#because I think about this stuff too much

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, controlling behavior, coercive control, infantilization, extreme patronization, gaslighting, manipulation, food pusher, forced eating 

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about overcaring boyfriend…

You know, he’s always asking if you’ve eaten today, if you’ve drunk enough water, if you’re wearing enough layers. Typical boyfriend stuff. Only it’s not. No, far from it.

Because he does so by telling you off. Pulling a sweater over your little party dress to conceal you. It’s cold outside, he’ll say, kissing your forehead with a smile—he wouldn’t want you getting the sniffles. And besides, you can undress for him when the two of you’re alone—there’s no need to do it in front of the world.

Scolding you for getting too drunk even when you’re just tipsy. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue at you, urging you to drink water as if it’s your first time touching alcohol. Staying sober himself so that he can take care of you—somebody’s going to have to drive you home at the end of the night, or who knows where you’ll end up! 

Telling you that you’re flirting too much, causing all the guys to stare at you even when you’ve only been talking to your girlfriends. Purposefully getting into a fight with you so that he can excuse you both, apologizing to everyone for what a difficult drunk you are—making you so embarrassed and ashamed you end up following him to the car with your tail tucked between your legs—also because he keeps your phone and purse on him, for safekeeping of course, so you don’t forget or lose them somehow.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble under your breath. 

He sighs, standing behind you, leaning his hands against the back of the chair you’re seated in. “You say that, but I can’t trust you, can I?”

His head drops to your shoulder, cheek to cheek, hugging you from behind while his arms slip down your chest, feeling your ribs with a curious and clinical touch.

“I know you’re body better than anyone and I can tell you’ve been skipping meals.”

You shake your head. “I haven’t.” It’s the truth—you really haven’t. It’s normal for bodies to change a little every now and again. But it’s not as if he’d ever accept that as an excuse.

“I don’t want to argue,” is all he says. “Now, be a good girl and eat your cake.”

If it were a piece of cake, you’d have gotten it well over with already. But the platter placed in front of you was enough to feed an entire dinner party. Pink and triple-stacked with mountains of decorative buttercream frosting—god only knows what else is inside.

“I’m not eating an entire cake.” That would be ridiculous. Anyone would agree. But not him. No, you know how serious he is.

“You wouldn’t have to if you just ate when I told you earlier.” 

He speaks softly, in a manner as if it isn’t even your fault to begin with but his own. He’s in charge, after all. All he’s accusing you of is being a handful.

“But here we are…”

He grabs the spoon he’d laid out—no, not a cake fork or a teaspoon, but a tablespoon—and proceeds to gather one big mouthful for you. 

“One drunken, starved girlfriend and one tired, concerned boyfriend.”

You shake your head and seal your lips as he brings the portion up to your mouth.

“If I eat all that, I’m gonna be sick. I just wanna go to bed–” you plead, but he cuts you off.

“It’d be better for you to get sick now instead of tomorrow.” His other hand takes your chin soft but strictly, holding you firmly in place. “Come on now, say ah.”

You’re crying by the end of it. Throat sore and belly overfull, feeling nauseous beyond belief.

“Last bite,” he says, and you no longer have the strength to refuse, even when you doubt there’s any room left to spare. You force it down, and he praises you for it with a kiss on your frosting-smeared cheek. “Good job.”

Between the cake, the alcohol, and his coddling, of course, you feel sick to your stomach.

“What a mess…” he drawls while he holds your hair back from the toilet bowl. 

You feel filthy, sitting on the bathroom tiles between his legs as he rubs your back and coos. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or who knows who’d bother taking care of you—honestly, you’re worse than a baby sometimes. Utterly hopeless.”

He kisses your exposed nape. You swear you feel him smile.

“I’m just kidding. I’ll always take care of you no matter what.”

You hurl again—nothing but pink cream and sprinkles coming out.

“Even if you had no legs and no arms. Even if you were blind and deaf and mute, I’d still be here.” You shudder while he vows. 

You know he means it, too. Suppose that’s a little romantic. It’s just you can’t shake the feeling that he’d prefer for you to be that way.

“You feeling any better?” he asks.

You nod your head.

“Good. Then let’s get you to bed.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Kirishima, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Mirio, young AFO ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[sc0tters]

Captains Orders | Quinn Hughes & Nico Hischier

summary: what happens when quinn learns he isn't the only captain you've been hooking up with?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, dismissive kink, dom!quinn, p in v (unprotected!), oral (m receiving!), masturbation, in general filthy smut.

word count: 6.77k

authors note: we have been in the thick of the threesomes recently but you won't hear me complain because this one i am pretty sure i lost my ability to have a filter so some of these points were simply the cause of my brain and of course @sweetestdesire who is back in the seat of helping with these threesomes so as always thank you to brynn for listening to the shit that comes out of my mouth while i plan these 💗 this was a version of threesomes i have never fully gone at before so lets hope the plot landed.

You really didn’t know how you ended up like this. 

Well, that was a lie. You knew exactly how you ended up chasing after the eldest Hughes boy in the lake house as you tried to apologise. Quinn had come down to see you standing in the kitchen as Nico recounted the days when you spent most evenings in his bed. As Jack’s best friend, your sex life shouldn’t have mattered to Quinn, especially the stuff that you did back when you lived with Jack as you got your degree. But Quinn did care; in fact, he cared so much because now that you resided in Vancouver, you were doing the same thing with him. Gone were the moments of feeling special, that you were the one who helped him feel better during the darker days within the season. Craving your company and your bed as your sweet sweet cunt was the best therapy he could have ever gotten. 

Because now he wasn’t special, Quinn was actually the second person you had been doing this with and he had seen the way that Nico had been looking at you all week. From the moment that the Swiss man walked into the house, his eyes seemed to settle on you for a little too long. So now knowing that there was something between you both, it all made sense to Quinn. He hadn’t bothered to ask before because he thought that he was just dreaming things up. But that sense of hope seemed to just bite him in the ass.

Quinn heard you walk into the room behind him “I didn’t think that you needed to know about a relationship that means nothing to me now.” You let out a sigh, watching him grab the tv remote before he started to flick through the channels “please Quinny.” You begged, wanting a response as you pulled your hoodie off of your head, leaving you in the little sundress that he loved so much. 

But still, he remained focused on the screen that stood behind you “fine.” You grumbled, dropping onto your knees without a second thought. You knew he was mad but there was only so much that he could ignore when it came to you. And you weren’t above crawling to him, so that was what you did. 

The dress you wore climbed up your ass revealing the white panties that you wore. Quinn’s eyes did break from the screen to you it but still, he didn’t talk and when you noticed him looking, his eyes went back to the screen. It took everything from him to not grunt. The sight of you on your knees was something he always loved “please Quinny I’m sorry.” You whined, letting your lips form a pout. 

His fingers dug into his hand as he stayed quiet wanting you to work for his attention “you want me to suck your cock huh?” Your fingers were delicate against his shorts. The sound of your freshly manicured nails against his waistband. 

He licked his lips when you pulled his shorts and boxers down to let his cock spring up against his pubic bone “god Quinn please just talk to me.” You begged, pumping his cock in your hand. 

His silence made you feel bad, as if your past relationship was something that could have been held against you. So you licked at his cock as if he was your lollipop, your tongue swirled around the head of his cock. Hoping, almost even praying that you’d draw out a response from him, when you weren’t even sure if you got a cut breath.

Quinn had done this before, ignored you until he thought that you had sucked his cock well enough to be spoken to again. So as you looked back up at him you set yourself the challenge of breaking him sooner than you ever had done before. 

You wrapped your lips around his cock, arching your back in a way that allowed you to take his cock much easier than normal. He felt your tongue run along the underside of his cock as your nostrils flared. His head rested against the cushion behind him while he gripped at the remote trying to not show you the effect that you really did have on him too early on. 

Your mouth felt like your cunt to him when he was desperate to just feel you so now when you were all methodical it was close to sending him over the edge especially as your eyes remained on him. When your hands reached down to massage his balls, he stopped you, one hand went on top of your as the other pressed on the back of your head forcing you to hit his pubic bone with your nose. 

Quinn loved the feeling and the soft effects as you gagged on his cunt and as he watched the replay of the tennis game on the tv in front of him he couldn’t help but begin to fuck your throat. The feeling your mouth gave him was addictive, like he had morphed you into his personal toy. 

The walls of your throat tightened around his cock but with how harshly he fucked your throat Quinn barely felt it. Even in his state of getting have your mouth at entirely his own mercy, he still noticed what happened around him. That is why he saw your free hand leave his thigh before travelling between your own legs. 

Your panties came down to your knees as your clit ached for attention. But you knew that you couldn’t give into yourself, not until you had earned it. The sounds of your own gags had you focusing on Quinn. You weren’t able to see his face with how he had positioned his hand on your head and you wondered if that was how he liked it. 

But Quinn was strong, even if he fucked your throat like it was the last thing on earth. You weren’t going to hear him even squeak, even if that meant he was gnawing his own lip off in the process. His throbbed as precum oozed into your throat, not giving you a chance to savour that taste of it. 

Your nails dug into the side of your thigh to keep you from rubbing at your clit, tears formed in your eyes because you wanted nothing more than to just make Quinn cum. At least then you’d get some kind of release, too. Your pleads came out muffled but even Quinn could make out that you were begging him to finally cum, it wasn’t going to be the last time of the night for him anyways.

He tugged at your hair when his thrusts became erratic. His thighs began to shake and he was dangerously close to cumming when he felt your tongue hit his balls. You wished you had a bigger mouth because then you would be able to take more of him. Quinn felt his jaw tense as you hollowed out your cheeks and shifted your legs back to let him thrust more freely. The boy watched in awe as the sounds of your whimpers and gags sent him over the edge. 

Quinn loved the feeling of cumming down your throat, but on days like this he preferred to not let his thrusts slow until he has finished painting your mouth and throat with his release. That way some of it ends up on your tongue and eventually your mouth feels so full that he can’t even fuck you with any easy anymore. 

He finally halted his movements to catch his breath as he let you have his cock comfortably in your mouth while he slightly turned your head to let breathe more comfortably. His eyes never trailed down to yours however, Quinn was far more entertained by the tennis on the screen, watching the players move with ease. 

But when he turned you, your jaw began to grow slack, almost wanting to rest for what you knew would be a long night. The captain could feel that his thighs were damp and he originally thought it was just your saliva pooling onto his shorts, but instead, it was your tears. 

At first, he worried that he had pushed you too far when he saw how your mascara was a goopy mess on your cheeks. Quinn was ready to pull you onto his lap and treat you like his princess for the rest of eternity if he had to. But as his cum slipped from your lips, Quinn watched how you caught it with your fingers. Trying to stealthily bring them back down to your cunt. 

His hands ran through your hair as he held back a laugh, Quinn should have felt relieved in that moment but deep down he just knew that you were his little slut. He knew you were only teasing your clit as you waited for him to start fucking your throat. 

So the captain decided to play nice as his cock felt hard again as he gripped at your hair, reforming your makeshift pony at the back of your head. Quinn wanted to smile feeling your free hand grip at his knee as you moved your head, causing his cock to throb at the feeling of your jaw tightening again.

His pace started off slow as he began to move his hips, still feeling a little bit sensitive from the first orgasm that he had. He watched your hand move making him wish that he could see how your fingers strummed against your clit. Sometimes, if there was a roadie when he desperately needed you, he’d get you on Facetime and make sure that your phone was set up so that he could see how your pretty face would react while you did a mix of rubbing at your clit and listening to his orders of how you needed to finger yourself. 

It was what he thought of while he listened to you whimper against his cock, carefully focusing that you continued to pay more attention to him than yourself. He chewed at his cheek, desperate to touch you, but still he had to keep himself restrained.

Quinn listened to how you brought your fingers into your cunt, it was two because he was the only one who went for three. Your jaw tightened around him as your palm brushed against your clit. 

You moaned again feeling how each of Quinn’s thrusts forced his cock past your uvula, somehow not causing you to gag. The room felt hot as you both settled into your own movements, each working towards your own orgasms. The captain made sure that he didn’t lift his hand from your head as he wanted to watch you, but you couldn’t know he was watching you. He imagined that it was his own hand getting you off as he let out the first grunt that was loud enough for you not to need to confirm it. You were finally breaking down his facade he out up that night, and you weren’t stopping there. You lapped at his dick, constantly making sure that he knew the sheer amount of work that you were putting in. Begging him without even having to say a word. 

Those movements continued on of you fucking your hand and turning his cock into your new favourite lollipop until Quinn felt his chest heave when you cried, whimpering around him as you came down from your own high and trigger his own with his hand now running through your hair.

You were left in a puddle of your own mess, desperate to look at Quinn and how you made him feel “poor schatz.” The words made you freeze, whereas Quinn laughed with his sense of cold that sent a shiver down your spine “probably isn’t even turned on with how neglected she is.” That made Quinn pull your head off of his cock. 

Strings of spit connected it to your mouth still “should we check your pretty fucking pussy to show him how you feel when I fuck your face like this?” Quinn smirked, watching you nod. To him, in that moment, you looked gorgeous with your ruined makeup, dishevelled hair, and that mix of saliva and cum on your chin. 

The Canucks captain leaned down to run his fingers through your folds as he kissed you. It was the first time that night that he had done so, and you savoured that. Quinn could taste his release on your tongue, and he had to remind himself that you two were not alone when you moaned feeling his fingers against your slit. Nico’s eyes watched how Quinn’s fingers glistened with your release “what were you saying about how she is feeling today?” Quinn asked as he smirked “since I am feeling generous.” He licked his lips, looking back at you. 

That blue dress that you wore was something Quinn wanted to rip off of you, but tonight he was going to play nice and show some self-restraint “why don’t you show Nico how well you suck cock now.” Quinn ran his fingers down your jaw before he turned your head to where Nico stood “schatz you don-” Nico went to tell you that you didn’t need to do what Quinn had said, but you were quicker than him. 

The smile that formed on your face was the same one that had Quinn thinking that you were a fucking minx, his fucking minx. How was there a reality where you were this innocent girl, but that look on your face always had him thinking otherwise? As you stood up, Quinn helped you out of your panties as they needed a final kick before they were left on his floor. You turned to face Nico again, but you couldn’t even get one step before Quinn had to remind you of his expectations “nuh-uh, baby. I didn't say you could walk, now did I? You know better than that.” There was this sense of disappointment in his voice that made you frown as you dropped back onto your knees “I’m sorry.” Your lips formed a pout looking back at Quinn, almost scared to go to the older captain if the Canucks one was irritated with you. 

But instead, he smiled “that’s okay, sweet girl.” He ran his fingers along your cheek making you lean into his touch “just go bring him over here, okay?” You looked eager as your eyes lit up when you acquired the task. Nico stood still, almost intimidated by the hold that Quinn had over you making it seem like you were some kind of prey that the boy had gotten as the American began to pump his cock with his hand watching how pretty your ass looked from this side of the dress. Your orgasm’s aftermath was present, glistening through your folds, making him lick his lips. Nico, on the other hand, watched you with a sense of curiosity; your days with him had him worshipping you, and it was not the other way round. He could see in your eyes that you were eager for him, for this. Your breasts were perfectly framed in the dress that Nico wondered if it was made for you “hi.” You smiled when you stopped at his feet. 

Nico was quick to give you his hand to help you back onto your feet “hey.” He ran his fingers through your hair as he looked at you almost trying to see what else had changed when your fingers ran over his cock. His boner was present through his shorts. He may not have agreed with what Quinn was doing to you, but he couldn’t deny that you were hot. The Swiss man felt his head fall forward at your touch “you gonna let me suck your cock?” The words were so vulgar from your mouth making him feel so dirty but somehow Nico felt his brain turn off as his cock took over the thinking. 

His hands were bigger than Quinn’s when he cupped your cheeks. You could taste his beer on his tongue, already comparing how it tasted to the one that Quinn preferred which was drier, Nico felt himself get carried away when he brought his one hand down your back; you had deepened the kiss so this felt natural. As his tongue fought with yours he let his hand continue down your back to your ass. He was purposeful with his touch, if he touched you, he wanted to feel all of you and that was how his hand ended up under your dress while he squeezed at your ass. 

It made you moan loud enough for Quinn to hear as the Swiss man fondled your skin in his hand “I don’t remember saying you could touch her.” Quinn’s words made Nico pull away from you with a smirk as his lower lip was caught between your teeth “careful, Hughes your jealousy is showing.” Nico looked to the American as you reached down to grab his hand. 

There was a look in your eyes that told him to keep calm and just let you lead the way. You stopped back at the couch, the simple two seater now felt tiny as Nico thought you were going to make him sit next to the Hughes boy in some sick kind of joke.  Luckily for him, you didn’t let Nico stew in his misery for long, as you ended up back on your knees but on the couch next to Quinn. The only difference was that you were facing Nico as you used the arm of the sofa to lean against “she doesn’t like waiting Hischier.” Quinn teased looking at him for only a moment before he let his eyes fall back to the hem of your dress, it was just too long as it covered your sweet pussy that he wanted to see so desperately “who says I am making her wait.” Nico spat as he undid the button of his shorts before he pulled them down with his boxers. 

You rubbed your thighs together as the thought of both boys fighting over you lit this fire in your pussy, the thoughts of them both fucking you made your mouth water as you didn’t know if you could even take both of them at once. But, boy, were you willing to try. Nico ran his hand over his cock, spreading his precum over the swollen head that was in front of your face “neeks let me.” Your voice was soft when you looked at him, bringing your hand over his before you brought your lips cock. 

Nico watched as you did these pathetic little kitten licks, almost taunting him in the process. His hands gripped at your hair while he sent you a glare until Quinn did the first thing that Nico could actually agree with that day “just because you aren’t sucking my cock baby don’t mean that you can go off acting like a brat.” Quinn warned as he pushed your dress over your ass so he could hit your ass. 

He lay a smack against your skin, making your eyes go wide as you moaned. Your body jolted, and as that happened, you took as much of Nico as you could in your mouth. Quinn smirked as he readjusted, letting his knees sit on the couch. He smirked as he watched your pussy flutter around nothing while his hand massaged your ass. He honestly thought that you were so cute doing this for him. 

Quinn knew that you had your ass like that so he could get the perfect view of your cunt “fucking hell.” He ran his thumb over your slit while he smiled hearing you moan around Nico’s cock.

You almost felt conflicted, wanting to stretch your body to both boys. You wanted Nico in your throat and Quinn to be against you too “you can fuck her face.” He pumped his cock in his hand, resting his one foot on the floor. 

Nico went to snap back but he was quickly stopped when Quinn slotted his cock into your cunt. Quickly bringing his hips against yours before you got a chance to adjust to his size. Your response was to tighten your throat around the head of Nico’s cock, digging your nails into his thighs. 

It knocked the breath out of him as his hands tugged at your hair. You breathed through your nostrils, using Quinn’s thrusts to force Nico’s cock deeper into your throat. Quinn’s lips turned upright when he settled into a good pace “sweet girl you seen how good you sucking his cock?” Quinn cooed running his fingers over your ass as his fingers gripped at your hips. 

Your cunt clenched around him as you looked up at Nico through your thick eyelashes. Nico ran his tongue over his lips feeling your tongue swirl around his cock before you let him hit deeper in your throat. The boy tried to pull away when you gagged but your fingers gripping at him was enough to stop him. 

The pain in his thighs made his stomach tighten “fuck you are perfect.” Nico grunted hearing how the squelches of your cunt mixed with the gags of your mouth “and you thought she wasn’t a slut.” Quinn laughed, bringing his hand around to brush at your clit. 

His cock throbbed against the slick walls of your cunt “she was waiting around for you to finally-” Quinn let out a moan watching how your back arched to get more of both cock “get unleashed by someone who could fuck her properly.” The American slapped your ass again making you whimper around Nico. 

Nico would never have admitted it, but Nico used to think that your mouth was good, but now it was heavenly. You hollowed your cheeks as if his cock was a straw and you were drinking out of it “you wanna let him cum?” Quinn could see the look Nico gave you, how his lips were attacked by his teeth. 

Swallowing his moans as he swore that you were going to make him cum harder than he ever had before. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you nodded, begging for Nico to cum on your tongue. For him to mark your throat, even if Quinn had already done that twice before “then I think he should let you hear how well you are making him feel.” Quinn brought his fingers from your clit to your boob. Taking your wetness to spread it around your nipple.

You whimpered as your body began to shake “she’s so responsive.” Quinn licked his lips “cause you love hearing how much of a cockslut you are don’t ya?” Your muffled whimpers echoed off of the walls as you nodded. 

Quinn stood back up straight bringing his hand back to your clit “didn’t think you used to be with such a rude boy before baby.” Quinn’s taunts finally broke Nico “don’t stop using your tongue like that.” Nico begged, letting his head fall back.

The Swissman was now relying on you and Quinn’s thrusts to allow him to fuck your throat. His stomach tightened as his hair threw slick with sweat “your perfect fucking mouth is bringing him close.” Quinn teased, forcing himself to control his thrusts, feeling that you were close. He was, too, but he wanted to watch Nico finish first. 

It was a total stroke to his ego watching Nico nod “just like that.” He encouraged you to continue hollowing your cheeks as your eyes didn’t leave his face. Studying his every reaction “think you should ask if you can make a mess in her mouth.” Your cunt clenched around Quinn feeling his calloused fingers against your clit, the roughness sending shivers through your body “you gonna let me cum in your pretty throat schatz?” You moaned hearing the question as your mind felt disconnected from the pleasure that you felt.

Your brain was foggy and Quinn knew that you were just desperate to cum too at that point “you’re asking the wrong person Neeks.” Quinn’s tone fucked with the boy, urging him to react. With one step out of line, Nico knew that it was all going to be over for him tonight “you think I’m going to ask you?” Nico laughed as he shook his head. 

But watching the younger captain remain quiet, the Devils captain realised he was serious “I’m not fucking-” Nico went to argue but Quinn was quick to cut him off “doll stop sucking his cock.” Even as you were focused on being used by both boys, Quinn’s order was something that you were almost hardwired to respond to. 

So you begun to pull away as you made your lips form an o shape “fuck Quinn please.” Nico looked at the younger boy “I just wanna cum.” You whimpered at the thought of him spraying his messy ropes of release down your throat. 

Quinn clicked his tongue “such a shame that it just isn’t good enough.” He sighed as he shrugged still letting your his hips hit the curve of your ass “try again.” The Hughes boy ordered holding his hand against your chest to remind Nico that he really could pull you off of him. 

Nico was getting frustrated, desperate to cum “sir.” Your words were muffled, but as Nico looked down at you, he could see that you were trying to say something. You let your tongue move so that you could speak even with his cock in your mouth “sir.” Quinn let out a dark chuckle, seeing that Nico had heard you properly this time. 

The Swissman thought about it as Quinn let you slowly move your mouth against his length, hoping to encourage him “I can pull her-” Quinn’s threat that came for a second time seemed to finally break the boy “fuck let me cum sir.” The words slipped from Nico’s tongue in a way that he almost didn’t even care about what he had just said.

Quinn nodded as he sucked at his teeth “sweet girl you can finish him off.” The Hughes boy cooed finally letting Nico cum. Nico would have cringed if he had been told that this is what he would be doing, but in that moment god he just wanted to cum “don’t stop yes!” Nico gasped, sticking your head against his pubic bone. 

The little bit of hair that he had tickled your nose as he forced his hips against you desperate to cum. Desire filled his sense as he squirmed, screwing his eyes shut so that he could imagine that he was the one in your cunt. 

It didn’t take him long to feel his hips jitter as his fingers dug into your scalp, the pain making you moan against his cock sending him over the edge. His grunts bounced off of the walls of the room, Quinn felt slightly grateful that his room was away from everyone else’s. It meant that nobody else was going to be interrupting you once Quinn got the Swiss man out of there. 

The older boys cum painted your throat “fuck schatz.” He ran his thumb over your cheek to wipe away your tears. You went to let his cock slip from between your lips but Quinn pressed his hand against your head, forcing you to have Nico’s cock right in the back of your throat “be a good little thing and keep his cock in your mouth while I destroy your pussy.” Your ears rang as you felt your stomach tighten while your cunt clenched around him. 

You swore that Quinn’s cock was bigger, hitting spots in your pussy you had never felt him hit before. So as the head of his cock brushed against your g-spot you couldn’t help but moan, watching Nico keep your head flush against his cock. 

Quinn hit your ass as he scoffed “be a good girl and stay fucking quiet okay?” His pace seemed to get even quicker as he turned animalistic, practically fucking you senseless. 

Nico and Quinn all of a sudden seemed to be on the same team with the Swiss man tugging at your hair each time you moaned which was usually followed by Quinn smacking your ass “someone is starting to be a good girl now.” You nodded, hearing Nico’s words as your thighs ached, burning while Quinn’s hands held you up “you’re lucky I’m feeling generous.” The Canucks captain gritted through his teeth. 

He was painfully close but he would never let them know that it was the reason why Quinn was going to let you cum “because now you get to see how fucking pretty this slut is when she cums on my cock.” The American patted your back as his hips drove into you. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head as your body spasmed, clenching around Quinn’s cock so hard you swore you could have broken it. He hissed feeling how your gummy walls cream around his dick, spurring on his own orgasm “holy fuck-” Quinn cut himself off when he shot his creamy load into your cunt. 

Quinn finally slowed down his thrusts, pulling out of you to see that Nico had already slipped his cock out of your mouth “how you feeling pretty girl?” Nico asked watching you rest on your arms as your ass was in the air “fucked.” A soft laugh left your lips when he ran his fingers through your hair. 

He nodded, slipping his cock back into his boxers and shorts before he looked between you and Quinn “think I’ll get this one to bed.” Quinn ran his fingers along your back, making you shiver. 

The Swiss man pursed his lips together “goodnight, you two.”Nico knew he had lost when he saw that you were so free “we will see you in the morning.” Quinn didn’t give two shits if Nico was taking this maturely and with grace, the Hughes boy wanted to have more of you and this time privately. 

Nico stood at the door looking at you both “and if when you come back to Jersey.” He let his lips form a smirk “make sure to bring her along too.” Nico shot you a wink before he finally walked out of the room.

The door shut behind him as you looked at Quinn “he really meant nothing.” You sighed sitting flat on your ass when Quinn joined you “I mean we fucked a few times while I was there but it was just when we both needed someone.” That confession made his nostrils flare because that was what you both currently boiled down to. 

After wins, defeats, lonely nights when he just didn’t want to be at his place, Quinn was at yours “you really mean that?” Quinn tucked your hair behind your ear as you nodded “and I haven’t spoken to him since I left because he had gotten a girlfriend.” Your words seemed to light a fire beneath him.

Did you really mean that if Nico didn’t have a girlfriend when you left, things would have been different? That you’d be in the Swissmans’ room as opposed to Quinns? Surely, you wanted Quinn the way he wanted you? Quinn shook his head as he kissed you, starting with your shoulder, slowly making his way up your jaw “Quinny.” You moaned, moving into his lap as if you were desperate to kiss him. 

Quinn smiled as he brought his hands up your sides “hey pretty girl.” He cooed, hooking his fingers in the straps of your dress. He sucked at his teeth pulling them down your arms to reveal your pretty perky tits that bounced as if they praised Quinn for releasing them. You felt your cheeks grow hot “not fair, you’re still in this.” You softly laughed as you ran your fingers along the hem of his shirt. 

He wasn’t going to argue; he didn’t want to argue with you, so he took his shirt off and as he did that, you pulled your dress off. Now you both sat there naked, but somehow you were feeling the most vulnerable that you had ever felt in front of someone “kissy?” You begged, running your fingers over his lips, making him smile. 

The boy took your jaw between your fingers so that he could kiss you. There was no lust driving this kiss, there was just a want to be close to one another. Quinn’s tongue and fought with yours, it was this fight of back and forth that ended as he squeezed your ass in his hand. 

A moan escaped from your lips as he smirked, his hands moved to your glutes so that he could pick you up. Your legs instantly wrapped around his hips when he stood, locking behind his back as if he was going to drop you since he focused on how your lips felt against his. He walked you back to the bed with such ease that if this was a Quinn, you didn’t know you would have been impressed. The boy dropped you onto the bed as if you were nothing more than his phone or wallet, watching how your breasts bounced when you landed on the soft mattress. Quinn smiled in awe, drinking in the sight of you naked and practically calling for him to come to you.

So the boy let his knees hit the bed, mattress dipping as you felt your mouth water “you gonna let me fuck this pussy again?” His words made you squirm as you forced your thighs together until his hand managed to get caught between them “can’t do that if you shut your legs on me, sweet girl.” Quinn made it seem so easy as his words turned you into putty, and with a deep breath, you let your thighs open again. 

Allowing the boy to be faced with your cunt that so glistened for him “please Quinn.” You whined, wanting some kind of friction or move from him “please what?” The captain knew what you wanted, but you were going to have to spell it out to him if you wanted any kind of success tonight. 

You chewed at your lip while your hands trailed over your nipples, which made him flick your thigh “use your words to ask me, or else I am gonna make sure you can’t touch anything.” His belt sat on the floor and you knew that Quinn wasn’t above using it and you weren’t in the mood to test him tonight “wanna watch you fuck me please.” Your works made him lick his lips, the offer was so inviting that he didn’t know how any sane person would turn it down. 

So the boy made light work of moving you so that he could sit between your legs “such a well mannered girl.” The boy complimented you as he ran his fingers across your stomach. Your breath hitched, watching him move his torso so that he hovered over you “kiss?” He asked, puckering his lips as he watched you crack a grin. You nodded and this time the kiss was soft, you could have sworn there was love in it even as you gasped at the feeling of his cock’s head lazily dragged over your clit. 

Quinn softly bit down on your lower lip when he let his cock sink into your cunt “fucking hell.” Your eyes screwed shut feeling how he felt letting your cunt cling to every inch of his dick “you feel so good.” Quinn confessed, kissing your forehead as he rolled his hips into yours. 

You opened your eyes to see him hovering over you “w-want more.” You begged, feeling like the world around you had been sucked into this room leaving you as the only two people that mattered “is that so?” He asked with a smirk, letting his pace pick back up to what it was when you were on the couch. 

In that moment you knew you sounded like a porn star but you didn’t even care. Gripping at your tits as you bounced with each thrust like he was going to fuck you into his bed “never gonna get over this perfect pussy.” Quinn let his head drop against your shoulder, his teeth grazing at your skin. 

It was clear that both of you were still sensitive from your previous orgasms of the night as a slew of incoherent curses came from your lips “fuck I want it forever.” The captain confessed letting his cock ram into your cunt while he picked up your leg to bring it over his shoulder “you gonna let me have it sweetheart?” Quinn teased letting himself fuck your cunt even deeper than he had before. 

Whimpers escaped from your lips as you nodded “please.” You mumbled feeling his one hand travel down to your slit. Pressing against your pelvis while his fingers toyed with that sensitive bud “what was that?” Quinn smirked, bringing his other hand up to your throat. 

Pressing his thumb and middle fingers against the sides of your neck, “couldn’t hear ya.” He brought his face down to yours as he nipped at your jaw. 

Softly sucking at your skin, it felt like a stark contrast to the abuse he was inflicting on your pussy “it’s yours Quinn.” You nodded and in that moment the American swore he was ready to cum and let his body give out from above you “fuck you are so dangerous.” He grunted letting out a hiss as your cunt clenched around him. 

The boy could see it in your eyes “you gonna cum?” Quinn asked speeding up his fingers against your clit. You couldn’t get out a solid response just a string of whimpers as you nodded “make a mess on my cock so I can fuck you full.” His eyes traveled to your breasts, which he thought about growing bigger. 

Neither one of you wanted kids at the moment, but that would be the truest act of staking his claim on you “go on.” He sucked at your ear lobe as your moans echoed against the walls of the room. 

You should have felt embarrassed thinking about what this room had seen tonight, but instead you were arching your back while your free leg pressed against his lower back keeping him close to you. You cried feeling yourself cum as white spots scattered across your eyelids when you screwed them shut. Quinn couldn’t last when you squirmed, feeling your cunt flutter around his cock “just like that.” He nodded, chatting out those words while his cum coated the walls of your cunt. 

Quinn moved his head so that he could kiss you as his thrusts came to a halt when you smiled “there you are pretty girl.” He mumbled pulling his cock out while he sat up to study you like a piece of art, his art. 

His eyes burned into your pussy making you push yourself onto your elbows “what?” You cocked your head seeing him smile “I need to clean you up but don’t want to ruin this just yet.” The boy huffed as he got up off of the bed. 

Before you could offer any kind of protest, he scooped you into his arms and brought you into his ensuite. 

It was a room you knew fairly well, but usually, you were sneaking back to your own one at this point “something on your mind?” He asked, feeling you staring at him as he ran the rag into the tap “like this side of you.” Your confession made your cheeks turn red as he smiled, turning to look at you. 

Quinn moved to be in between your legs as the warm cloth ran against your slit “think that you have one more in you?” The question was genuine, as he didn’t want to push you too far. 

But you nodded “what do you have in mind?” He held his hand out to pull you off of the counter. Quickly turned you around as you instinctively spread your legs for him “you wanna watch how your boy fucks this pussy?” Quinn smirked running his now hard again dick against your clit. 

Your head fell forward but still your eyes remained on him “fuck me like you mean it captain.” Oh, you were going to be the death of him, but he couldn’t have cared. 

In fact, Quinn was ready to dig his grave for you because this man was yours.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! So I have the issue where I’m not able to turn my brain off I guess and I’m having to constantly be aware of everything happening around me and managing everyone because if I don’t do it no one will. It’s so tiring to never have a minute to not be a very aware of every little thing. That being said, could I request a Remus or poly!marauders where reader is able to not be in constant manage mode? I know that’s really weird and if it’s too much just ignore this. Thank you for everything you do on here ❤️

Not weird! Very relatable actually haha. Thank you for requesting angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 823 words

“I like my system,” James says as you kneel in front of his suitcase, folding shirts. “My pants go on that side, then shirts in one corner and the rest in the other.” 

“I don’t think it counts as a system if you’re just piling stuff in, Jamie.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, doesn’t it bother you that they’re all wrinkled?” You frown, taking out a balled-up pair of trousers. It bothers you, and they’re not even your clothes. 

“Not really, no. It’s a holiday, lovie, who am I trying to impress?” 

“Um, me?” Sirius shoots a look across the bedroom. He’s busy stuffing things into his own suitcase on the other side of the bed. 

“Oh, always,” James says gamely. “But you love me whether my shirts are wrinkled or not, don’t you?” 

Sirius makes a wishy-washy noise that sees James tossing a pair of socks at his head. He dodges and they bounce to the floor. 

“Did you remember your glasses cleaner?” you ask James, feeling about the pockets of his suitcase. 

“All under control, angel. It’s in my backpack.” 

“Perfect.” You finish neatly folding the last of his things and stand to kiss him. “Thanks.” 

“Thank you. Though you didn’t have to fold my underwear, I could have managed that myself.” 

“It was no problem.” You round the bed to where Sirius is packing, peering down at his suitcase. 

He looks up with a raised brow. “Can I help you?” 

“Are you packing your conditioner?” 

Sirius’ other brow comes up to join the first. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with my hair smelling lovely?” 

“No.” You smile, rolling your eyes when he pinches the back of your thigh playfully. “Just remember that it has to be under a hundred milliliters if you’re not checking your bag.” 

“I’ve got it, doll. You worry about your milliliters, and I’ll worry about mine, m’kay?” 

You hum. “And, um…” 

“What?” Sirius’ tone is dry, but it’s all fondness in the tilt of his mouth as he looks up at you. “You gonna fold my underwear, too?” 

“No, just, have you eaten? I don’t know if we’ll have time to eat at the airport.” 

“I think Remus wants you, sweetness.” 

“Hm?” 

Sirius points with his chin, and you turn to find Remus watching you from the doorway to the bedroom. He looks a particular brand of appealing in his travel clothes. The trackies James got him for Christmas probably shouldn’t go so well with his overlarge jumper, but Remus being Remus, of course it works. He beckons you toward him. 

“Oh, okay.” You glance back at Sirius one more time as you go. “Don’t forget to take your lighter out of your bag, security will take it away.” 

“Love you too!” 

“Hi,” you say to Remus, who wordlessly folds you into a hug as soon as you leave the bedroom. “Everything okay?” 

He hums. “Everything’s great, yeah. Are you excited to go?” 

You’re bemused but pleased by his hand running up and down your spine, his freshly shaven jaw pressed to your temple. “I am, yeah.” 

“Mm. Relaxed?” 

“I’m…yeah, sure.” 

Remus chuckles softly. “You seem a bit strung up, lovely. Are you all packed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. Me too. Anything else you need to do before we go? Have you eaten?” 

“I ate, yeah.” You glance back towards the bedroom, the movement almost involuntary. “I think I just need to make sure—” 

“You’re all ready then?” 

It’s not like Remus to cut you off, but when you turn back around his expression is all fond patience. 

“I think so,” you say. “At least, my stuff is all done.” 

“Perfect.” He kisses your head, then takes your hand, leading you away from your boyfriends. “Let’s relax for a bit while they finish up, then, yeah?”

You let Remus guide you to the couch. At first sitting, then curling up against his side, your head resting over the steady beat of his heart. His hand runs up and down your arm, and slowly the tension seeps out of you. 

“Sorry,” you say after a while. “Was I being annoying?” 

“No,” Remus reassures you. “Of course not. You’re only helping. You just don’t have to, you know?” 

You cringe at yourself. At the clarity of hindsight. “Nobody asked for my help.” 

“We’re adults,” he agrees. “We don’t need to be managed—or we shouldn’t. If Sirius packs too much conditioner, he can sort it out himself.” 

“Right. Sorry.” 

Remus tuts, kissing the top of your head. “Please don’t be sorry. We all just want you to be able to relax. Give yourself a break, yeah?” 

“Yeah, okay.” You snuggle closer to him, letting the last of the tension sap from your body. “That doesn’t sound so awful.” 

“I’m glad.” The smile is audible in Remus’ voice. He rubs your arm again, encouraging you to relax further. 

“But what if James doesn’t know—” 

“Dove. He’ll figure it out.” 

[softness-and-shattering]

Ideally learning history is hand in hand with learning about historicity - how we know what we think we know, how to look at evidence, how to evaluate sources for authenticity and bias and intent, what we can learn ffom differrent types of sources. This stuff gets advanced but at least the basics are important.

History isnt the same thing as what was in the past. History is our understanding of what was in the past based on evidence and some educated guesswork, and interpretation and translation, always biased towards what survived. Like people werent smaller two hundred years ago, we only have small sized clothes intact now because anything big enough to be repurposed was repurposed. We know more about the wealthy and the rulers because more was recorded about them than the lives of peasants and serfs. And they were buried much more extravagantly.

Thinking about the tapestry where the weavers wove themselves little icons with their appearance and initials in the margins. They were weaving the history so they quietly put themselves into it too. Love that for them.

Some amount of schooling probably needs to be subject matter that students dont find incredibly interesting, and there are some things wherr knowing the correct basic facts are important. Maybe teachers need to do a better job explaining that theyre teaching skills through the material rather than the value being in able to memorise a bunch of dates, and what those skills are necessary for (everything, not being scammed, not falling for falsehood and propaganda, how to tell if youre being lied to, how to investigate for truth). I remember a lot of math class asking what the point of it was and the answer was like, building bridges, well I dont see that in my future. Math probably also needs rehauling. No one wants to be scammed or fooled.

[madebycloud]

No Erase

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: on valentine's day, and you've finally worked up the courage to write a letter to your crush confessing your feelings. unfortunately, your friend accidentally gives the letter to the one person you can't stand. warnings/themes: fluff, one sided enemies, valentines, kissing cam, angry confessions, fast burn ig, high school, mordern au words: 10.9k

You look at the letter in your desk, which you spent at least six hours working on to make sure it's perfect. Not just to make sure the words you're choosing are perfect, though—you want to make sure your handwriting is perfect enough that it doesn't look sloppy.

You grab the letter and read it over one last time… lovey-dovey bullshit, sappy stuff, romantic nonsense, etc.

You cringe at the last words, “Meet me at the bleachers... break time.”

It's so cliché, so stereotypical, and maybe you've had a couple too many cheesy romance movies in the past month. You've probably read a dozen fanfics that start like this.

If it were done by anyone other than yourself, you'd think it was absolutely dumb and corny as hell.

You know you could just message them through snapchat or on insta, or facebook, even just confessing through their email is a good idea… but, no, you just can't do that.

What if you say the wrong thing? what if you just happen to say something extremely cringy in your message? what if they screenshot it and put it on their story for everyone to see? what if they reply with “who is this...?” what if they start ignoring you?

Plus, you love your phone too damn much, and you know you're gonna end up throwing the damn thing because of the absolute panic you're gonna feel when your finger hits that send button.

You probably should have just sent a carrier pigeon or something… at least they could eat that.

Oh wait.

You forgot one thing.

You look around your room, trying to figure out what you left out. Your penmanship is on point, the words are as romantic as they could be, and the grammar is perfect... but what's missing?

The perfume.

The bottle of perfume is on your dresser, hiding behind the jewelry case. You spray it liberally, making sure the paper absorbs the smell of it, before finally folding it up neatly and placing it in the envelope. You seal the envelope with a kiss to the paper and hope it's the ‘special touch’ that it needs.

The smell is nice, just enough to have the paper absorbing it nicely, but not enough to be overwhelming (even if you love the perfume to death). You also want your recipient to be able to read the letter without cringing.

Okay, now it's really done. It's romantic, it smells good, and it's as perfect as you can get it.

Tomorrow's the day, and you finally feel confident. You have everything ready to go, you just have to figure out how to get your friend to deliver it to your crush's locker.

As you get ready for bed, the only thing you can't stop thinking about is how tomorrow will go.

Will they love the letter? will they finally realize the feelings you have for them and confess their own feelings? who knows?

—

“Come on,” you whine, begging Ekko for the fifth time. “Just do me this favor, please?”

Ekko just scoffs and gestures to the table. “I already told you, I have all of these-” he motions to the dozens of letters in front of him, “-that i'm supposed to deliver for girls that are crushing on Caitlyn.” He sighs. “I can't add any more to my to do list.”

“Please?” you beg, waving the envelope at him. “It's really important.”

Ekko groans and slumps forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Why can't you just deliver it yourself?”

“It's kinda.. embarrassing… for me to deliver it myself…” You fidget awkwardly.

“Ugh.” Ekko groans again but gives in. “Fine,” he relents, sitting up straight and grabbing the letter from you.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ekko waves his hand dismissively. He stands up and stretches out, letting out a deep sigh as he does. “Just remind me what locker number it is?” he asks, shoving the letters into his bag.

“Locker number is 13 C,” you reply, watching as Ekko slings his bag over his shoulder and starts walking out of the cafeteria. “It's pretty much right next to Caitlyn's, so you won't be missing it.”

“Got it,” he says, turning around and flashing a grin at you. “See ya later.” He gives you a salute before he disappears. 

Finally.

After months of keeping your feelings quiet, your secret would be revealed. You just have to hope that it doesn't blow up in your face.

—

Ekko walks down the hallway, scanning through the numbers above the lockers until he finds the one he's looking for.

Caitlyn's locker.

He scans the area for any sign of Caitlyn, and luckily for him, the coast is clear.

He pulls out the envelopes from his bag, each one slightly crinkled from being stuffed in there. He counts up the total- ten, no, twelve... wait. Fifteen? that's more than he thought, he could have sworn there were less. He dumps all the letters on top of the locker hole.

He looks down at the remaining letter in his hand. Right, that one isn't for her. He sighs and places the letter next to her locker, just like he was told to do.

He gives the locker one last look but doesn't give it a second thought and starts walking away, whistling as he goes.

But... what Ekko didn't know is that instead of placing it into the locker next to it, he accidentally dumped it into 11C, aka, Vi's locker.

—

You wait at the entrance of your school, impatiently bouncing on your feet. Valentine's day is tomorrow, and you can't wait for your crush to read the letter you poured your heart into.

Then, you spot Ekko, and you're quick to greet him. “Hey!” You throw an arm around his shoulders. “So, did you put it in?”

He nods, gesturing to the school doors. “Yeah, I did.”

You sigh, relieved that the letter is in your crush's locker and will likely be seen by them soon. “Thanks.” You give him a squeeze on the shoulder before letting go of him. “I seriously owe you one for this.”

Ekko just brushes you off. “It's nothing.” He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets as you start walking into the courtyard. “Just doing my good deed of the day.”

“Mhm, hopefully tomorrow goes as planned,” you say, “I just hope they like it…”

—

Tomorrow finally comes, and it's the day you've been patiently waiting for. Valentine's day.

You're in your first class, waiting for your teacher to come in. You're distracted, your mind racing with thoughts about what your crush thinks of the letter.

Then, someone suddenly sits next to you, and you turn to look at-

“What the hell?” you blurt out, looking at Vi as she makes herself comfortable in the chair.

Vi smirks. “Hey,” she greets.

That smirk alone pisses you off.

You still haven't gotten over the fact that because of her, your grades had taken a nosedive. The two of you had been paired together in science class, and she'd somehow managed to blow up the experiment, all because she wasn't paying attention.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you snap, glaring at her.

She simply glances at you, then back at the desk she's sitting on. “What do you think? I'm sitting.”

The audacity? 

“I know that, but why are you sitting next to me?”

“Come on, don't act like you don't know.” She throws in a wink, and your disgust quickly multiplies.

“Excuse me?” you sputter, completely caught off guard by her sudden flirtatious behavior.

“You really gonna act like you don't know?"

“No?”

She scoffs and leans towards you, smirk on her lips. “I mean,” she adds, eyeing you up and down, “I thought you'd be... happy... to see me.”

You're stunned, confused, and quite frankly, grossed out. “Happy to—WHY ON EARTH would I be happy to see you?” you spit out.

She huffs and slumps back into the chair. “Oh wow, thanks for the warm welcome.”

“Well, what did you expect? You haven't exactly been... pleasant to be around.”

She narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to reply but stops short as the teacher enters the classroom.

She finally shuts up, and you're left wondering what just happened. Why in the world is someone who is a pain in your butt cheeks suddenly flirting with you? is there something wrong with her? or has she lost her damn mind?

—

It's recess, and you're sitting on the bleachers, waiting for your crush to show up.

Your palms are sweating, you're starting to worry that your armpits are going to start smelling, you're probably going to end up throwing up on someone's shoes.

The letter was probably too much. The words were too romantic. The whole cliché “meet me at the bleachers” thing was just cringe. Who wrote that? oh right... you did.

But even if the outcome isn't what you hope for, at least you've got a good story to tell later or maybe a good reason to drown yourself in ice cream and cheesy rom-com movies.

You look around the bleachers once, twice, three times. You try to avoid glancing at your phone, but the urge to check the time only grows stronger.

It doesn't help that a couple of assholes are sitting a few feet away from you, loudly laughing at some video playing on one of their phones.

Recess is almost over, and your crush is still not here. Where the hell are they?

Maybe they could possibly be in the bathroom, having a nervous breakdown like you were? or maybe they're just taking their sweet time, making sure they're looking perfect?

Or maybe they're not coming at all.

And then you hear footsteps coming your way,

THIS IS IT.

Is your hair okay? yes. Are your teeth brushed? yes, dumbass.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms, trying to calm your racing heart. You turn around, ready to see the face of an angel, the face of a goddamn god-

But instead you see the face of someone you'd rather shove into a brick wall.

Vi.

Why the hell is she... smiling at you?

“Damn, you look good from this angle.” 

WHAT?

Why is this goddamn lesbian here with that stupid smile on her face?

“Why are you here?”

“Isn't it obvious? I'm here to see you.” She pulls out an oddly familiar envelope from her pocket and holds it in her hand, and you realize why it's so familiar.

Wait...  that's your letter!

The one you wrote to your crush. The one that's meant to be in their locker, not in her damn hands.

How the hell did it end up with her?

She looks at the envelope, studying the handwriting on it, and then her eyes lock with yours again. “This is yours, right?”

Your hand quickly snatches the envelope from her hand. “How the fuck did you get that?”

Vi quickly snatches the envelope away, holding it out of your reach. “Whoa, woah, wait-”

“Give me that!” You lunge for the envelope, but she sidesteps you.

Vi laughs, holding the envelope away from you. “Isn't this for me?” She opens the envelope and throws it aside, then pulls out the letter and starts reading it aloud. “Dear... what the hell, how do you... whatever. Dear blah, blah, blah, happy valentine's da-”

“-SHUT UP!” You try to snatch the letter again.

“Hey, I'm not done reading it yet! This is my valentine's gift, after all.”

“That letter is meant for someone else!”

“Really? Then why did I find it in my locker?”

“Wait, what? You found it in—you're joking, right?”

She shakes her head, waving the letter in front of you. “Nope, I'm not joking.”

“How did you-”

“Someone put it in my locker.”

“That's impossible! I would never—I mean to you? there's no way that was meant for you.”

Vi squints at the words in the letter, then looks up at you again. “But this is definitely written in your handwriting, right?”

How did it end up in her locker? and how the hell does she even know what your handwriting looks like?

Your eyes dart from the letter in her hands to her face. Yes, it's definitely your handwriting. Yes, it's definitely the same stupid letter you wrote because you're a hopeless romantic.

“Maybe,” you grumble.

“Maybe? so it is yours?”

You avoid her gaze, avoiding her smug look.

She starts reading over the letter again, reading it aloud. “Meet me at the bleachers, how goddamn cliché-”

“STOP READING IT!”

“Damn, I didn't think you could be this corny.”

“Shut up, just-” You try to snatch the letter out of her hand once again, but she pulls her arm away.

“You wrote this much for someone?”

“Why do you care so damn much, anyway? You didn't get a valentine gift or something?” and now you're just being bitchy as well.

“What are you, ten?” she retorts.

“And what are you, an idiot?”

“I'm not an idiot, unlike you.”

“Oh, wow, are we back in sixth grade now?”

She looks down at the letter. “I'm not the one who wrote a heartfelt letter for someone who probably doesn't even like you.”

“And how the hell would you know?”

“Have you even talked to them before?” She lifts her head, her smirk coming back when you didn't answer. “Since whoever the hell you have a crush on doesn't like you-”

“They could still-”

“See, everyone has a valentine. Well, almost everyone, which means your crush probably got one too.”

“Yeah, 'cause you got that letter they were supposed to receive.”

“Maybe I was meant to have it then.”

“You're seriously that sure that the universe wants you to have this?”

“Maybe it's a sign.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Are you just dumb on purpose?”

She grins. “I'm not doing it on purpose, and maybe it's a sign that I should be your valentine, that the universe is trying to tell you something.”

You roll your eyes. “Wow, so confident. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're actually serious.”

“And what if I am serious?” You look at her blankly as she shrugs. She actually thinks she's funny. “I mean, you don't have a valentine, which does kind of suck, and I don't have one, which is by choice, by the way, so I think the universe is clearly telling us something.”

What the actual hell is wrong with her today? she didn't get enough sleep or something, and now she's acting like... like this? this is weird.

She's being weird. 

“What, is the universe now trying to set us up? really? we're gonna get a movie based off this?”

“Hey, no one said this was a movie, maybe it's just a cute little high school romance,” she argues back. “Plus, you put a lot of work into this letter, and I'd hate for it to go to waste.”

“I'm not in the mood to start a cute little high school romance with you, okay?”

She heaves a dramatic sigh. “Look,” she says, holding up a hand to stop you from replying, “it's valentine's day, right? and we both don't have anyone, so it's just... for today, we can, you know... see what happens, and if it doesn't work out, then we can just leave it alone and go back the way we were.”

You blink slowly. “That sounds worse than your whole ‘the universe wants us together’ bullshit.”

“Wow, don't act like the idea of it is so awful. I mean, I'm not that bad, right?”

You're going to disagree with that with every single cell in your body, but you decide not to, instead, you just remain silent.

Vi seems to take your silence as agreement because she gives you this insufferable smirk like she just won something.

She continues. “It makes sense if you think about it. We're both single, you're already in a lovesick mood because of this,” she gestures at the letter, “so if we do, you know... we can get it out of your system, and you won't have to spend the rest of the school year pining over some person who is probably ignoring you anyway.”

Why is she making some sense? no, why is she sounding like... a good option all of a sudden?

“It's just for today,” she reminds you again. “We'll just see where it goes. Who knows, you might actually have some fun with me.”

This feels like you're cheating on your crush for even entertaining this stupid plan. 

“You're basically saying that we're going to spend one day together and then you'll ditch me?” you retort.

“No, that's not what I'm saying,” she corrects you. “I'm saying we're gonna spend one day together, and if it doesn't work out, then we go our separate ways. It's just one day, it can't hurt. It won't be such a big deal.”

“I'm not going to be your one day entertainment.”

“Who said you'd be my entertainment?” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at you. “You and I both know you have no other options. What're you gonna do instead, go home and cry over this person who doesn't even know you exist, or just spend the day wallowing in self pity while the rest of the school is celebrating love and stuff with their actual valentines?”

You wince at her harsh words because...  she's got a point.

You don't have anyone to spend this day with, and the person you'd want to spend it with will probably spend it with someone else... so yeah, you have no plans, and yeah, you're probably going to just go home and wallow in self pity, wishing that today was over already.

What would happen, actually? if you go along with her stupid plan. You could finally have an escape from pining over your stupid crush who probably doesn't even notice you.

“Fine.” You snatch the letter back from her.

“Wait, what? really?” She's actually surprised. No wonder, she's the one who came up with this stupid plan in the first place.

“I am,” you say, “you don't want me to?”

She huffs out a laugh. “No, no, of course not. I just… didn't expect you to actually agree.”

“And why is that?”

“I don't know, I figured you'd still have a little bit of decency left in you.”

What a backhanded compliment. “I have plenty of decency left in me, it's you who I'd question, and besides... it's just for today.” You fold the letter and shove it into your pocket.

Vi hums, not taking that offense to your comment. “Just today,” she repeats. “Then tomorrow, boom, everything goes back to normal.”

You nod. “Back to normal.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Whoa woah woah. Calm down. “Ew, what?”

“I didn't say I will kiss you,” she points out, “I said I could.”

You could say something mean to her words, you could try to change the subject or you could just walk away and forget this conversation ever happened.

But what you actually say is, “What's stopping you then?”

You hate how that sounds so casual. It wasn't meant to come out like that. What the hell?

You're not entirely sure, but something is definitely encouraging you to keep this going. Is it because you find everything she does annoying or that you've been pent-up over your stupid crush lately and you need to get it out of your system?

Vi raises an eyebrow at your words. “You want me to kiss you?” The words drip out of her mouth, like honey on a spoon.

“No,” you reply on instinct, because of course not.

But you can't stop the way your eyes flicker down to look at her lips. You look back at her face, and you know damn well she saw you look down at her lips, but she doesn't say anything about it.

“So now that it's official... you're my valentine, and today, we're going to have the shittiest, most awesome date-” she coughs, “-i mean hangout, that you'll ever have.”

“I doubt it.”

“Hey,” she says, “don't underestimate me, okay? I know how to have a good time,” and then she, god help you, she winks at you.

She looks like she's about to say something more, but she stops when the bell rings.

“Meet me at the parking lot after class?” she asks.

You find yourself nodding. “Yeah, sure.” You look at the field for a second and then look back, just so you can catch her reaction—and it's not at all what you were expecting. She's...  blushing?

It's subtle, more subtle than you'd think, but her cheeks are definitely red, and when she realizes you notice her, she looks away.

She looks embarrassed.

She's embarrassed?

“Anyway, see you there... valentine.” She doesn't look at you. “Try not to miss me too much.”

What? miss her? She sounds like she's trying to joke about it, but something about the way she says it sounds sincere? What the fuck?

She starts to walk away. You're pretty sure you see another smile on her face, and if you didn't like her so much, you'd probably like how she looks when she does.

But you remind yourself, this is Vi.

The same Vi you've known for years, the same Vi who made your grades worse because of a stupid experiment, the same Vi who you'd probably love to throw out the nearest window if you could, and the same Vi you can't stand.

You force yourself to turn away, and you start to walk back to the school building. You try to push the image of her stupid blushing face and her stupid pretty smile out of your brain because you are not... going to make the mistake of being attracted to her.

—

Time passes by more slowly than a snail.

What's the saying...? ‘A watched pot never boils?’ You're pretty sure you could watch paint dry, and it would move at a faster pace.

Why is time passing so slowly today?

You're not sure if it's because you have this... ‘hangout’ to expect at the end of the day or if it's because you keep getting distracted by the thoughts of what is going to happen later.

What you do know is that you end up spacing out way too much more than a person should.

Thankfully, you don't have any homework, but your notes for the day are just absolutely horrible, a mindless mess of scribbles and pointless words. You're definitely going to regret this later.

The last bell mercifully rings just as you're in the middle of doodling a small sketch of Vi's face in the corner of your notes.

You quickly shut your notebook and stuffed everything into your bag.

You need to find your goddamn common sense first, but it seems to have left the room before you could.

The hallway is a goddamn mess.

Kids are running everywhere in the halls, screaming loud as hell, some girl is trying to stuff her locker to the point where it's going to explode, and some kid has got a goddamn boombox and is blasting music from it. There's the hallway drama that everyone loves listening to even though they should be minding their own business.

Seriously, it feels like you're in the middle of a goddamn jungle with the amount of people screaming.

Walking to the parking lot takes longer than it usually would. When you get there, you see a familiar head of pink hair leaning against a red motor, scrolling through something on her phone.

She hasn't noticed you yet, and you find yourself unable to move your feet for a second.

She's just leaning back against the motorcycle, lazily swiping through something on her phone. She's even biting her lower lip slightly, and for some reason, you really don't know why that's such a good look on her.

Okay, what?

You need to stop letting your brain run away with these thoughts.

You are not going to act like a middle school idiot who just got caught looking at her crush or something. You're an intelligent, mature human being. You're definitely not some dumb kid with an embarrassing crush either. Definitely not.

The sunlight makes her glow, and when she looks up from her phone, you feel you're hit with a wave of goddamn sun poisoning because the sunlight hitting her eyes makes them shine.

She looks over and sees you, shoving her phone into her pocket. She gestures you over with a slight jerk of her head.

You force your feet to start cooperating and get your ass over there.

“Glad you came.” 

What kind of response would even be the right one for that? “Me too” would sound too enthusiastic. “Yep” sounds so disinterested, like you'd rather be anywhere else than here, when that might be partially true, but you're not trying to sound like a dick. “Same here” sounds like such a sarcastic tone, and “Of course I'm here, you're the one who forced me into this” would sound too rude.

Instead, you just say nothing, which she notices, of course.

“What, no smart shits today?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you mutter as you turn your attention to the red motor behind her. You notice the scuffed up leather seat and the worn tires.

You then glance around the parking lot, wondering how many times you've seen this before. The motorcyclist who's always late to class, the seniors who smoke too much and are always ditching school, the students with cars who love to show off the brand new car their parents gave them, and the popular girls gossiping about some poor girl who can't afford nice clothes.

The sound of a motorcycle engine starting snaps you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see Vi getting onto the motorcycle

She pats the back seat behind her. “You getting on or what?”

“...is it like fast?”

“Is it like fast?"” she mimics in a childish tone before rolling her eyes. “Yeah, it's fast. Get on it and find out.”

“I just asked a question, no need to be a dick.”

“Are you always this bitchy?” she asks, then throws you a helmet. “Put this on.”

You catch the helmet, and you put it on. “Only around you.” You approach the motor and try not to comment on the poor condition and instead climb on behind her.

You have no idea what to do with your legs, so for a few seconds, you just awkwardly sit behind her, trying to position yourself like riding a horse.

“Are you gonna hold on?” Vi calls out.

“Hold on to what?”

“Me, dumbass. Grab my waist.”

“Hell no.”

“It's for your own safety.”

“I'm fine,” you shift around, trying to find a comfortable position.

Vi seems to start losing her patience with you. “If you want to fall off the bike mid ride and splatter onto someone's yard like a squashed bug, be my guest.”

That gets you to hold onto her waist out of pure spite.

“Just don't squeeze my abs too tight. I still need air.”

You scoff. “Who the hell is so narcissistic that they think something as simple as that would affect me?”

She huffs, amused by your snark, and puts on her own helmet. “It's not narcissism. It's just a joke,” she retorts. 

You scoff again, but your hand tightens around her waist reflexively.

She chuckles. “Knew you couldn't resist.”

You pinch her waist. “Just shut up and drive.”

She snorts. “Touchy, aren't we?”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply sarcastically, pinching her waist again.

“Hey!” she exclaims, then sighs. “Okay, fine. I'll stop, just stop it.”

She starts the motor, and the hum of the engine vibrates throughout your body. It's louder being sat on top of the thing compared to how it sounds when you're on the ground. You feel this rumble throughout your chest, and you really want to comment on the poor thing making that much noise.

“Just hold on tight.”

—

“FUCK YEAH! WOOO!” you shout, punching the air with your fist and standing up. It's hockey, but who cares? you're not a fan, not in the slightest, but you're still screaming and cheering, all in a bid to support the team.

Vi is right beside you, shouting as well, while she eats a hot dog and washes it down with soda. “I thought you hated hockey!” she shouts over the crowd's cheers.

You shrug, but it's impossible to respond. You can't hear each other over the sound of the audience's cheers.

A few of the people sitting in the same section as you give you some weird looks, like you suddenly went insane. Well, can you really blame them? it probably looks like you have the sudden urge to yell random things for no reason.

Vi is the only one who doesn't look at you like you're some lunatic, her gaze is focused on the game, all while cheering, and occasionally making comments about the players.

It's different compared to watching it on TV. You're actually there, in person, surrounded by people who share your excitement and are as loud as you or louder.

You're also next to the most annoying person ever, but you don't want to dwell on that.

You drop down, back into your seat, and lean back, stretching your legs out. Your thighs and legs are starting to feel like jelly from all that screaming and standing. “Damn,” you tell her, shaking your legs. “I think I just strained a muscle or something.”

Vi laughs and sits down on her seat. “You know, I've been around here for years now. I probably know some people here.” She glances around the crowd of people, scanning them like she's trying to find someone in particular.

“Oh yeah? who's that in the third row then?”

She follows the direction of your finger and immediately points at a random person. “That's Fred! I once went to elementary with him.”

You have no idea if she's making that up or not. “And what about the guy next to him with the big hat?”

Vi squints at the section you pointed at. “That's George.” She then points at a girl with a black jacket. “That's Sneha,” she pauses, her eyes catching someone in the distance, “and oh-” her hand abruptly changes direction, pointing forward, “-that's Jenny,” she says, waving her hand. “Yo, Jen!”

The old lady turns around and nods her greeting. “Hi sweetheart, how's it going?”

“Doing good, gramps. Just watching the game with this one.” She nudges at you.

The old lady turns to look at you, her face taking the form of a smile. “Ah, a girlfriend, I see.”

Girlfriend? What's she talking about? “Um, no. Just a friend.”

Vi's eyebrows rise as her whole mouth goes ajar. “Friend?” she repeats, “We're friends now?”

“Only for today. Don't get used to the idea.”

The old lady hums. “Is that so? well, enjoy the game, children.”

“Yeah, yeah, we will,” Vi responds to the old lady, and once the lady turns back to watch the game, she leans in close, bumping her shoulder into yours. “That's Jen. She's basically the team's grandma,” Vi explains. “She's been here for years, goes to almost every game.”

You watch the lady continue to watch the game. “So she's like a regular here.”

“Yeah, sometimes she talks about how things were better in ‘her day.’”

“You two seem close though,” you point out.

“She's old and friendly,” she says, scratching her cheek. “Plus, old ladies are always fond of me. I helped her one time with her groceries after one game, and now she thinks I'm a sweetheart.” Vi shrugs, taking another bite of her hotdog. “She's also a nice lady. Always has candy and stuff to give out to everyone.”

“Candy, huh?”

“Yep,” she swallows and smacks her lips to get any food out from her mouth. “She always has peppermint discs, peppermint sticks, and chocolate sticks in her bag.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Why does she have candy anyway?”

Vi takes another bite. “Just something she likes to give out,” she says, between chews, then points at the old lady's lap. “That blue thing she's knitting is actually a hat. She likes to give that out too.”

“Really?”

Vi shrugs again, eating yet another mouthful of her food, still somehow managing to speak at the same time. “Yeah, and don't be fooled by the knitting and the candy. She could beat you in a game of arm wrestling. She's still really buff.”

You nod silently, impressed with this old lady.

When Vi swallows the last bit of her hotdog, she pulls out her phone and points it at you. “I'm gonna take a picture of you... and put it on Tinder.” The second the camera's click sounds off, it takes everything in you to not grab her phone and throw it across the goddamn stadium.

She continues taking pictures, each time saying something different, like, “Look at this one,” or “This one's really good.” She holds up the phone, showing you a picture that's... actually not half bad.  But you know giving her that reaction would just fuel her to do more, so instead, you scoff.

You turn your attention back to the stadium, trying to ignore whatever she's doing beside you. You look around. There are a surprising amount of men, guys, dudes, bros, etc. It's like they outnumber the women.

“There's a lot of dudes in here,” you comment. “Is it a testosterone fest over here, or what?”

Vi looks around as well. “Yep.”

“Do you think any of these guys like girls who love sports?”

Vi snorts. “Nah,” she replies, shoving her phone back into her pocket. “They're more interested in a girl who looks good in a jersey and knows how to bring them a cold beer.”

“So… basically they're only interested if we look cute and we don't open our mouths?”

“Pretty much.”

You groan. “I hate guys like that.”

“Hey, some guys aren't that bad,” she remarks.

“Yeah, and they're the ones in relationships.”

She thinks about it for a moment. “You know… I'm surprised you're not in a relationship.”

You give her a weird look. “Why?”

“Well, you're... y'know… cute.”

Is that a compliment or a fact? you are cute, you're aware of that, but still, it's weird how she said it and... did it look like there was a hint of something else in her tone of voice when she said that?

You force a smile, trying to brush it off. “Thanks.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, a silence you really want to fill with literally anything else than this weird awkwardness.

Just when the awkward silence couldn't possibly get more awkward, a sudden cheer from the crowd interrupts your thoughts. They're all looking up at something on top of the stadium. You furrow your brows before looking up, trying to see what it is they're looking at.

Your eyes land on the huge TV that's attached to the ceiling, and you see the words ‘KISSING CAM’ flashing in bright letters. The camera pans through the crowd, searching for a couple, and it lands on a couple who's sitting not too far from you.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” You look over at Vi and see her cupping her hands over her mouth. She's standing up and shouting at the couple to kiss.

You watch as the girl looks up and sees the camera pointed towards her and her boyfriend. She whispers something to him, and it doesn't take a genius to know what she just said. The guy grins and leans in, giving his girlfriend a sloppy, wet kiss.

The crowd goes crazy, cheering and whistling. The couple pulls away from each other, both of them smiling.

You look at Vi again, who's still standing up. She seems to be enjoying this a lot more than you are, and you can see hearts in her eyes.

Once it seems like the camera has recorded enough footage, it moves to the next couple.

It goes to a couple sitting not too far away from you. The guy looks uncomfortable, but his girlfriend is completely eager to show some public affection. She grabs his chin and kisses him, but it’s only a quick, chaste kiss.

Vi yells out, “Come on, put some effort into it!” and then she sits down, leaning back in the chair.

The camera pans through the crowd again, skipping over several couples until finally landing on a group of guys. They look like they're having the time of their life, yelling at the camera and making rude gestures.

“Ah, boys…” an older man next to you sighs.

The camera captures the guys for a while, they're all laughing and having a good time.

The camera moves away from the group of guys and lands on Vi and a girl sitting right next to her. 

Vi immediately makes some hand gestures, shaking her head and probably saying no. “We're not-” but before she can finish, the camera moves away from them, unsatisfied with this answer, and lands on the other girl sitting next to Vi.

You.

Fuck.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” you hear someone, it sounds like the same person who cheered on the other couples.

You look over at Vi, who's watching you with this stupid smile on her face. You glare at her, she's clearly enjoying this way too much.

You lean over to her, through clenched teeth, you hiss, “This isn't funny.”

She shrugs, still smiling. “I think it is.”

“Well, I don't.” 

“It's only a kiss.”

“It’s still embarrassing.”

“Oh come on, it's Valentine's Day!” she replies. “What? are you worried that you'll suck at kissing or something?”

“Excuse me? I am an excellent kisser.”

“Oh yeah?” She quirks an eyebrow. “Then why are you so worried about this? it won't be some gross open mouth kiss, it'll be just a little peck.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Because I don't want to be seen kissing in public, in front of hundreds of people,” you say, lowering your voice, “And I definitely do not want to kiss you.”

“Come on, you don't have to sound so disgusted by the idea of kissing me.”

“Because I am,” you say simply. “I don't want to kiss you anymore than you'd want to kiss me.”

“I never said I didn't want to kiss you.”

That statement takes you by surprise, you had just assumed that she would be grossed out by the thought of kissing you.

The chants start to get louder as more and more people join in. “KISS! KISS! KISS!”

You hear the same guy from before. “Kiss! c'mon! it's just a quick kiss, do it.”

You hear another girl from behind you. “Oh, come on! one little kiss! what's the big deal?”

It's no big deal. 

But at the same time, you're starting to panic. You don't even know how to act right now, are you supposed to play along with this? are you supposed to ignore it? what the hell is happening?!

Your brain is starting to mush into mush because why are so many people chanting? why are they making such a big deal out of this? it's just a kiss, right? right… so why are you so nervous?

You turn your head to see Vi looking at you, her eyes staring into your soul.

“A kiss on the cheek will do,” she says aloud.

You're going to die.

Your heart is going to explode right here, in the middle of the stadium, and then your guts are going to spill out right in front of everybody.

Maybe it's best just to get this over with?

All you have to do is... just a kiss on the cheek. That's it.

You just have to get it over with before this turns into something bigger.

You're not really gonna enjoy this, you'd just get the feeling like you should have brushed your teeth harder in the morning.

Vi's not even attractive in the way that you would want to kiss her cheek, her skin probably sucks from waking up in the mornings, there's no way she remembers to wash her hair at least three times a week. What about her breath? There is no way that she actually brushes her teeth every day. Her breath probably tastes like stale cheetos and mountain dew. There is no way you're gonna get a single bit of pleasure from kissing her cheek.

But you do it anyway.

You press a kiss on her cheek, and it's... warm, and they burn under your lips. The smell of her body spray isn't overwhelming. It's subtle and pleasant. Her hair isn't as greasy as you imagined, and it feels kinda nice when your fingers brush against the side of her face. Her breath doesn't even smell like mountain dew and cheetos, it's actually minty and fresh, like she just ate a pack of gum.

You pull your face away before you let your brain get to you, but you just keep looking at her face because there is this huge grin plastered on her face that makes your heart beat faster. Her cheeks look red, and the tips of her ears are even red too.

The crowd goes nuts. You can barely hear the music or the announcers over the chanting. The kiss had lasted all but a few seconds, but the feeling on your lips linger.

You're both looking at each other like you've just seen each other for the very first time.

She's actually gorgeous.

How is it possible that you only now realized how beautiful she looks?

You look away, but even in your peripheral vision, you can see her looking at you. There's still a stupid grin on her face, and she looks happy.

She's actually happy that you kissed her on the cheek.

—

You and Vi are sitting in the parking lot after the game ends. Vi had bought some $5 pizza, but since the place is packed, you're now sitting in the parking lot with Vi's motorcycle parked behind you.

“I'm gonna be honest,” Vi starts, her face twisted up as she chews on a slice of pizza. “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

You hum, nodding along.

Vi takes another bite, a big one, and chews on it, her cheeks stuffed. She swallows and sighs contently. “Man, I should have bought two boxes,” she grumbles, looking down at the one last slice left in the box. Then, she looks up, straight at you, and grins. “You want the last slice?” she offers, holding up the box with the slice still left in it.

You shake your head, and she looks at you with skepticism. “Are you sure you don't want it?”

“I had three slices already, I'm fine.”

Vi looks at the slice of pizza that's still in the box, then at you. She looks like she's considering something, then shrugs and pops the slice into her mouth. “Suit yourself,” she says, the words garbled since her mouth is still full of food.

Something about this moment feels... comfortable. Strangely comfortable.

It's weird. You don't understand why you don't feel threatened or uncomfortable or annoyed or any of those things, even though she's sitting right next to you.

But, oddly enough, you feel safe.

Or maybe that's just because you can't think of anything to say.

Or maybe it's because the silence isn't awkward.

Or maybe it's because you're distracted by the way she seems to enjoy her food.

Because... it's so... weirdly satisfying, watching her chew her food, watching her swallow, watching her use the back of her hand to wipe off the sauce on her chin.

You have no idea why you're paying attention to those little details.

But... you are.

You're not sure when you started paying attention to those.

You're not sure why you feel so comfortable around her right now.

You're not sure of a lot of things, actually.

You're not sure how to feel at the moment, or when your dislike of her had dwindled down to... whatever the hell this is, to whatever this weird, unfamiliar feeling in your chest is.

You're not sure why the corners of your lips keep trying to twitch upwards every time she makes some stupid face.

You're not sure why you're fine sitting in the freezing cold of the parking lot. Not even on the motorcycle, but on the cold ass ground, just sitting behind the motor, back leaned against it.

You're just fine sitting here, and you're just fine knowing that after this, you'll have to go back home and deal with a bunch of bullshit again.

You don't get it.

What changed?

She used to get on your nerves, and you used to get on hers.

She's still the same, isn't she?

And you're still the same.

Everything, suddenly, feels... different.

The air feels different, the atmosphere feels different, the whole world feels different.

The only thing that hasn't changed is her.

Well, no, that’s a lie.

She has changed.

She feels different.

She's not the same girl you can't stand.

And you're not the same girl she can't stand.

Everything is just different.

Maybe the two of you had changed.

But you're not sure how.

You're not even sure when you started noticing it.

But those little details about her, those little behaviors and quirks and habits that you used to find irritating and annoying… they're not bothering you anymore.

She's still a pain in the ass, but she's... well, a tolerable one.

For now.

You don't understand.

Or, rather, you won't allow yourself, at least not yet.

Because you're not sure how to process everything.

And, honestly, you're afraid to even try.

You look at her, still eating on the slice of pizza, and there's a small smear of sauce on the corner of her mouth. “You've got something on your face.”

She tilts her head. “I do? Where?”

Your eyes slowly move down, from her eyes to her nose, and then... her lips. Then, you notice something... freckles. She has freckles. little ones, spread across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and they're… really cute, really, really-

What in ever loving hell are you thinking?

“Hello? you alive over there?”

You snap out of it. You're not about to let her see you be weak just because she happens to have a pretty face. “You had something right… here,” before she can respond, you raise your hand, reaching for her cheek. You wipe the sauce off the corner of her mouth with your thumb. Your thumb accidentally brushes against her lower lip, and something in your chest twitches. 

Vi freezes, her eyes widening as you touch her lips.

Everything feels... slower.

You can hear the sound of her breathing as she exhales, how it hitches when you brush your thumb along her lower lip.

You don't know how, or when, but you find yourself leaning closer to her, your hand still cupped on her cheek.

Her gaze flicks to your lips, her own parting slightly.

...

Holy shit.

You snatch your hand away, realizing what you just did.

Damn it, what the fuck?

You quickly stand up, trying to regain your composure. “I-” Your voice comes out as a croak. You clear your throat, trying to sound normal. “I should... get home. I think it's getting late.”

Vi is still sitting on the ground, and then she shakes her head, as if waking herself up. “...right. Yeah, it is getting late.” She slowly stands up.

“I... umm…” you start awkwardly. “I should-”

“I'll... drive you home,” she interrupts whatever you were about to say. 

Your head snaps up, surprised by the offer. “What? You don't have to-”

“I want to.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, so you shut your mouth. You don't want to prolong this weird, confusing moment anyway.

—

Vi's motorcycle comes to a stop in front of your house. The engine making that clunky, sputtering sound before it finally dies.

“We're here,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence that has been between the two of you since you got on the motorcycle.

You manage to finally slide off the motorcycle, but unfortunately, you're still attached to the helmet. You attempt to unbuckle the chin strap, but the damn thing seems to be glued to your head.

“Ugh, this piece of crap,” you mutter, struggling with it.

“Here, let me-” she cuts in, reaching for the straps.

“No, I got it,” you insist.

“I know you can, but let me.” 

You glare at her, feeling stubborn, but it's not like you're getting anywhere. “Fine.” You let your hands fall to your sides as she reaches for the straps.

She unbuckles it with ease, finally freeing your head from its confines.

You take the helmet off and give it to her, trying to not make eye contact. “Thanks.”

There's a moment of what could be an awkward silence before you both speak at the same time.

“So-”

“I-”

You cough awkwardly. “Go ahead.”

“No, you can speak first-”

“No, no, I insist. Go ahead-”

“I'm fine-”

“Stop being stubborn-”

“Says you-”

“Yeah, I am stubborn-"

“Shut up-”

“Make me-”

What did she say? Was that... an invitation?

“Are you challenging me-”

She snorts. “Pfft, no, that-”

“Then why would you say something like that?”

“I don't know, thought it'd be funny.”

“It wasn't.”

“It was a little funny.”

“No, it wasn't,” you scoff. “Whatever. You were saying?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, shifting on the motorcycle. “I just wanted to say…” Her gaze shifts from you to the side, then back to you. “I just wanted to... say that I had... fun today. Yeah…” She shrugs. “What about you? what were you sayin'?”

Huh. “I guess it wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

“Wow,” she says, deadpan. “So glad you're not completely miserable being around me.”

“Don't get your hopes up too high, it's just for today, remember?” you remind her.

“Yeah, I remember, I'm not an idiot.”

“Could have fooled me,” you retort, and a smirk makes its way to your face.

“Watch it,” she warns, the corners of her mouth curving upwards. “I'm only tolerating you today.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you quip back.

The two of you share a look and then start laughing. You're glad she's starting to loosen up a little.

“Alright alright, truce?” She holds out her fist.

You roll your eyes but bump your fist with hers anyway. “Truce.” 

There's another silence, but it doesn't feel... awkward like the last ones.

Then, she speaks up, “Well... I guess I should go.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “I guess you should.”

“See you at school, then?”

“Unfortunately,” you grumble. You take a step back, getting ready to turn around and head to the front door.

“Hey,” she suddenly says.

You glance back at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Can I…” she starts, then hesitates, “...can I ask you something?”

You shrug. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Just... promise me you won't be mad,” she hedges, not quite looking at you directly.

“I'm not promising anything-”

“Just... humor me.”

“Fine. I promise I won't get mad.”

She takes a deep breath. “Do... do you… do you actually hate me?” You're silent for a moment, trying to find the words, but she starts backpedaling. “Ugh, never mind, I shouldn't have asked, forget it, it doesn't matter-”

“No, no-" you interject, “I don't- I don't hate you.”

“You don't?”

“No... I don't hate you.”

“You sure?” she presses, leaning forward on the motorcycle, resting her arms on the handlebars. “Then why are you always so pissy whenever you're around me?”

“I dont-” you start, then stop. “I'm not-” you start again and stop again. “Remember that time in science lab?”

“When we lit the bunsen burner, the table caught on fire, we got three detentions, and everyone thought we were going to be expelled?” she recalls.

“Yes… that time.”

“Seriously? that was months ago.”

“I never said I was the most forgiving person.”

“It was a mistake,” she points out. “I didn't mean to do it, I was just being stupid.”

“It was still your fault. You didn't look at the instructions.”

“I was distracted,” she counters.

“By what, your big brain? cause you definitely weren't paying attention to the experiment instructions.”

She looks away, shifting uncomfortably on her motorcycle. “Actually, I was distracted by something…” her eyes return to yours, “-someone.”

“You're making it sound like it was a person you were crushing on or something.”

She falls silent, looking away again.

Wait.

Hold on.

What?

“Wait—wait a minute,” you demand, walking closer to her.

“What?”

“You were being distracted because you were crushing on someone during the science lab? That was the reason that whole thing happened? You couldn't keep yourself from being distracted because you were crushing on someone?”

“That's not fair to say,” she protests.

“Not fair to say?” you repeat, scoffing. “I literally got three detentions because you were more interested in staring at someone-”

“Fine! Whatever. Maybe I was distracted, maybe I wasn't paying attention-” she admits defensively “-maybe I was looking at-” she cuts herself off again. “Whatever, I'm going home.” She starts her motorcycle, not glancing at you.

“Hey-” you reach out, grabbing her arm. “Wait.”

“What do you want?”

“What was that person's name?”

“What does it matter?”

“Cause, I have a hunch.”

“Care to share this hunch with me?”

“Uh, Caitlyn Kiramman…?”

She snaps her head to you, eyes tracing up and down. “Are you actually this clueless?” she sneers, then drives away, leaving you alone on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” you shout. “Seriously, what is your problem?” you call out after her. “We were having a decent conversation, why did you-”

Suddenly, she stops, braking abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk with a quick skid. Before you can say, or think, she has her motorcycle facing you once again. She swings her leg over and hops off, walking up to you with a determined look.

“You want to know my problem?” she asks, coming closer. “I'll tell you my problem.” She grabs your shoulders, forcing you to step back. “My problem is that it's been years. Years, and you still have no idea, do you? you're still just as clueless as always.”

“What are you-” you stumble, struggling to keep your footing. Her hands are tight around your shoulders, holding you in place.

“You keep saying I'm the one who causes trouble, I'm the one who always makes your life harder-” she continues. “But you-”

You manage to find your footing and look at her face.

“-don't seem to get that you're just as guilty of making my life miserable.”

“Vi-” you start, but she doesn't let you finish.

“Every time you smile at me, every time you look at me, every time you talk to me.” She shakes you. “Every time you do something stupid, which is all the goddamn time,” she spits. “You don't seem to get that it drives me insane.” She huffs, letting go of you. “I've been right in front of you this whole damn time, and you just didn't even-”

“Didn't what?”

“You had no idea, did you? You don't understand why I’m so damn irritable whenever I'm with you, you don't get why I'm always trying to pick fights, why I can't just be civil, why I can't just be normal around you… you just think I'm a jerk!”

“Well, maybe you are. You did just grab me like a fucking maniac.”

“Oh, shut up,” Vi snaps. “Just shut up for a second.”

You shut up.

She takes a deep breath. “You think I enjoy this?” she asks, and the question sounds genuine enough that you regret the ‘maybe you are’ comment.

She scoffs. “I don't. I wish more than anything that I could just be calm and civil and… and nice around you. But instead, I'm always getting into your face, I'm always picking at you, I'm always trying to piss you off, because it's the only goddamn way I can get your attention.”

“Any time I try to be normal around you,” she continues, “I get... I get ignored. You act like I'm not even there. But the second I get in your face, the second I do something stupid or obnoxious-” she gestures at herself, “-suddenly, you're right there. You're looking right at me, you're talking to me, for once, you're actually paying attention to me-”

“Why do you even care about my attention?!” You don't mean for it to come out as angry as it does, but the pure confusion you feel causes you to raise your voice.

Vi looks away, a frown twisting her lips, before she snaps her gaze back to you. She sounds oddly embarrassed when she speaks. “Maybe because I'm completely, miserably, head over heels in love with you, okay?!”

Wait... what the actual fuck?

Vi looks away, the words leaving her in a rush. “I'm in love with you,” she repeats, quieter and slower. “There's no maybe about it. I've literally been in love with you since middle school.”

“So, instead... instead of just telling me,” you start, “you... you decided to be a jerk to me for the past six years?!”

“I was twelve!” Now her attention is fully on you as she gestures at herself. “I was a dumb kid, I didn't know what to do, but I was desperate for you to notice me. Every time I tried being nice, I got ignored, so... I guess I decided that if you weren't going to notice me in a good way, then I was just gonna piss you off and make you notice me in a bad way.”

“And then, I just kept doing it,” she continues, “because then, you would notice me, and you'd talk to me, and at least you weren't ignoring me. It became a habit. It was the same damn cycle every day. So, you know, I'm sorry if I don't suddenly know how to behave like a normal goddamn human being around you.”

She looks at you defiantly, she's expecting a fight, an argument, and the last thing she expects is for you to... laugh

You laugh. You don't laugh because you think it's funny, you laugh because you're so unbelievably shocked and overwhelmed that the only thing you can do is laugh. You try to cover it up, you try to muffle your laugh by bringing your hand to your mouth, but it's too late, you've already laughed.

“Why are you laughing?” she asks. “I'm being serious, okay? this isn't a joke, it's not some sort of prank. I am dead serious—I just confessed to you, and you start laughing? Jesus, you're actually heartless, you-”

You manage to get your laughter under control, your body still shaking with a few silent chuckles, but you manage to speak in between your breaths. “You have the worst-” and another chuckle, “-worst timing, I swear to god.”

“Oh I'm so sorry that my confession didn't please all of your fucking needs,” Vi says sarcastically, “but I've spent god knows how long in love with you, and I just had to take my shot. And what are you doing? You're laughing at me. Because your pride can't stand-”

“Would you shut up for like two seconds?!” you snap, cutting off her rant in an instant. “I'm not laughing because you confessed to me, okay?!”

“Then why are you laughing, huh? why is this so funny to you? because I don't find it very funny-”

“Because-” you sigh, and you're actually surprised by how... nervous you suddenly feel. “I never expected this, okay? I never expected you to actually... feel that type of way about me, and to top that, you're confessing to me in the stupidest way possible.”

“I didn't plan on confessing to you at all!” she protests. “It just... kind of happened. Plus, you've never been too keen on me.”

“I-” you begin because 'not keen on you' feels like an understatement. You've never liked her, or rather you've never let yourself even consider her as an option because your heart was set on one person only. “I just need some time to... process this.”

Vi scoffs, her face looking annoyed again. “You need time to process this? what's there to process? I just told you how I feel about you.”

“Yeah, well, I need to process that! Because you just dumped a lot of information on me, and right now I'm-” You pause, trying to pick just the right word. “...overwhelmed, okay?”

Vi's features soften, not quite fully, but just enough to show a little bit of sympathy. “Overwhelmed,” she repeats.

“Yeah…” you reply, “I mean... you just confessed to me, and I... I've never-” you gulp. “-I've never really thought of you... that way.”

“Never thought of me, or never let yourself think of me?”

Okay, woah, that's... a very accurate question.

She's right, and it's scary that she just pointed that out.

Maybe in the back of your head, you've wondered things, you've had thoughts, but it was all so brief, you've always been quick to brush them away. It never even crossed your mind that maybe you had been missing out on something.

You're not sure how to reply, and it gives Vi a chance to continue talking.

“You never let yourself think of me like that, huh?” she continues, “That's pretty sad, because I've literally been in love with you for the past six years.”

“Don't guilt trip me,” you snap. “It's not like I asked you to fall in love with me, is it?”

“I'm not guilt tripping you. I'm just trying to get you to understand how I feel. I'm just trying to make you see that I...care about you, okay? I'm not trying to—ugh!” She groans, rubbing a hand over her face. “I'm screwing this up, I'm screwing everything up, because apparently I suck at confessing and you… you mess with my head.”

“I mess with your head?” you repeat. “You're the one who's messing with my head! You're the one who's messing with my emotions, you—you just turned my entire life upside down, and you expect me to respond to it perfectly?!”

“Not perfectly!” she retorts. “You're seriously not getting it, are you? All I want is for you to-”

“What do you want then? you want me to say that I feel the same way about you? that I've secretly been in love with you for years and never said anything?”

“No, that's not what I— that's not what I want you to say at all!” She runs her fingers through her hair and pushes it out of her face because the haircut she has gets everywhere. “All I want you to say is that you'll even consider me as an option! I just want you to give me a chance. Is that so much for me to ask for?”

You groan to yourself. “Look, if you like me that much, then maybe you should at least make an effort… and then maybe... I'll give you a chance!” With that, you walk towards the front door.

Vi doesn't respond, not immediately, she just stands there watching you leave, a stunned look on her face. But she manages to shake herself out of that stupor in time to follow you.

“Are you serious...?"

“You want me? You gotta work for it,” you respond without slowing your footsteps.

“Woah woah woah, what? work for it?” she sputters, trying to keep up with you. “What more do you want from me?”

“I want-” You stop in front of the door, suddenly turning around to her. “-I want you to prove how serious you are. Just confessing to me isn't going to change everything, and if you're being serious,” you jab a finger to her chest, “then prove it.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to prove myself, huh? Please, tell me, because I'm really at a loss here.”

“I don't know, figure it out.” You shrug. “You claim to be in love with me, right? and if that really were the case, then you have six whole years worth of feelings inside that-” you point at her “-that heart of yours, and you better damn use it.”

“Fine,” she says, and her tone is determined. “You want me to prove it? I'll prove it. I'll prove it so much, you're going to be drowning in how much I prove it. I'm going to do everything just to win your heart. Just watch.”

That sounds cheesy, but... you'd be lying if you said you weren't intrigued. You scoff, turning around and opening the door, but not before saying, “We'll see about that.”

—

Vi stares at the closed door, her thoughts completely occupied with your words.

Prove it.

She shakes her head, a grin on her face as she walks back to her motor.

You and her have had a rocky past, but she's determined to wipe the slate clean.

Vi swings her leg over her motor. She grips the handles tightly and starts the ignition.

She's going to start from the ground zero with you.

And by god, she will prove herself.

[moon-ttokki-x]

Hey, how are you? May I ask for stray kids 9th member being a poliglot?

this was a cool request, ngl . . . i didn't do a traditional fic bc i like this format a lot, and plus, it's cuter that way >< also can we just appreciate the pretty purple theme guys

skz x 9th member!reader who can speak multiple languages

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member polyglot!reader

summary: skz with a 9th member who is a polyglot.

genre: extremely fluffy, very cute stuff, pretty soft, some member x reader stuff, chaotic skz, naughty minho and maknaes, leader chan agenda, romantic hyune, reader who can read, write, and speak multiple different languages

a/n: interesting request . . . divider by @chachachannah

skz masterlist

Chan who wants you to teach him how to say lovely little phrases like 'i love you' and 'you are the light of my life' in different languages, asking you cutely with the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. He goes around saying them to the other members, who don't understand what language he's talking in, and ignore him. But it doesn't matter, because now he feels like he has a little part of you with him wherever he goes. Is always fascinated as he watches you change languages in the blink of an eye. Makes a sweet sentence in one of your languages his bubble caption.

Minho who, on the other hand, asks you to teach him the dirtiest, filthiest phrases you can think of. They're too graphic to be put here, but some of the milder phrases include 'fuck you' and 'i hope you swallow spiders in your sleep'. Like Chan, he also goes around telling the members these sentences and grins the biggest you've ever seen because now he can swear without being caught. Sometimes does it on stage too, but really quietly just in case there's a couple Stays who actually understand what he's saying.

Changbin who watches in awe as you seamlessly transition between being on the phone, writing things down, and chatting with someone all at once while swapping languages. His head hurts after and he watches you quietly as you go about your usual business, not quite understanding how you do it. He learnt English with some a lot of difficulty, so he's stupefied by the fact that you've learnt not one but multiple languages, and can speak them all fluently. Always asking what you said after you switch back to a language he can understand.

Hyunjin who thinks up the cutest, sweetest, most romantic phrases on a whim, and after he asks how to say them in a language. So you tell him, thinking he's just curious. A few weeks later, you find a painting in your bedroom, a vase of your birth flowers and one of the phrases painted delicately in black across the bottom. He always asks what certain words mean, and asks you to translate random sentences. Has the biggest shine in his eyes as you sit down with him and tell him what all of the words mean, and how to say them. Stumbles through pronunciation but it's cute, so you kiss him as a reward.

Han who also asks what certain words mean, but more often than not, has a translating app open on his phone so he can find out for himself. Spends hours in secret trying to learn sentences by himself, and records himself saying the lines so he can check if he's saying them correctly. Like Changbin, is fascinated when you can switch languages just like that. Once said a rude phrase in front of his hyungs and got scolded because Chan actually understood what it meant (somehow). Got sentenced to 25 pushups as a punishment and never did it again.

Felix who buys workbooks and installs language-learning apps in a bid to try and communicate with you in your languages. Ends up spending over $400 just to spend hours upon hours studying them, much like he did when he was learning Korean. Doesn't notice when you sit down next to him and stroke his hair, he's so focused on learning your languages. Wants to communicate with you in every way he can. Refuses to talk to you in Korean or English until he gets fluent in at least two of your languages, and asks for kisses and hugs when he understands what you're saying to him.

Seungmin who sits in quiet fascination as you write in one language and talk on the phone in another. Isn't as forward in telling you that he wants to learn some of your languages, but definitely goes online and does his own research. Likes looking up the origins of each language and how the words were formed. Finds himself repeating little phrases he'd caught you saying that morning or the night before. Will never admit that he finds it fascinating that you can talk, read, and write in different languages, but nods and listens when you tell him all about it anyway, admiring the passion in your eyes with a warm heart.

Jeongin who learns weird phrases to catch you off guard, because he loves the speechless look on your face when you hear them. Is too shy to ask you outright to teach him your languages but also does research so he can learn himself. Recites off lines to the members and forces them to sit and listen so he can say them to you without messing up. Ends up wasting a lot of practice time, but he doesn't really care. Learns to write keywords and cute little sentences, and writes them in the margins of your notebooks to surprise you. Doodles love hearts and stars around each phrase.

a/n: very cute

[strwberri-milk]

Good Day dear and I hope this message finds you well; Let me first thank you for the Fanfics and time you dedicated to each one, trust that I read most of your content and feel very grateful for it.

I hope you get to have times of ample rests, roof over your head, heartiest of meals and warm kind-hearted souls come your way.

I am not one to boldly ask but for this once I shall; May you perhaps write and angst for the love and deepspace boys about a reader who has died in line of duty as Tara presents them a burial flag from the Hunter’s Association?

I read your terms prior requesting and hope I was able to abide by it; You may decline should you find it distasteful, if it does make the cut please take your time crafting it should it pique your fancy.

🥹🥹 I love you dear and hope for your best wellbeing.

thank you!! im glad you like mt stuff that much <333 very flattered

He will never forgive himself. Even if he knows logically (Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne) there was nothing he could have done to save you from your death just the fact that he wasn't there will always haunt him. Xavier takes your death hard as well, constantly replaying the day over and over in his mind.

When a flag is presented at his door, Tara's face tearstreaked as she mumbles the softest apology she can manage he definitely feels his knees go weak. He doesn't say anything at all at first, simply staring at the fabric that was meant to be some poor facsimile for you before looking back up at Tara in sheer disbelief.

Denial hits him hard. He can't help plan your funeral or even acknowledge the fact that you've died. Instead, he stays in your bed all day and tries to rationalise the hell he's living in, convincing himself that this is all just a bad dream. The funeral itself is awful for him. He doesn't really respond, staring despondently as they lower your casket into the ground. He can barely speak as people try to offer him their condolences, focused more on just how...cold he feels.

Xavier and Rafayel respond with anger. Xavier shuts down even more, becoming incredibly anti-social and honestly, might just quit being a formal Hunter totally. He doesn't need the team to achieve his goal after all and now he's basically waiting out his days until his body gives in to the strain of life. He hunts Wanderers with a vengeance, totally AWOL as he tries to honour your memory through sweeps of his blade.

Rafayel has always been cold and aloof but after your death even more so. Thomas can't talk to him, people can't even enter his exhibitions - he stops hosting them. He'll just waste away in his home, painting your likeness over and over as he tells Thomas to just leave him alone. He fully isolates himself, devoting his entire being to his goal of saving Lemuria because thinking of you hurts far too much. He almost acts like you've never existed but it's a lie - his entire being burns with need for you and every time he looks at his chest he sobs with the memory that his bond will never light up again.

Zayne and Sylus will never stop mourning. Zayne throws himself back into work, doing nothing but research and surgeries. He casually pulls 72 hour days, not bothering to sleep because whenever he closes his eyes, all he sees is your body being lowered. He seems calm and collected on the outside but his normally immaculate office is a mess, papers strewn about as various pills and drinks meant to help him stay away litter every surface.

Sylus gets more brutal with his means, not caring what people say or do. There's no more begging for his forgiveness or asking if he'll go easy on you. Nothing in his life matters anymore because you aren't there to hold his hand. He's cold and callous, and nothing is spared from the sadness that leeches his entire being. The N109 Zone is more terrified than ever, knowing that there's nothing sparing anybody from certain death if they come face to face with Sylus.

[blondemrk]

wait i just saw 10 got filled so envelope 1 + mark 🪼

LATE NIGHT RAMEN

p mark x fem!reader genre angst/fluff wc 2.1k

you don’t know what stroke of bad luck led you to this, but somehow, you ended up with mark lee as your roommate.

it was supposed to be a temporary thing—just until your original housing situation got sorted out. but weeks turned into months, and now, you’re stuck with him. the boy who leaves his shoes in the middle of the living room like a trap. the boy who blasts his guitar at ungodly hours. the boy who somehow never remembers that dishes don’t clean themselves.

it’s unbearable.

“you left your laundry in the machine again,” you snap, throwing his clothes onto the couch.

mark, lying upside down on the floor for no reason, just grins at you lazily. “thanks for bringing them in.”

“that wasn’t meant to be helpful.”

but mark never takes anything seriously, so of course, he just stretches and sits up, ruffling his hair like he’s the main character in some rom-com. “you stress too much,” he teases, smirking.

“you annoy me too much.”

it’s always like this—snarky remarks, bickering over who finished the last of the cereal, and arguing about his terrible taste in music. mark has a way of pushing every single one of your buttons, and you hate that it’s so easy for him.

it starts over something stupid.

as most of your fights do.

you come home after a long day, exhausted, already feeling the weight of a million little frustrations pressing down on you. all you want is to reheat some leftovers and go to bed. but the moment you open the fridge, you realize something.

the container of pasta you made last night—the one thing you were looking forward to—is gone.

“mark!” you yell, slamming the fridge shut.

a beat of silence. then—

“yeah?”

you storm into the living room, where mark is sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone like he doesn’t have a care in the world. he glances up at you, one eyebrow raised, and you can already feel irritation crawling up your spine.

“where’s my food?”

mark blinks, like he has to think about it. “oh. that was yours?”

your jaw drops. “are you serious right now?”

he has the audacity to shrug. “i thought you weren’t gonna eat it.”

“oh, right, because i just love cooking for fun and leaving food in the fridge for no reason.”

mark sits up slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “relax, dude. i’ll buy you something tomorrow.”

“that’s not the point!” you throw your hands up, exasperated. “you always do this! you take my stuff, you leave a mess everywhere, you never listen when i tell you to stop—”

mark rolls his eyes. “jesus, it’s just food.”

“no, it’s not just food, mark! it’s everything.” your voice rises, frustration spilling over. “you don’t take anything seriously! you act like everything is a joke, like it doesn’t matter if you make my life harder—”

“because you’re always looking for something to be mad about!” mark snaps, standing up now. his usual easygoing expression is gone, replaced with something sharper. “god, do you ever stop complaining?”

you recoil, heat rushing to your face. “excuse me?”

mark lets out a humorless laugh. “you act like i’m the worst person in the world just because i’m not a control freak like you. news flash, roommate, not everything has to be a life-or-death situation.”

your hands curl into fists at your sides. “maybe if you actually cared about anything, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“i do fucking care!” mark’s voice is louder now, rough around the edges. “but you—you just assume the worst about me all the time. no matter what i do, you’re always gonna see me as the guy who’s never good enough for you.”

that stuns you into silence.

your breath is uneven, your heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears. you don’t know when the fight stopped being about food and started being about something else. something bigger.

mark exhales harshly, raking a hand through his hair. “you know what? forget it.” his voice is quieter now, but there’s something final in it. “i’m done.”

and then he walks away, slamming his door behind him.

leaving you standing there, chest heaving, hands shaking.

and the worst part? you don’t even know if you’re still angry—

—or if you just hate the way it hurts.

but why does it hurt? you hate him.. right?

the apartment feels different after the fight.

it’s not just the silence—although that part is deafening. it’s the way mark doesn’t acknowledge you when he walks past, the way he doesn’t joke around like he usually does, the way he keeps his door shut more often than not.

for the first time since you moved in, you miss the noise. the annoying hum of his guitar, his off-key singing from the kitchen, the sound of him laughing at his own stupid jokes.

but most of all, you miss him.

and that’s the worst part.

you don’t even know how the fight escalated the way it did. one second, you were yelling about food, and the next, mark was saying things you weren’t ready to hear.

“you’re always gonna see me as the guy who’s never good enough for you.”

his words haven’t stopped replaying in your head since that night.

you hate that it stings. because it means maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t completely wrong.

it goes on for days.

the cold war. the avoidance. the awkward, heavy silence that makes the apartment feel suffocating.

until one night, when you find him on the couch.

he’s sitting there, staring at the tv, but it’s clear he’s not really watching. there’s a crease between his brows, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against his knee. his usual easygoing energy is gone, replaced by something quieter.

you hesitate.

you could go back to your room. pretend you don’t care. pretend nothing’s wrong.

or you could do something about it.

with a deep breath, you step forward. “hey.”

mark stiffens slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him first. “hey."

silence stretches between you, thick and uncertain.

then—

“i shouldn’t have said all that,” you admit, crossing your arms. it’s not easy, swallowing your pride, but the weight in your chest won’t go away otherwise. “i was pissed, but… i didn’t mean to make it seem like i don’t—” you stop yourself. shift on your feet. “like i don’t see the things you do.”

mark exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. he looks exhausted. “i shouldn’t have snapped either. i just… i dunno, i was frustrated. it felt like no matter what i do, you always see me as the guy who doesn’t take things seriously.”

you chew on your lip, then sit down next to him. not too close, but close enough that your knees nearly touch. “i don’t actually think that,” you say, voice quieter now. “i was just being an asshole.”

mark glances at you, amusement flickering through his expression. “yeah. you were.”

you huff, elbowing him lightly. “you’re supposed to say, ‘no, it’s okay, you’re totally justified in all things.’”

mark snorts, shaking his head. but then he leans back against the couch, exhaling. “i don’t wanna fight with you.”

you swallow. “me neither.”

another beat of silence.

then, in a voice so soft you almost miss it, mark says, “i don’t hate living with you, you know.”

your heart stumbles over itself. you turn to look at him, but he’s already focused on the tv, like it didn’t take everything in him to say that out loud

you breathe in slowly. then, barely above a whisper—

“yeah. me neither.”

and somehow, just like that, the weight between you starts to lift.

things don’t go back to normal immediately.

the tension lingers, the memory of the argument still fresh. but the ice starts to thaw—slowly, subtly.

mark stops avoiding you. you start talking to him again.

it’s not perfect, but it’s something.

and then one night, something changes.

it’s late when you walk into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you were up studying, brain fried, stomach grumbling. you expect the apartment to be quiet, mark probably already passed out in his room.

but instead, you find him at the kitchen counter, sitting cross-legged on a stool, lazily munching on a bag of chips.

he glances up when you walk in. “yo.”

you blink at him. “what are you still doing up?”

mark shrugs, tossing a chip into his mouth. “couldn’t sleep.”

you open the fridge, searching for something edible. “are we out of leftovers again?”

mark scratches the back of his neck, looking suspiciously guilty.

you narrow your eyes. “mark."

“okay, listen, technically i ate the last of them, but before you kill me, i made ramen.”

you pause. “you made ramen?”

mark grins, pushing a bowl toward you. “consider it a peace offering. and its about all i can cook..."

you hesitate for a second, then sigh, accepting the bowl. “i guess this is a step up from you just eating my food with zero remorse.”

he smirks. “see? character development.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t stop the small smile from tugging at your lips as you take a seat across from him.

the apartment is quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional crunch of mark’s chips. you’re not sure why you’re both still awake at this hour, but for the first time in a while, it doesn’t feel awkward.

mark leans his chin in his hand, watching you eat. “hey,” he says suddenly, voice softer.

you glance up. “what?”

his gaze lingers on you for a second longer than necessary. “we’re good, right?”

something in your chest tightens.

you don’t know why, but the way he says it—like it matters—makes your stomach flip.

you swallow, setting your chopsticks down. “yeah,” you murmur. “we’re good.”

mark exhales, a small smile tugging at his lips. “cool.”

and maybe it’s the late-night haze, or the warmth of the ramen settling in your stomach, or the way mark is looking at you—not like you’re his annoying roommate, but like you’re something else—but for the first time since moving in, you think…

maybe this isn’t the worst thing in the world.

you’re both on the couch, a movie playing in the background. you weren’t even planning to watch it, but somewhere between mark saying, “just one episode, come on,” and you rolling your eyes, you ended up here—sitting too close, sharing the same blanket, the flickering light from the tv casting shadows across his face.

you’re tired. sleepy in that comfortable, heavy way where everything feels a little softer, a little less real.

mark is sitting next to you, his arm draped over the back of the couch. you should move. there’s plenty of space. but you don’t.

you’re barely paying attention to the movie when you feel it.

mark shifts beside you, stretching his arms—casual, unbothered—until suddenly, his fingers graze your shoulder.

it’s the lightest touch. a barely-there brush of skin against skin.

but it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

you tell yourself you’re imagining it. that mark isn’t really leaning in, that his gaze isn’t flickering to your lips, that the space between you isn’t disappearing.

but then—

his fingers skim your wrist, hesitant but deliberate. testing the waters.

your heart stutters.

you turn to look at him, and—god.

he’s close. too close.

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a second, just a second, you think—

is he going to kiss me?

the air shifts, thick with something unspoken. neither of you moves, but neither of you pulls away either.

then, the sound of a loud car horn blaring outside makes you both jolt.

the moment shatters.

mark blinks, pulling back so fast it’s like he just realized what was happening. “uh—” he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “i should, uh. get some water.”

you swallow hard, nodding. “yeah. yeah, good idea.”

mark practically jumps off the couch, making a beeline for the kitchen.

you sit there, heart pounding, staring at the screen without really seeing it.

because something almost happened just now.

and the fact that you’re disappointed it didn’t?

that’s a whole new problem.

@chenlezip @holyhaech @mrkified @injvns @polarisjisung

did yall miss me or what..

[16wolke11]

Clumsy - Oscar Piastri

A/N My first one-shot here! Still figuring out the tagging and stuff, but I hope you like it.

Summary: Oscar's girlfriend is extremely clumsy, always managing to get a new bruise or a new cut just a few days apart. One day she falls down the stairs and needs surgery, Oscar drops everything to be with her.

Words: 2139

__________

Being a teacher at an elementary school was always my dream job, and after finishing my master's degree, I am finally able to do what I love; teaching the young ones and laying the first stones on their path to knowledge. Even though it is difficult at times, to manage the fidgeting children who tend to get distracted easily, it's still what I love. Seeing success when another one manages to read a full sentence, solve a math problem, or write a rather difficult word with the correct spelling is priceless.

But being a teacher also means I'm not able to accompany Oscar that often. It's just not ideal to travel over the weekend; landing late on Fridays and having to leave exactly after the race, while also trying to prepare the classes for the upcoming week and maybe even needing to correct work from the previous one. I love summer break because it means I can be with Oscar more often, but in the meantime, we make the best out of the situation. We FaceTime frequently, chat while the other is occupied, and just savour the time we can spend together.

This week is another one when Oscar left for a race, and I have to stay behind. Luckily, I have a short day at school today, allowing me to go before lunch and finish some things. Well, if it weren't for my clumsy self. Oscar always jokes that I get at least five new bruises while he's away, and he's probably right, but I can't do anything about the stumbling, the brushing against door frames, or knocking my little toe into anything. But today, my bad luck took it one step too far, and I slipped on the stairs at school, hitting my elbow on them and feeling a sharp pain shoot down my arm.

I've fallen down these stairs before, but I've never been in so much pain. One of my coworkers found me, and after a quick look at my already bruising elbow, we decided to call an ambulance. Now, hours later, I have a diagnosis and finally some time to tell Oscar what happened. I already have a few texts from him, nothing too worried, just some updates about his day and a question about how mine is going. With a sigh, I call his number, bracing myself to tell him everything while not even being able to fidget with my fingers for distraction.

It doesn't take long before Oscar picks up like he's been waiting in front of his phone just anticipating my call or text. "Hey, Oscar," I greet him and hear some shuffling in the background before a door closes and Oscar speaks up.

"Love, everything okay? Shouldn't you be at work?" he asks, his voice already laced with worry. I close my eyes for a moment. Oscar didn't even know I was supposed to be out of work early today and just assumes I should still be at school teaching or supervising the little gremlins.

"Please don't freak out," I start, and I hear a nervous chuckle in response.

"This is not a great starting point for that request, but I'll try."

He's right, but I don't even know how to phrase what happened easily, so I just start with the simplest explanation I can think of. "Well, I kind of fell down the stairs after finishing my last class."

"Again?" Oscar laughs, and I can't help but smile a little too, though I roll my eyes at the same time, even though Oscar can't see me.

"Hey, I can't do anything about being clumsy," I protest, but I only get another laugh in return. Usually, I would laugh with him, but the light throbbing in my elbow, down to my fingers, stops the light mood I'm in.

"Sorry, but I reckon you don't just call to tell me that," Oscar apologizes softly, and then he gets back to the reason for my call. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for all the questions he's going to have.

"No, I might've smashed my elbow pretty badly, and they brought me to the hospital." I tell him the first facts, and immediately the laughing Oscar is replaced with a worried one.

"That bad?" he asks, and I can almost hear the pain in his voice. As much as he likes to joke about my clumsiness, he also hates it when I get injured, even if it's just a little bruise or a cut.

"Unfortunately, I managed to break it and need surgery to fix the broken pieces back into place. It'll be a long recovery because I was pretty successful in splintering the bone into pieces," I tell him what the doctors explained, just in the simpler version. They explained a lot about how they need to make sure there are no little bone fragments left in the joint and the recovery process I'll have to go through.

"Fuck!" Oscar curses, and I can hear him pacing, probably in his driver's room. I can only imagine the distressed look on his face and how he's probably ruffling his hair while a thousand thoughts swirling through his head. Well, at least he's giving me an insight into what's going on in his mind, because he starts rambling.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything? I could send Margaret over or someone else if you need anyone by your side right now. Did they say anything about the recovery? Will your arm be able to move normally or will there be any lasting damage?"

"Oscar, stop." I manage to speak up when he takes a deep breath. It's sweet how he's trying to help me from afar, even thinking about sending our elderly neighbour to me, but I need him to calm down.

"Sorry, kind of freaking out right now," he mutters, and I smile just a little bit.

"I could tell." I still remember the first time Oscar rambled that much and how surprised I was by the speed and number of words coming out of his mouth. Usually, he's calm, collected, and limits his words to the necessary ones, but when he's really worried, everything just comes out.

"Don't worry, I don't need anything right now. Just hearing your voice makes everything feel better," I tell him, which is the truth. There's nothing I need right now, except for him, and he just helps me by being here on the phone, even though it's not the same as having him in person.

"That's good," Oscar says, and I can hear that he's stopped pacing, probably calming down a little.

"Is there anything you know about the surgery?" he asks after a short break, now sounding like his calm self again.

"We're currently waiting for a free spot in the OR. It's not urgent, but they'd like to operate before the swelling gets too bad, and luckily, I haven't had lunch yet," I explain what the doctors told me. This isn't an emergency, but waiting too long isn't ideal either, so they're going to squeeze me in as soon as one of the ORs is available.

"I bet you're hungry," Oscar grins, and I can hear it in his voice. I've learned to recognize that tone through the phone—the soft change when his lips are curled upwards.

"Starving," I confirm with a soft laugh. My stomach is already growling, but there's no way to get food until after the surgery. I can wait if it means my elbow will be fixed.

"I promise you your favourite food as soon as I'm with you," Oscar says, and I know he's not lying. He would probably even order food into the hospital for me if that were possible, but they wouldn't bring it to me, so I'll have to wait.

"Looking forward to it. Hopefully, I'll be home by then," I mumble, knowing it will take some days until Oscar will be back home, and who knows, maybe they'll send me home just a few days after the surgery.

"We'll see," are Oscar's last words about my injury before we start talking a bit about his day. I get the feeling he's trying to distract me, and it's working perfectly. At one point, Oscar needs to leave for some duties, and luckily for me, a nice nurse comes in just a few minutes later to inform me that my surgery is starting soon.

The way to the OR and the prepping feels like a blur, and quicker than I thought, I'm with an anaesthesiologist. Drifting into sleep feels like a relief because I know my arm will be fixed. Of course, recovery will take its time, but I'm sure I'll manage it just fine.

Waking up after the surgery almost knocks the air out of my lungs because it feels like my arm is falling off. The nurse helps me take a few sips of water, gives me some painkillers, and then I drift back into sleep, even though I just woke up from a deep slumber.

The night is blurry, waking up from time to time—sometimes from the pain in general, sometimes from the nurses, and sometimes from the pain of a sudden movement. But somehow, I make it through the night and feel slightly better in the morning. Blinking, I try to figure out what time it might be when I spot a familiar figure sitting beside my bed, watching me closely.

"Os?" I ask groggily, not sure if he's really sitting there or if the pain meds are playing tricks on my mind. But just seeing the soft smile on his lips makes me hope that he's really there and not just in my imagination.

"Hi, love," he whispers, fingers reaching for my uninjured hand, softly holding onto it, letting me feel the warmth of his touch.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, slowly realizing that he's indeed here and not with his team for the race weekend.

"Being here for you," he simply states, like it's obvious that it wouldn't even be a question for him if he had to choose where to be right now.

"Your race..." I whisper, knowing how important it is, not only to him but to the fans, the championship, the team, and everyone else involved. I would like to ask him if he's insane, if they made it hard for him to leave, but no words leave my lips.

"You are more important," Oscar states, and my eyes well up. How can he be so perfect?

"Thank you," I try to squeeze his hand a bit, but my grip is pretty weak. Oscar starts letting his thumb brush over the back of my hand, and I relax under his touch. His eyes wander over me before he asks a question.

"How are you feeling? Is the pain manageable?"

My eyes linger on my heavily padded elbow for a moment. Right now, I don't feel anything but a dull pain. But it seems like Oscar's touch makes it disappear with every soft stroke of his finger on my skin.

"You make everything seem better just by being here," I state, my voice laced with tiredness, and Oscar smiles softly.

"So, I guess they gave you some nice painkillers," he grins. I can hear it in his voice, and I can feel my lips pulling into a crooked smile.

"Yes."

We look at each other for a moment, but my eyes are getting heavier and heavier, and I have to fight to keep them open for a few more minutes.

"Can you come in?" I ask Oscar, who looks conflicted at my question.

"I don't know," he says, gesturing to my body, indicating he's scared of hurting me in any way, but I just need him close now for recovery.

"Please."

Oscar sighs softly before standing up. "Okay, anything to make you feel better," he says, gets rid of his shoes, and carefully shuffles into the bed beside me. I need to stay on my back because of my elbow being propped up in some bedding, and he lays on his side beside my good arm, resting his arm over my belly and searching for the contact I need. I rest my head against his chest before a thought comes into my head.

"Did you bring the food?" I ask, remembering what he promised, and even though my mind is hazy, I realize he probably already knew he was coming home early when he promised me the food.

"Yes," Oscar confirms, and I can only hum the following words, close to falling asleep.

"Love you."

"Love you too, my little crash pilot," Oscar whispers, holding me in his arms while I slip into the sleep of recovery.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

Can’t sleep, and, as is my wont, I fell down a horrifying internet rabbit hole,* this time about September 11, 2001.

I was in seventh grade French class, in the Hudson Valley region of New York, when I got a call from the front office that my mom was there to pick me up. Steven B. commented: “a lot of people are getting picked up this morning!”

My mom was crying, she tried to explain what had happened, but I think my brain kind of rejected what she was saying. I didn’t really get it/appreciate what happened until I was 19 or 20, when I was a collections management intern at the 9/11 Memorial Museum before it opened to the public.

That’s when I finally Got It and everything I’d been repressing. Every year after that I would watch the live news footage from that day on YouTube.

It haunts me, not just because of what happened, but because of what it led to. How much pain, how much grief, how much suffering and war and genocide could have been averted if the FBI and the CIA hadn’t been locked in a power struggle? Where would/could the country be politically if the two orgs had compared intelligence and intervened?

As a historian, I think it’s important avoid binary thinking like “oh a, b, and c happened and that’s why Elon Musk is staging a coup.” It’s obviously much more complex than that. What’s occurring in the USA Federal government is the result of decades of careful GOP planning and strategizing and if we can isolate a cultural moment that “led” to it, it would be the election of Ronald Reagan, and even that is far too simplistic.

Idk, I’m rambling. I don’t consider myself to be old, but it’s almost like I refused to grasp what had happened that day in 2001 because I was cognizant of the fact that something massive, something of global historic import, had just gone down, and my 12 yo brain couldn’t deal with it.

But now I’m 35 and I saw history. And that was the end, I think of the world the Baby Boom generation raised their millennial kids to thrive in.

At some point I binge watched Fringe, and that shot where it’s revealed that Leonard Nimoy is in the parallel universe because the camera pans out and it’s revealed that his office is in one of the WTC towers? I couldn’t breathe for a minute.

*once in grad school the rabbit hole was the genocide in the Balkans in the 90s and everything I read that night is seared into my brain.

ETA: I’m intentionally not discussing that things I saw and learned working for the museum, and my feelings about the deaths which occurred that day. It feels almost…unholy to talk about that stuff online. I don’t believe in god or a higher power, but “holy” is the only word that makes sense there.

[celeste-clearwater-06]

The Kitchen Window (pt. 6 - the epilogue)

Bayverse! Raphael x Fem! Reader

desc- (Raph has to make his intentions clear to you and to whatever it is that you two are)

warnings - none

word count - 2.5k

READ PREVIOUS PARTS BEFORE THIS

“I look stupid, Mike.”

“Nah, bro you look great!” Raph’s younger brother is looking his outfit up and down, trying to perfect any wrinkles or stray threads, “She’s gonna love it, trust me.”

Raph scuffs his new air force’s on the cement, while the other turtle straightens the collar of the graphic tee up around his neck. Maybe he could lend his fashionable little brother a bit of slack. Mikey knew a lot more about this stuff.

It’s early August. Summer’s fleeting, to warm days and cooler nights, which are perfect for this exact occasion.

Raph has been a mess of fluttering nerves all week trying to set this date up, with the help of his brothers and April. Every little detail, meticulously planned.

At first he was gonna do it on his own, in secret. Come to your door, trip over his words and fumble the bag, because lord knows he’s not good with expressing his feelings.

Thank god for April and his siblings, though it hurt his ego a little to come to them and admit he didn’t know how to set up a lousy dinner. Of course they were happy to help. Mikey and April especially.

So now, the five of them were on the roof of your apartment complex and pulling together all of their different tastes and ideas to create this adorable little date for him and his girl.

Raphael didn’t know what the two of you were. After that bizarre (albeit fantastic) first kiss, his visits to you were so much more frequent. Even if it was quick, he’d make a pit stop to your window for a peck on the cheek that kept his spirits up for a long night's patrol. More often than not, you two would be chatting away in the late night hours. And then of course make out a little, with him hanging on the sill like a fool.

It was so great, and it filled Raph with something he didn’t know he needed. Every second he wasn’t with you, he counted down till the next time he'd meet your gorgeous face again, greeting him with a kind, welcoming smile that made his knees wobble. But that was it.

There wasn’t really a label. Not that he liked those anyway.

He just needed some clarity. Some sort of outwardly spoken agreement that you guys weren’t just really good friends who kissed and held hands and tried to hold in your laughter in the dark, trying not to disturb the peace of your neighbors.

“Oh this looks great.”

Raph watches the way April appreciates her work of a cute little vase of flowers on the center of a table, hands settled on her hips. Well, it’s less of a table than it is a large wooden crate with a nice-ish tablecloth, but it serves just the same. It’s not too extravagant, not too drab. Just right. It suits the mix of your different lives. Little, dollar store candles light the area with a warm haze, next to the tin containers filled with the meal you’d taught him to make months ago. He’s hoping it tastes as good as it did when you make it. Raph hasn’t told you how often he whips it up at the lair when he’s missing you.

“How’s lookout, Leo?”

The blue-banded turtle looks over his shoulder, where he’s crouched on the ledge right next to the fire escape ladder.

“All clear.”

Thankfully, everything seems to be coming together just as Raph wanted it to. It settles some of the butterflies that rage in his stomach. The time for one of his brother’s to go and fetch you from your apartment is growing closer and closer while Donnie is scooting the plastic folding chairs next to the crate.

He’s so not ready for this. A little voice is nagging in the back of his head to just back out now.

Raph knows you’ll at least like it. Just how you like everything else he does for you. He has no clue why this is so damn difficult.

“Alright, Raph.”

April clasps her hands together and looks up to him for approval.

“What do we think?”

He thinks it looks great. Raphael loves the gentle little glow everything gives against the dim light pollution that stretches out over the city. Will you?

“You’re a lifesaver, O’Niel.”

“Don’t forget it.”

He snorts.

“I guess it’s showtime then!”

Mikey attacks his older brother with a hug from behind.

“Aw come on Mike!” Raph’s trying to swat him off his shell, but not before his two other siblings, and April crowd him with an embrace, that eases the nerves running rampant. He rolls his eyes, but can’t hold back the grateful grin that breaks through his annoyance. Their words are encouraging and warm, fueling the confidence he’s so desperately been trying to grasp for all this time.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“Trust us, she is gonna love it.”

Leo’s hand ruffles over Raph’s red bandanna.

“Go get em’, tiger.”

Ouf, what a cornball.

“Alright, alright!” They all break away from the group hug with excited smiles. This is home to Raphael. All his favorite people- well, most - in his corner of the ring and hyping his happy-ass up to romance a cute girl.

“Leo?”

“I’ll go get her for you.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Your apartment is warm. Over the weeks, the walls are filled with picture frames and cute decor that April and the boys have been bringing you. Polaroids of you and the boys are littered on your bedside table and posted on the fridge with little paw print magnets. Most of them are with or of Raph. Him sleeping with an open mouth, or being dog-piled on by Mike and Donnie. Your favorite is the one where you’re sitting on his shoulders, laughing, while he’s grinning into the camera flash. April took it, down in the lair, where he was parading you around after everyone had a few-too-many drinks. The once empty living space is now full of life and love and sooo, so many cat toys.

You’re on the livingroom floor now, playing with sweet Vannie to distract you from the lack of texts from your best friend. It’s been worrying you all day, that Raph hasn’t responded to any of your messages, even the funny memes, like the others you send him daily.

You’d given up on the last message, a little over an hour ago, though it doesn’t keep you from repeatedly glancing at your phone while your cat darts after the laser pointer across the carpet and onto the sofa. The little bell on her collar tinks quickly with each movement. She sees someone through your window before you. Two taps against the glass make your head whip around excitedly.

It’s not who you’re expecting, but Leo’s visit is still a nice surprise.

“Hey Lee!” You hide the disappointment with a happy smile that he returns.

“How’s it going?”

“Good! Good,” he doesn’t miss the way you’re trying to peek over his shoulder, “Have you heard from Raph at all? I couldn’t get a hold of him today.”

“Actually yeah.”

This perks your attention right back up, locking with his eyes that carry a mischievous glow.

“Oh! How’s he doing? He didn’t get hurt on patrol, did he?”

Leo chuckles.

“Nah. He’s been busy.”

Busy? Weird. Even if Raphael were kicking sorry ass, he’d text you back in a heartbeat. Something fishy was going on.

“Oh. Huh.”

“You wanna see him?”

That, you couldn’t say no to.

“Is he here?”

Leo knows, with the way you two talk about each other, that it’s love. He knows more than both of you. It's so funny how his younger brother and you will spend hours at a time just sitting in silence or talking about life, and then when you’re apart, all that one of you can think or say has something to do with the other.

“He’s up top,” his head gestures back up the fire escape. You’re already climbing out the window, while he and Vannie stare. Lee takes a hold of your arm when your foot reaches that first step. You look back at him with a puzzled stare.

“You gotta close your eyes.”

“What?”

It’s a surprise. That makes you nervous.

“Just trust me. I’ll take you up there, you just can’t look.”

Uh oh. You’re hesitant to follow his instructions, but his hand is already blinding your vision, and he’s scooping you of your feet. You shout in surprise.

“Leo, what’s going on?”

The only reply you recieve is his heavy footfall on the metal stairs. He has to take his hand away, but you keep your eyes clenched shut, partially to obey his order, but the other is so you don’t have to see how far up you might be from the ground below.

“This is freaking me out Lee,”

“I’m not gonna drop you.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Oh, he knows. He’s just great at keeping secrets.

The final, thudding footstep lands on concrete, and he sets you on the ground, steadying you onto your feet. Your breath is nervous, heart racing, senses heightened. You can hear the buzz of the city off in the distance. A cool breeze brush through your hair. The concrete scraping on your wooly socks.

“Alright, take a look.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Your eyes blink open. Then again. Your brain isn’t processing whatever is in front of you, until he speaks.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

Raph’s hands are shoved into the front pockets of jeans you’ve never seen him in. They’re new. So are his shoes, and the black, long sleeve tee that’s perfectly tailored to fit, and let his shell still breathe from the back. The casual clothes are incredibly flattering on him. You can still see the faint lines of his toned muscles under the cotton, catching in soft light. He’s so handsome, it hurts. And cute. GOD was he cute.

Shifting his weight, subtly from one foot to the other and smiling, anxious and bashful, while you stare at him in bafflement. Behind him is an adorable, candle lit dinner and your favorite flowers in a glass vase, all tuned with the ambient sounds of New York.

“Oh, Raph.”

His name comes out in a sigh, incredulous, full of shock and wonder. You take a few steps forward to better take in the effort he’s thrown into all of this. You’re nearly speechless, breathless, and trying to swallow the lump in your throat. He set up a date. A date! For you!

“You like it?”

His eyes are hesitant, but full of a childlike hope when they meet yours.

“Raph, this is… you did this?”

“Well, I had help. I ain’t this creative.” Raph chuckles nervously, nodding to where Leo was standing, now gone without a trace, “But… yeah.”

“For… me?”

You’re still so surprised at the sweetness of it all.

“Well, I’d hate to be up here eatin chicken and rice by myself all night, so yeah.”

He’s easing up, gentle grin mirroring yours.

“Raph this is so great!”

Like a kid, you all but skip over to look closer at the make-shift table and chicken and rice in their bowls, stream rolling off in the tepid air, while your fingers over the tablecloth. He’s laughing at your stupidly huge smile.

“I was hoping you might think so.”

You look up at him, face glowing in the candlelight.

“I know I haven’t been texting you back. Been a nervous wreck all day.”

His expression contorted into a soft gout of admiration, a soft smile, and even softer, green eyes. Your heart leaps. You know what that look is. You’ve seen it so many times in Raph’s face and now you’re putting it all together while he stands just feet from you. He’s so perfect.

You stride back over to him and let him take your hands in his. He’s nervous again, taking a deep breath.

“Look,” he begins, “I just… I figured if we’re a thing and all…Well, I wanna do this the right way. I hope it’s alright with you. I know it’s nothin’ fancy but…”

He groans, slapping hand over his face. You giggle at how he trips over his sentence.

“I had a whole, stupid speech for this shit. Now I just look like a fuckin’ idiot.”

Those fumbling, nervous words speak novels to you. He doesn’t have to say much for you to just get exactly what Raph is trying to say.

“I think… that sounds great,” your voice is soft, “And I also think I’m in love with you and I have had no idea what to do with myself, since the first day we met.“ you exhale the words like they’ve been trying to claw their way from your throat.

This catches him completely off guard. Raph’s eyes are as wide as they were the first night you kissed him. His nostrils flare. Before you think you’ve fucked yourself up royally, he pulls you up towards him in a soul-snatching kiss that depletes the air from your lungs, feet nearly leaving the ground. You’re desperately grabbing at the collar of his shirt to deepen it, but he pulls away, and lifts you completely from the ground in a tight embrace, leaving you both gasping for your breaths.

“Jesus, you have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that,” Raph sighs next to your ear. “I love ya. A lot.”

His arms tighten further around you and you smell a nice cologne in the crook of his neck, where your head is buried.

He sets you back to your feet and lifts your chin with his finger for a much more gentle, passionate kiss, that you accept happily. His hand rests gently on your hip.

“You’re the best thing that coulda ever happened to a weirdo like me,” Raph’s forehead is pressed down against yours, with closed eyes.

“You’re better,” you counter. He gives your hip a squeeze, “Let’s be something. Even if it’s hard.”

He chuckles.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle, Sunshine.”

You’re both right where you belong, centimeters away from each other, smiling like idiots, and finally off that steep cliff that’s been taunting you for months. Raph is your home, and you’re his, far out of that little kitchen window.

A Polaroid click behind you just makes you shake your head with a flustered grin.

“Mikey, are you shittin me right now?”

You can hear his little brother shuffle back into whatever shadow he came from, laughing along with the rest of the party that's hidden away.

“Fuckin idiot.”

fin <3

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Oh no, wait...

What's this?

A gift for my dear readers?

Take a listen 🤭😝

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

I GOT YOUUU

I'VE BEEN SLAVING AWAY AT THIS SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE FIRST CHAPTER, JUST TO GET TO THIS POINT MUAHAHAHA

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING (AND LISTENING!!) AS MUCH AS I DID CREATING THIS FUN LITTLE STORY!!!

The Kitchen Window was SUCH A FUN PROJECT, and I'm so glad I've been receiving all of your guys' support, interaction, and kind words 😭😭 as a token of gratitude, I decided to make that little audio clip that has been the death of me to create 🫠

Thank you all again SO FUCKIN MUCH

This concludes the 6 part story, The Kitchen Window 🩷💓💕

Please, LIKE, REBLOG, AND ASK TO BE A PART OF MY TAG LIST SO YOU DONT MISS OUT ON MORE WRITINGS LIKE THIS ONE

Till next time!

LOVE YA BABESSSS 💕💓🩷🌸🧼🫧

taglist - [ @ladyofparchments @well-its-not-human-anymore @raphaelsrightarm @chiliiscereal @milkytheholy1 @moxfirefly @raphsgrl @leosgirl82 @thelaundrybitch @rheawritesforfun @imthegreenfairy86 @aurora-the-kunoichi @angelhazeisaweirdo @raisin-shell @fyreball66 @redsrooftopprincess @milykins @ahhhhhhhhhfuck @quitecontrary-to-mary @the-cauldron-witch @brins-rogers @yelocaltrashcan @pheradream-15 @asillysimp @miranexx @cinnamonskiss @le0n-ardo @silveritydreams @goldenflowerdragon @loveshrubs @glitterystarfishfestival @supersleepyslowpoke @floflodoesart @crimsonrubie ]

[your-sleeparalysisdem0n]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩Thinking about how Mydei would just stand there staring at you, forming all kinds of scenarios in his head about courting you and sweeping you off your feet- only to realize has no clue how to do so.

Mydei, secretly jumping at any chance to help you out with something, only to fail embarrassingly because of his rapid heartbeat and flushed face. Did you notice how flushed his cheeks were? Hopefully not. He prays to any titan listening that you don't see him in such a state.

Mydei, who tries to be your hero in any situation. You're lonely and need company? He's already running towards you. Your arms hurt from carrying your luggage all day? Poof! Your stuff has disappeared right into his arms! You can't reach the top shelf to get the book you want? No worries! He, your savior, will get it for you!

Mydei, who stretches his toned, muscular arms while reaching for your book in order to impress you- acting all nonchalant and pretending like he doesn't care, only to malfunction the moment your soft skin ever-so-slightly brushes against his. His tall, sturdy frame going rigid as you turn to stare up at him with those big, doe eyes of yours, asking him why he suddenly stopped. Heart beating erratically at your close proximity while trying to keep an unaffected poker face with his entire being.

Mydei, who turns around abruptly so you can't see his face- now redder than the fresh pomegranate juice he likes to drink. Leaving you bewildered as he whirls around and quickly walks away from you. Taking your precious book with him in the process. "Mydei, where are you going-" you say, but are unable to finish your sentence as his broad figure disappears around the corner.

Mydei, who sits on his bed, soft sheets on the floor and his room a mess. As the Chrysos heir nearly bangs his head on a nearby wall from the frustration of being completely immobile in your presence. He wants to compliment you on your hair today? The words die before he can even think of them. He wants to converse in idle chatter with you? Too bad! The prince's tongue gets messed up in a constrictor's knot. He wants to confess to you about his undying feelings and get on his knees for you? His legs are already leading him the other way, and he takes a sudden interest in that flower pot over there. What a pretty flower pot, isn't it? Not as pretty as you though. You with your lush lips and perfect skin- annnddd, he's gone now.

Unfortunately for both of you, he could never bring himself to say that. For in your presence, the almighty warrior, the Duke of battle, the fearsome Mydeimos, turns into a brain-dead schoolboy unable to speak- and worst of all, you have no idea of the fool you turned him into.

A/N: how's that for a second fic? I had so much fun writing this lmao. Divider by @cafekitsune! You make the most amazing graphics <33 Ty for reading! Who knows, maybe I'll do a part 2!

Do not plagiarize, steal, or repost my work without permission. © All rights reserved

[kendrysaneela]

Let’s go through the events of Severance from Helena’s POV cause it’s wild from Helena’s POV as well as Helly’s. (I’m just going by memory so I may miss a few things or mix up the timeline a bit) I am not moralizing any of Helena’s actions cause this is just from her POV.

You get (presumably) coerced into splitting your consciousness in half by your abusive father to serve the cult you were raised in.

You then get the brain surgery and then you wake up in a hallway. Millchick says it’s cause you need time to adjust. But it’s okay because sometimes this just happens you’re not trying to leave.

Then you keep ending up on the other side of the door! Millchick comforts you and tells you about how grateful he is that you’re here and you’re happy to get any approval at all even if it is from your family’s cult. Maybe you’ll get some approval from your father.

Then you run through the door MORE! You’re pretty sure at this point that Millchick is lying to you when he says your innie is realizing she does want to be there but you run back through anyway.

Your innie asks to resign you reject that resignation (whether that was Helena’s decision or the board’s is not yet something we know)

Then on a later day you wake up in the elevator and your hair is all messed up your wrist is bandaged up and your makeup is running and you feel just such DEEP exhaustion but you don’t know why

Then you show up on another day and you’re in an elevator with a cd from a camcorder in your hands you watch it and your innie is asking to resign again. But this time she’s threatening your fingers??

So you record a video back (whether those were Helena’s words or words placed in front of her to say by the board yet to be seen)

THEN you wake up in an elevator GASPING for air not knowing what’s happening. I guess your innie tried to KlLL you??

The you’re forced to go back so when you do you crouch in the corner of the elevator in panic before you turn into your innie

THEN later you’re getting ready to do a speech about how great Severance is (you certainly haven’t had a good time but the board demands you do this so you’re gonna have to fake it)

Then all of a sudden you wake up being pulled off stage by Cobel you don’t even remember getting on the stage!

And you’re told that your innie took you over and said a bunch of bad stuff about Severance onstage so after your father insults you for a while you then you’re forced to read an embarrassing script in front of the whole country or the whole world talking about how you drank too much and thought it was a funny joke at the time.

THEN. You’re looking over footage of Helly who is your other consciousness and you see her kissing Mark. You see her being more free and more loved than you ever have. So you rewind that kiss over and over again.

You’re told you have to go back down there to the severed floor but it’s okay you can pretend to be Helly you don’t actually have to be her. And you actually are having a good time? You are having fun with them you’re feeling free youre feeling loved for the first time in your life, you’re making jokes about your family’s ridiculous lore it’s awesome. You’re trying to soak in the love they all have for Helly because you’ve never felt love and you don’t understand you can’t steal love because you’ve never had love before. You come clean with one of the innies about your self hatred.

Then one of the innies finds out you’re Helena and tries to DROWN YOU. To get back your other consciousness that lives in your body your innie who they love more than you. You thought they liked you but now you’re realizing that they just liked you cause they thought you were Helly you’re still stuck in a loveless life now. And now as a bonus you’re having an identity crisis about how Helly is essentially who you could’ve been if you weren’t weighed down by your family’s name.

Then you’re thinking “I definitely won’t have to go back now obviously I’ll tell my father” then you’re told that no you are going back down and you’re going back as Helly to the place where all of this happened because “The Board appreciates your sacrifice” and no one thinks the trauma you’ve faced so far is actually a big deal not even your father he won’t even talk to you about it. So you go back down against your will to the innie floor again and let the consciousness take you over again.

[ouchmaster6000]

I feel like you all are completely off the mark on why male creators react this way.

Yes, Network Executives and people in marketing make awful decisions that are often the result of sexist assumptions. Everyone knows this.

But I don't think most writers and creators actually care who is enjoying their stuff, just that their work is being enjoyed.

However, I'm gonna be frank, A LOT of female fans have a habit of focusing on shipping, especially gay ships that were never intended to be canon. Often focusing on that over the main story that the creator is trying to tell. And a lot of them tend to act entitled and demand changes when their ship doesn't happen.

There's also a unfortunate amount of female fans of shonen anime that complain about the fanservice, despite the fact that those series are literally made for teenage boys.

Male fans usually don't do this, a least not in regards focusing on shipping or demanding changes to original works. More often than not, when male fans do get angry about something it's because major changes are being made to a work without the original creators input (whether or not it be a bad adaption, or changes to a sequel or retcon to a new edition of a long running game, or when a new writer comes to an long running comic series.) Most are able to appreciate original media for what they are. This applies even when they like something that they are not the target audience of. I've never once seen a male fan of Sailor Moon complain that theirs TOO MUCH focus on romance, for example, or that their needs to be more fanservice for the guys. Even Bronies generally keep their weirdness contained to fanart and fanfic, and don't demand changes to the show itself.

This is the real reason why male creators get frustrated with female fandoms. It's usually because of the actions of the fandom, not cause of the fandoms gender.

[olenvasynyt]

This has been pissing me off for years but I finally made a tiktok about it and I’m just posting it on here too.  So here are a lot of inconsistencies in ACOTAR that piss me off to no end, and one of them is this thing about daematis.  And it is sucha small thing but it is just one out of the countless inconsistencies in SJM's writing that makes me personally not enjoy the series as much anymore.

In chapter 54 of ACOMAF, Rhys explains in his really long "I'm a good guy I swear" monologue that he took away Clare’s pain Under the Mountain while she was being tortured.  

Chapter 54 of ACOMAF: “I broke into Clare’s head when they brought her Under The Mountain.  I took away her pain, and told her to scream when expected to.  So they…they did those things to her, and I tried to make it right, but…After a week, I couldn’t let them do it.  Hurt her like that anymore.  So while they tormented her, I slipped into her mind again and ended it.  She didn’t feel any pain.  She felt none of what they did to her, even at the end.

But in ACOFAS, Feyre gets her first menstrual cycle, she finds out that it’s so much more painful than a human period, but there was nothing Madja, Mor, or Rhys could do for the pain.  

Chapter 5 of ACOFAS: “In place of those monthly, human discomforts, was a biannual week of stomach-shredding agony.  Even Madja, Rhys’ favored healer, could do little for the pain short of rendering me unconscious.”  

...did we not remember that Rhys has the ability to take away pain?  This just tells me that SJM forgot, because that would be an excellentttt opportunity to show more of Rhys being a loving mate with these awesome powers. Rhys is tending to her every need, cleaning Feyre off, switching blankets, stroking her hair:

“Rhys had stayed with me the entire time, stroking my hair, replacing the heated blankets that I soaked with sweat, even helping me clean myself off.  Blood was blood, was all he said when I’d objected to him seeing me peel off the soiled undergarments.  I’d been barely able to move at that point without whimpering…”

If SJM remembered what she wrote I feel like Rhys would have leaped at the opportunity to take away her pain.

And people can say “Oh but what about this”, “well Rhys could just be manipulative and evil or something”, “Well I don’t think Feyre would have let him anyways”, and other such excuses, but when I break the fourth wall, it just looks like Rhys taking away Clare’s pain with his daemati powers was to make him look better in the situation. It was not a proper bit of world-building or magic system-building, because SJM just…forgot.  It is solely to make Rhys look like a good guy in this specific moment and is used for nothing else because she. Forgot.  And I’m pretty sick of SJM just…forgetting about stuff, even if it’s something as small as this.

[piracytheorist]

In Life, And in Death (1/11)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 4.1k for this chapter | 32.4k in total Rating: T Warnings: Temporary character death, graphic violence, horror imagery, body horror, mild gore, whump, language Cover art by @buf309

Summary: Anya is kidnapped, and Twilight is thrown into the horrors of a mysterious, deadly village. Forced and then choosing to survive its trials - physical and mental - he's brought to figure out who he truly is. (A Resident Evil Village fusion)

AO3

~

Author's Note: Probably my most insane fanfic project yet. After I successfully probed SOMEONE, aka @spencer-is-someone, into watching a Resident Evil Village gameplay, they fell in love with Ethan Winters but felt he went through too much in the game, prompting the idea "What if Loid went through all that stuff instead". And well, 32 thousand words later, here I am, inflicting this literal horror upon y'all.

I made a post about it, and the absolutely wonderful @buf309 went and made this amazing cover art, and I literally couldn't be more thankful for that. I was so amazed when I saw the first draft sketch that I went like I'M GONNA WAIT TILL IT'S READY TO POST THE FIC. Seriously, words cannot describe how grateful I am, I sincerely hope the fic feels satisfying enough for the work you've done <3

If you know how the Resident Evil Village story goes, this is pretty much the same... yes, in all of its "parts-in-jars" glory (if you know you know, if you don't you will soon), just with Twilight taking the place of Ethan Winters. There will be a few changes from the original story to fit Twilight's character, some to facilitate the adaptation from game narrative to fanfic narrative, some to fit my own tastes, and an actually hopeful ending because we were all left heartbroken after the ending of RE Village so might as well pour some healing juice to put our hearts back together same way Ethan puts his limbs back together and hope for the best.

Do take note of the warnings, please. There is one part of the story I actually had chills while writing (yes, that part for those of you who know, it will be slightly changed but the essence will be the same) and it is based on the story of a horror/survival game, so make sure you're okay to read something as intense as this.

The story is written in full, though I'm still doing small bits of editing here and there. I don't have a posting schedule, but I'm thinking of updating twice a week, or once if I see the editing is taking longer. Chapter titles are taken from track titles of the game's original soundtrack.

So yeah, long intro over, take not of the warnings, I hope you enjoy if you read on!

~

Chapter 1: Bloodthirsty

~

“Anya, don’t sit so close to the TV,” Loid said, not looking up from the counter.

Unsurprisingly, there was no response. He wouldn’t doubt that she hadn’t even heard him, let alone acknowledged his request.

He picked up a handful of minced meat to mould into a burger steak, deciding to give her another reminder in two minutes from now. Yor had just left to walk Bond, so it was only his direction she had to follow – and she was starting to make clear whose directions she preferred to follow nowadays.

He placed the burger on the pan as his body tensed. A split second later, the door burst open.

He jumped through the opening between the kitchen and the living room, but even that seemed a pointless blessing as thick smoke quickly covered the apartment.

He rushed through it to grab Anya, who trembled against him, but he didn’t have the time to move away from the shots.

Two silenced shots, piercing through his clothes and reaching into the skin of his back.

No blood. But they were pinching his skin, and he immediately felt groggy…

He dropped to his side, unable to move as figures approached him. One of them took Anya.

“PAPA!” she screamed at him.

He feebly raised his hand. “Wait,” was the only thing he could say, before his hand dropped.

More figures approached him, and then his vision went dark.

~

Focus, Twilight.

Don’t open your eyes yet. Don’t alert the enemy yet.

He held his breath for a moment.

He was somewhere cold, outside.

He could feel something soft but freezing underneath him. Snow?

His hair didn’t feel wet, so he mustn’t have been lying there long.

It was quiet. He could only hear distant sounds of wind and crows flying somewhere close.

He couldn’t feel anyone’s presence, so he decided to open one single eye to check.

But then both his eyes shot wide open.

In front of him stood a magnificent gothic mansion. It could be a mansion, or it could be a damn castle. It was surrounded by a thick wall, like a fortress.

He sat up. He was indeed lying on the snow, but it was the least of his concerns right now.

He had apparently been placed on the castle’s garden. Right in the middle of the winter, it was only decorated by a few naked trees as well as three scarecrows.

Those didn’t seem to do their job well enough, he thought, as crows still flew around, some even sitting on them.

He got up, checking himself for injuries. He couldn’t feel any pain or any indication of pierced skin. How had they drugged him?

It was then he realized he was now wearing his jacket.

Had they dressed him for the cold? While taking off his apron and the gloves he wore while preparing food?

What the hell?

Where even was this place?

Why was he brought here?

Where was Anya?

His attention was drawn back to the apparently useless scarecrows, and a chill ran down his spine – unrelated to the cold – when he noticed something eerie about them.

Carefully, he took a few steps towards them.

His breath caught in his throat when he was close enough to notice.

Those weren’t plain scarecrows.

Those were actual, human bodies hanging on wooden crosses.

His breath finally came out shaky, forming a cloud.

What the hell was this place?

Unable to quell his curiosity, he stepped closer, trying to notice for any details on the bodies, in case he recognized them.

All three seemed to be men, of ages between thirty and fifty, and they couldn’t have been dead for longer than a week or so. The cold might have preserved their bodies, but exposure to the outside would do as much more damage.

He couldn’t recognize any of their faces – or what was left of them.

Well, he didn’t even know where he was, how far away from Berlint or even in Ostania for that matter.

He clenched his hands into fists and turned around, looking around the walls surrounding the castle.

There was a huge metal door blocking the path outside. No climbing the wall; it was too smooth and covered in even more slippery ice. Climbing the trees wouldn’t give him enough height to swing himself out.

Which meant, his only way of getting answers was through the castle.

He must have been placed there for a reason, after all, and if they’d wanted to kill him they would have already done so.

He reached the entrance, and the door swung open easily.

The entrance hall was as luxuriously decorated as the outside hinted at. A lush burgundy carpet went up the few steps, leading to a wall where a painting of three young women hung.

The door closed behind him, and he didn’t miss the definitive clang as metal bars started descending right in front of it.

He turned, and for a few seconds he weighed his options.

He could break the door quickly enough before the bars descended too low, and slip outside.

But then again, they obviously wanted him in there, and again, it didn’t seem that killing him was their priority.

He faced forward, ignoring the sound of the bars trapping him in there.

He might as well play their game.

He walked to the painting. Underneath it was an inscription that wrote “Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra.”

Which one was which?

The women on the painting didn’t seem too different from each other. The painting itself didn’t seem all too enlightening, either; it looked like any common Romantic-style oil painting.

Well, it wasn’t going to give him any answers, would it?

He turned around, walking down a corridor and out into another, larger hall. He noticed how warm the whole building was, despite the freezing weather outside and the apparently old construction of the place.

This hall had hanging, lit candles all over the walls, though they couldn’t be the source of the heating. The lighting was low, but lucky for him, he’d been trained enough in low lighting for that not to be an issue.

He jerked back at the sound of a swarm of flies coming his way, then he sensed someone’s presence.

Flies, he could handle.

But then the flies started gathering together, and within seconds they morphed into three women, dressed in black hooded cloaks.

“Wha—?” he whispered.

“Looking for Anya?” a voice said, and he assumed it’d come from one of the women. Who had just formed from flies.

The absurdity of his situation almost made him forget that she had just mentioned Anya.

Which meant they probably knew where she was.

However, he was too shocked by the sight that he couldn’t move when one of the women, all of whom were cackling, approached him and pushed him backwards.

She swung the scythe she held in her hand, and he pulled his legs away just before she could bury it in his calf.

“Oh, he’s feisty!” the woman said with a wide smile.

Her arm then almost zapped through the air, and his left leg was exploding in pain before he could even register the movement.

He yelped in pain as she leaned closer to him and took a long sniff.

Her mouth and jaw were covered in blood, though her blond hair looked pristine clean.

“Mmm, man-blood,” she said.

She then leaned back and started dragging him, by the scythe embedded in his leg, as he still lay helplessly on the ground.

She was too fast. He flailed around, trying to grab at anything they passed by to make her stop, even though that would mean the scythe would rip his entire leg open, but then another woman reached his other side and buried her scythe in his right leg.

He threw his head back, biting down another yell of pain.

Could he just have one moment?!

The women dragged him down another corridor and into what he quickly realized was a bedroom. They removed their scythes, and he quickly reached to assess the damage, when he heard the blond woman say “Mother, I bring you fresh prey,” as she pointed at him with her hand.

“You are so kind to me, daughters,” came a voice of a woman who sounded older than them.

Older, and bigger.

She was sitting on a massive chair, holding an equally massive glass of red wine. She took a sip from it, then stood up and turned to him, saying, “Now, lets take a look at him.”

He raised his head to look at her.

And then raised it higher.

She had the build of a muscular woman, with curves proportionate to her height, which must have been about three meters tall. She wore a black wide-brimmed hat over her chin-length black hair, and a long white dress that reached down to her feet, though she moved comfortably in it.

“Well, well. Loid Forger,” she said. “Came looking for your daughter, I presume?”

He sat there, frozen.

They knew who he was – or at least pretended to be? And they knew Anya was also taken?

She walked closer to him, smiling as she put her hands on her hips. “For you to think you can waltz right in here—let’s see how special you are,” she nearly purred.

She threw her hands up in a sign for something, and two of the younger women said “Yes, mother,” as they grabbed his arms and pulled him up.

His first thought was that he was standing up surprisingly well for just having had two scythes ran through his legs.

His second thought was terror as one woman grabbed his hand, and the other produced a very sharp-looking knife.

Before he could jerk back, she sliced his palm open.

He bit back a grunt; it wasn’t a deep cut, but it would be annoying…

His last thought trailed off as the tall woman reached down, grabbed his hand, brought it to her lips… and started sucking.

Now he really was frozen in terror.

What the hell was this nightmare?

The woman pulled her head back, licking at her lips with a blood-soaked tongue.

She threw his hand away. “Hmm,” she said. “Still fresh, but only barely.”

He wrapped his hand into a fist, keeping it close to his chest.

“Then let’s devour his man-flesh quickly, mother!” one of the women said, handing a handkerchief to her.

“But I’m the one who captured him!” the blond woman protested.

“Now, now, daughters,” the tall woman said, patting at her lips with the handkerchief. “First, I must inform Mother Miranda. But later, well, there will be enough for everyone.” She threw the handkerchief aside, smiling down at him. “Put him up!”

The young women surrounded him, and though he struggled, they were too strong for him as they put heavy manacles on his wrists.

A thick build, but he could break out of them with little effort.

But then, they secured a chain to them, and the chain started going up. He was lifted off his feet, and started grunting as the full force of his weight fell on his wrists.

Don’t say anything. Don’t let them take a hold of any weaknesses.

He clenched his jaw, keeping his voice from making any sounds as they headed out of the room. The tall woman had to bend to get through that door, and one of the young women – the second one who had stabbed his leg – bent down and picked up the discarded handkerchief, smelling the blood on it and laughing, as she followed them.

Breathing hard, he looked up at the manacles.

The pain was intense but manageable, though he already felt the tingling of numbness in his fingers. By his calculations, he had about fifteen or so minutes before cut blood circulation would start causing permanent damage.

Escape, first. Then you can freak out.

He grabbed the chain and dragged his body up. Though his legs were still bleeding, he brought them up so he could hold the chain between his feet.

He was gasping by the time he managed that, but at least he had less pain on his hands and a better view of the manacles.

They were old and rusty, but seemed to have a fairly standard locking mechanism. Bringing his body closer, he fished the lockpick out from a hidden pocket of his jacket.

Biting his lip, he worked through the lock of the right manacle. Just as it opened, his feet slipped from the chain and dropped down, causing all of his weight to drop onto his injured left hand.

The pain knocked the air out of his lungs.

Think! Think! Pull yourself together!

Taking in a laboured breath, he looked back up.

The lockpick had slipped from his hand and was now too far down for him to get it. His right hand was free, but he didn’t have any other options left.

Reaching up, he wrapped his free hand around his left thumb, and with a sharp pull, he dislocated it.

As his other hand was coated in blood from the cut, his wrist slipped through the manacle as soon as his thumb wasn’t in the way.

He dropped to the ground clumsily, not managing to balance his landing.

Wheezing, he looked at his left hand.

Bleeding, and a dislocated thumb.

He gave himself ten seconds.

Ten seconds to wonder where the hell he had gotten himself into, what that tall woman even was, standing at three meters tall and drinking blood, and what her “daughters” were, emerging from flies and also participating in… blood drinking? Cannibalism?

Ten seconds, and he was back to himself.

Focus, Twilight.

He looked at his legs – they were still bleeding, but he felt confident he could stand on them. Though those scythes looked sharp, they must have split a tendon or two apart.

At the corner of the room stood a vanity table, and on top of it, along with various cosmetics, lay a small green bottle with a cross on the label.

He stood up carefully, glad that his legs weren’t trembling. He picked up the bottle, carefully reading the label.

Medical alcohol.

Not one to trust this place that much, he opened the lid, and sure enough, it smelled like ethyl alcohol.

He sat down with a grunt, pulling his right trouser up. He didn’t have any clean gauze, so his only option was to pour liquid right over the wound.

He braced himself for the sting of pain, but instead, the liquid brought a cool, numbing sensation.

And then, right in front of his eyes, his wound closed then disappeared completely.

He stared at it.

Ten more seconds.

What the hell.

He looked at the bottle again. Medical alcohol, it said. It smelled like it too.

He looked back at his leg, raising his other trouser where the other wound still stood.

What the hell?!

Uncertain, he poured a little less liquid over that wound.

The wound immediately stopped bleeding as new skin seemed to form, though it didn’t heal completely.

He let out a breath. If he were honest with himself, this wasn’t really the weirdest thing to happen in the last few minutes, was it?

He turned to his mangled hand. Just how much could that liquid heal?

He poured an equal dosage to it, and was still surprised to see his thumb painlessly slide into its place, as well as the cut close completely.

Well, at least it could be useful.

He didn’t have time to worry over the supernatural. He had to get out of there, and find out where Anya was.

He took the path of unlocked doors, as he didn’t want to waste time and noise trying to break the lock of every locked door he found. Breaking the windows wouldn’t lead him anywhere – each one was sealed shut, and though he wasn’t averse to turning into a hooligan for the sake of escaping, the entire castle seemed to be surrounded by that wall.

He needed to get to a higher floor, but the safest and most silent path led him to the basement, where he found himself walking along piles and piles of dead bodies.

He had to hold his breath as he passed them by; apparently the occupants of the castle had the habit of feasting on the blood of humans, and did it so often that the amount of bodies was too big to act as decoration for their garden.

It was all men, however. As young as twenty-three, from what he could gather with a quick look.

The fly-women seemed to be confident enough in their hunting that they didn’t take away the handgun from one of the more fresh bodies. Twilight couldn’t tell if that was a police officer, a soldier, or a man aware of what he’d been dealing with, but it didn’t matter to him. He undid the holster, as gently as he could out of respect of the deceased man, and he put it on under his jacket.

He checked the magazine. Ten bullets out of sixteen.

He looked at the man. Had he shot those first six bullets right before he was killed?

The man had a shoulder bag on him, and inside was a box of bullets, a total of forty. He slid that too over his own shoulder.

He kept the safety on the gun on, but held it in his hand. He picked up a hunting knife from one of the other bodies and walked on.

As the bodies thinned out, he found a lone skeletal figure draped in a plain canvas cloak. The limbs stood out, bare, emaciated, and rotting. While other bodies were in a similar state of decomposition, they were fully clothed, at most with a few rips in their clothes. This one was the only one so bare.

And it was holding a scythe in its hand, old and rusty in comparison to the women’s scythes, but still sharp enough to do harm.

He approached it carefully, keeping both hands on the gun.

He thanked his training for that, as the figure moved when he passed right by it.

He yelped in shock, moving away from it and raising his gun at it.

“Stop!” he said. “Don’t move!”

The creature, whatever that was, didn’t seem like it listened let alone register his words. It stood up, hunched over, then lunged at him with the scythe.

Not finding any alternatives, he shot right at its head.

The creature jerked back as a screech left its mouth.

Twilight held his breath.

His blood froze when he saw it still stand on its legs and try to swing at him again.

He shot again. He was perfectly certain the bullet got through its head.

Yet the creature moved again.

And he shot again.

Only now did the creature finally drop to its knees, but it was still screeching and growling.

Desperate, Twilight took the knife and drove it through the creature’s skull, three times, until he felt it stop moving.

It collapsed on the floor.

Hell knew if it would rise again. It was supposed to be dead already, wasn’t it?

He turned around and ran.

There were more creatures on the way. Some he slashed at with the knife, some he shot at, some he simply ran away from. A few managed to nick him with their scythes, and if he were honest, he was more worried about infections than the injuries themselves.

As he found a quiet corner, he pulled out the alcohol – or whatever that was. It seemed to work on the nicks too, making them close quickly and painlessly.

He supported himself on the wall, forcing his breath to calm down.

He had to get out. Now.

Holding the gun tight to his hand, he moved to leave, but then a buzzing and a voice sounded from behind him.

“Hmm. Warm, bright, red blood.”

He didn’t turn to look at her. He knew it was the blond woman.

He made a run for it as flies swarmed around him, until he found a staircase going up, reaching into what looked like a kitchen area.

“Where are you going, little one?”

The woman appeared right in front of him, cutting off his path. She was smiling at him, surrounded by flies, her face still stained with blood.

“I just want to find Anya,” he managed.

“Aw,” she said. She then pushed him back and he fell on the ground. She lay over him, reaching at his neck and biting.

Yelling, he took the gun and fired twice at her stomach.

She reached up, laughing as fresh blood ran from her lips.

He shot at her head.

“Your bullets cannot harm m—”

Her voice cut off when another of his shots passed through her and hit the window behind her.

The glass cracked, and it quickly shattered as a cold gust of wind blew into the room.

The gust threw the woman’s hood off her head. Twilight tightened his hold on the gun when he spotted a massive, fleshy scar on her temple, a bald spot from her long hair.

The woman shrieked, then growled. Her skin, already pale as it was, seemed to start cracking and turn grey. She looked at her hands, still gasping in pain, and then turned to him, yelling, “You stupid man-thing!”

His mind finally picked up the pace. The cold made her weak?

He stood up, raising his gun at her.

“How dare you bare your teeth at us!” she shouted, then lunged at him with her scythe.

He managed to block her attack, pushing her back, and he shot at her face.

She groaned, still standing, but she said, “What? My body—it’s breaking…”

He kept his gun up. “Just let me go,” he said.

A wild rumble came from her mouth as she turned to attack him again. She reached him, and he could only block her at the last moment, his arms taking the full blow of her scythe. “Give up!” she said, reaching back for another swing of her weapon.

He shot twice at her head, and she yelled again.

The flies seemed to drop in numbers, and her skin cracked more and more. He barely managed to avoid two more of her attacks, and then she fell on him, ready to bite his head off, he supposed in the split second it took him to kick her off of him.

He shot two more times.

“This can’t be,” she said, weakly now, her body swaying.

“Let me go!” he repeated, taking two steps back.

She screamed and reached back with her scythe, and he shot again.

And then a sizzling sound came from her body, as she started swinging wildly, not reaching anything. She groaned and groaned, and her body transformed.

It seemed to calcify into gravel, as she slowly stopped moving, her hand still up in a pose of attack.

And then it broke down.

Whatever it was, it cracked into small pieces, and what started as the form of a woman was now a pile of something on the ground.

Breathing hard, he leaned his back on the wall behind him and slid down to the floor.

His hands were trembling, his feet felt like water.

What the hell was all that?

Were was he?

Why was he brought here?

And where was Anya?

What were those creatures…?

He closed his eyes. Ten seconds. Just ten seconds to freak out.

He just had to get out. Find Anya and…

He opened his eyes, his throat tensing.

Did he really have to find her?

As far as he was concerned, right now she was a liability to him. He had to prioritize his safety first.

It wasn’t like there were piles of bodies of dead girls around, was it?

Letting out a deep sigh, he stood back up. The woman had managed to hurt him a little, but the healing liquid was in short supply and he could handle those injuries up to a point.

The woman. Who was now a pile of ash.

Calm down, Twilight. Get yourself in order and find a way out.

The castle proved massive, and he couldn’t find any viable exit paths even as he seemed to reach what looked like hallways reaching into bedrooms.

Then, a mournful scream sounded from a floor below.

“What have you done to my daughter?!”

His blood chilled. If the “daughter” had been that vicious, he didn’t want to face whatever her mother had in store for him.