be found—perfect. You got to work, pushing the coffee table aside and setting up the picnic blanket in the middle of the floor. You arranged the fairy lights on the nightstand and around the window, their soft glow making the space feel warm and romantic. You placed the food neatly on the blanket, including the strawberries and Nutella because you knew Paige would devour them in minutes.

For the final touch, you pulled out a handwritten card you had made earlier. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple message:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. Since you couldn’t take me on a fancy date, I figured I’d bring the romance to you. Hope you’re ready for the best dorm-room picnic of your life. Love, your #1 fan.”

You set the card next to the cake and took a step back, admiring your work. It wasn’t some expensive five-star dinner, but it was filled with love, and that’s what mattered most.

It was past 9 PM when you finally heard the sound of keys jingling outside the door. You quickly sat down on the blanket, waiting with anticipation.

The door swung open, and in walked Paige, looking absolutely exhausted. She had her gym bag slung over one shoulder, her hoodie slightly oversized, and her damp hair from a quick shower falling messily around her face. She was clearly ready to collapse into bed—until she took in the sight in front of her.

Her tired eyes widened as she scanned the room, from the fairy lights casting a soft glow to the carefully arranged picnic in the middle of the floor.

“Babe…” she breathed, dropping her bag by the door. “What—what is all this?”

You smiled up at her. “Your Valentine’s Day date,” you said, motioning to the setup. “Since we couldn’t go out, I figured I’d bring the date to you.”

Paige just stood there, staring at you like you had just hung the moon. “You did all this… for me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “No, I did it for your roommate,” you teased, making her laugh softly.

She stepped forward, dropping to her knees on the blanket and cupping your face in her hands. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks.

“You really don’t,” you joked, earning another laugh before she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

Paige wasted no time making herself comfortable, pulling you into her lap and resting her chin on your shoulder as she eyed the food. “Are those strawberries and Nutella?”

You grinned. “Of course.”

“God, I love you.”

You laughed, reaching for a strawberry and dipping it into the Nutella before holding it up to her lips. She took a bite, humming in satisfaction. “Mmm. Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Even better than last year, when we actually got to go to that fancy restaurant?”

Paige nodded without hesitation, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Way better. This is perfect.”

For the next hour, you sat together, eating and talking about everything and nothing at all. Paige stole more than her fair share of strawberries, and you made her feed you a few in return. The heart-shaped cake was a huge hit—Paige insisted on taking pictures of it before cutting into it, and she made you share the first bite with her.

At one point, she stretched out on the blanket, pulling you down so you were lying on her chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back. The sound of soft music playing from your phone mixed with the occasional sound of Paige yawning as she relaxed against you.

“This might be my favorite Valentine’s Day ever,” she admitted, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You smiled, your fingers gently playing with the hem of her hoodie. “Really?”

“Really.” She tilted her head to look at you, her blue eyes filled with so much love it made your heart ache. “You didn’t have to do all this, but you did. You always do the little things that make me feel special.”

You felt your cheeks warm. “Well, you are special.”

Paige grinned before leaning in, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. When she pulled back, she whispered, “I love you.”

Your heart swelled as you nuzzled closer to her. “I love you too.”

And in that moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms, surrounded by fairy lights and the warmth of your love, you knew that no matter how busy life got, as long as you had each other, every day would feel like Valentine’s Day.

[4linos]

haircut drama

lee minho x gn!reader

synopsis: minho gets overly dramatic about you not noticing his haircut, drawing out the teasing until you guess right.

wc: 823

(based on his silly bbl messages lol)

The afternoon was peaceful, yet something seemed odd. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone, totally immersed in whatever was on the screen. Minho sat next to you, but his typically calm manner had shifted. He kept looking across at you, shifting in his seat, and sighing lightly; his small dramatic movements were beginning to add up.

You looked up and saw him looking at you before he hurriedly turned his head. His lips were pursed, and he kept looking away, as if he were trying to hide something. But it wasn't like him to be so distant. You lifted an eyebrow, sensing something was off.

“Minho?” you asked, slightly distracted, still not sure why he was acting so… off. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, only huffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. His foot tapped a little too fast on the floor, his gaze never meeting yours. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though there was a playfulness in his tone you couldn’t quite place.

You glanced at him, a little puzzled now. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine. You’re acting weird.”

Minho huffed again, louder this time, as if he was putting on a show. “I’m not acting weird,” he said, looking at the ceiling as though it held the answers to the universe. “It’s just… it’s whatever.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what was really going on. Minho was being unusually cryptic, and it was driving you a little crazy. He’d been fidgeting this entire time, making it obvious that something was bugging him.

You set your phone down and turned your full attention to him. “Okay, now you really have to tell me what’s going on, because something’s not right.”

He turned his head toward you, a tiny grin forming at the corner of his mouth, but he refused to say anything. You studied him closely. His outfit was the same as always; there was nothing new there. He wasn't upset about anything in particular, but he was acting weirdly distant. It was as if he was expecting something from you.

Finally, he broke the silence. "It's just...I can't believe you didn't notice," he continued, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. "You've been sitting right here the whole time, and you didn't even see it."

“See what?” you asked, still unsure of what he was talking about, your mind racing through possibilities. “What am I missing?”

Minho sighed dramatically, shifting again, this time looking at his reflection in the window. “Nothing. Never mind,” he said, clearly trying to sound like he wasn’t affected, but you could tell he was enjoying this a little too much.

You were about to give up when it hit you like a bolt of lightning.

His hair!

Minho's hair is usually messy, but it was nicely done today, shorter and more professional than usual.

“Oh!” you said, finally getting it. “Did you get a haircut?!”

Minho froze, his lips curling into a mischievous grin, but his eyes remained playful and a little teasing. “Took you long enough,” he said, still pouting like he was holding onto his frustration for dramatic effect. “I was starting to think you were really going to ignore it.”

You blinked, realizing how obvious it had been all along. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t notice right away!” You immediately reached over to ruffle his hair, grinning. “But it looks good, babe! You look great.”

His face softened just a little, but his playful teasing didn’t fade. “It’s fine. I mean, I know I look good, but I wanted you to notice. I thought we were closer than that,” he said, feigning an exaggerated look of hurt.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible! I was just distracted!”

Minho leaned back against the couch, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Mmhmm, distracted,” he repeated, clearly enjoying how much he was messing with you. “I’m still waiting for a good enough apology.”

You leaned in, narrowing your eyes with a grin. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner, but it looks really good. You’re more handsome than usual,” you teased, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear.

Minho pretended to think about it, then shrugged, his grin growing wider. “Okay, fine. I’ll let it slide this time. But next time? You better notice immediately.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but you knew he was just teasing. You gave his hair another playful ruffle. “I swear, next time I won’t even blink without noticing. You’ve got me trained now.”

“Better,” he said, his tone light as he relaxed again. But then he added with a smirk, “But seriously, it looks good, right? I mean, you weren’t totally wrong for not noticing immediately…”

You shook your head, laughing at how he kept pushing it. “You’re ridiculous, Minho.” But deep down, you knew how much he secretly enjoyed the attention, even if he played it off.

//

masterlist.

[scoupsakakitty]

LOOOOOVE YOUR BLOG i'm literally obsessed with idol!scoups fics and u r soooo good in writing them <333

not sure if you are open to requests but in case that you are, i'd love to see an angsty one with idol!scoups, maybe one where they fight ??? and cheol has to go on tour or work or something so they're not okay for quite a while and make up once he gets home :(((

Silent Apologies | idol!Scoups x Reader | angst, fluff

The argument had started over something small—something stupid, really—but it had escalated far beyond what either of them expected.

"You always do this, Seungcheol!" Y/N's voice wavered with frustration as she stood in the middle of their living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "You shut me out, and then you expect me to just be okay with it!"

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, his patience already frayed. "Because I don’t want to fight with you, Y/N! I’m exhausted, I have so much on my plate, and the last thing I need is another argument!"

"So what? You think I don’t get tired too? That I don’t have feelings?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she refused to let it show any weakness. "You act like you're the only one who has problems, but you're never here anymore!"

His jaw clenched. "You knew what you were getting into when we started this! My schedule isn’t something I can just change!"

"I'm not asking you to change it, Seungcheol! I'm asking you to at least talk to me about it instead of pushing me away!"

He exhaled sharply, looking away. "I can't do this right now."

Y/N scoffed, hurt flashing across her face. "Of course you can’t. You always run away the second things get hard."

That was the last straw. His temper snapped. "You think I run away? I do everything I can to keep this together! I'm trying my best, Y/N! But maybe my best isn't enough for you!"

Silence followed his outburst, thick and suffocating. The words hung between them like a wound neither could take back. Y/N swallowed, blinking away the sting in her eyes. "Maybe it’s not."

The finality in her voice made Seungcheol’s stomach drop, but he was too proud—too angry—to reach for her. Instead, he turned on his heel, grabbing his jacket. "I have a flight to catch."

Y/N watched as he walked to the door. "Fine. Go."

The door slammed behind him.

The flight to Indonesia felt longer than it should have. Seungcheol sat in his seat, staring blankly at the screen in front of him, but all he could think about was her. The look in her eyes before he left. The way her voice had cracked. The way he had let his anger win instead of fixing things.

His chest ached with regret.

By the time the concert rolled around, he was running on autopilot. His members noticed. His energy was off. His mind wasn’t there. Even as he stood in front of thousands of fans, singing and dancing like he’d done a hundred times before, his heart wasn’t in it. Because his heart was somewhere else.

With her.

When the final song ended and the cheers filled the venue, Seungcheol barely let the sound settle before he rushed backstage. He ignored the cameras, the staff, the lingering adrenaline. He needed to get home.

Y/N had spent the last two days drowning in her own guilt. She hated the way they had left things, hated the last words they had exchanged.

What if something happened to him while he was away? What if those words were the last thing they ever said to each other?

The thought alone had made her sick to her stomach. So, instead of wallowing in regret, she did what she could to make things right. She cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, made sure everything was perfect. And then, she cooked. She made all of Seungcheol’s favorite dishes, the ones he always craved after long flights. Because she knew that he would come back to her.

And then, as if her heart had called out to him, the front door swung open.

Seungcheol stood there, exhausted and breathless, his suitcase slipping from his fingers and hitting the floor with a dull thud. But Y/N didn’t care about that.

She ran to him.

His arms were around her in seconds, crushing her against his chest as if he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. "I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I shouldn't have left like that. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Tears pricked at her eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I was so worried about you. I hated the way we ended things."

"Me too," he admitted, pulling back just enough to cup her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, his gaze soft but filled with remorse. "I never want to fight like that again."

She nodded, leaning into his touch. "Me neither."

A small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the kitchen. "Come on, I made your favorite."

Seungcheol's eyes softened even more when he saw the food on the table. "You really made all this?"

She bit her lip, suddenly shy. "I just… I wanted to do something for you."

His heart swelled with affection. "You didn’t have to, but thank you."

They sat down together, the tension of the past few days melting away as they ate. Seungcheol kept reaching for her hand between bites, as if he needed to remind himself that she was still there, that they were okay.

And they were.

Because no matter how bad the fights got, no matter how far apart they were, they always found their way back to each other.

[joudama]

It feels hollow and boring because they de facto gave Taash’s being non-binary as much weight as Lucanis liking coffee. As in, each character has exactly two things they talk about. The only two things Taash will talk about on their own are dragons and their gender. Like Lucanis only talks about liking coffee and things related to Spite. They didn’t give any of the characters any depth, so they had to make Taash’s gender part of their personality instead of just part of who they are, and those are two very different things. That’s why it feels so cynical and like a step back. Characters, including side characters and NPCs, can only talk about things that directly relate to their plot points. That’s why nothing is done or mentioned to Rook about Tarquin and Maevaris being trans - their conversations happen off screen in service of Taash’s plot line, so that can one of the two topics Taash talks about in the conversations to other companions that Rook can overhear but not join. Characters like Mae and Tarquin don’t have room in the game they gave us to be anything other than vehicles for exposition, so how can anything be explored, or simply just be? It’s not satisfying because there’s nothing there to be enough to satisfy. The game tells instead of showing, so there’s nothing to interact with, just people around you talking about the interesting conversations they had when you weren’t there, and all you hear is how what they said affected Taash, not any of what those people had to say themselves on the topic or their own feelings. They don’t get to have feelings. That’s why there’s no indication of Dorian being gay, because it doesn’t serve the plot and there’s no other interaction with Dorian outside of what the plot needs him to say. Which makes sense, because Rook isn’t close enough to him to know anything about his life, and the game refuses to go into any relationship the Inquisitor had that’s not with Solas, so even if your Inquisitor romanced him, that doesn’t serve The Plot so you don’t get to see any of it when he and Dorian are together again in the end. Or talk about it when you meet up with the Inquisitor because, again, there are no characters, only exposition dumps and plot vehicles.

I am begging people not to accept this step back as “progress” or “good representation.” It’s not. Demand better than what this game gave you.

It’s crazy how Veilguard was released in 2024 and yet feels less proudly and effortlessly queer than previous entries. Just this sense of pandering and empty diversity that you’re never able to interact with in any meaningful way. Maevaris is trans.. and nothing is done with that. Tarquin is trans… nothing done with that. All the companions are playersexual, and yet there’s less overt shameless sexiness than Dragon Age Origins. We’re given the opportunitiy to explore non binaryness, and it’s through the most annoying character in the entire DA series to date. Dorian is gay, and you wouldn’t know that at all unless you played the previous game. Oh your Rook can be trans/non binary in this game! And you can’t give yourself big gender-affirming tits or a juicy ass, all you can do is make your crotch bulge big and get top surgery scars. Also the CC hairstyles are so homophobically hideous.

A lot of lip service for queerness, hardly any true real deep interaction and celebration and flaunting of that queerness. The way it’s implemented reminds me of how Blizzard announces that an Overwatch character is a lesbian in order to distract audiences from the fact that a new allegation of workplace sexual harassment has come out against their top rank employees. It tastes cynical, even though the people who wrote Veilguard are queer themselves, it feels lazy and boring and oh so unsatisfying. Them just existing and saying “I’m queer!” is not enough and should never be enough. Yeah you’re queer, what else? What fucking else.

[lo1k-diamonds]

A woman's best friend 💜 Part 2

PAIRING: Taehyung x (f)reader

SUMMARY: After falling into temptation once, you and Taehyung tried to navigate the aftermath as best as possible. It turns out none of you can handle it, so your friendship is bound to end one way or another.

WORD COUNT: 7,127 

GENRE: f2l, smut (uni AU setting)

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: mutual pining, angst, dirty talk, body worship, nipple play, oral (m receiving), fingering, protected sex

A.N. I know part 1 was bittersweet, and I am a sucker for happy endings, so here is part 2 with a shiny new ending for this couple 😚 I think it has the right vibe for Valentine's Day, enjoy! (Thank you to @eerieedits again for the awesome banner 💜)

Masterlist | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs | AO3 | Wattpad

The rhythmic thud thud on the window made you pull the curtain and look out the window. It was storming outside, and the night lights glistened as cars passed in the roads below and people enjoyed their Saturday night. 

Not you, though. Once, you had two types of Saturdays: the ones you’d go out with all your friends and the ones you’d stay home hanging out with Taehyung. Lately, you had neither, and it was all your fault.

You still remembered a night like this one. Turning away from the window, you let your gaze wander your living room. Back then, Physical: 100 kept playing on the TV screen for a long time, serving as background noise as you stayed in Taehyung’s arms. You lost track of time, then, staying awake and worrying about what that night would change.

You never discussed it further with Taehyung. He had fallen asleep, breathing gently with his arms around you, and you stayed perfectly still, aware of every ticking second. The conflict inside your chest was paralyzing — you didn’t want that night to end, but you also feared it continuing. The more you touched or interacted with him intimately, the harder everything would get. 

Those thoughts kept you awake, staring at the ceiling. So you recalled when the TV timed out and switched off, prompting you to go to the bathroom and come back only to find Taehyung exactly where you left him, naked with a blanket partially covering him as he slept. You didn’t regret slipping back into his embrace; you’d never get another chance. He wouldn’t know you had decided to return to his arms or how much you needed his warmth to calm down and fall asleep.

When you woke up, you found out a summer storm had broken out. It rained so much, then, but the same thud thud from the windows was unable to draw you away from his arms. All you could do was linger in his warmth for one second longer while you worried. Dreading and fearing how you’d ever look at him and not remember. How you’d brush each other and fake not having butterflies in your stomach. What if you saw him with someone else? How were you supposed to be his wing-woman again?

Of course, Taehyung had reacted the way you expected him to when he woke up. He chuckled at the pouring rain outside, happy that he had his leather jacket with him, and smiled dazzlingly when he saw you in a robe with your morning hair.

Then, before he left, he reassured you again, “Don’t worry about it.”

But you were yourself, and you had been right to worry. The problem wasn’t that you had slept together but that it had changed something inside your heart. Those feelings you once thought buried refused to vanish, the hope you once thought dead was alive and kicking, and to make things worse, you couldn’t forget.

Taehyung invited you for an ice cream, and you remembered what his eating you out felt like. He told you about this movie he wanted to see, and you knew what his baritone voice teasing you would sound like in the dark. He was excited about the new classes he was taking, even more so because you were there, too, and you shuddered at the memory of him kissing you as he came deep inside you, holding you so close you felt like a treasure. He promised to take you home when your group of friends decided to check out a new club, and you dreaded the whole night, both because he could choose to hook up with someone and because you wished that person could be you. Finally, he invited you to work on a group assignment together, and as you listened to him passionately go on about the topic, you wondered if you’d ever be able to reel your feelings back in.

You screwed yourself up over that one single weak moment. That yes had turned your life upside down, and while Taehyung kept his promise of being your best friend, you couldn’t.

So you did the only logical thing — you started avoiding him. It was inevitable — if his proximity made it impossible for you to get over him, then the only natural solution was not to have him close.

You weren’t sure he noticed, but you knew he was understanding. He never mentioned the situation and treated you like nothing happened. He never pushed to know why you started saying no to night outs or confronted you about being tired every time he invited you over. You were never able to invite him to come over and be alone again in that very same living room, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why, so it didn’t surprise you never asked about it.

In the end, it hurt you more than anyone. You were frustrated with yourself; you asked for this, it was all your doing. But you were helpless. Sometimes, you could act normal, and your interactions were playful and warm, as always. He poked you under the table? You knew there was a joke coming. Or he’d lean into your ear to whisper something, and your heart wouldn’t somersault and expect a caress. However, other times, you couldn’t help but withdraw your hand or avoid sitting next to him and letting such interactions bloom. Because you’d read into them or remember or wish for things to be different, and you hated it. Hated it all.

You were about to turn on the TV and search for something that could take your mind off him when the doorbell rang. You wondered if the neighbor had put the wrong door number on the food delivery again, but Taehyung was outside your door like an apparition. 

Despite his black leather jacket, he looked drenched and dejected. He raised his dark eyes to yours. “Hi, can I come in?”

You didn’t hesitate to reach out to pull him inside. “Of course, let me grab a towel!”

You let him enter your place first and close the door behind him, then rushed to your bathroom to get a towel. Only when you came back to the living room did you realize it was odd that he was there.

“Weren’t you supposed to go out with the others tonight?” you asked as you threw the towel over his head to dry his dripping hair. “How come you’re here?”

He grabbed your hands and pulled the towel away so he could face you. “I can’t take this anymore. We need to talk.”

“Alright! Who wants to drink what?”

Taehyung barely heard Jimin's question as your group of friends sat around on the couches and loveseats. That was their corner; they always sat there, and as he waited for everyone to settle down, his heart dropped. The loveseat you always shared with him was empty. You weren’t there again.

Taehyung asked about you quietly, trying to conceal the way his heart was squeezing inside his chest.

“She’s not coming,” Jimin answered, then shrugged. “Something about being tired.”

“She’s always tired lately!” Hoseok huffed as he sat next to Jungkook, who hummed.

“Maybe she’s sick?”

“When’s the last time we’ve seen her?” Jin wondered, and Namjoon sat on a beige pouf.

“Couple of weeks? Anyway, why are you asking?”

“You would know better than us,” Yoongi croaked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Don’t you have classes with her?”

“Aren’t you best friends?”

Taehyung nodded absentmindedly as they resumed choosing their drinks, and the weight inside his chest didn’t relent. Yes, he saw you; he should know about you. He should be able to understand, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t. You were slipping between his fingers, and he just couldn’t sit idly by and watch it happen anymore.

“I gotta go.”

He rushed outside without hearing their protests, and the pouring rain greeted him. It wasn’t enough to dissuade him; he raised his leather jacket’s lapel to cover his neck and made his way in between the people trying to reach the nightbars and get cover from the rain. You lived fifteen minutes away; you were just within reach.

It was all his fault. He should have thought twice about crossing the line with you, even when you said yes. Not just for you, but for his own sake. That night was branded in his memory, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move on from it. And he tried. He tried doing everything right. He tried pretending nothing happened, that he didn’t want anything more than friendship with you, that it wasn’t a big deal. He tried looking at you as purely as a friend would, and he tried looking at other people the way he knew he shouldn’t look at you. Yet, even in the few moments he was able to entertain the thought of someone else or get engrossed in a conversation with them, it was always the same. The moment you crossed his mind, he was reminded why it wouldn’t work. He’d be talking with someone clearly interested in him and instantly thinking about your kiss, your smile, your gaze as you kneeled before him, your teases. The person in front of him would touch his thigh, hinting at something more, and he’d instantly raise a wall. You were on his mind, and even if being friends was the only thing you wanted, it didn’t mean his heart or body wanted anyone else.

He craved you. That night wasn't just a dream or a type of heaven he wished had become permanent. It was a risk in every sense. He knew he wasn't just fucking you. He didn’t want just to leave you a slobbering mess, he wanted more. He wanted to look into your eyes and see it — the moment you'd realize how good you felt together. How perfect it was and could be. He wanted to look into your eyes and see the moment you'd fall in love with him.

And that was his biggest mistake. That one moment of pure greed — it wouldn't happen, he knew that. Even if you were curious about him, that wouldn't just happen. Best case scenario, you'd scratch the itch, be it for sex or curiosity, and move on. Worst case scenario, you'd regret it and never look at him the same way again.

He suspected the latter was happening despite his efforts. The whole night he had you in his arms, he struggled to enjoy it after the way you revealed your worries. His heart burned with a discomfort he couldn’t voice while he prayed that he wouldn’t lose you. That, no matter what happened, you'd stay in his life.

But he should have known. It was worse than a drunk one-night stand with someone from your friend group. You were best friends; of course, it was hard for you.

You started pulling away, and he instantly noticed. At first, it was the little things. You'd withdraw your hand from his or flinch ever so slightly when he leaned in closer. You didn’t invite him to spend time or the night in your apartment, just the two of you, and he understood why. The worst was that you withdrew from your typical antics and cut your smiles short. You’d be sitting next to him and not even look his way, and it withered his heart. Of course, when you did turn to him, he always had a smile for you. He wanted to be a comforting presence no matter how fleeting your interactions were, but still, it only got worse. 

It hurt when you avoided sitting next to him or dancing, and then you started disappearing. You didn't show up to all classes anymore, and you didn't hang out with your group of friends, at least not when he showed up. Then he'd text you to ask about it and notice that even through messages, things had changed. You texted less and less, and the distance was breaking his heart. 

He kept running through the stormy weather with his hair dripping down his forehead. He didn't care; nothing mattered at this point. It had been two weeks since he last saw you, and there were only three or four texts in between. What he feared was happening, it was undeniable, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. He needed to see you and try one last time. It would be his dying breath, but at least he'd try. For once, he'd bare his soul and hope you'd do the same and forgive him. He just didn't want to lose you. He loved you so much.

He crossed a delivery boy at your apartment building entrance and ran upstairs to consume some of that nervous energy. Then, he rang the doorbell, and you opened the door for him, and his heart convulsed. God, he missed you so desperately.

“Hi, can I come in?” he mumbled, lost in the sight of you in your robe that brought him such bittersweet memories. 

You pulled him inside without hesitating. “Of course, let me grab a towel!”

You closed the door behind him, and he took his shoes off so he wouldn’t make a puddle in your living room. Yet that was the last thought he had before where he was hit. That couch, that place. His heart ached again as he turned to you, and you threw a towel over his head.

“Weren’t you supposed to go out with the others tonight?” you asked as you patted the towel to dry his dripping hair. “How come you’re here?”

He grabbed your hands and pulled the towel away to face you. “I can’t take this anymore. We need to talk.”

He saw the second you tensed as the towel fell to the floor, but you didn't withdraw your hands, and he was not holding back.

“You said you didn't want things to change, and I'm trying. I'm trying so hard to hold onto you,” he said, pain lacing his voice. “But I can't if you keep pushing me away like this.”

He paused, looking at your startled and tense expression, waiting for you to say something, but you were frozen.

He lowered his hands but kept holding onto yours. “I'm sorry if I ever hurt you. If I pushed you to do something that made you uncomfortable with me. It's my fault, I got carried away with my own selfish feelings,” he confessed, tearing up with a sad smile. “I promise I won't ever touch you again or bring up anything inappropriate, so please.” He let go of your hands gently. “Please forgive me. Please say we can still do something about this because I can't— I don't want to lose you.”

His voice wobbled, and you frowned, shaking your head. 

“I’m the one who is sorry,” you managed to say despite the tears pushing to get out. “Because it’s my fault. My selfish feelings, not yours. I'm the one who said yes and then couldn’t handle it. I'm so sorry, I— I should have told you, but I— I’m so sorry—”

You stammered, rubbing your face in embarrassment, distraught. You needed to tell him; you couldn’t let him think he did something wrong. But what if he thought staying friends would worsen things and decided to end everything?

“Told me what?” he asked, anxiously stepping closer to you. “Please, tell me,” he requested softly, but you kept hiding your face. “Please.”

Your hands started shaking over your face, and he suddenly realized you were holding back your cry as you trembled.

His heart sank. “Did I hurt you? Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

You uncovered your face to look at him. “No, you didn't.”

He held his breath as he observed you cleaning your cheeks. “But you’re crying,” he pointed out, desolation tearing his chest. “I'm so sorry! I promise I won’t ever do it again!”

You wiped your cheek annoyedly and reached to grab his jacket. “Stop!”

“I never wanted to hurt you, I—”

“Stop it!”

“I won't ever touch you again, I just—”

“Stop saying that!”

He stayed put, no matter how angrily you held onto his jacket. “I’ll never forgive myself if—”

“STOP!” You had to shout and pull him to you so firmly that he stumbled in your direction. Desperation was taking hold of you as sobs shook you, but his disheartened eyes kept you focused. “You never hurt me, I don't want you to think that for a second!”

“But… you've distanced yourself from me.”

“I know,” you croaked, looking down at his lips curved sadly.

“You said you didn't want things to change.”

“I know…”

“You said you didn't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I did…”

Taehyung waited for you to say something or look into his eyes again, but you didn't.

So he asked, “Did it?”

“Yes.” Your eyes finally rose from his lips, and you had to be truthful. “I can't be your friend anymore.”

Taehyung paled and stared at you, speechless, livid. His heart broke; his worst nightmare was—

“I look at you, and friendship doesn't begin to cover how I feel.”

“What?” He blinked, befuddled as his thought process stumbled on itself.

“I should have told you, but I never thought you’d— I knew it would be risky, but—” You licked your lips, having a hard time ordering your thoughts. “At that moment, when you asked, I just— Of course, I said yes, I— I’ve wanted you for so long, I— I should have known it would mess me up— I begged you not to let things change because I knew— I knew they would change for me, and—”

You were struggling to breathe and say everything you wanted, and he supported your arms as you held onto his jacket.

“You wanted me?” he asked softly, and you nodded. “What changed? Please… Please tell me.”

His gentle expression and supporting hands gave you the courage you needed. “Everything— everything changed,” you confessed. “I can’t look at you the same way. I can’t look at you without wanting to touch you or kiss you. I’m sorry, I—”

He cradled your cheeks suddenly and crashed his mouth to yours, and you whimpered ever so softly. You gripped him closer by his leather jacket and kissed him back, not hesitating for a second to meet his tongue with yours. You wanted to lick that taste back into your life, that warmth, that comfort you missed terribly.

You thought he felt the same way when he halted your kiss to a simple press of your mouths as though he needed to feel it. When he pulled away, his eyes were red and glistening, eying you with such emotion your heart trembled.

“You wanted to kiss me?” he asked, still cradling your cheeks.

“Yes.”

“To touch me?”

You nodded anxiously. “Yes.”

“That's what changed?”

“No.” You looked at his lips again before facing him. “I've always wanted to, but we were friends. Now, I just can't pretend anymore.”

“You mean… you don't see me as a friend?”

You shook your head still in his grasp.

“So you don't regret it?”

You could see him relaxing, his features soothing as you two talked, so you shook your head again. “I don't. Do you?”

“No,” he replied instantly, smiling. “I did when I thought you pulled away from me because I hurt you, but—”

“You didn't,” you assured again, pulling him closer. “Do you… Could you see us as more than friends?”

“Fuck yes,” he rasped, brushing your cheeks gently. “I want to be yours. I’ve wanted it for so long. There’s nothing else I want.”

“Really?”

Your eyes watered as you looked into his. Was this a dream?

He smirked. “Really. You better start believing it because if you let me into your bed again, I’m not leaving. Like ever.”

You chuckled and bit your lip. “If I invite you, I expect you to never leave. We cross the line and get rid of it. We say things that make us feel like more than just friends because we are more than—”

He crashed his lips into yours again, letting go of your jaw to pull you closer by the waist until your chests were glued. His leather jacket was still dripping from the rain, but you didn't care. If he kept kissing you like that, he wouldn't have it on for much longer anyway.

“Say it, then,” he mumbled between kisses. “You know the drill.”

You chuckled. “Do I?”

He hummed, chasing your lips.

“I only know the one to give you the green light to fuck me into a slobbering mess—”

His groan as he dragged his lips to your neck made you clench around nothing, and you bit your lip.

“But what if I don't want just to fuck?”

He pulled away to face you, with blown pupils and wet lips, held in check.

“What if I want to be yours?”

“I'll make you mine,” he promised, grabbing your hair on the back of your head so you'd face his dark eyes. “I'll make you forget ever not being mine.”

“In one of those five ways you thought of?”

Your whisper was not simply a tease, and you suspected he knew it when he groaned and leaned in to peck your lips.

“I've since thought of many more.”

He licked and nibbled your lips, and you had to close your eyes with the shudders.

“You thought about fucking me?”

“I haven't thought of fucking anyone else ever since I met you.”

Your cheeks burned as you snapped your eyes open. “What?”

“You heard me,” he murmured against your chin.

“But— I helped you— with that other guy—”

He shrugged. “Nothing happened. We got outside the bar and went our separate ways.”

“You never told me that!”

“Well, what could I say?” he said, speaking close enough to you that you could feel his breath on your lips. “That I wasn't really interested and went home to fuck my fist while I thought of you? I didn't think you'd appreciate that—”

It was your turn to grab his hair and pull him down to kiss you again, consuming just a little bit more. Your tongue darted out to lick, tease, and take, and he fought you with a low groan. Whatever you wanted, he wanted it too if it meant you were going to kiss him like that.

“You have— no idea— how much— that drives me crazy,” you managed to say between kisses. “The thought of you— thinking of me— fuck—”

He seemed to get an idea because his hands lowered to your ass to squeeze it, catching you when you jumped into his arms. You never stopped kissing, even as he walked with you in his hands, until your back hit a wall.

You didn't care how or where he fucked you as long as he did. Of course, your mouth was busy as you opened it more so he could deepen the kiss, so you couldn’t tell him. But you could show him in the way your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close. Your heavy breathing matched his as your hands explored and tried touching him everywhere you could, but his jacket was in the way. He likely felt the same, seeing the way he fought to open your robe and tried getting it out of the way so he could kiss down your neck into the cleavage of your pajama top.

You chuckled; the two of you were making things harder by trying to undress each other at the same time. His eyes crinkled as he matched your smile and gave you the lead. His lips trailed your jaw as you pulled your robe open and shrugged it back to give him access to your neck and collarbone. Your skin instantly drew his lips, allowing you to push his jacket off him while he was happily distracted. 

You tried to get rid of his sweater, too, but couldn't. As soon as his jacket hit the floor, he wrapped his arms around you again and buried his face between your tits, squeezing you to him so firmly you couldn’t breathe. However, you could feel the way he was rutting into you and it drew a quiet moan as you fisted his hair. 

Goosebumps ran over you as he licked your cleavage, dragging his tongue over every inch of skin he could reach, and you needed more. You released one hand to reach in between your bodies with the single goal of touching him, and it wasn't easy. His ruts were unpredictable, not leaving any space between you, but you needed to grasp his desire for you, feel it in the palm of your hand.

When he raised his lips to kiss you again, it gave you the opportunity to unbutton his jeans. His tongue pushed through your lips, deepening his kiss so much you moaned quietly, muffled. Yet it just complemented and amplified your urge to grab him, and you did.

Your hand finally reached inside his boxers to grab his dick and pull it out, and he groaned. Your hand clamped shut around him, fisting him unapologetically, and he had to break your lips apart to moan softly. You adored the way he held his breath, letting his forehead fall to yours as he closed his eyes, taking in everything you gave him. His sweet expression sparked your desire even further, so you kept pumping him, delighted with the precum dripping around your fingers and his knitted eyebrows.

You'd go to the last consequences of this with pleasure, but he suddenly grabbed your hand away and pressed himself to you. You were squished between the wall and his body, but you had zero reservations about it, especially when he kissed you like that. His mouth crushed yours as his hips thrust into you, jumpstarting a carnal hunger that consumed you. His hand dug under your pajama top, scratching your skin up to squeeze your tits, and you moaned, bucking your hips to match his. His tongue was so deep in your mouth that you were drooling, both desperate to moan and feel the tip of his cock rubbing against your unfortunately still-covered cunt. You were fucking desperate to have him, and you'd gladly cum right here and now if he filled you up.

“Tae,” you tried, barely able to part your lips from his. “I need you inside me, please.”

He moved in a flash, checking his pants were open enough to give him space before letting you stand to pull your pants down your legs.

You gripped his shoulders for support, then sighed when he leaned in to nip just under your ear. His fingers skimmed your wet folds before pushing two fingers in roughly, unleashing your moans as he touched all the right spots inside you.

You were so ready to blow you could feel the enthralling pleasure tingling in your nerve ends.

But somehow, you had a discerning thought. “Condom… Tae… Grab a condom.”

He stopped suckling on the skin of your neck to eye you with a lustful gaze.

“I'm not on the pill,” you whispered, brushing his luscious hair off his eyes. He looked absolutely dazzling, and you wanted him to fuck you till you couldn’t even stand, but you did not want accidents. Not yet, anyway.

He blinked, his hand pulling out of you to feel his pockets. “I… I don't have one. The last time… I never got another one.”

You chuckled and he pouted, and you could read his thoughts.

“Not like I planned for this to—”

You kissed him, then pushed him back to have space to move away from his hold. “I know, I'll get one.” He tried to catch you, but you jumped over your clothes gracefully, only turning back to tell him, “Bed. In my bed.’

You got to your roommate's room to search for condoms. Hopefully, she had some, even though she spent more time at her boyfriend’s than there.

It wasn't hard to find them on her nightstand, and you took the whole box with you. It was not like she'd need them tonight.

You wondered how Taehyung would greet you but still staggered at your bedroom's entrance. He was lying on his back, arms spread over your bed sheets as he stared at the ceiling. Having heard you come in, he raised his head and promptly sat up. 

Even though his pants were unbuttoned and his clothes drenched, nothing would have given away what you were doing just minutes before. Except perhaps his dark glistening eyes running up and down your figure before they set back on yours.

You were naked from the waist down, yet suddenly, it wasn't enough. His eyes were curious and electrifying, and you wanted to keep going. Your heart was thumping loudly inside your chest, the thrill of that moment making you tremble, but you waited.

He raised his hand for you to grab, and your heart finally settled as you took it. Your fingers fit in his perfectly, and as he hugged you to him, resting his head on your chest, you finally stopped trembling. On the contrary, you caressed his head calmly as he held you. It felt like reaching home at long last. It was the first time you were touching each other like that, with such vulnerability and with all the cards on the table, and yet it was the best type of feeling.

He pulled away to look up at you, and you caressed his face gently, letting that ease echo between the two of you. It was real — his hands on your waist, his sparkling eyes, and the adoration in them. You knew then that it was as validating and fulfilling for him as it was for you that you were finally in each other's arms.

“Did you find one?” he asked hoarsely, and you nodded. “Do you want to stop?”

“Hell no.”

You frowned, and he wetted his lips. “I don't want to move too fast and mess this up. I care so much about you.”

You brushed the back of your fingers down his cheeks sweetly. “Me too. But we're not moving too fast. Right? We've been friends forever, and we want to be more than that.”

He nodded, his eyelashes fluttering as he enjoyed your touch. “Please.”

“Then let's,” you whispered, leaning in to nuzzle him. “I don't want to wait.”

“Then we don't.”

He was ready to get up and touch you, but you simply smiled and pecked him before getting on your knees. You could see how his lips parted expectingly as his eyes transfixed on you, making you giddy. You gave him an excited smile and reached for the hem of his pants, and he helped you get them off. Then you bit your lip as you reached and grabbed his erection again.

His head dropped back at the softness of your touch as he mumbled your name, and you nodded. “I want to suck you off.”

You never thought you'd get another chance to grab that juicy cock, let alone delight yourself in its smoothness and taste. You would have admitted to Taehyung how much you thought and fantasized about a moment like that one, but the words evaporated from your mouth. Your only thought was his taste, and as soon as a precum drop glistened over his slit, you dove in.

You sighed as he groaned above your head, instantly grabbing your hair out of the way as you sucked. You didn't even realize how intensely you were doing it, bobbing your head so he'd touch the back of your throat, because you were out. His cock pushing inside your mouth made you anticipate how he'd feel inside your tight walls, and his moans made your mind soar high, elated. Taehyung, only the one you had wanted and had feelings for forever, was right there, losing his mind with you. Because of you. Because he wasn't indifferent to you. He actually wanted you just the same, had feelings for you, thought of you, longed for you—

“Fuck— Wait—”

His voice was strangled, but you weren't listening. You here so dazed, clenching around nothing and high on your desire, that you only realized the reason for his warning too late.

His warm taste invaded your mouth, and you moaned, gushing between your legs at the thought of him losing control. Yet, in a split second, his hand wrapped over yours around the base of his cock so tightly it was almost painful for you.

Only then did you stop blowing him and pulled away, confused, and looked between him and his delicious cock. You had tasted cum for sure, and yet despite the way his dick twitched in front of you, there was no more coming out. He was groaning harshly, almost frustratingly, but you knew by his expression that pleasure was assaulting his nerve ends.

When he finally stopped groaning, his dark eyes opened. “What do you think you're doing?”

His voice was quiet, almost annoyed, and you just blinked up at him.

“You didn't tell me to stop.”

“I told you to wait.”

You simply shrugged. “You did say something like that, I just… I told you I wanted to suck you off.”

“And I told you I'd make you mine.”

“You still can,” you argued as he grabbed your hands to pull you up and get you on the bed.

“Not if I came fully.”

You shrugged and let him pull your legs around him as you leaned back on the sheets. “We have all night.”

“We have forever,” he underlined, making you chuckle as he got on top of you in between your legs. “Starting right now.”

You could only be amused and giddy with his assertiveness about making you his, and he smiled too. He brushed his hands along your naked legs, then leaned in to kiss your neck as his fingers got tantalizingly close. You tensed under him, gripping his shoulders. You waited impatiently, expecting to feel his touch any second and wondering how he'd react when he found out how ready you were. 

“Holy shit,” he almost whined when his fingers slid along your slit. You moaned back, shuddering with his touch. You knew you were slippery and dripping, and now he did too. If the pool between your legs wasn't obvious, the sounds surely gave you away. “You're so ready for me.”

You moaned your agreement as you gripped the sheets. His fingers weren't eager like before; this time, he patiently dragged his digits along your folds, pressing gentle circles on your clit now and then. Your whole body trembled every time he did, letting his kisses and nibbles on your neck build you up so intensely that you didn't know what to do anymore. You were hot and trembling, and moaning just wasn't enough.

You gripped his hair in search of something, and his answer was to crash his lips to yours. The kiss turned consuming instantly, and you moaned into his mouth, completely overwhelmed. His fingers entered you and hooked, pressing into your sensitive flesh with lewd sounds, and you couldn’t hold on anymore. You tried whimpering his name in between kisses, and if anything, he firmly kept going with his fingers, both inside and out, over your clit. It drove you to pull his hair harshly back, parting your mouths with strings of saliva between you, yet you didn't notice. Your orgasm burst through you, and you lost sight of yourself, moaning desperately in his hold, gripping his hair so tightly, you surely pulled it painfully.

You noticed this when you came to, blinking at him sluggishly. Your fingers instantly relented their hold, yet absolutely nothing in his expression indicated any pain. On the contrary, he was enticed. He was looking at you as though you had bewitched him.

He raised his hand to brush the hair out of your face, careful not to use the fingers still covered in your slick. “You're so beautiful.”

You would have blushed if you weren't already hot and bothered. Instead, you met his lips with yours, kissing him more calmly than he was able to. You melted a bit more with how he matched your gentleness, careful not to push or impose. He was adorable, and you were not done yet.

“Too hot,” you whined when the kisses picked up steam. “Get rid of it,” you asked, pulling on his sweater.

He firmly pressed his lips to yours before rising to his knees and pulling the sweater off. Then, he saw you struggling with your robe and helped you. Your pajama top met the same fate as his clothes on the floor, and you giggled because before it could even happen, he was already grabbing your tits and licking a nipple wildly. 

Moans interrupted your laughter as he licked and pinched, slurping your hardened nipples inside his mouth one at a time. You squirmed under him, trying to both grab him close and escape the onslaught. The more you writhed, the more you felt his hard dick pressed to your thigh, leaking against it as he rutted.

It drove you fucking wild because no matter how much you enjoyed having him eat your chest, you craved him inside you so much more right now. “Make me yours,” you begged, locking your glistening eyes with his when he looked up from the drooling mess he was making on your chest. “Don’t wanna wait, I need you.”

You noticed the red spots his lips were leaving behind on your chest, but you didn’t care because, in an instant, he was kissing you again. He stole your breath, diving in while you relished his hands tracing your curves until they caught your legs, spreading them so he could press his dripping cock and grind against your soaked cunt.

You groaned, unable to control your bucking hips to match him. The quiet moans out of his mouth burned you from the inside out, setting you on a path that could only end in you both consuming that passion sizzling between you.

But he pulled away from your lips, hiding in your neck and panting heavily as you moaned. 

“Tell me where the condom is, or I’ll fuck you without it.”

You whimpered, feeling the way he slid across your folds length and rubbed your clit deliciously. “I’m so close.”

He uttered your name in a scold, the warning lingering as you kept bucking your hips. You opened your eyes to face him and bit your lip, so fucking close you could see it. You were tempted to throw all caution out the window and have him raw. To raise your hips so he’d get inside you right as you came around his thick cock, creaming him from tip to base. The very thought was risky; his current expression was already pure lust, holding on by a single thread. If you pushed him, he’d fuck you raw and right, just like you craved.

But you let your hips fall to the mattress and relented. “Right pocket of my robe.”

He felt the robe still under you and ended up raising his hips away from you before you’d both lose it. It made you sigh and feel beneath you as well, finally finding the crumpled part of the robe that had the pocket you both needed.

He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and got the condom on as fast as he could. When his eyes raised back to yours, and he grabbed your legs, pushing them to your sides, you clenched. His expression was dark and unreserved, as though the brakes had come off, and it made you shudder.

Yet when he aligned his dick with your entrance and sank in, he was nothing but respectful and careful, almost solemn. The way your tight embrace left him adrift was evident in the way his eyebrows knitted and his jaw hardened, but he didn’t ram inside you or let that feeling overcome his control. He waited for you to adjust to his size, but you kept clenching around him, prompting him to look at you. 

You had felt him before, but it was just as earth-shattering as the first time. You simply shook your head as you sighed. “You feel so good— Don’t hold back!”

He almost growled as he let his hips snap to yours, and you let your head fall back. Your hips matched his, increasing the intensity of each thrust, and it was wild. You got lost in the sounds of skin slapping and moans and the heat overwhelming you from the inside out. He adjusted your legs to bend further, perfecting his angle to one that simply unleashed your voice with every slam and let him guide you to the finish line. 

He knew you were close by the way your pussy sucked him in, tightening like a vice that barely let him move away. It made him tremble from head to toe as he groaned in your neck. “Just like last time— I've dreamed of this for so long,” he confessed, trying to kiss you, even as you both heaved and tried keeping that hallucinated rhythm.

“Me too,” you whimpered, searching for his eyes in the midst of it all. His hand wrapped around your hair, keeping your eyes on his as though he needed to look at you, too, and you squirmed with watering eyes. This time, you didn’t need to hide. This time, you could lose yourself because he was yours. “Please.” 

You mumbled his name between moans as you begged, and he listened. He was lost in the pleasure, but he was attentive to you, noticing all the little cues he was only once privy to. You moved with him as your eyes rolled back closed and your nails dug into his shoulders, and he felt the shattering orgasm start around his cock before he heard your moans.

Your orgasm started his out of nowhere, but as he grunted and trembled in your arms, he had only exhilaration radiating from every pore. He spilled his cum as deeply as your quivering heat allowed it but quickly and eagerly opened his eyes to look at you. You were still trembling and moaning breathily with your lip between your teeth, but then you looked at him, and he knew.

He’d never catch the moment you fell in love with him, because the truth was, you already had.

[scented-morker]

The best part

bff riki x gn!reader, best friends to ?, no warnings, 653 words, cliffhanger 🤪

Everyone knows confessions are the best part of any love story, second only to the first kiss— bonus points if they happen in the rain or during a heated argument.

“Yn, Yn, Yn, Yn.”

You will NOT be missing this confession. You’ve been preparing for it for the last hour and 17 minutes of the movie, and Riki’s refusal to pay attention is not going to ruin it for you.

“Yn!!”

The love interest yells as the main character turns around, the rain drops starting to come down on the two of them.

“I’ve always loved you,” he says, pulling her even closer.

And then— nothing.

A pillow flies into your face, and you turn to Riki with murder in your eyes.

“Nishimura Riki I am going to kill you.”

Your best friend only laughs as you lunge across the couch at him, and the two of you easily fall into the same rhythm as usual.

You try your best to cause Riki as much pain as possible while he gives you just enough of a chance for it to still be fun.

He holds onto your fist as you go to hit his shoulder, laughter echoing through the room as he dodges your knee next. After about five minutes he decides he’s had enough, rolling the two of you over and pinning your hands next to your side.

“Feel better?” He teases, an eyebrow raised as you slowly stop squirming.

“Noooooo,” you whine, “you made me miss the best part!”

“The best part?” He scoffs. “That’s the worst part! You know it’s coming as soon as the movie starts.”

“You just don’t get romance!” You argue back.

That makes him pause, and he finally lets go of you enough that you can sit up, sparing a quick glance over only to be met with the credits rolling down your tv screen.

“Had it ever occurred to you that knowing something is coming is part of what makes it exciting? Of course the best friends become lovers. I know it’s going to happen, I just want to see it!”

For how loud he normally is, Riki remains completely quiet, not a single sound leaving his mouth as you grab the remote to rewind the movie.

“Has it ever occurred to you that we’ve spend more valentines days together than we have with people we were actually dating?”

The question seems random, and you look over at him in confusion, finding him staring back at you.

“Not really, I mean I guess it makes sense. We spend pretty much every day together.”

You laugh at the way it comes out, but it’s the truth. You and Riki had been inseparable since his family moved in next door to yours in kindergarten.

Even now, as the two of you recline on the futon in his dorm room, you know you’ve been in that exact spot more times than you’ve been in your own dorm.

“Does that make you sad?” He asks, and you try your best not to look at him in shock.

“Riks, why would that make me sad?” You laugh, scooting closer to where he’s sitting, completely unaware to the effect your movements have on the boy.

“You just love this cheesy romance stuff, and instead you’re stuck with me.”

You smile gently, and it’s the exact smile that first made him realize how utterly screwed he was.

“And you’re stuck with me. That’s how we are. Besides, you’re way better than any boyfriend I’ve had anyway.”

You don’t notice him leaning closer until his head is resting on your shoulder, and when he looks up, you finally notice it.

Riki’s entire face lights up when he grins up at you, not one ounce of his soft adoration concealed in his eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and the words are coming out before you can think to stop them.

“Riki I love you.”

[gravedwe11er]

Echoes through the cosmos

The final part of my Mecha AU coswave fic is done! It took me a while, but here it is. Parts one and two can be found here, and I hope you enjoy!

AU by @keferon and the base idea came from my friend @cosmique-oddity

Things are changing for Cosmos, in more ways than one. It doesn't have to be a bad thing.

“Greetings, little watcher,” comes from his headphones, completely out of nowhere, and Cosmos nearly stumbles on the treadmill.

“Good morning, big watcher,” he teases back, and blames the beginning of a blush spreading across his face on the exercise.

A staticky crackle carries through the tiny speakers. “Designation: Soundwave.” says the mech firmly, and Cosmos can’t help but burst into laughter.

Things have been better lately. That first bit of honesty seems to have opened the floodgates, and Soundwave’s voice is now a near-constant companion in his ear. The mech still prefers texting or using his vocal modulator, but every now and then, Cosmos gets to hear the real him, and he treasures every instance accordingly. And if Soundwave’s smooth, almost melodic voice inspires some slightly embarrassing thoughts at times? Well, that’s nobody’s business but his own, really.

“Just returning the favor, Soundwave,” he says, putting emphasis on the name. “It’s only fair to have a nickname for you too, though, wouldn’t you say?”

“Correction: greetings, Cosmos.”

Cosmos snorts. “Alright, alright, I see how it is. But I am going to find a nickname you like eventually, you know. Or, well- at least tolerate.”

“Negative,” comes over the speakers, deadpan as all get out. Cosmos just smiles again, shaking his head, before returning to his exercise.

Yeah, things are good.

-

“Waves.” Cosmos tries, impish grin on his face.

[Designation: Soundwave.]

“Soundy.”

[Negative.]

“Alright, alright,” he says between barely suppressed giggles. “Wavey?”

“No.”

“Sounders!”

The entire screen blacks out. “Wait, no, come back, I’m sorry-“

-

“Do your people have entertainment media? Books, movies, that sort of thing?”

[Affirmative,] appears on a mostly empty screen in front of him- it’s been a calm couple of days, the equipment not registering anything of import and leaving more than enough time for…well, whatever he wants, really. [Written works: currently most commonplace due to prolonged conflict. Holofilms available: old or amateurly produced.]

“Oh! Yeah, that makes sense. Hollywood has slowed down production as well, quite a bit in the past years.” Getting attacked and smashed to smithereens several times over hadn’t helped much. They’ve always recovered though, actors and writers refusing to give up their art, even if their budgets were cut down severely. “What do you like, then? How do you spend your free time?”

[Free time: rare commodity.] Soundwave writes, and he chuckles because right, fair enough. Head communications officer for an army at war, with four kind-of-not-really kids? That’s got to be busy.

Still, though. “I understand, but surely there’s something you enjoy? Got a favorite book, or a poem?”

“Soundwave: partial to music.” A pause. Then- “Would you like to hear some?”

The offer, along with Soundwave’s real voice, make Cosmos’ heart pick up the pace. Alien music! He’s about to hear real, actual music from another planet! Nodding, he turns to the camera behind him and gives the mech a giddy smile.

Soon enough, a gentle melody begins pouring out of his headphones, and- whatever he’s expected, it was not this. The song - or composition, more like - is alien, oddly complex and unbelievably beautiful.

There are no lyrics, he doesn’t think, but the interplay of different instruments still seems to tell a tale as the song progresses, changing and twisting on itself. It makes him think of two people, of a longing he finds so familiar, of warm clasped hands and stolen moments between the cold of melancholy. He sits in his chair, silent and entranced, as the melody goes through a crescendo, a painful conflict, before mellowing and fading out, like a peaceful embrace of two souls, now finally united for good.

When it’s all over, seconds or minutes or hours later, his vision is blurry with unshed tears. At the other end of the call, he could almost swear he feels Soundwave’s presence, watching him, sharing this moment with him.

Cosmos feels warm.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the receiver, wiping at his eyes but smiling, and he feels more than hears Soundwave’s answering hum. “Could you play it again?” he asks after a few minutes, and when the melody fills his ears once more, he simply closes his eyes and lets himself be carried away.

-

“I forgot to ask before, but was that Cybertronian music?”

“Negative,” comes through his headphones. “Composition: created by organic species.”

“Oh!” he wasn’t really expecting that, but then again, maybe it should have. it didn’t sound very, ah, mechanical? “Do you have any more from the composer? Or at least the same people?”

“Soundwave: in possession of one more unfinished melody from composer. Cosmos: interested in listening?”

“Gladly. Why was it not finished, though, do you know? Did something happen to the composer?”

“Affirmative. Species: nearly eradicated by quintesson forces. Creator of piece: deceased.”

Oh. That’s- he doesn’t know what to say. He’d never really given much thought to how other species might have fared against the invasion. Or that they might have actually lost.

“I’d still like to hear it, I think,” he says quietly. There’s nothing he can do for them now, for these aliens he’d never even met, but- he can remember them, at least. Keep a tiny piece of them alive through this.

As the new melody surrounds him with its unearthly tones, Cosmos wonders what Soundwave would keep of humans, if they lose this fight. What Soundwave would keep of him.

-

It dwells on his mind for weeks after, filling his empty hours with maudlin thoughts. He knows by now how unbelievably long a cybertronian’s life is, that his own lifespan is but a speck of dust by comparison, but still. Would the mech keep his face in his memory banks, or the human music playlist he’d made for him? Would he carry a piece of Cosmos with him into the distant stars, keep him close to his spark, or would all they shared be forgotten?

How much does this - whatever they have - matter?

Because it matters to Cosmos. He’s not sure when that happened, but his fascination with the alien mech and enjoyment of his company became- more. Much more. Now, when his soul aches for the presence of another person, it’s not his friends on earth he imagines being held by, or his parents. It’s large silver servos, careful and precise. it’s staring up at a glowing red visor and watching the sun gleam of grey and blue plating. It’s just- Soundwave.

And, well. What is he supposed to do with that?

He knows Soundwave likes him, yes. Enjoys his company, sure, he wouldn’t bother talking with him so frequently otherwise. But is there more to it? Soundwave is a hard person to read, especially with their only method of communication being text and radio. Cosmos had no way to know if he’s like a- a pleasant coworker to the mech, or a true companion, someone actually important.

He doesn’t know, but by god does he hope.

The song they’re listening to comes to an end, bringing Cosmos out of his thoughts. And, yeah, that’s something they do now, listen to music together, looking for things the other might enjoy. That’s… that could mean something, right? Only people who actually care about each other do that, no?

A surprisingly loud, staticky hiss sounds in his ears all of a sudden, and Cosmos flinches. “Soundwave, what-“

“Lost light: arrival impending.”

“Wh- really? When?”

“ETA: thirteen hours local time.”

Oh.

Of course.

It’s just- over the past two months, he’d somehow managed to completely forget about incoming the ship. He’d been so focused on his growing relationship with Soundwave that the knowledge of why the mech was actually here slipped his mind. Now, with reality of the situation staring him in the face, a jittery sort of dread fills his heart.

“Soundwave,” he says, wringing his hands in his lap, “how’s- what’s going to happen now?”

“Negotiation: will begin with human governments. Jazz: will be returned home, accompanied by Prowl.”

This is the first time he’s hearing of this Prowl person, and he will ask later, but- “And what about you? What will you do now?”

“Soundwave: will remain on Earth, join negotiation process.” There’s a pause, then- “I do not wish to cease our interactions, even once my work here is done. If you call, I will always listen, friend Cosmos.”

And- it’s a relief, hearing that. A huge weight falls off of Cosmos’ shoulders, joy making his heart beat overtime, however- things will undeniably change now. Their mostly quiet, familiar routine won’t last once first contact begins in earnest, and they’ll both be busy with their respective work. He’s delighted to hear he won’t lose Soundwave’s voice in his ear, but-

His stay at the station ends in less than two weeks. He won’t get to actually see Soundwave, most likely, not again. Won’t ever be this close to him again, not in person. And that’s- he thinks of the emergency repair space suit shoved in the storage compartment, of the ticking clock, and makes a decision.

“Soundwave? You said you edited yourself out of footage in real time, when you first arrived here, right? Could you do it again?”

“Affirmative. Query: reason for question?”

“I just- there’s something I need to do.”

-

He approaches the station, gliding through the vacuum of space with ease. It’s a tiny thing, as many earth things are- barely bigger than him in root mode. He’s once again reminded of an earth saying, stating that good things come in small packages, and though he’s not fully certain of its original, intended meaning, he finds himself agreeing nonetheless.

Watching the precious, fragile little person climbing out of the hatch with anxious, unpracticed motions, it feels truer than ever before.

The man’s suit is a colorful thing, yellow and green with red accents, his head surrounded by a fragile looking bubble of glass, protecting him from certain death in the cold, airless void. His hair is a bright, cheerful red as well, only outshined by the force of his smile as pushes off the hull of the station and into Soundwave’s waiting servos.

“Hello, little watcher,” he says, leaving the vocoder off and letting his true voice sound through the suit’s speakers.

Somehow, the human’s smile grows wider, and Soundwave feels his spark pulse with fondness. “Hello, Soundwave,” he says softly, blinking up at him with a combination of awe and unbridled joy. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

If it’s anything like what he feels, Soundwave thinks as he brings the man closer, gently pressing his forehelm to the top of Cosmos’ helmet, then he can probably imagine.

[lemotmo]

💛

Q. I'm sorry your inbox was such a mess yesterday. I understand the need to block people after a while, but please don't close your inbox. Your blog and others really do provide a service for those of us who sometimes just require a little more explanation.

A. Hi, anon. Yesterday was a lot for my inbox. I had over a hundred messages and the vast majority were freakouts over an interview that just simply did not do anything to cause that kind of chaos. There was just no need for people to have spiraled like that. It was a really lovely interview and I was shocked by the amount of people who flat out missed everything he was saying, and then had the nerve to get upset at those of us they were asking for help from to try and understand it.

It is a given that there are going to be people upset about the direction the storyline appears to be going, that's true of anything people watch. But I am stunned by the number of people who genuinely seem to believe that they can just say 'no that's not what's happening because that's not how I interpret the scenes' and then have the audacity to say that everyone who is allowing the actual text to lead their opinions are simply bullying them. I had several messages yesterday accusing me of trying to bully people into agreeing with me because I refused to accept that everything is open for individual interpretation. That is simply false. It has never been true. Yes, people see things differently. And people can have differing opinions but when one side of the conversation is supported by the actual text and canon facts then that side is allowed to tell you your interpretation is not supported by what we're actually seeing. That's not bullying people. Of course people can choose to ignore what they're not enjoying but not liking it and deciding to ignore it doesn't stop it from being true. It's absolutely bonkers to me how many people keep saying things like 'it's not happening because none of them are saying outright this is the direction we're going'. That has never been something television shows do and it is beyond wild to me that there's a group of people screaming that if they don't say it out loud then we're just lying because we want it so badly. I have never encountered anything like this in all my years of fandom. There's always been antis. They exist in every fandom. There's always been people who watch and engage simply to hate on things. None of that is new but the amount of people who have convinced themselves outright that as long as they don't see it that way, or refuse to acknowledge it, means it's not happening, and everyone else has to agree with them or we're the actual problem, is absolutely wild to me. Everyone can have an opinion. You can believe what you want. But the truth will always be that the argument most supported by the actual text of something is the 'opinion' that's most likely the correct one. That doesn't make us bullies. We're not going from inbox to inbox yelling at people for refusing to acknowledge what were actually seeing on screen. People can pretend they don't see or understand something all they want. No one can prevent that. But if you're coming to ask us to explain something or help you understand why we're saying something and we offer you canon proof to back up what we're saying and you come back immediately after and argue that none of that means anything because Ryan didn't say Eddie is gay in and in love with Buck in an interview is a whole other level of insane. That's never been how any of this works. And what's even more wild is that most of you supposedly want them together so the fact that there's all this canon evidence to suggest that it's going to happen and you still want to find ways to yell that it's actually not happening is an exercise in self infected misery and I'm simply not going to help people do that anymore. I'm more than happy to explain things if I can to people who just genuinely need a little bit more help, that happens and that's fine. I'm more than happy and willing to do that. But going forward I will not be engaging with anyone being intentionally irrational and deliberately obtuse. I'm not doing that to myself anymore. It's been almost a year and I'm exhausted. What we've been getting is genuinely exciting and I want to enjoy it, all of it. Most of us do and we've earned the right to enjoy this. Come be part of the excitement if you want, but no one is forcing you to be here. We've reached the good place. Let us enjoy it, and let yourself enjoy it. I have no plans to close my inbox. I'm just going to stop answering certain things. Thank you for the lovely message, anon. I'm always happy to talk about it and them, to anyone who genuinely wants to talk. 🩷

Thank you Nonny!

Now to be completely clear here, the interview Ali is talking about in her answer is the Ryan interview. I got this post Friday morning, so this was pre Oliver's NBA celebrity interview.

Yes yes yes to all of this! I cannot agree more.

I don't really have anything to add here. Everything that needed to be said was said. I'm also at the point where I just want to enjoy the story we are getting. Join us!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[dandylion240]

The following month was spent with Robert and Patricia screening prospective nannies. They provided Casey with the ones they felt would be the best candidates for the job. Lynn a young woman with a flair for the dramatics and a gift for music. Eleanor a graduate student from business law looking to pay off her student loans. The final candidate was Pamela who had a winning smile and happy disposition. Patricia liked her best feeling she would be a good fit for Casey and Eddie. Robert on the other hand had reservations about her sincerity. She was a little too smooth and nice, he had the impression she was hiding something.

Casey reviewed the candidate qualifications and read the comments that Robert included from their interviews. He decided that the only way he was going to be able to decide which nanny would be the best fit for him and Eddie was to give each of them a trial run. Each would have one week, living in his house so that he could observe how they interacted with his son and for him to see if he could tolerate them living in his house.

The first one was Pamela, she arrived Monday morning with a brilliant smile and ready laugh that sounded like music. Casey couldn’t help but be drawn to her upbeat personality. She had been there for four days and Casey thought about cancelling the other two candidates. He enjoyed coming home evenings to the sound of his son laughing as Pamela lavished Eddie with attention. Smiling Casey went to change clothes.

Upon entering his bedroom, Casey had the uneasy feeling that someone had been through his things. He couldn’t place his finger on why, nothing looked out-of-place, just a little rumpled. Opening his dresser drawer his normally meticulously folded clothes were wrinkled as if they had been moved and put back. He didn’t have much and what little he had was in the bank, except for his rainy day fund. He had been saving, setting a little aside from every paycheck for Eddie’s birthday. Kneeling he pulled out the bottom drawer, it too looked rumpled and out-of-place. Taking out the small tin, pulling off the lid. Empty! Just the other day he had over five hundred dollars in it.

“Pam we need to talk,” he said upon entering Eddies room.

Looking up Pamela smiled nodding, she picked up Eddie placing him in his playpen. She followed Casey out into the living room “what’s up?” she asked sweetly.

Grimly Casey held out the empty tin “did you take it?”

Staring at the tin then back at Casey she shook her head.

“Don’t lie to me,” Casey said through clenched teeth “I know someone’s been through my things. You’re the only person I know whose had the opportunity to do it.”

“It wasn’t me,” Pamela crossed her arms daring him to contradict her.

“If not you, then who did you let into my house?” Casey asked refusing to back down. “I’m not stupid so don’t treat me like I am.”

With a smirk she came up to him “no you’re just an easy mark. If I had wanted to, I could have emptied this entire house. Instead I took your measly five hundred dollars.”

“I want it back,” Casey insisted.

“You’re dreaming,” she replied.

Balling his hand into fists Casey knew he’d never see his money again. “You’re done,” Casey told her. “I want you out of my house tonight.”

“But …. but I don’t have anyplace to go,” she sputtered her beautiful blue eyes misting up.

“You should have thought of that before you stole from me,” Casey said unmoved by her tears.

“You can’t just throw me out,” she protested.

“Again how is that my problem,” he shot back at her.

“What about Eddie? Who’ll watch him if you send me packing,” she smiled thinking she had him over a barrel.

Wanting nothing more than to wipe that irritating smile from her face he pulled his phone out. “Hey Rob, how’s it going?…. Good ….. Hey I need a favor. The nanny isn’t working out and I’m in need of a babysitter for the rest of the week ….. That’s great, thank you …. The next nanny starts on Monday … I’ll talk to you later …. ok good night.”

Smiling back at her “as you probably already heard Eddie’s taken care of. Now get out!”

Early Monday morning the new nanny arrived, smiling at Casey as he opened the door. “Hi I’m Eleanor,” she held out her hand.

Taking her hand Casey liked what he saw so far “come in Ms….”

“Just call me Eleanor,” she suggested walking past him.

“Ok,” Casey agreed a little put off by her informal ways. Frowning as he watched her inspect the room she was in. Not one word or question about his son had Casey wondering why she was there.

Completing her circuit around the room she pointed towards the easel “do you paint?”

Shrugging Casey said “yes” to her question.

“Oh these are lovely,” she said looking at the many paintings spread throughout the room. “Did you paint them?”

“Yes,” Casey crossed his arms as his irritation grew at her many questions. “Aren’t you the tiniest bit interested in knowing anything about my son? You know the one you’ll be watching.”

“Oh we have all day to get to know each other,” waving his question away. “You’re really good, have you thought about getting a manager and setting up an exhibit?”

“No,” Casey shook he head “look you’re here to care for my son, not to be my manager. Don’t you think you should be asking me relevant questions about Eddie’s care instead of my artwork?”

“What else do I need to know? I’ve read his file, he doesn’t have allergies, disabilities or illnesses. He’s a kid, what else is there to know?”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have kids,” Casey mumbled. Glancing at his watch “damn I’m going to be late.” Looking at Eleanor he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave his son in her care.

Smiling sweetly at him “go don’t worry about Edwin, he’ll be just fine.”

Letting himself be pushed out his own door, Casey stood outside rubbing his neck. Sighing he went to the car and pulled out his phone “Rob would you mind checking on Eddie throughout the day? …. No I don’t like the new nanny …. She’s more concerned about my lack of a manager then Eddie’s welfare …. She didn’t even know his name, called him Edwin …. Thanks Rob I owe you one.”

Coming home that night, it was unusually quiet. He’d gotten so used to coming home and hearing his son’s laughter that worry creased his forehead as  unpleasant memories of the past came to mind.  Eleanor jumped up from the couch as he entered the room.

“Oh good you’re home,” she clapped her hands “I’ve made a few inquiries …”

“Where’s Eddie?” Casey asked cutting her off.

“Taking a nap,” she said “now as I was saying…..”

“He shouldn’t be sleeping now,” Casey walked into his son’s room. “He’ll never sleep tonight.” Turning on the light, Eddie popped up from his crib “daddy home.” He lifted his little arms up to Casey.

Cuddling his son Casey felt the unmistakable dampness in his son’s diaper.

“How long has he been in this wet diaper?”

“How should I know when he wet himself?” Eleanor shrugged. “He wasn’t wet when I put him down.”

“and when was that?” Casey asked feeling his anger rise as he changed his son’s diaper observing the unmistakable evidence of a rash beginning from a dirty diaper that had been on too long.

Shrugging “I don’t know maybe an hour or two. I was busy and he was fussy so I put him down for a nap.” Making a face as the smell from the soiled diaper reached her nose, “besides I was working for your best interests in setting up an art exhibit at the gallery. I know what I’m doing, that is what I went to school for ….”

“I don’t need an exhibit or manager,” Casey said snuggling Eddie to him. “What I need is a good nanny to take care of the best interests of my son.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. You’re an amazing artist, you just need the right person to be your manager. I can be …..”

“You don’t get it do you?” Casey said his tone low and steady, his anger bubbling under the surface. “What if I don’t want to be famous?”

“Of course you do, everybody does,” she looked at him like he had grown a second head.

Scowling at her “I already have notoriety, I don’t want or need to be famous. I like what I do. I enjoy being an art critic. Painting is my hobby not my life.”

“But it could be so much more,” she said enthusiastically only hearing what she wanted to hear. Her eyes sparkling as she continued to try to persuade him to her way of thinking “Just one exhibit that’s all I ask and you’ll see how good you really are.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Casey asked his voice harsher than he expected. Eddie looked up at him in surprise beginning to whimper “Shhh it’s ok little man, Daddy’s not upset with you,” he comforted his son hugging him close.

“I don’t understand,” she said voice quivering on the verge of crying. “I only wanted to help.”

“You could have helped by doing your job and taking care of my son,” Casey sighed “look I’ll do the exhibit but this,” waving his hand “isn’t going to work. I need someone I can rely on to look after my son. I need someone I’m confident will have his best interests first not have their own agenda. I’m sorry.”

“I could stay until the end of the week,” she offered “I promise this won’t happen again.”

“I appreciate the offer but no I’ll make other arrangements.” Casey watched as she walked dejected into her room to pack.

Tossing Eddie into the air he wondered if he’d ever find the right nanny to watch his son. “Two down one to go,” he said out loud “What do you think little man, will the next nanny be a keeper?” Eddie giggled nodding his head “I hope you’re right.”

The last Nanny was due to arrive any minute and Casey could feel his anxiety sky rocketing. Would this one be the right fit for him and Eddie? He reviewed the comments Robert had written down for him. He noticed that this one was Robert’s first choice. Maybe he should have started with her instead of wasting his time with the other two.

A soft knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts as he went to answer it. A young woman with bright red hair stood in front of him. Looking up she smiled holding out her hand “Hi I’m Lynn Matthews and you must be Mr. Bennett.”

He smiled as he took her hand, noting she was friendly and confident. “Please come in Ms. Matthews,” he stood aside to let her pass, closing the door behind them.

Turning Lynn smiled again “you mentioned in your son’s profile that he doesn’t have any allergies but I was wondering if there are any foods he doesn’t like. You know like beets, I hate beets and won’t eat them, no matter how they’re disguised.”

Chuckling a little “my son’s not a picky eater but thank you for asking.” Casey found himself drawn to this young woman and her obvious interest in getting to know his son by asking thought out questions.

“I love children and I helped my mom run a daycare in our basement when I was growing up.” She glanced around the room and Casey braced himself for the next question to be about his artwork. “You have a lovely home Mr. Bennett. Do you mind if we sit?”

Surprised that she hadn’t mentioned his artwork and a little embarrassed that he hadn’t invited her to sit, he motioned towards the sitting area “please sit make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” she said after settling done on the couch and waiting for Casey to sit. “You mentioned that your son doesn’t have any illnesses but if he were to become ill and I have to take him to the doctor, are there any medications he’s allergic to?”

“None that I’m aware of,” Casey replied. They spent the next several minutes discussing Eddie and what he expected from her as his nanny. “Basically Ms. Matthews I want someone who will take an interest in my son and give him the attention he needs while I’m gone. At night, when I’m home I expect to care for my son myself and you are free to pursue whatever interests you have. I understand you’re into music?”

“Yes, eventually I hope to make a name for myself in the music business.”

“I hope you reach your goal,” Casey told her getting up from the chair. “I’m sorry I have to be leaving for work now. Do you have any other questions before I go?”

Smiling as she stood “yes does your son prefer being called Edward or Eddie?”

Shrugging Casey laughed “I don’t know if he has a preference yet. He answers to both.” After walking towards the door he added “just don’t call him Edwin.”

“Why would I do that?” She laughed confused.

Shaking his head Casey sighed “the last nanny kept calling him Edwin and didn’t seem to notice there was a difference.”

Laughing harder Lynn snorted “I bet I know who that was, Eleanor right? She probably was more interested in you and managing your artwork than in watching Eddie.”

“Do you know her?” Casey asked.

“You could say that,” Lynn smiled at him “she was my room-mate. When she found out I was a musician she offered to be my manager. When I refused she took offense and moved out.”

Chuckling a little Casey said “I could see her doing that.” Glancing at his watch he knew he had to leave or he’d be late for the third Monday in a row. He enjoyed talking with Lynn and how she was able to be herself. How many girls would snort while laughing? In a way he found it endearing and totally not what he would have found attractive a couple of years ago while he was in college. He had a tendency to go for the more sophisticated ladies but his luck with that left him with a son and an ex-fiance. Shaking his head he was about to close the door when Lynn’s voice stopped him.

“Mr. Bennett?” Lynn called “how do I reach you if something comes up and I have to reach you?”

Coming back inside he wrote his contact information down for her than ran out of the house. He arrived at his desk without a minute to spare but at least he wasn’t late. Sitting down he realized that this was the first time he’d come to work without the familiar worry of leaving his son. He was confident that Eddie was in good hands.

A weight was lifted from his shoulders and he sighed in relief. He got through work with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face and a mind preoccupied with a pair of pretty green eyes. Shaking his head he tried to concentrate on appraising the artwork in front of him and not on his son’s new nanny. A smile crept across his face as his mind once again drifted off.

Coming into the house he heard the unmistakable sound of his son giggling in his room. Walking to his son’s door he watched as Lynn tickled his son sending Eddie into fits of giggles. Eddie looked up and squealed “Daddy’s home.” He lifted his little arms out towards him. Lynn seeing Casey standing in the doorway walked over to him.

Taking Eddie from her, Casey snuggled him close. “So how was your day?”

“Lynn fun. She play with me,” Eddie said with a brilliant smile on his face. “Like Lynn.”

“Do you think she should stay?” Casey asked him. Nodding his head enthusiastically Eddie squealed in delight as Casey tossed him in the air. It felt good to come home from a long day at work and be able to enjoy time with his son.

After feeding Eddie his supper and settling him in his playpen Casey joined Lynn in the living room. Lynn was softly playing a guitar, the melody soft and soothing. Something Casey hadn’t heard before, tearing his eyes away, Casey went to his easel and began to paint. Inspired by the music he was listening to and the easing of the anxiety he had been carrying around with him. He had no awareness of the passage of time until Lynn asked from behind him “would you like something to eat?”

Shaking his head he tried to bring his mind back to the present but all he could do was stare dumbly at her. “I’m sorry what did you say?” he managed.

Laughing softly “I’m not much of a cook but I made a salad. There’s enough if you’d like some.”

“Um thank you,” Casey said as he began the tedious task of cleaning his brushes and putting his paints away so they wouldn’t dry out. Sitting down Casey asked “that song you were playing earlier, did you write it?”

Nodding Lynn looked down at her plate “I wrote it after my mom passed away.”

“I’m sorry,” Casey mumbled. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s ok,” Lynn told him. “She always encouraged me to go after my dreams. Without her support I doubt I would be here today.”

“Sounds like an interesting story,” Casey said smiling to encourage her to continue talking.

“Not when it’s your story. You see when I was younger I went through a rebellious period in my teens. I felt like I was going to self destruct. You know drinking and wild parties, stuff like that. I put my parents through hell but I eventually turned my life around.”

Listening Casey couldn’t help but think of his younger brother, Gene. Maybe he should have been a little more supportive instead of brushing him off, thinking his dreams were foolish. Tuning back into Lynn’s voice he heard her say.

“When my mom got sick I told her about my dream of being a musician. I remember telling her I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to resist the temptations of the lifestyle. That maybe I should just listen to all the doubters and give up before I even tried.” Looking up with tears in her green eyes she asked “do you know what she told me?”

Shaking his Casey wished there was something he could say to comfort her.

“She told me to never quit just because it’d be easier than facing my fears.” She smiled wiping tears from her eyes. “She told me I was stronger than I gave myself credit for.”

Reaching across the table Casey took her hand in his “your mother was right.” Squeezing her hand, Casey promised himself that he would be more understanding and supportive of Gene in the future. He wondered if it was too late to tune into Sim Idol and see how Gene was faring on the show.

Previous/Next

[askfacultystaff]

Lucy: ...... Sigh.. Horror... Spooky... I certainly love it...

*On TV, Katherine Mulligan gives a slight nod, her eyes narrowing as she takes this in. The screen behind them flickers, showing a blurry photo of same abandoned hotel, a brick building, some windows are boarded-up.

Katherine Mulligan: *Glances back at the cameraman* Whatever the cause of these strange occurrences may be, one thing is certain: no one who enters that hotel seems to come out the same. Travis is just the latest in a long line of people who've had frightening encounters there—and now, with one survivor left behind to tell a terrifying tale of 'Hotel'… the mystery only deepens.

*She looks at the male reporter, who shakes his head slightly, his expression one of disbelief mixed with concern*

Male News Reporter: Indeed, Katherine. And as if that weren’t enough, the local sheriff has confirmed that the hotel’s power supply—its electrical system—has been completely shut off. Yet, in the past few days, witnesses have reported seeing lights flickering from within. How could that be? Is it someone inside? Or is something… else at work here?

Katherine Mulligan: *Leans forward slightly, her eyes intense as she delivers the next line, clearly unsettled by the implications* Lights flickering in an abandoned hotel, strange noises… and now, a survivor who refuses to speak about what they experienced. Is this just an elaborate prank? Or are we dealing with something far more dangerous, something that defies explanation?

Behind the Doors: Room of Monsters

Rama: ....... *Narrating* Words cannot describe everything changes as we grow up. My name is Rama Raid, i'm 17 years old. A middle brother of Loud House we living... My parents, Rita and Lynn Sr., have been the glue that holds this loud house together. With my younger sisters, Lucy, Lana, Lola, Lisa, and Lily around. Everyday i'm in charge....

Rama: *Narrating* I can't help but miss Lori, Leni, Luna, Luan, and Lynn Jr.... The house just isn’t the same without them. Since Lori, Bobby, Leni and Scott had their children... And recently, Luna and Sam got married... I'm happy for them.

@neko-sufis-world.

[notahaterbutakvetcher]

Open letter to everyone silent on the pogram in LA yesterday (being Sunday, June 23rd), despite reblogging misinformation after misinformation about Israel’s unique evil:

I see you. I see how quiet you are. I see how afraid you are, how scary it is to comment on it, because of the backlash you might face for “not supporting the movement.” I see the indecision as you hover over the reblog button.

And I am calling you a coward for it.

How dare you refuse to acknowledge what is happening within your own movement. How dare you claim to be on the side of peace, and allow yourself to ignore what your own protesters are doing.

I see you, and I am disgusted with you.

[spacedlexi]

people who think clem surviving makes no sense are so funny. "they were literally foreshadowing her death the entire season" let me introduce you to the concept of a red herring. she tells lilly she isnt lee and shes right. the narrative was forcing her down that path, a path she saw as an inevitable fate waiting to take her too, but its a narrative broken by aj, who is also his own person and not S1 clem

"it happened to lee, and itll happen to you" lilly tells clem she'll die protecting aj from some mistake he makes, when in reality his defiance of her will is what saves her life after she had already accepted her fate. he breaks clem free from the lee cycle and they get their relatively happy ending. good for them

[theunconcernedembalmer]

...so my laptop finally died

[butwhatifidothis]

It really is strange how Edelstans simultaneously dig hard into people that don't agree with their specific interpretation of 3H to the point of being happy they manage to drive those people away... and be so upset and baffled that people become generally disinterested/actively hostile towards 3H content.

If folks get repeatedly driven out of a fandom, and that group of people repeatedly calls anyone who disagrees with their specific interpretation of 3H stupid/illiterate/"acting in bad faith"/sexist/racist/homophobic/etc., and it is repeatedly done by a group of people who insist that 3H's fandom problem is a "both sides" thing, with all of this being dragged into spaces that have nothing to do with 3H, well... obviously people are then going to start to dislike interacting with either 3H in general or its fandom in particular?

Edelstans are the ones spreading the idea that 3H's fandom in totality is shit. They keep trying to make their hands look cleaner than they are by claiming that everyone else's hands are just dirty as/even dirtier than theirs. Of course people who are unaware of everything are going to then assume that everyone's hands are dirty, thus making people not exactly want to shake hands with anyone.

Like, really now. What did they think was going to happen when they directly go after fanartists/fanfic writers who create/say things that go against the Approved Edelstan Status Quo, to the point that a non-zero amount of these creators just up and leave social media entirely? Or after they nitpick every single Disapproved Post and then lie about the post's OP? Or after it becomes a consistent pattern that people who even remotely disagree with Edelstans' opinions are always, without fail, buried with insulting and harassing anons? Or after they're shown time and time again to defend their worst actors with "well their/our victims deserved it because they said a 3H opinion we didn't agree with"? Or when they say that everyone does this shit in 3H's fandom except for them (which is either not believed because it's demonstrably untrue or is actually believed and now those people think the overwhelming majority of 3H's fandom is filled with shit)? Or when they drag 3H discourse into literally actually everything no matter how unrelated?

That with less fandom creators within the fandom space they'd get more content? That harassing and insulting people and accusing them of being this-and-that bigot is going to magically "correct" their minds into seeing The One Truth about 3H? That people are going to just look over all the shit they did just because they allocate the blame of their action on all of 3H's fandom? That people would like 3H more if they constantly remind people of the inarguable worst thing to come from 3H? That this would help 3H's general perception?

Fuckin' no, of course that's just going to make everyone fuck off from 3H. And would you look at that, a shit ton of people have fucked off from 3H since everything has been swept under a "well it'sth a bolth thides ithue tho what can ya do?" rug. And it's been swept under that rug by pretty much the only people who are pulling this shit, who then get shocked - utterly gobsmacked! - that that made them look bad too. That crying "both sides!" included themselves too and not just the people they've been harassing. That saying that the entire fandom is bad everywhere made the entire fandom look bad everywhere.

If Edelstans are really so upset that no one talks about 3H positively anymore, then maybe they should stop being the reason no one likes 3H anymore. Just a thought

[devondespresso]

writing my silly little fic and again im struck with how much opportunities they missed by pretending the s2 stancy breakup wasn't messy, specifically for Nancy's guilt about barb and forcing herself to grow up too fast

like s1 Nancy spends one night being a stupid teenager goofing off at her boyfriend's party and staying over to get spicy while Barb goes home. then she later realizes Barb disappeared and died that one night she was letting go and having fun. this is widely recognized trauma for her and informs a lot if not most of her actions through the rest of the show

in season 2 she's feeling the weight of it more around the first year anniversary. steve trys to help by taking her to a party to forget for a little while and 'be stupid teenagers' for a night. a perfectly set up parallel already

the way the show wants it to go, we get the bullshit argument, they fight, allegedly break up at some point, and nancy sleeps with Jonathan. later steve tells her to go with him and we're supposed to read it as Steve stepping back so jancy can happen. we're supposed to be seeing this as a happy ending.

but with the material we're given this would have been the perfect place for an emotional repeat of season 1 for nancy. she and steve go to the party and pretend to be stupid teenagers for the night. but oh no! nancy lets lose too much, lets herself relax and drink and dance, and the next day her boyfriend's pissed. hes saying she said things she never remembered saying and its hurt him and she doesn't know what to do. and kids around school are talking about them breaking up at the party, and that fits with Steve's anger she saw, so they must've broken up right? it sucks, even if she wasn't in love with him, that'd be the worst way to break up with someone (especially if she's confusing platonic and romantic feelings or convincing herself it has to be romantic when she really just values him as a friend)

and then she doesn't have time to work it out, she needs to go with Jonathan to avenge barbs 'disappearance' to give her family closure. She's got a lot of conspiracy shit to do and its stressful. so when murray starts going off about how she's not really in love with steve, how she actually likes Jonathan and he seems to like her back. they finished a lot of the hard work with the conspiracy stuff, she can let her guard down and have a quick good night.

then the next day is chaos. demodogs and labs and will being possessed. It a rough fucking day. Steve tells her to go with Jonathan while they get the mindflayer out of Will, civil like they're on good terms so she does (and thank god she did because that was rough and they needed all the help they could get)

and then everything's fine again, with the upside down. and it looks like she handled things better this time, was about to relax occasionally and still made it through.

except apparently she and steve didn't break up. he thought it was just a few fights, that they put their shit aside for the apocalypse and now they can work things out.

and it could ruin nancy. a year later and she's still hasn't learned her lesson, that letting her guard down hurts the people she cares about, that relaxing and having fun makes her lose people. its her fault for the messy breakup with Steve and its her fault that barb is gone. she's the reason she's lost friends close to her, 2 for 2, and now she only has Jonathan left (and what do you know, season 3 has her conflict with Jonathan and in season 4 she's not let anyone else get truly close to her and fred still dies)

you see what i mean?? by having conflict magical resolve itself in the background we loose so much powerful, painful character drama for her. our girl who thinks she has to keep the world around her up solely on her shoulders because she can't handle the loss of her best friend in season 1. Nancy who desperately wants to be normal and have people she loves but keeps losing them, through factors both in and out of her control, but feels like everything has to be her fault just because some things were.

and to be fair, that story is still present in the show. its there and definitely compelling, but it could've been even more so. i feel like if maybe there was less 'nancy has to be a strong independent girlboss' in there (abd it's definitely there, they want to make a point of making her a Strong Woman Character so bad) and she was allowed to have mistakes acknowledged by the narrative, this is the direction it would've gone. She could've been an excellent example of well written women who are strong and awesome through their own right instead of the narrative trying to make us like her