#but i didn't notice it in that one but it suggests it's a pattern

[kirain]

I know he's not your romance, but can I request a wholesome Astarion fic plz?

Astarion frowned as he and Tav entered the modest boutique. It was small, but clean; organised. It had an almost rustic charm to it, featuring large windows adorned with delicate lace curtains, which were tied back just enough to let the sun shine through. That was appreciated, as Astarion had grown weary of the dark.

He said nothing as his favoured traveling companion scanned the outfits on the walls, cupping her chin as she considered and rejected each one. Carefully curated as they were, she seemed to be looking for something specific. The soft lighting highlighted racks of unique frocks, hand-knitted sweaters, and artisanal jewelry, but she passed them all by.

Why did she bring me to this rundown shack?

Astarion huffed. Has she noticed how tatty my clothes are? No, she's not that perceptive.

His eyes widened as Tav's finger suddenly pointed at some lingerie behind the shopkeeper's counter. His heart sank.

Of course ... she wants to dress me in something risqué. Expose my body. Why am I not surprised? There's nothing more "sexy" than a vampire, after all. He bit the tip of his thumb, feigning indifference. So in the end, she's just like all the others. A horny, selfish—!

"No, no! Not that!" she laughed. "The one beside it."

Astarion flinched, trying to hide his shock as the shopkeeper passed her a plain ashmeadow outfit. It wasn't particularly bright or stylish, but the pattern was subtle, casually elegant, and paired with lightweight trousers, likely designed to ease movement.

"What do you think?" she asked, unfolding the pieces for a better view. "Doesn't it look nice and comfy?"

Astarion hesitated. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised every inch. Overall, the outfit was dull, at least compared to his usual garb, but pleasant in all the ways that mattered. It wouldn't grab attention, but it wasn't hideous. It wouldn't make a spectacle of his body, but it would complement his figure, his hair, his eyes. For one brief moment, he felt grateful, but quickly recoiled in mistrust.

Is this a trick?

He quickly waved at the suggestion, bidding the shopkeeper to take the outfit away, but Tav clung to it, staying his hand.

"Wait, what's wrong with it? You don't like it?"

"I appreciate your confidence in me, darling, but I don't think even I could make that dreary ensemble look good. That's something you'd see a pig farmer wearing." He gave her a seductive grin. "Surely you'd like to see me in something more ... exotic."

Disgusting, but I need her protection. Just fuck me, already. Get it over with. Why the song and dance? Why the charade? Am I not being forward enough? Perhaps I should should try the 'lonely bachelor' angle.That tends to work best on sensitive women like this.

Tav raised a brow, her confusion genuine, but Astarion didn't believe it. He couldn't.

"No, I just think this suits you," she said.

Astarion scoffed, thrown by her sincerity. There was no hint of sarcasm or trickery in her tone. No indication that she was fulfilling some mundane kink by picking such an outfit. But it didn't make sense. He hadn't been particularly kind to her, and he was only good for one thing: sex. Surely that's what she was after.

"Did you not hear what I said?" he snapped. "That's something a pig farmer—"

"What's wrong with being a pig farmer?" she argued. "They work hard, live free, and dress for comfort."

"And I'll have you know, that outfit is not for farming," the shopkeeper added, visibly offended. "I mean, I suppose you could. It's certainly durable, but it's more for ... sophisticated roving."

"There you go," Tav giggled, harmlessly. "Don't you want to be a 'sophisticated rover', Astarion?"

He pulled back defensively, pursing his lips to hide his fangs. They live free? Dress for comfort? As if I ever had such a choice. She has no idea! His fingers curled into a fist.

"Are you ... mocking me? Is that what this is?"

Are you trying to dress your toy?!

The air around him felt charged, a palpable tension that made it difficult to breathe. A deep red flush spread across his neck, creeping up towards his pale face. The anger was sudden, but uncontrollable, and he didn't know why.

Calm down, you fool. This is nothing. You've been through worse. He screamed internally. So then, why does it hurt more than usual? Why is it worse when it's her?! I ... I don't want her to see me this way, but I know she does! Who wouldn't?!

"Mocking you?" Tav asked, breaking the silence.

She tilted her head, the simple act pulling Astarion from is raging stupor. Her eyes were innocent, unassuming. And of course they were—he hadn't yet told her the truth about Cazador. The details. The depravity.

Hold on. Is this ... real?

"What are you saying?" she peeped. "I brought you here because I noticed how worn out your clothes are. Thin with crooked replacement stitches." Astarion's throat tightened, trying not to blush. "I just thought you might like something new."

"I ... see."

"If you don't like the black and white..." She smiled and gestured to the shopkeeper. "We can order something with colour. Do you take commissions? Can my friend here make alterations?"

Friend?

"He can, and we do indeed sew to order. It just might take a while. I'm down a seamstress this month."

Astarion paused, their voices fading. He looked down at the sleeved tunic and accompanying vest that Tav held close to her chest. It was thick, surprisingly well crafted, and more fashionable than he initially dared to admit. For a moment, he felt his unbeating heart flutter. New clothes. A whole outfit, just for him. He'd forgotten what that felt like. What shopping for anything other than a victim for Cazador felt like.

Against his better judgement, he reached out and rubbed the material between his fingers. Twill. Handcrafted. Warm. He felt a tingle as he realised Tav didn't choose that outfit at random. She'd put a lot of thought into it.

"I want this one."

"Sorry?" Tav said, glancing up at him.

"This outfit." He tugged at the sleeve, gently. "I want this one."

She smiled. "Are you sure? You didn't seem overly thrilled about it a second ago."

"Tch! Well, I changed my mind," he hissed. "What can I say?" His eyes softened. "It's grown on me. Kind of like your ... annoyingly infectious positivity."

"Alright, alright," she laughed, ignoring his jibe. "Can you ring this up, sir?"

Astarion's back stiffened as she reached for her coin purse. Money, right. That hadn't crossed his mind. As horrible as Cazador was, everything needed was provided. When allowed to sleep on a bed, it was there. When Cazador's guests wanted wine, it was there. Anything needed to rope in victims was given. He hadn't had to buy anything in nearly two hundred years.

"Wait, I—"

"It's no problem," Tav said, sensing his conflict. "I'm happy to do this."

"But..." He frowned, crossing his arms. "Well, don't expect anything back. If that's what you're after, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"I don't expect anything back, Astarion." She handed the shopkeeper a roll of gold coins, then turned to him with another tender smile. "I'm just glad to help out a friend."

Astarion stood in silence, his brow twitching. A thought occurred to him—two words he hadn't felt the desire to say in two centuries. Two words he'd almost forgotten. He shifted from side to side, looking anywhere but at her, desperate for an escape from the vulnerability pressing down on him.

But I think she truly means it.

"I..."

His mouth opened, then closed again. He cleared his throat, trying to speak, but the silence lingered. He could tell she expected nothing, but for once he wanted to give a part of himself, by choice. Just a few words. The feeling inside him grew, a swell of gratitude he couldn't quite contain. Finally, he sighed and met her eyes with a smile.

"Thank you."

[trans-cuchulainn]

came back to tell you that i'm reading a fantasy novel by an author whose previous books i have really enjoyed and there was just one line -- one fucking line -- where she uses parchment as a synonym for paper (as in, the same object is described as both, and behaves like paper even when being described as parchment) and my kindle annotations just say NO

(and obviously like. it's fantasy. but a) it's fantasy grounded in history and b) why use the word parchment at all when you've just used the word paper therefore telling me that paper exists in this world. why did you feel the need to use a different word, which is not in fact a synonym but a different material used for similar purposes. carelessness that's why) (and no copyeditors know what parchment is to comment on this. apparently. starting a campaign to give publishing employees an education in historic writing surfaces)

[hellisharchive]

・﹒・ hypersexual nights

Summary: How various Hazbin and Helluva Boss characters react to a hypersexual reader!

Warnings: 18+, sexual scenarios, Vouyer!Vox, does hypersexual not tell you enough lol just read it

Parings: [Seperate] Saint Peter, Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Vox, Mammon, and Striker x hypersexual!reader

Notes: HOLY SHIT THIS WAS GONNA BE FOR 300 FOLLOWERS NOW ITS 400 FOLLOWERS! As a celebration, have this! I'm an hypersexual aroace myself so hypersexuals rise up! 💪

﹒Adam﹒

・He would notice how you always were down to fuck, almost every day in fact, how could he not? You've been the only one to truly keep up with him as most other people always had "low" sex drives and wouldn't be in the mood when he was. So you were like a blessing just for him when day after day, you would always be up for sex at any given moment. When you told him you were Hypersexual one day after a good fuck, he just laughed in your face.

・"Hypersexual? You're always horny? Bitch PLEASE I already knew that. You ask for sex like- every day and never shut up about it. That's why I like you so much. You want to be fucked just as much as I want to fuck"

﹒Saint Peter﹒

・He is a pretty innocent soul, he swears occasionally but when it comes to sex? Oh boy. And you? Being hypersexual? You always flirt with him in a suggestive manner, wanting him to just admit that he likes you. He can't help but simultaneously love the attention as the thoughts you always put in his head, but feel so embarrassed and dirty about it. He always seems to short circuit whenever you flirt with him, but he never says no, so you keep doing it. He of course noticed it after the first few times, you being on par with Adam in sexuality, how could he not? But when you admitted that you were hypersexual and he finally understood.

・"Oh? That's why you uh- why you're always flirt with me! Haha...and say those...really uhm...dirty things... Not that I mind of course! I actually uh...kind of like it..."

﹒Lucifer﹒

・He had his suspicions very early on, it was so obvious to notice how you and Angel Dust got along so well with the topic of sex. He also noticed how you always made sex jokes and talked about sex even without the porn star around. And when it came to him? You always seemed to get flustered whenever he flirted with you, always ensuring to make it dirty, and it worked everytime. After you got together, you almost pounced on him, wanting to have sex early on. He didn't mind it, but in fact, wanted it. You then apologized and said you were hypersexual, meaning you couldn't not think about sex constantly. He just laughed and pinned you down on the bed.

・"Oh I know very well, very well. And I will enjoy fulfilling every. Single. Desire. You could ever ask for"

﹒Mammon﹒

・He isn't exactly the smartest tool in the shed, but he knew you were just as greedy as him. Not in the money sense, no, no. But in sex. You haven't yet gotten to that point in your relationship yet, but he could tell you were denying taking the step. Was it because he was a Sin? He didn't know. All he knew is that if you didn't fuck him already, he was going to fuck you first. So he confronted you and you said you were scared of him just using you for sex due to your constant sexual nature. He reassured you that he truly did love you, but couldn't deny that someone just as greedy as him was very nice to have around.

・"Oi! Don't be scared mate! I won't use ya just for sex and toss ya away! I love ya too much for that. But ya know- I'd be down to fuck every single night if that's what you want"

﹒Vox﹒

・He is an interesting case. He isn't the best guy around and loves to spy on you. So, when you act all innocent and sweet around him, yet fuck yourself silly with a stupid toy screaming for him so incredibly often it becomes a pattern? Yeah, you're hiding your sexual nature. Which is odd, but probably so Valentino didn't swoop in to take advantage of you. Instead of talking to you, he let your feelings build and build and let your toy eventually not be enough for you. You finally burst into his office and told him you knew he was watching you while you masturbated. He was taken aback at first, but then laughed as he realized you loved that he watched you.

・"You need the real thing, huh? Was waiting for you to finally say it you dirty little whore"

﹒Valentino﹒

・He noticed immediately as you would constantly flirt with him in a suggestive way and he would flirt back just as hard if not harder. It was so easy to notice, he played into it very hard and took advantage of your very sexual nature. It was easy to get you hooked quickly and you never had to say a thing. He fucked you in every way he could imagine and you loved every second of it. It was a mutual understanding between you two- the thought of telling him that you're hypersexual was laughable in every sense of the idea.

・"Oh baby~ you wanna be fucked into the mattress again? It hasn't even been three hours amore~ you're still horny? I'll make sure you can't walk anymore after~"

﹒Striker﹒

He isn't apposed to sex, he just hates it when people makes jokes about it when he's just trying to do his job. In fact, he loves sex, have you seen the huge statue where his dick is very endowed? That man is full of himself and knows he can fuck good. You started out as a target for him and at first your sexual flirting threw him off his game. But after many failed attempts of cat and mouse, you finally managed to get him to admit that he liked it from your non stop remarks.

・"Ok fine- yer hot and I wanna fuck. Don't look at me like that! Not my fuckin' fault yer always telling me you wanna suck my cock"

[itsvelyria]

"the moment the f1 boys realised you were the one"

Charles Leclerc

being able to cry around you: charles has a bad habit of bottling everything up. it was three months into your relationship when he had a particularly bad race, a stroke of bad luck. he was met with pats on his back and mutters that he would do better. numbness flooding his veins, they did nothing to ease the anxiety in his chest. he met your eyes across the room and watched as you stepped closer. with extended arms, you'd told him to let it out. never once has anyone ever told him that before, and so he had instantly broken down, exhausted from having to hold it all together. there was nothing needed but your presence. he sobs messily into your shoulder and the next morning, he had wished that he'll always have you around.

Carlos Sainz

when he realised you knew him better than he did himself: "how did you know?" were his first words, when he came home one night, only to come face-to-face with a pair of Airpods on the nightstand, addressed to him. he had sorely needed a new pair after losing them on the plane but hadn't had the time to purchase them. "because i know you" was your answer, beaming up at him from the side, where you were preparing dinner. you had missed the deep look in his eyes, rambling on; first his sister's wedding anniversary present in the coat closet, then the watch his father had wanted mended for a while now all fixed. and there it was: that was the moment where carlos finally understood the fluttering in his heart.

Danny Ricciardo

making the best out of life: when you had agreed to go out with danny solely because he made life feel that much brighter, but what you didn't know was that he felt the same way about you. you were always up for anything, the easygoing aura you carried with your being influencing him, especially when he had suggested sharing the singular umbrella left in the store — the unexpected downpour having caught you both off guard. nonetheless, you huddled under the umbrella, both your shoulders getting soaked the second you left the safety of the grocery store shelter. eyes meeting across the umbrella handle, you both break out into chuckles at your plain misfortune. that's when he realised — there was no one else he wanted to be stuck in a bad situation with.

George Russell

inside jokes: it was a small thing, minuscule even, the earliest memory of the joke being one of your first few dates, before you were even official. it was just a simple coincidence that the situation you were called for it. in the group dinner with your mutual friends, george's eyes had shot to yours, searching for the only being who could possibly understand him. and in that flash of a moment when his blue gaze met yours, your bodies had naturally leaned towards their other halves, giggles muffled into your hands. if your friends were surprised at the sudden laughter, he doesnt even notice, too preoccupied with how gorgeous you looked in the candlelight and how fast his heartbeat has gotten.

Lando Norris

shared comfortable silence: your boyfriend loved people, befriending strangers and great conversations. it all came easy to him, possibly due to growing up a middle child, he mirrored a little ray of sunshine. but as much as he adored socialising, lando found that he equally enjoyed quiet time with you, especially on lounge chairs by the beach while you flipped through your book, absolutely taken by the words. lando admired the expression fluttering across your features with each passing page. something strange settled in his tummy as he continued staring, something he could only allude to how peace might feel like. perhaps this is how life was meant to be lived, he thought.

Lewis Hamilton

sharing tattoo meanings: lewis has had a lot of art done on his body over the years and he's proud of all of them; memories and meanings forever part of him. with the orange glow of your nightlight at 3am, he watched as you traced the patterns on his skin, telling you stories and what each of them meant. you had soaked up the words, mesmerised by the deep lull of his voice as he opened up his heart to you. never has anyone been so interested in him as a person, all they wanted to know was his career and business and he appreciated it. to you, he was just a man — someone you wanted to know more about.

Max Verstappen

his pets greeting you: as the provider for his cats, he expected a touch more loyalty from the feline beings. still he remained seated, fixated on how jimmy and sassy nuzzled at your calves, the warmth of their tiny bodies against his legs previously lost. the silence was broken by the sound of grocery bags tossed on the kitchen counter as you stooped down to scratch their fuzzy chins. a light purr emanated from sassy while jimmy rolled over, also meowing in a bid for attention. his heart strangely light, he watched you indulge them like the spoiled brats they were. was it because of how much love was within you or the care you held for the things he held dear? either way, max couldn't tamp down the urge to cross the room and wrap you in his arms, much like you did with his pets now, the three little words in the back of his throat.

[unstable-samurai]

LOVE IS INTENTION

pt.2: A long Dinner With The Frogs

Sana x Male Reader

word count: 18k

part 1

The superintendent's office resembled more a funeral chamber, suffocated in constant dimness. The cold, relentless glow of fluorescent lamps was the only thing piercing the darkness. The smell of stale coffee and musty papers permeated the air, a perpetual reminder of decay. Smith, with dark circles that looked like craters on a face sculpted by exhaustion, stared at the superintendent. Frustration was the only visible mark on his worn expression.

"Superintendent, we need to talk about the case of the victims," Smith said, his voice heavy as lead. "The fourth woman was found today. The modus operandi is exactly the same as the other three. Unless you haven't noticed."

The superintendent, the personification of coldness and impassivity, leafed through the documents before him with an almost supernatural calm. His eyes slowly rose, fixing on Smith with his well-known bony and unfriendly face.

"I saw the report, Smith," he said, his voice as cold as the room. "But this last victim had a Dharma Wheel symbol. That’s a new detail, don’t you think? It might indicate it's not the same killer. Don't jump to conclusions."

"Oh, so now we're collecting exotic symbols?" Smith retorted, acidity dripping from every word. "I understand your concern, but the rest of the details match perfectly. The profile of the victims, the crime scenes, the way they were approached and killed. This can't be a coincidence, unless you prefer to ignore it."

The superintendent maintained his calm and steady gaze on Smith, as if watching a detective character from a black-and-white noir film.

"I agree there are similarities, but the introduction of a new element might suggest a change in pattern or even the actions of a copycat. We need to be cautious, Smith.”

Smith narrowed his eyes, his hands clenching into fists on the table. “The victims were found in desolate locations, all in seldom-visited urban parks. All four women were between 25 and 35 years old, Caucasian, short in stature, and had a history of ‘nightlife’. The approach was meticulous. Do I need to remind you how it was?” Smith didn't wait for a response and continued: “First, the killer drugged them with benzodiazepines to incapacitate them without raising suspicion. Then, he tied their hands and feet with nylon ropes and strangled them with a thin wire, possibly a piano wire.”

Smith’s voice remained merciless, necessary to make the superintendent understand his point. “The bodies were left in specific, almost ritualistic poses, with their hands crossed over their chests and their eyes open. The only difference in this case is the Dharma Wheel symbol, marked on the victim's forehead with something that seemed to be a cauterization tool, as the forensics confirmed.”

"Dharma Wheel," the superintendent repeated, with a slight inflection of curiosity. "If we initially thought we were dealing with some kind of complex, puritanical misogynist sneaking around brothels, now what is it? A religious fanatic?"

Smith took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. “Well, the Dharma Wheel is a Buddhist symbol, representing cosmic law and order. But it also has mystical connotations. Some believe that incorporating this symbol into a ritual is an attempt to impose a kind of purification or karma on the victim. As if the killer were trying to justify his actions, giving them a higher meaning, almost... religious. Damn, I don’t know. I’ve never been a spiritual guy.”

The superintendent frowned, clearly skeptical. "So you think the killer sees his actions as a form of divine justice?"

"It's a possibility," replied Smith, with a spark of intensity in his eyes. "No detail is added by chance. If the killer included the symbol, he might have evolved in his thinking, or he’s trying to send a message. Maybe he believes he’s correcting some moral imbalance. Sees himself as some kind of Messiah or enlightened one. We need to understand his mindset to anticipate his next steps.”

“And what if we’re dealing with a cult?” questioned the inspector.

"A group of people walking around in white robes killing women would attract a lot of attention, don’t you think? But I admit there might be something bigger behind it. Though it’s still too early to raise such a suspicion. In any case, waiting for another corpse is not a brilliant strategy," Smith insisted. "We have a clear pattern in four cases. We’re dealing with a serial killer. If it’s a cult, we catch one and we catch them all. We need to adjust our operation. The team needs to know we’re dealing with someone methodical and dangerous, unless, of course, you really prefer to wait for another corpse."

"Are you suggesting we formalize this?" asked the superintendent, unperturbed.

"Yes!" affirmed Smith, determined. "Let’s change our mode of operation and inform the team to update the patterns we have. We need to be prepared to anticipate this killer’s next move, with or without the symbol."

There was a note of desperation in Smith’s voice, something even the superintendent, with his impenetrable emotional armor, could not ignore.

"Very well, Smith. Let’s formalize the change and reinforce surveillance in the suburbs. But keep your eyes open for any variation in the pattern. It happened once, it can happen again. Of course, if it’s really the same person. We can't rule out anything," agreed the superintendent, his tone remaining icy. “All this is weighing on me, Smith. I can’t afford to stay in the same spot.”

"Of course, superintendent. We’ll catch the bastard," replied Smith, exhausted. “Well, I think I’ll get some coffee, if you’ll excuse me.”

"Get some sleep, Smith," advised the superintendent, his voice as cold as a tombstone. "We’ll need a better spirit than this to deal with this case."

“I need to sort out a few things first,” Smith said, opening the office door. “After years in this profession, sir, your body gets used to and even learns to function in exhaustion.” And with his usual stubbornness, Smith left the room.

Although the conversation had ended, the funeral-like atmosphere lingered in the air, heavy and striking. The dying cries of the cold wind lashing the window glass seemed to protest against the sick city, as both men prepared to face another long night with no easy answers.

You waited for the document to save automatically, then saved it again manually. Trusting automation 100% has never been your style. You closed the MacBook screen and pushed the chair away from the table, rubbing your tired eyes after three hours of nonstop writing. The now-empty coffee bottle had been your greatest ally in this torturous and solitary mission. All true artists are, at some point, masochists. You heard this from a close friend who was also a writer. A word wizard, you considered him, despite the man never achieving the success he deserved. He was always sensible in his ponderings and could ridiculously well use sex as symbolism for any topic he was discussing. A damn depraved genius is what he was. You wish you had paid more attention when he said function should give a blowjob in form, not the other way around.

You gave a deserved stretch after so many hours sitting, feeling terribly tired, and, unfortunately, there was still a long time until nightfall. It was your third day in the cabin; on the first night, you slept poorly because the place was new, your body and mind needed to get used to such abrupt (though carefully organized) isolation. On the second night, you slept poorly because, well, you don't know why. Just a weird feeling of not being alone, something or someone watching you in the darkness of the room, a sudden perception of there being something else in this place. Whether it was a damn Wendigo or the witch of the woods, you weren’t sure, but regardless of who it was, you were going to sleep well that coming night, no matter the cost.

You took off your clothes, standing in your boxers in front of the bedroom mirror. Not bad for a man about to turn 40, truth be told. You always looked younger than you actually were, and some people found it impossible that you were over 35. For some reason, it was sad to stare at yourself half-naked in front of a mirror, so you refocused and put on your running clothes, the idea being to exhaust yourself to the point that at night you would die in bed, and nothing would bring you back to life, demon or spirit.

Perhaps you drafted the character Smith in such a tired and exhausted way so that he wouldn’t think more astutely than your own mind was capable of at that moment.

In the kitchen, you ate your banana with oats and took your creatine. Deafening silence. Leaning on the sink, you looked around the interior of the cabin; the only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was a counter. There was a small bathroom next to a small bedroom, and nothing more. It was a modest and rustic treasure, and you were more than happy to invest your money to renovate the entire cabin’s plumbing. Artesian well, submersible pump, lift piping, cistern to store water and distribute it to the points of use, pressurizer, and all those filters with strange names and different types of filtrations that, in the end, made it seem like the groundwater had passed under Chernobyl before reaching your cabin. But the bottom line was: drinkable water straight from the tap.

The nearest town was 12 km away. It was almost certain that no one was in the other cabins in the area, as most belonged to hunters and hunting season had not yet opened. The others, the ridiculously large and expensive cabins of rich folks wanting to enjoy nature without giving up extreme comfort, were apparently unoccupied, considering that the vacation season for most people with conventional jobs had already passed. In a way, this made you one of the only slackers in the region.

‘Artist’ might be a less degrading word.

As you headed to the cabin door, you were surprised to notice a small green thing on the wall near the window. As you approached, it moved. You were about to go for a run without your glasses, so eagle vision didn’t match your eyes at the moment. But getting a little closer, you realized it was a frog. When the little visitor noticed your presence, it ran up the wall to hide in an opening between the window and the wall, the spot where it probably came through. Shy little fellow.

“I’d better not see you around here at night, buddy,” you warned it, trying not to sound threatening.

Well, you didn’t hate frogs, but you weren’t a fan either. There was something about them that deeply bothered you, and if it weren’t for that, you might even consider them adorable creatures. The problem was their unpredictability; they could either run away when they saw you coming or suddenly jump on you. It’s not like you were afraid of frogs, maybe just the poisonous ones, for rational reasons, but those were rare to find by chance. The real problem was the feeling of being caught off guard by one of them; it was irritating to you. And this had roots in your tumultuous childhood. As a child, you hated spending holidays at your grandparents' country house because almost every night some frog would jump onto your bed, waking you from deep sleep in the worst possible way: cold, sticky feet on your face. It was always a challenge to get the frogs out of the room, and with all the adults asleep, you couldn’t turn to anyone. A small battle you had to fight alone every night. If only it were daytime, but damn, at night. Why did things seem so much harder at night? Once, three frogs jumped onto your bed within an hour. You woke up the next day with dark circles too deep for a 12-year-old boy and a lot of irritability in your voice. After that misfortune, you started sleeping with the room light on, even after leaving the country house; a habit that triggered issues with your uninterrupted sleep. That was when you first noticed that one event could trigger another completely random one. However, after two months, your father discovered the room light stayed on all night and forced you to turn it off at bedtime, making you lie in bed swallowed by darkness, dreading the sneaky steps of those amphibians so cute yet so damn annoying. It was a pretty embarrassing thing to admit. Ultimately, an irrational fear of something harmless, a product of the unconscious or a malfunction of the reptilian brain, where reason doesn’t operate, only primitive instinct or some crap like that. Regardless of what it was, the sensation of those little cold feet on your forehead was still incredibly vivid in your mind. No wonder you always admired Tiana's courage when she kissed that frog.

The fact was you’d prefer fat, slow toads crawling around your cabin to sneaky frogs inside it. At least this one in particular was smaller than usual, and it looked at you with bulging, curious orange eyes.

“Get out of here, little guy. The insects are outside,” you informed it with leniency, but the green fellow stared at you with a clueless look.

You headed outside the cabin. The fresh air filled your nostrils as the wind tousled your hair. The day was cloudy. According to the weather forecast, the week would be very rainy. You stretched before starting your run; your route would be to walk to a lake five minutes from the cabin and then run around it while listening to your rock playlist. After that, you would have to go to town to buy a new air filter for the generator, and maybe new spark plugs, as the current ones didn't seem to be working properly since the generator was consuming more fuel than you had previously calculated.

Which was strange because it was new.

Oh, and masking tape to cover that crack so the little green guy or one of his friends wouldn’t come back to bother you.

As you walked there (the background music playing in your ears), you revisited the idea of your story in your mind. It was a crime thriller, your first adventure in the genre, perhaps not as commercial as the books Grandma Agatha Christie wrote, tinged with a gloomy and almost nihilistic atmosphere, if not for the satire of the thing in some moments. The draft of the first chapter seemed good enough to you; it set the tone the story would follow. Smith, the classic detective destroyed by his own job and with a few vices, was quite fun to write because of his sarcasm, and the slight satire you intended to put in the subtext of the story lightly worried you about how the audience would receive the book. It wasn’t serious and dark, nor was it a comedy, or a proper satire, but rather that hard-to-reach tone in art: the bittersweetness of real life. Detective Smith cracked good jokes, but despite that, he was a guy committed to his job and, above all, focused on catching the serial killer. Obsessed, so to speak. Which often leads to character flaws and missteps along the way. A human.

Just because what he says is funny doesn't mean he isn't serious.

That was how you wanted to continue the story, and you needed to remember to never underestimate the reader to do it right and stay on tone. The fact that the story only really begins after the fourth murder was different and interesting, placing the reader in the middle of the mess would make the pace intense, while the past events would be given to the reader through flashbacks. The idea could work, as long as you don't ping-pong between the past and the present.

Before you knew it, the lake already stretched out before your eyes, calm and majestic. As you approached, it became clearer, even though distant things weren’t very precise on your radar. Near the shore, you started to run. The sensation was invigorating, close to absolute freedom, making you smile to yourself as all the irrelevant things seemed to fall behind. Perhaps this was the beginning of your solitude, after all. Finally erasing that weird feeling of resentment that had taken over you since you arrived at the cabin, a sense of being somewhat sick, with an inexplicable urge to vomit. And all because of damned Facebook forcing you to see a picture of your ex-wife, remarried, holding her baby in her arms. Countless times she said she didn't want kids… Yet there she was, looking like the happiest woman in the world. Without you.

And you without her! Happy in your solitude, the perfect return to your writing career, except for that one small, insignificant detail. It was all fine as long as you kept running because with every step: all those stupid things grew more distant from you.

Well…

Which actually didn’t make sense.

You were running in circles.

And just when you were about to complete the second semicircle around the lake (man, you must have been really into that solo from Shine On Your Crazy Diamond not to notice earlier), something reflected inside the lake, blinding your vision. You stopped running to see what it was and had to squint to see clearly; truth be told, it took a while for you to believe there was someone swimming alone in the lake at the far end from where you stopped running. You thought it could be anything else, but well, you weren't blind yet. The person had long hair, which could be black, dark brown, or even light brown, darkened by being wet. And you were almost sure it was a man. Thinking with common sense, no woman would be swimming alone in a cold lake in the middle of the forest. Maybe in a teen horror movie where a hot young girl lures a guy or a group of them into a deadly ambush; complete with over 30 minutes of explicit violence, numerous creative deaths, and lots and lots of nudity. You wouldn’t buy the ticket, but you’d watch it on some streaming service on a random night. Thankfully, something like that would never happen in real life. Right?

You paused the music and looked around. There was no one else nearby, and the lake was completely silent, the person swimming slowly and stealthily, like a crocodile — ah, I get it! The person was diving constantly in the lake, which explained why you hadn’t seen them easily.

You resumed running, determined to turn the second semicircle into a full circle. Maybe you’d interact with the person in the lake if you got the chance, but you didn’t think it was a good idea to deliberately bother them in the middle of their dives. You also avoided looking too much at the lake, knowing that person must have noticed your presence from the beginning, so you just decided to ignore the unusual situation and go on with your life.

You completed the second circle by passing by the diving person, but it was nearly impossible not to sneak a glance. That’s when you saw on the lake’s shore some clothes that looked — holy shit! — feminine.

And, of course, the fucking phone that reflected the sunlight in your face.

Your fear grew as your eyes identified each piece. Sweatshirt, jeans, sandals…bra…panties…

This woman couldn't possibly be naked, could she?

Splish!

She suddenly emerged to the surface, tossing her hair back and wiping the excess water droplets from her face. Her breath was heavy as she filled her lungs with oxygen again. The sight was as strange as it was beautiful, like a painting with indecipherable forms, a mirage in an oasis.

“It can't be… Damn it! No, it can't be!” you stammered, your mind going blank.

“Hi, dear! Isn’t it a shame we always meet in such cold weather?” Sana asked, excited to see you. “You’re sweating a lot, huh? Why don’t you stop for a bit and come swim with me?”

She was submerged up to her shoulders, and the faint sunlight piercing through the gray clouds penetrated the lake’s surface, creating a vision of pure delirium. Through the clear water, you saw Sana’s body, refracted and distorted by the rippling surface. Her arms moved gracefully, and each movement seemed amplified and softened by the water. The ripples created a hypnotizing effect, making parts of her body appear to change shape and size. It was as if Sana was wrapped in a cloak of liquid glass, the details of her body dancing and fragmenting into kaleidoscopic patterns. You were mesmerized by the sight, and your mind, often too associative for your liking (a lapse consequent of your work), made you compare Sana to-

“Calypso!” you suddenly said. “You look like some kind of freshwater Calypso. Beautiful and terribly lonely here in this lake.”

You weren’t flirting, just trying not to show the mortal fear you felt at that moment. A mere defense mechanism.

“And you are like Ulysses. You seem not to have been content with my love,” she said. “But unlike him, you don’t have another woman waiting for you far from here. So you have no reason to run from me.”

You squatted to observe her closely. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but watch her, fascinated — perhaps her naked body contributed to it.

“Actually, Sana, you’re more like a limnatide, you know? Those are the nymphs that inhabit lakes. Salmacis was a limnatide."

“You’re so smart. I never get tired of hearing you talk,” she said casually, just to please you. “But who is Salmacis? I don’t remember her.”

“Oh, you know, she’s the one who raped and cursed Hermaphroditus by merging their bodies into one,” you explained and saw her smile fade. A small victory. Standing up again, you asked, “What the hell are you doing here? And how did you find me?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” she said, running her hand through the water, making it ripple.

“You know I can call the police, right?”

“And what will they arrest me for?” she asked, seeming very amused by the situation.

“Stalking.”

“And what are your proofs, darling?”

“I have witnesses who can testify they saw you at the book launch. It’ll be easy to prove since your name was on the list. At the very least, they’ll find it odd we meet again in a new location almost 2,000 km from where we were before.”

“Is that all?” she asked, laughing. “Honey, I think you don’t know how things work. And the proof of a real threat? You can also add the security camera footage from the hallway, where they can see me entering your room at night and leaving only in the afternoon the next day. That will help you a lot, Mr. Integrity,” she flashed you a smug smile that made you look away for a moment, because it was beautiful, Sana was beautiful, and you were very angry with her at that moment.

“You know it’s illegal to swim naked, right? This isn’t a damn nudist beach.”

Sana squinted and smiled; she was really enjoying this argument or whatever the hell this conversation was.

“I thought I was being accused of stalking, now it’s public indecency?” she questioned, caricaturingly putting her finger on her chin. “Look, I think you even have better chances with the second option, although it probably won’t result in anything substantial. I can already imagine my defense saying something like,” She cleared her throat and changed her posture. Simulating a formal tone, she continued: “‘I do not understand that the accused, with her conduct, intended to shock and violate the decorum of the man who witnessed the scene. In my view, the defendant was bathing to refresh herself, however, she did so in a place exposed to the public, though remote, once she believed she was alone at that moment due to the cold weather, which was not inviting to most people, besides the popular hunting season had not started on the date of the incident.’ And I can go on: ‘despite having taken the risk of being seen naked, I see the defendant’s conduct as naive, with no offense to be punished under the law, as she did not commit any obscene gesture.’ And it can get better, look-”

“I get it!” You exclaimed, irritated. “You’re very smart, Sana. I admit that. But know that anything reckless you do will be used against you in court.”

Her expression seemed to change a little.

“I was acting like a peacock, dear. I just wanted to show you my hidden feathers. Believe me, I don’t want us to get to that point.”

“But seriously, where the hell are you staying? It’s 12 km from here to the nearest town and I haven’t seen any tire marks around except my pickup’s.”

“I have a cabin nearby.”

Hearing that, you swallowed hard. It was fucking difficult to keep your head in place in this kind of situation, you simply didn’t know what to think. Simply didn’t know.

As if this insanity wasn’t enough, Sana did nothing to help by displaying her small and delicate body, a structure that seemed almost sculpted at first glance. Her build was slender, with subtle curves that accentuated her femininity without exaggeration. Her skin was smooth as porcelain, slightly pale and flawless, with a natural glow that captured the light like a deity.

Her shoulders were narrow, gracefully shaping into thin arms and delicate hands. Her breasts, though small, were perfectly proportioned, firm and slightly lifted, complementing the harmony of her torso. Her belly was smooth and flat, leading to a finely chiseled waist that gently widened to form narrow hips.

Sana’s legs were long in proportion to her body, slender and well-toned, ending in small, delicate feet. These details were still clear in your mind. One night had been enough to capture a bit of her essence. Writer’s habit.

“That’s a lie. There’s no cabin nearby. I would know.”

“It’s true. Don’t you want to go there with me? I can prepare a picnic basket and we can eat here by the lake. Like our own blue lagoon. Isn’t it cute?”

That was too much for you.

The laugh escaped your mouth like a cough, compulsively laughing in front of her.

'Just because what he says is funny doesn’t mean he’s not serious.'

“Sana, you know there are companies eyeing this lake, right? They want to buy the surrounding area to stock fish in that water and make a fucking recreational fishing park.”

“In that case, it would be epic to fight against the privatization of this lake together. Like a couple of activists.”

“Take it easy, Yoko Ono,” you said while thinking about what to do. The fatigue made everything harder. You asked as sincerely as possible, “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“I’m as sad as you are, but this was the only way for us to have some time alone. Give me a chance to explain everything and I—”

“What’s your last name?”

“What?”

“What’s your last name?” you asked, irritated. Maybe the direct approach wasn’t the best option, but you were incredibly impatient.

“Please, let’s have dinner at your cabin tonight,” she said, completely ignoring your question. “I’ll explain everything. You’ll get to know the real me. You’ll know my last name and much more. I just don’t want you to be afraid of me. Please.”

“It’s hard not to be afraid when everything you do is the most psychopathic thing a human could do.”

“You don’t understand. It’s hard for me. I don’t know how to act like other people, but I’m trying. There are so many little social conventions that are hard to remember.”

“How did you know about the perfume my ex-wife wore? Fuck, I was so stupid to think it was all just a blessed coincidence!”

“You mentioned it in an old interview. The question was: ‘Is there a smell that brings you good memories?’ and you answered that it was that perfume. The one your ex-wife wore since your first date. The dress… There were pictures of her next to you wearing it.”

“You’re a freak, Sana.”

“Wait! Let me fix this.”

She started swimming towards the shore.

“Stay away from me!”

Sana stopped.

“I’m alone in this world, and I have nothing to lose,” she suddenly confessed. “I literally have no one. Except for you.”

“You don’t have me! You never did. You don’t even know me, Sana! You made this up in your head. You need help, do you understand? You need a lot of help!”

“I just need you... Wait, where are you going?!”

“To town! I swear to God, if I see you again, I’ll call the police.I don't give a fuck what I'll need to do to prove you’re a danger.” You spoke, then turned your back and started walking away from the lake.

Then, in the distance, Sana called your name. You shouldn’t have looked. But you turned towards her again, Sana walking slowly in the land, every drop of water lazily trailing down her curves, as if even nature wanted to feel her.

“I have nothing to lose!” she repeated the warning. It was a warning from the very beginning.

And that vision was dangerous evidence: Sana’s body was exactly as you remembered.

The smell of damp earth mingling with the freshness of the surrounding trees. The dirt road stretched out before you, winding between tall trunks and dense branches that formed a natural tunnel. The crunch of the wheels on the gravel and the sound of the old pickup truck’s engine echoed as the only constant sound in the forest, occasionally interrupted by the distant call of a bird or the cry of a small mammal.

As you progressed, the trees began to thin out, leaving larger gaps between them. The sunlight, once filtered through the canopy, had disappeared, giving way to a light rain. The dirt road turned into a narrow paved highway, with the dense vegetation replaced by open fields.

On the horizon, spaced-out farms began to appear, with wooden fences marking pastures where cows and horses grazed lazily. The sky grew darker. Rows of rain-laden clouds marched towards you, and sporadic thunder sounded like war drums. The highway, now straighter, ran parallel to rows of crops that stretched as far as the eye could see. The landscape was dominated by shades of green and gold, occasionally punctuated by red silos and barns.

A few kilometers ahead, the first signs of the town emerged. A small gas station, a grocery store, and a few modest houses lined the road, signaling the approach to the urban area. The main road led directly to the center of the rural town, where life seemed to move at a slower pace.

You drove to the hardware and auto parts store, parked your old pickup truck, and looked both ways before entering the store, the feeling of being watched now believable enough to heed what you previously considered paranoia. There was only a short, elderly man in the store, paying for his purchases and leaving. You walked to the counter to speak with the attendant, a young guy with acne, poor posture, and a cap with the store’s name on it that didn’t fit properly on his head.

“Good afternoon, bro. Tony’s Hardware and Auto Parts. How can I help you?”

“Are you Tony?” you asked, skeptical.

“Nah, man. Tony’s my uncle, I’m Johnny.”

“Okay, Johnny. I need an air filter for a generator.”

“Sure thing. Do you have a sample of the air filter?”

You put the piece on the counter, and Johnny looked at it for a moment, then went to the shelves behind him and spent two minutes searching for the right model.

“Here it is, man. All set!”

“Thanks. Look, I was having issues with the spark plugs in the generator. Yesterday, it took several tries to start it. Then I opened the generator and saw the spark plugs were a bit dirty, I cleaned them, and it started working again, but the generator isn’t running at full power. Do you think the problem could still be the spark plugs?”

“Hmm, could be, buddy. I’m no expert, unfortunately.”

“Also, it’s consuming more fuel than it should.”

“Hmm, yeah, sounds like it could be the spark plugs. I’d recommend buying new ones and replacing them, just to be safe.”

“Do you think I can do this without fucking up the generator?"

“Just shut everything down and don’t go touching random wires. I trust you.” Johnny said, giving you a false sense of confidence.

“Look, you seem like a smart guy.” Actually, he seemed kind of dumb, but he had the profile you were looking for. “Do you know if it’s easy for someone to hack a person?”

“Ah, man, I don’t know anything about that stuff. My brother’s the tech guy. But, I mean, it depends on who this someone is.”

“Someone very dedicated and willing to learn, let’s say.”

“In that case, they could spend hours on internet forums reading about it, man. The information is out there for anyone, no lie.”

“So, hacking someone remotely isn’t too difficult, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And if you had physical access to their devices for a while?”

“Oh man, that’d be a piece of cake! There are some programs you can install on someone’s computer or phone that stay hidden among the files, like a virus, and this software sends a link that opens a page with all your folders for the hacker to access remotely… wait a second,” he said, his expression changing suddenly, “is someone hacking you, or are you trying to hack someone?!”

“The first one.”

“Ah, what a relief. I mean, damn, man, that sucks! You should, like, go to the police or something, right?”

“Right now, I don’t think the police can actually solve my problem. I don’t want to do anything rash,” you tried to explain. “By the way, have you seen any Asian girl, also not from around here, walking around town?”

“Look, man, you can bet if there was a hot Asian girl around here, I’d know.”

“Can you do me a favor?” you asked, and Johnny leaned over the counter to listen. “Can you and your brother look up some info about someone online for me? I’ll pay you.”

“Hey, man, that sounds shady as hell. I don’t know about that.”

“I’m not the creepy one here. There’s a girl, and she’s, like, an obsessed fan of mine. Somehow she found out I was here and followed me. She’s probably at some hotel in town, and I’m staying in a cabin near Crystal Lake. I need to know how dangerous she is. But I couldn’t find anything when I searched her name.”

“Bro, don’t be crazy, call the cops already!”

“The police won’t do anything efficient without solid proof of a real threat. If I involve the authorities, she might get pissed and easily bypass any protective measures just to, you know, get revenge.”

“Wait, if she’s a fan, then you’re famous, right?” he connected the dots, the genius. “I think I’ve seen you in some action movie…”

“I’m not an actor. I just write stories.”

“Oh man, you’re a writer, bro? That’s so cool! Are you friends with Stephen King?”

“Friend is a strong word. We’ve exchanged ideas at a conference.”

“Damn!!” he exclaimed. You could predict what was to come. “Look, I’m shaking, I’m such a fan of his, man! I’ve seen almost all the adaptations of his books. Can you get an autograph from the master?!”

“If you do what I asked, I can try.”

“Deal.”

You shook hands, and the devil knew this wasn’t the best of alliances.

I won't find anything better than this in this place.

“Damn, man! I just remembered I don’t have any of his books at home. I’ll need to buy one.”

“I’ll get you one.”

“Cool. Don’t worry about paying, I’ll cover it. I won’t screw you over or anything. So, buy the It book, it's my favorite film of the adaptations of his books.”

“Alright, alright! Forget about that for now. The girl’s name is Sana, keep it in your memory.”

“Got it. Do you have a picture of her or something? My brother will need a face to know if he found the right person."

You had deleted all those selfies she took with your phone while you slept, but there were still the photos from the book launch, where everyone gathered for a group photo. You took your phone out of your pocket and selected the best picture, Sana was way in the back, she knew how to be discreet when she wanted, you zoomed in on her face and showed it to Johnny.

“Holy shit man! She’s really hot! Look, I wouldn’t mind having a girl like that spicing up my life,” he joked, but you didn’t laugh along.

“Give me your Instagram, I’ll send you this photo so you don’t forget her face."

And he did so.

“When I get some info, I’ll message you.”

“Is your brother trustworthy? You better not fuck with me, okay?”

“Hey, man, you can count on me. I can see the exhaustion in your eyes. My brother is solid. Actually, I’d like to ask you one more thing besides King’s autograph. So, me and my brother have a podcast, it’s about movies and stuff, if you could give it a shoutout, speak highly of it, it’d be awesome. We’re getting close to 100 concurrent viewers during live streams, man. It’s growing nicely.”

You looked for the joke, but even Johnny wasn’t laughing this time. You were really desperate to go through with this.

“Alright.”

“And look, if you do that, it’ll mean a lot. It’s almost like a pact, you know, we’d never screw over someone who helped our podcast, you know? So you can feel safe with this. For real.”

“Fine, Johnny. I’ll trust you.”

“Oh, one more thing!” You tried not to roll your eyes. “You said you’re staying in a cabin near the lake, right? I recommend you buy everything you need, especially fuel to keep the generator running, because you might get stuck there for a while. There’s a hell of a storm coming, and when that happens, that road gets all muddy and almost impossible to drive on, and with that pickup of yours,” he pointed through the store window where your truck was parked, “you’re not going anywhere until the rain stops. That’s why no one stays in that area during the rainy season. You got unlucky.”

“Damn, I should’ve rented a better car. I thought this one would do the job.”

“Sometimes humility is our downfall, bro… Hey, that was a damn good line, you should write it down for one of your books. Consider it a gift.”

“Uh-huh. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll stop at the gas station and buy some gas cans.”

“Alright. When my shift ends, I’ll go home and tell my brother everything, he’ll do some digging on your fan. Maybe we’ll find some police records or something, who knows, maybe a lawsuit she’s involved in. I’ll get something for you, man. Trust me.”

You were starting to regret this idea.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, got it?”

“The secret between friends dies with the friends. Take care.”

You paid for the air filter and spark plugs, then left the store. As you got in the car, Johnny waved at you through the store window. Everything happened too fast for you to realize the level of recklessness you’d inflicted, but, damn, there were no manuals teaching how to deal with this kind of situation. Either way, you didn’t have a good feeling, and it was hard to tell if it was a bad omen or just fatigue. The roads would soon be messed up, and once you returned to the cabin, you might not be able to leave for a while.

Was it a sign from the universe or just bad luck?

Well, whatever it was, you still needed gas.

The trip to town had been frustrating but necessary, as thanks to Johnny's warning, you managed to stock up on gasoline for the generator. And food, of course. If everything you bought wasn't enough, then you would resort to self-cannibalization while writing an essay about the experience to be published posthumously. Now, the truly frustrating part of the trip had been your search for Sana. You looked for her in the tiny hotels, inns, hostels, and even motels. Fortunately, the town was small and there weren't many lodging options. Most of the conversations with the receptionists went like this:

“Good afternoon. I’m looking for a friend of mine, Sana. Is she staying here by any chance?”

“Good afternoon, sir. I’m sorry, but we can’t disclose information about our guests for privacy reasons.”

“I understand. It’s just that she’s not answering her phone, and I’m worried. Could you at least confirm if she’s checked in recently?”

“I really can’t confirm if someone is staying here, but I can try to help in another way. What’s her full name?”

Here is where you’d seem like the most suspicious guy in the lobby:

“Look, it’s funny, I always forget her full name. The last name is difficult to remember, and I’m not really good with names in general. But there can't be many women named Sana around here, right? I just want to know if she’s okay.”

When you gave this flimsy excuse, the receptionists would give you a very judgmental look.

“Let me check something for you. Just a moment.”

Then they’d start checking the system. Or pretend to.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t provide that information. However, if she left any message for you or indicated she was expecting someone, I can let you know. Leave your name and contact here.”

“I understand, thank you. Actually, I’ll keep trying to call her. Sooner or later she’ll have to answer, right? Thanks again for your help.”

You and the receptionist would exchange an awkward smile, and you’d leave knowing she was watching you from afar.

Leaving your information at receptions would only plant evidence of you stalking Sana, and just God knows how things would go if that ended up in court. Besides, if Sana were really staying in one of these places, she would never contact you. It was pretty clear that wouldn’t work, but you had to try anyway. The idea of Sana being in another cabin in the forest was inadmissible and didn’t make sense to you. During the days you spent in your cabin and wandered around the surroundings, you didn't notice any smell of food being prepared, no human noise, no footprints, no trash. But... she had invited you to her cabin, which you logically refused. There might be some kind of trap waiting for you there; you couldn’t trust her. The most plausible thing then was that Sana's cabin was relatively far from yours, hidden and camouflaged in the dense forest. Your mind elaborated a thousand and one theories as you returned to the comfort (not so comfortable now) of your home.

Then an absurd idea crossed your mind and you caught it with your hand, while the first drops of rain hit the car's windshield.

Night fell over the forest with the storm.

It took you a little over an hour to change the air filter and the spark plugs, but when you finished, the feeling of satisfaction at hearing the generator's engine purr like an orange kitten made you smile, cutting through some of the tension that was stiffening not only your muscles but also your spirit.

A big thank you to YouTube tutorials.

Anyway, the joy was short-lived, the raincoat you were wearing felt like a black shroud given to those summoned to explore the borders of hell. You needed to find out if there was indeed another cabin near yours. It was safer to go during the day, but you couldn’t risk Sana seeing you. Who knows, maybe there was some surveillance equipment in her cabin, although it was unlikely to keep such a thing running 24 hours with just a simple generator. But images of you sneaking around her cabin would be all Sana needed to blackmail you.

What the fuck am I doing…?

Where were the boundaries between your pragmatism and your neurosis?

You thought that by the time you figured it out, it would be too late.

With one hand you were holding the flashlight, with the other you opened the cabin door.

As you ventured deeper into the forest, your anxiety grew in a pulsing manner, like a parasite inside you, but a good parasite, pulsing in your temple telling you to turn back. What lay ahead were trees, trees, trees, and more trees. No sign of a cabin.

The forest was nothing more than a labyrinth of shadows. You advanced with uncertain steps, the flashlight trembling in your hand. The rustling of leaves sounded like distant laughter. You looked back, but the darkness had already swallowed the way back. If there was a cabin, you should have found it by now. There was no sign of an open field where a cabin or any structure could be placed. Your heart beat erratically, in a sudden delirium you wondered if you were alone or if someone was watching you. The forest closed in around you, it was hard to admit it, shit, it was terrifying to admit that you were lost. Your breath quickened as the cold bit into your skin, rationally, the despair set in. Then the flashlight in your hand flickered, the weak light trembled like a candle about to go out.

No, no, no!

You pressed the button repeatedly, but the beam of light weakened even more. The uncertain steps made your foot encounter something solid on the ground. You stumbled and fell. The pain was sharp enough to know that the injury was serious, at least given the situation you were in. After all, what the hell was that? A twisted root? A rock? It didn’t matter, it wouldn’t change the fact that now your left ankle was sending you jolts of pain, and standing up was torture, making you hate Sana with all your might. Limping in the middle of the dark forest like a stupid clown. You were tremendously irritated, an unexpected urge to drink seized you.

I could drink and die right after. I’d give anything for that. Fuck this life!

Suddenly, your hearing sharpened when you heard a terribly high-pitched sound coming from behind you. Screaming, screaming, screaming, calling you. It sounded like a… Whistle? It couldn’t get any better. Maybe a soccer match was going on nearby and you were the idiot who didn’t buy a ticket. The whistle seemed to have a life of its own, it was continuous. Well, someone was killing their lungs trying to save you. Either that, or the witch of the forest was whistling in a very, very weird way. You followed the direction of the incessant whistle, except for the regular pauses for whoever was whistling to catch their breath. Sporadic lightning occasionally revealed the way for you, giving you glimpses of a trail you had already traveled, although, the way it was shown – fleeting and blurred by the wet lenses of your glasses – seemed more like hallucinations in your head. But you had to believe you were returning to your cabin. The whistle. The call.

It was Sana, wasn’t it?

A lightning bolt flashed across the sky like at a large outdoor festival, in the distance, still through the trees, you saw your cabin flicker in the dazzling light.

The whistle sounded like a gesture of despair.

The trees gradually spaced out, the surroundings became more visible, the ground less uneven, you were out of the dense forest, your flashlight failing as it tried to illuminate in a single beam of light the figure of the girl dressed in a long dress, holding an umbrella with one hand and a whistle with the other, looking like a character straight out of a Koreeda film.

You walked up to her, your left foot practically dragging on the ground, you couldn’t think of anything to say, the anger being crushed by gratitude, the fury devouring the complacency alive, the urge to cry usurping the relief.

“Let’s go inside!” exclaimed Sana urgently, sharing the umbrella with you as you both rushed to the cabin (well, you tried).

The door opened with a dry snap. You exhaled like a dying horse, throwing yourself onto the cabin floor to lie down, practically your white flag against the wild nature. You didn’t want to think about anything. There was nothing to think about. There was no reason to think. You’d been doing that your whole life and were tired of it. You wanted to throw your brain away. Pull the back of your head like a damn mailbox and remove that electrified ball of flesh. There had to be a way to make it stop thinking.

Well, there was a way, but it was, let’s say, off-key.

You started to get up, your damn ankle sending you jolts of pain to remind you of your stupidity. You looked at Sana, beautiful, while you: destroyed.

“There’s no cabin, is there, Sana?” you asked, pronouncing each word slowly, trying to space out the anger you felt. But it was hard. God, how hard it was.

“I’m sorry!” she said, crying. Fuck, she was already crying. “I didn’t think it would go this far. I can explain everything. I’m sorry! You were out for so long! I was so worried about you. Are you hurt? My God, I’m sorry!” she repeated, screaming.

“Get out of my cabin. Now!”

There you were, throwing her out again.

“Please, no…”

“I said I’d call the police if this happened again. Get out, you psychopath!” you yelled at her, and Sana stepped back, scared.

You approached her in a threatening manner, making her walk backward, cautiously, and with each step she got closer to the door. Before she realized it, she was at the doorway.

“You better disappear before the police show up,” you warned her, and then slammed the door shut with brute force.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. What a day. Everything fell apart so quickly that you didn't have time to see where you went wrong. Now 3% calmer, you noticed that the kitchen table was set, hot food, candles, the fireplace warm, two glasses, and a bottle of Coca-Cola (no wine for Mr. Writer). She had prepared dinner while you were facing the two longest hours of your life. Spaghetti carbonara. That's what it seemed like, at least. A relatively quick dish to prepare if you had made it before. The smell was great, the ambiance emphatically comfortable while the world outside was collapsing. It seemed intentional: a terribly cold end-of-the-world assaulting the planet and you denied shelter to one of God's angels. Even if she might be Lucifer's younger sister

Oh, come on, I'm not like that. She didn't deserve to die from hypothermia or whatever the hell.

You took off that stupid raincoat and went back to the door, leaned your head against the wood before deciding if you were actually going to open it or not. The primary mistake was opening the hotel room door that day, and here you were, repeating — now aware of what would happen — the same mistake, about to formalize a new heuristic pattern. And, fuck, it was really funny how one event could trigger another totally random one.

You saw Sana's face light up when the door opened, the glow of the lamps behind you reflecting in her brown eyes. She hadn't moved an inch since you expelled her. Because she already knew you would open it again or because she didn't know where to go?

"Come in before you catch a cold," you said, extending your hand into the cabin.

She seemed slightly confused by your kindness but entered immediately.

You asked her to sit on the couch while you quickly walked to the bedroom and grabbed two towels. You wrapped her body with the bath towel and started drying her hair with the face towel.

"Sorry, I don't have a hairdryer."

"It's okay. Thank you."

Sana's makeup was running down her face, a sad sight, but somehow, it became incredibly erotic on that precious face. Two beautiful lines running below her eyes, the mixture of eyeshadow and mascara, as if Sana had cried tears of dark indigo. A living portrait where the artist displayed his tragedy.

"Excuse me," you asked, and she allowed you to dry her face, cleaning one corner and smudging the makeup even more in another. "Why do you have a whistle?"

"Hmm, i found it here."

"Really? Well, it's actually the least weird thing that happened today."

"I saw you limping," she said, her voice still wary, like a child who knows they've done wrong and now has to face their parents. "Are you okay?"

"It's my fucking ankle. I think I tripped over some exposed root or something. I must have twisted it."

You hadn't taken off your boots yet to see the damage. After drying Sana's face, that's what you did and — oh boy —, it wasn't a pretty thing to see.

"Let me check," said Sana, kneeling with difficulty because of her dress. "It's quite swollen and red; it might turn purple. I'm going to press a little, okay?"

You gave permission, and the slightest touch made you groan and sigh, and maybe you were starting to go crazy because the pain that pulsed from your ankle was terribly pleasurable and stimulating, seeming healthy to self-inflict for your own satisfaction, like scratching a persistent itch. But you weren't quite insane enough to enjoy that kind of thing.

"I don't know where to start treating my ankle," you admitted, frustrated.

"Where's the first aid kit?"

"In one of those cabinets," you pointed to the kitchen.

Sana got up and went over to rummage through the cabinets. She soon found the small white box with a red cross on the lid. Sana opened the freezer and took out a bag of ice, grabbed some cubes, and wrapped them in a cloth, bringing everything back to the couch. Sana gently took your leg and raised it, placing it on a pillow on the coffee table.

"Open the kit and look for a painkiller," Sana said while holding the makeshift ice pack on your ankle. "Take ibuprofen if there's any."

Fortunately, there was.

"How long do you think it will take to heal?"

"It wasn't a severe sprain. Maybe two weeks. One, if you behave and take care of it."

"Are you a nurse?"

"No, but I took some classes on 'how to be a functional human being and survive in society.' Oh, do you need water to swallow the pill?" You shook your head. "Believe me, where I came from, I needed those classes. They just didn't teach us much about medications. For safety."

"You're my Annie Wilkes, I guess. But more attractive than Kathy Bates, at least." You joked, and the bitter sarcasm felt much like the taste of a horrible medicine you needed to take to endure the moment.

Sana chuckled, but she was still focused on her task.

"Don't be silly, I'm not going to keep you here or anything like that. I'll take care of you. It's my fault you got hurt, after all," she sadly admitted. Apparently, psychopathy wasn't her problem. Sociopathy, maybe. "I suppose you don't have a crutch here in the cabin," she said while rummaging through the first aid kit. "Tomorrow I can buy one... Oh, look, this elastic bandage will do for now." She showed you the small roll of bandage with a gentle smile.

"I wouldn't count on going to town tomorrow. With this rain, the road will be impassable. We're stuck here," Was it safe to pass this information to Sana? After all, you still didn't know her true intentions.

"Oh, I kind of suspected that. So, in that case, we'll improvise a stick for you tomorrow morning. We have plenty of wood at our disposal. Well, now I'll bandage your foot. This might hurt a little, but it will help," she warned, unrolling the bandage.

Holding your foot with one hand, Sana started wrapping the bandage firmly around your ankle, starting at the base of your toes and moving towards the heel.

As she worked, she made sure the bandage was snug but not too tight to avoid cutting off circulation. "I need you to tell me if you feel too much pressure or pain," she said, focused on what she was doing.

You smiled without realizing it. Her serious expression while focusing on the task was actually very cute. She had agile and gentle hands, and her care not to hurt you was evident.

Sana continued wrapping the bandage, overlapping the wraps evenly, creating stable compression around the swollen ankle. When she reached halfway up your calf, she secured the end of the bandage with the clips provided in the kit.

"Done," she said, observing her work. "Now we need to keep this elevated and continue applying ice. It will help reduce the swelling," she informed you, putting the makeshift ice pack back on your ankle. "We'll do this every few hours, 20 minutes at a time."

"You're incredible," slipped out of your mouth. You shouldn't be encouraging her. But you were voluntarily doing so.

"It was nothing. Now, I think we have some things to talk about, don't we?"

You smiled with your lips, a humble smile of Tiredness. Or a smile of defeat, like someone who, with a certain pride, acknowledges their weakness towards something or someone. In your case, it was her. Sana.

You patted your thighs and sighed. Was there anything else to do, after all?

"Bring the spaghetti over here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Terribly fascinated you were. Maybe it was too early to say 'terribly enchanted'. You were enveloped by the long, deep, melodramatic lull that was Sana's past. Slightly distressed to know how it all happened until it triggered the moment where you both were, but it was necessary for the story to be told from the beginning to fully understand the impulsive acts of this girl - this fan - passionately obsessed with you.

Oh, and by the way, the spaghetti was good. But a bit cold.

You looked at Sana, melancholic and distant while she watched the flames in the fireplace. She had gone to the bathroom to wash her face properly. Now with a clean face, nothing was covering it. Determined to delve into her wound for you.

“First of all, my last name is Minatozaki,” she said, in a mere attempt to break the ice. You told her it was a beautiful last name. “I was 11 years old when everything started to fall apart,” she began in earnest. “My mother suffered from severe depression. She was always absent, even when she was present, if that makes sense.”

“It does make sense,” you commented. “And your father?”

“My father was a ghost, always working. He never had time for me. Soon I started to feel invisible, as if I didn’t matter. Then the anger started growing inside me. I became more and more impulsive and aggressive,” Sana paused. She looked at you, as if to make sure you were really listening. “They didn’t know what to do with me. The school couldn’t handle my behavior. The breaking point was when I pushed a classmate down the stairs over some silly argument. I don’t even remember the reason anymore, just that she broke her leg. That’s when they decided to institutionalize me.”

“Damn… That must have been terrible for such a young child.”

“It was. At first, I hated being there. The psychiatric hospital was a cold and strange place. The atmosphere forced to be welcoming, it was an expensive hospital after all, but if you’re there alone, it’s terribly distressing. I felt isolated from the world. The other kids had similar problems, but no one really connected. Everyone was fighting their own battles there.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind Sana’s ear and then asked:

“And what was your routine like there?”

“We had classes inside the hospital. There were teachers, but the classes were small. They tried to adapt the teaching to our needs, but I always felt like I was missing something, you know? The occupational therapies and the playful activities helped pass the time, but it was never enough to fill the void.”

“I imagine. And the treatments?”

You didn’t realize it, but there was a calmness and kindness in your voice that motivated her to continue.

“At first, they diagnosed me with Oppositional Defiant Disorder. I was always provoking the adults, causing trouble. But as I grew older, my symptoms evolved. In adolescence, I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. My emotions were a roller coaster. I felt empty, but at the same time, any small thing could trigger a storm inside me.”

“It must have been a constant battle.”

“It was. They tried everything to control my anger and impulsiveness. Psychotherapy, behavioral therapy, medication... Every day was a struggle to stay stable. I was always being watched, always under surveillance. I had few chances to feel really free. Over time, my parents’ visits decreased. Not that I cared, we were never close anyway. The only things that brought me some relief were books. And that’s how I discovered you.”

“Me?” You swallowed hard. “Well, sooner or later we’d get to that.”

“Yes. Your books were an escape for me. I read and reread every word, trying to find some meaning, some connection with myself. When you wrote about pain, about loneliness, I felt like you understood exactly what I was going through. Catarina, the protagonist of your first book, when she attempted suicide and was hospitalized… That story changed me… But not all of your books were allowed for us.”

“It’s understandable, God knows how many triggers that could unleash in vulnerable people. But wait, how did you get my books then?”

“There was a doctor, Dr. Collins. She sympathized with me. I think she saw something in me that others didn’t. She brought me your books secretly, even those considered too sensitive for patients like me. Besides, she managed to get teen magazines where you were interviewed. The questions were trivial, but for me, every detail about you was a treasure.”

With a slight smile, you said:

“I was contractually obliged by the publisher to do those things. I don’t dare to flip through any of those magazines nowadays,” You saw Sana’s face soften a bit. “So, Dr. Collins was your accomplice, right?”

“In a way, yes. She also knew I tried to listen to your radio show. There were nights when I stayed up late, trying to fix the signal on the old hospital radio to hear you talk about movies with your friend. Sometimes, I even managed to hear a full episode without missing anything.”

You held her hand. A gesture that made you uneasy, but Sana’s response by squeezing your hand made it seem right.

“I never imagined my books and other nonsense I did could have such an impact.”

“They did. I wasn’t joking when I said that day that you were my peace of mind. But anyway, my parents died in an accident shortly before I left the hospital. I was the only one to inherit their estate. Living in society I found myself lost and lonely again. I tried to find someone like you, but no one was enough. They all disappointed me. They were older, like you, but they just wanted to use me. I hate admitting this part of my life, but I slept with several men hoping to find one who made me feel what you made me feel. It didn’t work, so that’s when I decided I needed to find you, needed to somehow make you understand.”

Your gaze shifted from hers. Terribly melodramatic for your taste, terribly visceral, and terribly your complacency acted without your command.

“And now we’re here. And I finally start to understand the depth of what you went through, Sana. I'm sorry about your parents, I had no idea. What a fucking journey you lived..."

She gave you a sad smile.

They were the beautiful eyes of a tragedy looking at you.

“Yes, we’re here. And maybe, now that you know I’m not a monster, we can really get to know each other.”

The hand of reason tugged at your ear. Was this beautiful, seemingly vulnerable girl manipulating you again?

Either way, there were still loose ends.

“And at the book launch, when you appeared… Your dress, the perfume… Everything so intentional… Why did you do that, Sana?”

She looked down, embarrassed.

“I planned everything. I wanted you to notice me, to see me as someone special. I thought if I wore the same dress and perfume as your ex-wife, I could make you feel the same as you did for her. It was a desperate way to try to get your attention, to make you fall in love with me like you did with her. I know it sounds crazy, but… I was willing to do anything for you to notice me.”

“Sana, that is…” What was that? So many layers, so many branches, you didn’t know what you were feeling anymore. You didn’t know how to judge. Even having written troubled, depressed characters, the real bastards, you never approached from a psychoanalytic perspective. You were just a person writing other people. It was never your place to judge your characters’ actions. It was never your place to judge anyone. “I understand a little better now, Sana. You just wanted to be seen, to be loved.”

A sudden desperation took hold of her.

“And you’re the only person I felt could really understand that! That’s why I did what I did. I didn’t want to scare you, I just wanted you to see me.”

You wanted a drink of something. Your throat dry in that cold weather. God, how a whiskey would be nice. Just one glass. Maybe two. Why not? You asked Sana to serve you a little more of that damn Coke. Your eyes were a little heavy, the train of thought slightly losing the objective.

Oh, more questions…

"you were bluffing when you invited me to your cabin, correct?"

"That's right. I knew you would never agree to go there with me. My real plan was to have dinner together, and slowly I would explain everything to you. Like now."

“But Sana, I need you to explain to me: if there’s no other cabin, where the hell have you been all this time? I swear to God you were scaring the shit out of me. I went to several lodges but couldn’t get any information about you. Then suddenly you show up here at night like out of nowhere. I hope that psychiatric hospital isn’t really the fucking Xavier Institute.”

“I’ve been here the whole time, silly. Watching you,” hearing that sent chills down your spine. “Sorry, I know it sounded weird. Just kidding. But it’s actually kind of true.”

“Are you a ghost or something?”

“I’ve been hiding in the basement.”

But what the hell is she talking about?

“Sana, this cabin doesn’t have a basement.”

“Did Mr. Goss tell you that?”

Jesus fucking Christ, she never stopped surprising.

“How do you know the name of the former owner?” you asked, trying to disguise the fear on your face.

“The night we slept together… You know I took your phone. I checked everything that might be important. I saw your emails about the cabin documentation and all that. At the same moment, I looked for nearby cabins I could rent, but there were none available. Well, the original listing was still active, it was favorited in your browser. The description didn’t mention anything about a basement, nor did the documentation. Since it was so well camouflaged and without hiring an inspector, you would never find out.

"And how did you know?"

"I was watching that interview you did for Book Tools that happened shortly after our first meeting. You mentioned you were planning to go on vacation and write a bit in nature, but you were going to delay it a month to get better organized."

"I guess I'll never comment on my personal life again. Holy shit..."

"Well, I decided to take advantage of that time and see your cabin before you did. It was easy to find; people gave me information without suspecting a thing. I was researching how to build an even simpler cabin on the other side of the lake for us to be 'together,' and I found information about the history and importance of the cabins in the area on the county's website. Among that, there was a blueprint showing how the cabins were originally designed. Most were built according to this model, and it included the existence of a basement."

"But why did Mr. Goss omit that?"

"After staying in the basement, I have the answer. Down there, you can see some structural irregularities. I think he feared that if they were discovered, they could cause legal problems or decrease the property's value. So, he decided to simply forge the documentation, stating that the basement had been dismantled and no longer existed since doing so for real is quite expensive."

"I could sue that old man for this!"

"I read your conversation with him about the purchase. You said it would just be a retreat for a few weeks. He probably thought that by the time you discovered the truth, he would already be six feet under."

You paused to digest things, refilled your glass of Coke, and downed it in one go. Calmer, you then asked,

"Structural irregularities, huh? That could be dangerous... And with these rains..."

"Despite the irregularities, I think it's safe enough to stay there for a while. You can deal with it later. If it hasn't collapsed before, it won't collapse now."

"That's a spirited way of looking at things."

For some reason, this made her smile.

"Someone has to, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose so... Anyway, where's the basement entrance?"

"Under this rug," Sana replied, pointing to the shaggy rug in the living room.

"Of course it would be in the most visible place in the cabin. I feel like an idiot."

"There's an additional exit from the basement that leads directly outside, behind the cabin. It's where the old plumbing system was. It's camouflaged by vegetation, so it's hard to see."

"I really bought Area 51, huh?"

"The rest is no mystery. Through the external exit, I brought in food, blankets, a sleeping bag, clothes, and everything else I needed. I knew the basement had small ventilation openings, so there was enough air to breathe. And most importantly, an outlet to charge my phone."

"Damn! That's why the generator was consuming more than I calculated."

"Er, sorry!" she said, then theatrically bit her lower lip as if that could make up for things. Maybe it could. A little.

"It's been a long day. A long and weird day. But, in a way, it's nice to have you here. I guess."

That seemed to spark something in Sana's mind.

"Really?"

"While I was wandering lost in the forest, I felt strangely alone. I think being stuck here for days would be too lonely for my taste. At some point, I would wish for company."

You smiled at Sana, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Since I talked about my past, why don't you tell me a bit about yours? You know, the stuff that never made it into interviews. What might only be revealed in your biography."

"Well, know that you outdid me in the difficult past department. There are some things that were never told. Some painful memories. But it's already very late. How about I tell you tomorrow while we have a picnic by the lake? We need to save some for the next chapters."

"Great idea!" her smile lit up, and at that moment, she seemed like nothing more than a girl to you. "And what kind of story are we writing here?"

"I don't know... I want you to help me figure that out."

"You're... not afraid of me?"

"Not anymore. I think you got what you wanted. Come here."

You opened your arms a bit. Sana, like a wary puppy, gradually gave in and approached. She sat sideways on your lap, slowly, uncertain, looking at your ankle extended on the coffee table.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No. You can sleep with me in the bed tonight. Or on the couch, if you prefer—"

"In the bed. Please."

"You don't need to do the weird perfume and dress thing anymore. From now on, I want you to just be yourself. Can you do that?"

"Of course! Of course I can! But... you don't hate me anymore? The way you expelled me earlier... The anger on your face... it broke my heart."

"People are strange, Sana," you began, the prelude to a speech you didn't know you were capable of giving, "feelings, they are weird as hell. A single feeling can have a million facets," you explained, and Sana looked at you with a mix of fascination and curiosity. Dangerously adorable on your lap. "The simplest way to see this is to think of a child who, after years of living with their parents, is ostracized for some reason, be it for coming out with their true sexuality or taking a political side contrary to the family's. It's easy to imagine the child's emotional pendulum swinging between love and hate for their parents."

"I think I get the gist of it."

"The point is: I understand what it means to find solace in something to take refuge from the untamed wild world. That's what I did with writing. And, in your case, you found refuge in me. It's our first point of connection."

Sana's hand trembled as it reached your face, her lips pressed together and her eyes shining with tears.

"You're exactly as I imagined," she said in a whisper, the most her voice could manage, as if every cell in her body was working to keep her from falling apart at that moment, "there's no other explanation but fate. It brought us here."

You thought that Sana might have nudged fate a bit to bring things to this moment. But so far, what you had seen of this girl with such a fragile appearance was a tragic and relentless force of nature, so maybe she did have her cosmic connection with destiny.

You brought Sana's face close for an Eskimo kiss. She seemed shy about the gesture but undeniably loved your initiative, and the sensation of her skin against yours, her weight on you, and her warmth enveloping you was irresistibly addictive. Sana's fingers played indiscreetly with your hair, her smile directed at you... When was the last time someone had smiled at you with love? It all felt so pure, so beautiful, so romantically erotic (the privileged view right in front of her neckline, her small and perfectly formed breasts pressing against the fabric) and so, so good. God couldn't be testing you, could He? Because, well, this was beyond any human limits.

Her eyes marked your mouth as a target, but she couldn't go further because what preceded the desire was a need to affirm something greater.

TOUCH ME

KISS ME

The words that flew like magic into your ear that night, now implied by a thread of feeling. You were kissing Sana, rediscovering that the truth can be a sweet ruin or, perhaps, she was the last soul to fill your emptiness. The kiss started gentle but soon intensified, becoming a deep and wet exploration. Each movement of your tongues carried the urgency of months of repressed desire. Mutual. The way Sana's lips molded to yours, the slight pressure and shared moisture creating an almost chemical reaction that could lead to combustion. Your fingers intertwined in her brown hair while Sana's fingers traced soft lines on your nape, sending shivers down your spine. She moved closer, pressing her breasts against your chest as your tongues intertwined, exploring and teasing. Her taste was a refreshing mix of sweetness and desire, an intoxicating combination that made your heart race.

Suddenly, you felt her lips open a bit more, and her tongue slid into your mouth with a firm motion. She started sucking on your tongue, pulling it gently into her mouth, creating a warm, wet suction that sent waves of pleasure straight to your core. The sensation was almost overwhelming, indescribable, indeed. Sana could leave a writer speechless. But the fact was that every movement of her tongue created a deeper connection, a current of desire that seemed to run directly to your cock.

"Your taste is delicious. I've missed it. It makes me want more, so much more," Sana whispered against your lips, fatally beautiful as a thread of saliva spontaneously trickled down her chin.

Sana's eyes were closed, her face surrendered to the pleasure of the moment as she did a perfect job driving you crazy. Each time she sucked your tongue, you felt a pull in your stomach, an almost primal need to fuck her hard in response to what she was doing to you.

Sana moaned softly, her sweet sounds of pleasure resonating against your lips, increasing your arousal, your hands gripping her delicate waist firmly, as if fearing she might escape. But Sana had no intention of going anywhere. She wanted to carnally explore every part of you.

You pulled her body closer, your hands sliding over the smooth curves of her back until you reached the firmness of her ass, soft through the texture of her dress, squeezing it shamelessly, feeling Sana's response in a muffled moan.

She released your tongue for a moment, just to murmur against your lips: "I want your cock fucking my tight pussy soon. It's getting so wet for you, my love."

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," you murmured, your voice husky, your mind... completely devastated by her.

"Oh, I do," she replied, a smile of pure satisfaction on her lips before diving back into your mouth. And in that moment, with Sana sucking your tongue with an almost painful precision, you knew you were totally, irrevocably surrendered to her.

"Now... Is this real? This time, is it real?" Sana asked, as if speaking of a distant dream, her eyes half-closed in pleasure and longing.

"It's damn real," you replied, feeling your heart race uncontrollably. "I can't resist you anymore."

Sana shifted position, slowly sliding to face you, her legs delicately wrapping around your hips. Her eyes met yours, and the lascivious and determined gleam in them was unmatched. She began to move her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, pressing against your cock. By then, it was painfully hard inside your pants, throbbing with expectation.

Sana moved closer to your ear, her voice low and sweet, whispering: "I can feel how much you want me." Her hot breath against your skin. The smile... completely disloyal.

"What you're doing to me," you groaned, your voice heavy with desire, "is more than I can bear."

You couldn't hold back any longer, and with eager hands, you pulled Sana's small breasts out of her dress. Her nipples were hardened, inviting, and you couldn't resist. With your hands, you gently squeezed them, feeling the soft yet firm texture. You teased them with your thumbs, playing, provoking. Your mouth soon found her nipples, and you sucked on them, nibbling gently, each movement drawing moans of pleasure from Sana. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against your mouth, wanting more.

"Oh, yes... like that," she moaned, holding your head against her breasts. "Mmm, you suck so well."

"You're so hot," you murmured against her skin, the words coming out between kisses and nibbles. "I want to devour you whole."

Your desire to mark that moment as yours came to the surface and, terribly vulgar and perhaps even pretentious, you tilted your head and sucked on Sana's neck, leaving a visible mark, tasting the salty flavor of her sweaty skin.

"You're mine," you whispered, your voice full of possessiveness, you noticed, "that's a fucking fact now."

Then a smile escaped your lips. Acidic and ironic, ricocheting right back at you.

"What is it?" Sana asked with a curious giggle.

"Nothing," you replied, avoiding mentioning that you saw the current moment as a contemporary and subversive erotic reenactment of the myth of Hermaphroditus.

Sana, equally possessive, marked you too. She bit and sucked on your skin, leaving marks that affirmed her possession. The sensation of her teeth against your skin was undeniably pleasurable pain.

Finally, Sana got off your lap and grabbed your cock, a gesture that could only mean one thing. You unbuttoned your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear, just enough to free your cock from the terrible web of fabrics imprisoning it. The excitement in Sana's eyes increased, and she lay back on the couch, a look of satisfaction on her face.

She started giving you a blowjob, moving her mouth skillfully and intensely. Her lips wrapped around your cock, her tongue exploring every inch. She began with slow, deliberate movements, teasing every throbbing vein. Each suction, each slide of her small tongue was a reminder that you were alive, that you were touching the edge of paradise.

"You're incredible," you groaned, throwing your head back, your voice full of pleasure. "Keep going... don't stop."

She used her hands to stimulate what she couldn't reach with her mouth, alternating between fast and slow movements. Sana then began to play with your balls, licking and sucking, alternating between gentle caresses and intense pressure.

"Oh, Sana... that's so good," you groaned, feeling the pleasure course through your body.

She looked at you, her eyes shining with desire and satisfaction. "I want to make you cum hard," she whispered, returning to sucking your cock with renewed intensity, while her hands continued to caress your balls. "I want you to fuck me so badly," she said, looking at you with a mix of desire and determination. "Let's end this wait."

"Fuck, let's!" you replied, knowing that surrendering to her had been your best decision in a long time.

You moved to the bedroom. With your fucked ankle, you knew some positions would be challenging, but the latent desire surpassed any pain. Slowly, you began to undress. Sana, noticing your difficulty, knelt in front of you, with a terribly indecipherable look. She unbuttoned your pants with deliberate sensuality, her fingers brushing against your skin, making your entire body shiver.

"Leave it to me," she murmured, sliding down your pants and underwear. On another occasion, with another person, you might have felt embarrassed, but this time it seemed so... normal? The last time you had shared this level of transparency and vulnerability had been with your ex-wife. Although only at the beginning of the relationship. Soon everything got so... strange.

After Sana helped you slide your injured leg into your pants, you managed to finish the rest yourself. Completely undressed, you kissed her deeply and lovingly, then slid both straps of her dress off her slender shoulders at once. The fabric rippled as it slid down on its own, revealing the beautiful artwork that was Sana's petite, half-naked body. The only piece of clothing that remained, and truly captured your attention, was the cute pair of panties she was wearing.

Totally intentional.

A pink pair of panties, almost innocent in contrast to the fervent passion she was capable of emanating, adorned with a small bow at the front. The thin fabric was damp, a clear evidence of how much she was enjoying the moment.

"You're so fucking hot, Sana," you murmured, your eyes fixed on that small detail that seemed to encapsulate all the desire and tenderness that made up Sana's essence.

She smiled, a shy yet mischievous smile.

"Do you like it?" she asked, her voice filled with sweetness and boldness.

"I love it," you replied, unable to resist her charm, running your fingers delicately over the bow, feeling the softness of the fabric. "And you're so wet," you added, your fingers gliding over the material, feeling her reaction in the slight tremor of her legs.

"That's the effect you have on me," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "And I used to masturbate thinking about you... Always you."

You smiled provocatively and slid your fingers over the fabric of her panties, feeling her dampness increase with each touch. Your mouth began to kiss and lick her belly. With slow and provocative movements, you started rubbing your fingers over the wet fabric, pressing lightly against her clit, without ever removing the panties.

"I can feel how excited you are," you murmured between kisses, your tongue warmed by her heated skin, each touch of your lips sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body. "You like it when I do this, don't you, Sana?"

Sana moaned in response, her hips moving involuntarily against your hand, seeking more friction. "Yes... please, keep going!" she pleaded, her voice trembling with desire.

"You want more?" you asked, already knowing the answer. "You want me to keep teasing you like this?"

"Yes, please," she moaned again, her voice full of need.

You continued to rub your fingers over the wet fabric, pressing harder, faster, until you felt she was completely soaked. The panties were drenched, the moisture trickling down the insides of her thighs.

"I can feel how much you want me," you murmured against her skin, your fingers now sliding along the edge of her panties, pulling them down slightly, just enough to tease but not enough to remove.

Sana panted, her moans loud and filled with pleasure. "Please, don't torture me anymore," she begged, her eyes closed, her head thrown back.

You obliged, finally pulling the panties down, exposing the glistening wetness of her pussy. The musky aroma of Sana filled the air, intoxicating and irresistible.

"You're perfect," you murmured.

"I want to feel you," she whispered, her voice laden with need. "I want you to eat my pussy. Look how creamy it is."

Sana propped her right leg on the bed and with two fingers she opened her tight pussy, and it was so delicious, so perfect, so, indeed, creamy.

In a moment of pure synchronicity, you both lay on the bed, as if connected by a greater bond, and assumed the 69 position. Sana positioned herself over you, her hot, wet pussy directly over your mouth. You started to lick her hungrily, savoring each moan that escaped her lips. Your tongue explored every fold, every inch, while your hands held her buttocks, pulling her closer to you.

"Yes! Lick my pussy! Just like that," she moaned sweetly.

As you savored Sana's creamy pussy, she enveloped your cock with her mouth, her tongue gliding over the head, mercilessly stimulating your frenulum, causing precum to leak out, which she loved. All the while, her hands massaged your balls, amplifying the sensation to the highest degree.

"Oh, fuck... If you keep doing that, I'm going to cum, Sana," you groaned, unconsciously thrusting your cock slightly into her mouth.

Sana then stopped sucking you and changed position.

"First, I want to cum on your face, love," she said, crawling over you, positioning herself, and opening up in front of your eyes until she finally sat on your face, her pussy now completely accessible to your tongue and mouth. You held her hips, guiding her movements as she began to grind against your face. Your tongue explored every inch, while your fingers caressed the insides of her thighs.

"I want you to lick me until I cum," she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement.

"I'm going to make you cum so hard," you murmured, your lips and tongue moving with precision against her.

Sana moaned loudly, moving her hips more intensely, pressing herself against your mouth. Her moans were loud and filled with pleasure, her body experiencing small spasms.

"Fuck, you're so good at this," she moaned, her eyes closed, the tension increasing.

Your tongue moved faster, firmer, each movement bringing her closer to climax. She held your head tightly, her fingers tangling in your hair, as her moans grew louder, more desperate.

"I'm almost there," she panted, her body entirely sweaty. "Don't stop, please, don't stop!"

With one last firm move of your tongue, you brought her to climax. Sana screamed with pleasure, her entire body trembling as she came intensely, her juices covering your mouth and face. You continued to lick her softly, helping to prolong her orgasm, savoring every moment.

"You're amazing," she murmured, still panting, that inherent satisfaction of making a girl cum taking over you.

Recovering, Sana slid down again. She began to ride you slowly, her movements erotic and calculated, each rise and fall rhythmic and sound. She leaned forward, her breasts bouncing as she increased the pace.

"You're so sexy," you groaned, holding her hips, helping her keep the rhythm. "Keep going, princess, don't stop."

She increased the speed, her entire body working to bring both of you to ecstasy. Her pussy tight around your cock, the heat and friction creating an indescribable sensation.

"Oh yes, Sana. Fuck me harder," you murmured, your voice hoarse with pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum... fuck, I'm gonna cum on your cock," she screamed, her movements frantic, her pussy pulsing around you as she reached orgasm, trembling with pleasure.

She collapsed on top of you, her head resting on your chest. You gently brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face. Until then, you hadn't noticed how beautiful she was without makeup. You kissed the top of her head, a gesture she returned with equal passion by kissing your chest, saying: "I love you so much."

The room was dark, except for a soft light coming from the living room filtering through the half-open door, enough for you to see the sparkle in her eyes when she finally looked at you.

You didn't say anything. Words were unnecessary now. Instead, you let your hands do the talking, tracing the contours of her body, every curve, every perfect imperfection. She mumbled something inaudible against your chest, and you felt a smile form on your lips despite the fatigue.

She raised her head, her gaze serious but with a spark of something untamed. "Don't leave me," she pleaded, as if that were a real possibility. You smiled, kissing her lips, soft and prolonged, a kiss that promised much more than simple words could.

"I'm not going anywhere," you replied, the certainty in your voice unwavering.

You nestled close to her side, you behind her, your injured leg resting. You entered her again, slowly, savoring every inch that went in and out. She leaned back, allowing you deeper access. Your hands caressed her breasts, playing with her nipples as you fucked her from behind.

"Sana... I'm falling in love with you," you murmured, your voice laden with a strange possessiveness and love, a love you never imagined you could feel. But the act of kissing Sana's shoulder so tenderly while penetrating her could mean nothing but passion.

"You are my everything," she moaned, her voice trembling with pleasure.

You gripped her hip tightly, your thrusts becoming faster and more intense. The sound of your bodies colliding was erotic and highly stimulating.

"You're so tight... so wet," you confessed in her ear, your breath ragged. "I'm gonna cum, Sana."

"Cum, baby. Cum for me," she begged, her moans loud and filled with desire.

Feeling your climax approaching, you pulled out of her. Sana quickly knelt by the edge of the bed, looking at you with intense anticipation and lust., ready to receive your cum. You sat on the edge of the bed and started masturbating quickly, the sight of her so exciting that you were soon on the verge of orgasm.

"Cum for me," she whispered, her voice soft but urgent.

"I'm gonna cum," you groaned, your voice hoarse with pleasure and urgency. Sana smiled wickedly, knowing exactly what you needed.

"I want to feel you cum on my face," she whispered, her voice dripping with lust. "I want to taste you."

The sight of Sana waiting eagerly, her eyes fixed on you, made your cock throb even more. You sped up your strokes, your movements fast and precise, while she watched you, her hand casually caressing your balls.

"I want all your cum on my face, baby."

You felt the pressure building, each movement of your hand bringing you closer to climax. The moans intensified, your muscles tensing as the pleasure built to an inevitable crescendo. Sana looked intently, adorably seductive, ready to receive every drop from you.

When the orgasm finally hit, it was like an explosion. You let out a deep groan, almost a scream, as your body convulsed with pleasure. The first spurt of cum hit her face. Sana moaned with satisfaction, her eyes closed as she felt the warmth of your semen spreading across her skin.

"Oh yes, just like that," she murmured, her voice full of delight. "Cover my whole face." You continued to masturbate, each spasm sending more jets of cum onto her face, while she used her fingers to spread it, mixing it with the sweat still glistening on her skin. She opened her mouth, her tongue out to taste what she could, her eyes half-closed with pleasure.

"Wow! Fuck! that was fucking amazing," you groaned, reason slowly returning to your mind, your eyes fixed on the erotic painting in front of you.

When the spasms finally subsided, you stopped, panting. Sana looked at you, a smile of pure satisfaction on her lips, her face gleaming with your cum. She licked her lips, savoring the taste.

With a mischievous smile, you couldn't resist and, holding the base of your still-sensitive cock, started rubbing it on her face, spreading the cum already covering her skin. Sana closed her eyes, moaning softly as you slid the head of your cock over her cheeks, forehead, and lips, marking her completely.

"Yes, baby, rub that big hard cock on me," she murmured, her voice full of satisfaction. You rubbed slowly, savoring every moment, feeling the heat and moisture of her skin against your cock. Sana opened her mouth, licking the head of your cock, tasting the mix of your semen and sweat. You let out one last muffled groan, terribly sensitive.

"You look so hot like this, covered in my cum."

"I’m better than your ex-wife, aren’t I?"

"In ways that are immeasurable, princess," you murmured, your voice heavy with lust.

She smiled at your compliment.

"I guess I better wash my face before I go completely blind," Sana commented, her eyes half-closed. "Want to shower with me?"

"Sure! I- uh, I'll need your help anyway," you said, looking at your messed-up ankle.

"With me here, you don't have to worry, silly."

After the bath, the curiosity to see what the basement was like was obvious and natural. There was no way to resist such a mystery, and Sana, still a little shy about the somewhat... reckless action, revealed the secret room to you. She pulled the rug, and to your surprise, there was nothing there.

“It’s really a secret passage because I can't see anything.”

“It’s very well disguised. Mr. Goss did a good job camouflaging it. Look, the trapdoor is framed in a way that it blends perfectly with the surrounding floor. Covered by the shaggy rug, it’s almost impossible to see with the naked eye, especially since the edge aligns with the floorboards, without any protrusion or visible handle.”

“Yeah, I see. Or rather, I don’t see a damn thing!”

“There’s a small opening that can only be accessed if you know exactly where to look. I used a thin blade like this one to lift one of the wooden boards where there’s a small concealed groove. Once I knew that, it was easy to open the trapdoor and hide down there.”

And that’s how she did her magic. You really would have died without knowing about that damn basement. Once the trapdoor was opened, there was an old wooden staircase leading down to a kind of concrete room; although previously neglected, it now seemed like a carefully arranged refuge, perfectly ready to secretly shelter someone. Sana helped you down the creaky and worn wooden steps, a slight and cold humidity pervading the air below, common in places that rarely see sunlight. However, the signs of a recent attempt to make the space habitable were evident in every corner.

The concrete walls, probably once gray and mold-stained, had been partially cleaned. Though still rough and marked by time, they were now free of superficial dirt, and some parts had been covered with old, worn but colorful tapestries, adding a touch of warmth and humanity to the environment. The cement floor had been meticulously swept, and a large, thick rug had been placed in the center, providing a more comfortable and insulated surface than the cold concrete.

In one corner of the basement, there was an improvised bed made up of a sleeping bag, washed cotton sheets, and a wool blanket to face the cold nights. Next to the bed, a book whose title you couldn’t read from where you stood, an almost finished open bag of chips, and a (possibly dry) can of iced tea, although you doubted Sana had actually drunk it cold.

Lightly rusted metal shelves leaned against the walls, housing provisions and essentials like canned food and bottles of water. Some clothes were carefully folded in one corner of the shelves, with some sanitary pads nearby. A small wooden chest with a rusty lock held Sana’s personal belongings.

“How did you bring all this down here?” you asked, astonished.

“It took time, but I’m patient.”

On the opposite side, an improvised washbasin with a metal bowl and a water jug for basic hygiene offered a minimum of comfort. Clean towels hung on improvised hooks, and a cracked but still functional mirror was fixed on the wall above the basin.

“Please don’t tell me you-”

“No way! I was using the cabin’s bathroom,” she replied preemptively. “I was mindful of your schedule, and even though you take a long time to fall asleep, once you’re out, nothing wakes you up.”

A small oil heater was strategically placed to combat the cold that seeped in at night through the concrete floor and thick walls, probably responsible for secretly consuming the generator’s fuel. Next to it, a simple wooden chair and a small table offered a place to sit and perhaps write or read, with a few books carefully stacked beside it.

Despite the age and condition of the basement, Sana’s effort to make it habitable was commendable. Every detail, every item carefully placed, reflected her urgency and care, a diligent effort to transform the basement into something minimally livable.

“This is absurd as hell, Sana. Completely insane… But... Well, I’m glad you won’t be sleeping here anymore. There weren’t any bugs, were there?”

“Thank God, no! When I cleaned, I only found cobwebs and abandoned moth cocoons. I couldn’t have stayed here if there were bugs. Ew!”

You managed a slight smile. It was funny to think that despite being calculating, methodical, and patient, mere insects scared her. No one was really safe from that irrational fear thing.

“Alright then! You’d better take all your stuff up,” you said. “I can’t think of any use for this basement. In a future renovation, maybe I’ll just close it up and fulfill what’s written in the document.”

“Nah, you should just reinforce the foundation and keep the basement,” Sana suggested, moving closer for a hug. “You never know when you might need a little place to store something.”

You two were in bed. Sana, with your MacBook on her lap, was deciphering the draft of the first chapter of what might become your next novel. Untitled, without a definite form. She liked what she read, unraveling the unfinished subtleties that challenged the conventions of the genre. Letting her read the draft was a huge gesture, an exposure comparable to sex. And she knew that. She knew everything about you, after all. It was your goodwill gesture, a sign that you were open to her, willing to make this relationship stable, serious, healthy.

You had gone to the bathroom to brush your teeth. When you returned, Sana followed your steps with her eyes, waiting for you to lie down beside her again to ask:

"Promise you won't give up on me?"

"I promise. Sana, you're already strong on your own for having endured everything you have. And from now on, you can count on me to support you too. We'll break the circle together."

"You're everything I dreamed of and more," she said, hugging you, giggling.

"And you're an unexpected but very welcome gift," you comforted her in your arms. She was incredibly cuddly and emotional, which wasn't a bad thing. "So, I think we better sleep to enjoy the picnic tomorrow," you said, pulling Sana to snuggle into the pillow with you. "Damn, I'm completely exhausted, and it's partly your fault."

She giggled.

"And there's much more to come, Mr. Writer," Sana commented, turning off the lamp. "We can sweat a little tomorrow at the lake, if you know what I mean."

You fell asleep earlier than you imagined. Sana kept talking in your ear, excited about everything (you couldn't blame her), her words dissolving into the darkness. Her sweet, serene voice fading as you drifted off.

A perfect way to fall asleep, you thought, before slipping into slumber.

Then a scream sliced through the night like a blade, cutting the silence and your eardrums. Sharp and piercing. Sana, in a leap that defied logic, turned on the lamp and flew out of bed. Her hands frantically groped the wall, searching for the switch. The raw light illuminated her pale face, wide eyes filled with fear, and trembling hands.

"What's happening?!" you asked, confusion shaking your head.

"Something jumped on me! Some kind of bug!"

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of movement. Nothing made sense, everything was blurry.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! It jumped on my face. It was cold!" She was on the verge of tears, you on the verge of falling back asleep.

You got up with difficulty, each movement sending jolts of pain through your injured ankle. Your eyes fixed on the nightstand, where a small dark green figure stood on the right edge, like an unexpected sentinel.

"I see it."

"What is it?! You have to kill it!"

"It's just a small frog."

"You need to get it out of here!"

"I saw it before. It came in through a crack. I bought some duct tape to seal the hole, but I forgot to do it."

"It can't stay here!"

"Are you afraid?"

"It might jump on me again at any moment."

You laughed, a rough, low sound, almost a release of relief. You understood what she was going through, that primal terror of being attacked by something unknown in the middle of the night.

“Why are you laughing? That's not funny!”

"Hey, don't worry, this little guy won't disturb my girl's sleep anymore."

Slowly, almost ridiculously slowly, you walked around the bed, each step a struggle against the pain. You approached the small invader, the frog, still and cold. When you tried to touch it, it jumped straight onto your neck, like a biological missile. Sana let out a high-pitched scream, as if the frog had jumped on her.

"It's okay," you said, trying to calm her, but Sana was already at the door, ready to flee, eyes fixed on you as if you were her last safe harbor.

You approached the window, opened it, and a cold breeze hit your face, refreshing. Carefully, you removed the frog from your neck, feeling its cold, moist texture against your skin. You held it in your hand, offering it the vastness of the night outside.

"Go live a little," you said, with a flick of your hand, watching the frog leap to freedom. "It's all good now," you said, turning to Sana. "We can go back to sleep. In the morning I'll seal the crack."

"God, I think I hate frogs now."

You laughed again, a laugh that was both relief and exhaustion. The room finally sank back into silence, except for the soft sound of your breathing and Sana's, slowly returning to normal. Tomorrow, you thought, tomorrow you'll deal with the crack, but for now, the only thing that mattered was that she was safe and the terror had been expelled. And you... Fuck, you could get some sleep.

In the kitchen, you were busy packing the picnic basket, feeling a strange happiness performing such a mundane task. It had been a while since you felt this way — almost like a young boy again, experiencing the thrill of a new romance. Everything would be different now. Fuck solitude, you would be happy alongside someone. And a simple yet significant action representing your care for this new relationship was in this picnic basket you organized. Every sandwich carefully wrapped, the biscuit container tightly sealed, each juice bottle adjusted, and the bowl of fresh grapes waiting for a decision...

You both believed that your ankle would indeed be 100% recovered in about a week or less. Fortunately, the damage wasn't that bad. Until then, you would walk supported by a broken broom handle, pretending it was the staff of an old monk in a cabin with satellite Wi-Fi.

In the bedroom, Sana stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her earrings with an untimely smile. The morning was heavily overcast, threatening rain, but you both were counting on some weather support for a few hours, and although the day wasn't bright, Sana was. Ready for a perfect day with you.

Everything, absolutely everything, seemed to be in place.

As she turned slightly to check her look from different angles, your phone on the dresser lit up with a notification. The flashing light caught her attention. Curious, she leaned in to see the message on the notification bar.

And then her world crumbled. The smile melted away from her face like hot wax. Everything around her slowed down.

You called out from the kitchen, almost singing: "Sana, what do you think? Should I take grapes or not?”

Her eyes widened instantly as she read the message, and for a moment, everything around her disappeared, leaving only a cold void. The happiness she felt evaporated, the fog in the forest remained.

In the back of Sana's mind, the read message echoed like a dark warning:

"Dude, stay away from that girl!!"

"My brother found out some creepy shit about her"

"Btw her real name isn't even Sana 💀”

You asked again from the kitchen, your voice sounding distant, almost like an echo:

"So, Sana? Grapes or not?"

She took a deep breath. She was a battlefield between panic and forced calm. The messages were deleted with fingers that didn't want to believe what they had just read, while she replied with a voice that could barely stay steady:

"Yes, take the grapes! I love grapes!"

She turned to the mirror again, but the image she saw was no longer the same. The sparkle in her eyes had disappeared; it was just the reflection of someone. It could hardly be called a face.

A mask.

A mask desperately trying to stay calm.

She put the phone back where it was, making sure the messages were indeed deleted and the sender blocked. Something would have to be done soon. She forced herself to smile again in front of the mirror to see if she could maintain it. But a crack slowly widened in her mind, threatening to shatter all the false stability she had built.

She left the bedroom, walking towards the kitchen with hesitant steps, trying to maintain composure. There you were, waiting, with the picnic basket in your hands and an expression of affection that now seemed almost cruel to her eyes.

As she approached, she simulated a smile, everything buried behind her beautiful brown eyes. She greeted you with a quick kiss and casually asked:

"Did you remember to put the strawberry jam in the basket, honey?"

[pseudowho]

Aizawa Shouta x Reader

18+, MDNI, suggestive fluff

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The school bell rang, a prelude to the rising tide of teenage shouts in the corridor. The stream also carried the tired-bedraggled past the office door, and your particular tired-bedraggled snagged upon the office door, like black river weed upon rock, and the door swung open with a quiet huff.

"Hey, stranger." You glanced briefly up from marking papers, as Shouta stepped in, looking to all the world as though he wanted to turtle inside his own capture scarf.

"Long-ass day." Shouta grumbled, hooking the door shut behind him. "Teenagers are demons."

"You used to be one."

"Don't remind me. Hey-- move over."

You scooched sideways, and Shouta lay down on the couch with a huff, the back of his head landing with a rustle on your papered lap. He heaved out the sigh of a much older man. You berated him, tapping his nose with a pen, and tired eyes smiled up at you until you had rid your lap of papers.

You tried to object, your words falling flat as his eyes drifted closed, cradled on the plush of your thighs. Disgruntled, but smiling, you marked papers on the arm of the couch while your other hand scratched softly through his raggedy beard.

You did not think too deeply of the actions of your fingertips, creating lush scratching patterns through his bearded cheeks and chin, as though creating samon through zen garden gravel . Shouta released satisfied hum after hum.

You hadn't noticed his hums becoming longer, lower, gravelly, as they did when your hands moved softly over other parts of him. When your fingernails trailed idly down to the bristles over his throat, swirling over his flickering Adam's apple, it bobbed up, releasing a low curse entrenched in a moan.

Your eyes flickered down to Shouta, to his heavy drooping eyes, the way his jaw clenched as you caressed his beard...and to the heavy, thick tenting in his black trousers, the involuntary miniscule upwards humps into the air as you stroked him. You released an ah! of realisation, and removed your hand from his face.

In one brisk movement, Shouta gripped your wrist in one hand, and flicked out his capture scarf in the other, looping around the door handle and holding it shut, flush to the frame, white knuckles on white bands.

Shouta's eyes burned into yours, lowering your hand back to his face. He shifted with a grunt, his lap tight and trapped and aching.

"I didn't say stop."

[won4kiss]

𖠵 . ׅ ࣪ ⌇ 𝑆𝑈𝑃𝐸𝑅 𝑆𝐻𝑌 !

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝑛ishimura riki x 𝑓! reader. 𝒢enre fluff. 𝓢ynopsis. in which you write a confession to riki ! 𝑤𝑐 𐙚ㅤㅤ 1287 ⸝⸝ not edited, kissing ⸝⸝ ୭ৎ — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂 ᥫ᭡

for @bywons’s on our love event ! ‹𝟹

THE SOFT HUM OF CHATTER AND THE GENTLE RUSTLING OF PAPERS FILLED THE CLASSROOM AS YOU SETTLED INTO YOUR SEAT, trying your best to look occupied.

you had spent almost two years harboring a secret crush on nishimura riki.

he was the effortlessly cool, funny and incredibly kind boy who always seemed to catch your eye.

he was everything you admired; confident, talented, and strikingly handsome.

the only problem was that you had never spoken to him in those two years other than probably eight words? — more under cut !

your friends often teased you about your obvious infatuation.

every time riki walked by or glanced in your direction, your heart would race, and your cheeks would flush a deep shade of red.

you couldn't help but steal glances at him, and more often than not, you found him looking back at you, a curious expression on his face.

today was no different. as you sat pretending to read, you felt his eyes on you.

you looked up, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before quickly looking away, your face burning. he caught you again!

this was becoming a pattern, and you could tell he was starting to find it amusing. his soft chuckle and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners made your heart skip a beat.

riki had noticed you a while ago. at first, he found it odd that you were always looking at him, but as time went on, he started to find it endearing.

there was something about your shy demeanor and the way you blushed whenever he caught you staring that he found incredibly cute and endearing.

it didn't take long for him to develop a crush on you, but every time he tried to approach you, you would get so flustered that you'd hiccup and then run away like a damsel in distress.

it was after one of these encounters, where you had practically sprinted out of the classroom after riki had simply said "hi," that he began to doubt himself.

maybe you didn't like him at all. maybe you were just being polite, and he had misinterpreted your shyness for something more.

the thought made his heart ache, and he started avoiding you, thinking it would be best to spare both of you the awkwardness.

days turned into weeks, and you noticed riki's absence quite quickly. he no longer looked your way, no longer smiled at you from across the room.

the realization that he lost interest in you because of your shy demeanour and the fact that you can’t speak a few words to him hurt more than you cared to admit.

your friends noticed your growing sadness and decided to take matters into their own hands.

"y/n, you need to do something,"

your best friend, eunchae, said one afternoon as you all sat in the cafeteria.

"you can't just let this go on forever. you like him, and he clearly liked you too before you kept running away."

"but what if he doesn't like me anymore?" you asked, your voice small.

"he does," eunchae insisted.

"trust me. you just need to show him how you feel. write him a letter or something. leave it on his desk."

you bit your lip, considering her suggestion. the thought of writing down your feelings and leaving it for riki to find made your heart pound with a mix of fear and excitement.

after much encouragement from your friends, you finally agreed.

that night, you sat at your desk, the blank page in front of you feeling like the most intimidating thing in the world.

after several false starts and a lot of crumpled paper, you finally managed to write a letter that you felt conveyed your feelings without being too over the top.

dear riki,

i don't know if you've noticed, but i've liked you for a long time. almost two years now. i know i get super shy and always run away whenever you try to talk to me, but it's just because i get so nervous around you. you're amazing, and i didn't want to make a fool of myself.

i'm sorry if i made you think i don't like you. i really do, i just didn't know how to show it.

i really hope you feel the same,

with love, y/n.

the next day, with trembling hands, you slipped the letter onto riki's desk before class started and quickly took your seat, your heart racing.

throughout the day, you couldn't concentrate, your mind occupied with thoughts of how riki would react.

would he laugh? would he be angry? would he ignore you completely?

when the final bell rang, you gathered your things and left the classroom, your steps slow and hesitant.

you were almost at the school gate when you heard someone calling your name.

turning around, you saw riki jogging towards you, holding the letter in his hand.

"y/n, wait!" he called out, his expression serious yet hopeful.

you froze, your heart in your throat as he reached you.

"r-riki, i..."

"come with me," he interrupted, gently taking your hand and leading you back into the school.

you followed him, your mind racing with endless possibilities.

he led you up to the rooftop, a place you often went to when you needed to think.

it was quiet and peaceful, with a beautiful view of the city.

once you were there, riki turned to face you, still holding your hand. "i read your letter," he said softly.

you swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze out of the cheesy words you had written.

"i'm sorry if it was weird. i just... i didn't know how else to tell you."

riki let out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"it's not weird, y/n. it's actually really sweet. and it made me realize something."

you finally looked up at him, confusion and hope pooling in your eyes.

"what do you mean?"

riki took a deep breath, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand shyly.

"i like you too, y/n. i have for a while now. i thought you didn't like me because you always ran away, but now i understand why."

your eyes widened in surprise.

"you... you do?"

riki nodded, his expression sincere.

"yeah, i do. and i'm really glad you wrote me that letter. it gave me the courage to tell you how i feel."

tears of relief and happiness welled up in your eyes.

"i was so scared you'd hate me."

"how could i hate you?" riki said softly, stepping closer.

"you're amazing, y/n. and i'm really happy we can finally be honest with each other."

before you could respond, riki leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

the kiss was sweet and warm, filled with all the emotions you had both kept bottled up for so long.

when he finally pulled away, you were both smiling, the weight of your unspoken feelings lifted of your shoulders.

riki took your hand again, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"so, what do you say we start over? hi, i'm riki."

you laughed, your heart soaring in love.

"hi, i'm y/n. nice to meet you."

he grinned, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

"nice to meet you too. now, let's get out of here. we've got a lot of catching up to do!"

with your hand in his, you left the rooftop, your heart lighter than it had been in years.

it had taken almost two years of shy glances and unspoken feelings, but you had finally found the courage to open up to riki.

as you walked out of the school together, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

© won4kiss 2024

taglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @greentulip

[aemondsbabe]

Ñuha Zaldrīzes

summary: future & facesitting || discussing wishes for your baby with your husband turns into something more

pairing: daemon targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, pregnant reader, oral sex (f receiving), allusions to piv sex, dirty talk, daemon being soft and loving we love to see it, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day eight of 12 days of smuff!!! surely this counts as future otherwise i'd have them fucking in a spaceship & that just didn't sit right with me

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @pedropcl

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

A soft giggle bursts from your lips as Daemon’s hand skirts over your large belly yet again, his soft touches tickling your skin as his hand ghosts lovingly over your bump, the delicate lacy fabric of your nightgown bunched around his wrist. 

“Okay, okay, so,” you say breathily, finally calming down as his touch seems to settle on your hip, “If it’s a little girl, perhaps Vaenera? And for a little boy… Vaenor?” You suggest, your breath warm against the prince’s neck as you rest your cheek against his shoulder, tucked safely into his side atop your silk covered bed. 

“I still think we should name her Visenya,” the blond drawls, tracing soothing patterns into your hip as he holds you against him, “With a nice strong name like that, she will grow to greatness.” 

You stay silent for a moment, your eyes locked onto the fluid movements of the sheer curtains that lead out onto the balcony, watching as they blow in the breeze carried in by the Narrow Sea. Daemon can’t help but notice you still against him and he smiles softly when he sees that familiar, far off look in your eyes – always his dreamer.

“Where did you go?” He asks gently, all traces of the usual brash, cocky tone with which he speaks gone. 

“Nowhere,” you smile, tilting your head up to peer at him through your lashes, “I was merely thinking of what kind of person this little one will grow up to be.” You stroke a hand over your belly as you speak, your smile only growing as you feel a soft, barely there kick against your palm. 

“If they’re even half as kind and gentle as their mother, the world will be a much better place with them in it,” your husband whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A pink blush blooms across the apples of your cheeks, as it always does when he speaks so tenderly. 

“And if they’re half as hard headed as their father, well… somehow, I will love them all the more,” you whisper, laughing yet again as Daemon trails his fingers over your side, tickling you purposefully this time.

“Me, hard headed?” He teases, laughing along with you, “I’m not the one that nearly sent the kitchens into a tailspin this evening when they demanded duck, now am I?” His violet eyes sparkled in the low light of the candles that flickered around the room, a teasing smirk etched across his face.

“That’s very unfair!” You giggle, leaning up to properly look at him. “You know how I am when I’m with child,” you huff, your blush only deepening when you see his eyes darken just slightly as his gaze flits over you, “Especially once it’s this far along; all I want is roast duck and–”

“And lemon cakes at every meal,” Daemon finishes for you, softly smiling, “Yes, sweetling, the entire castle is most aware.” He chuckles. 

“Then the kitchens should know to have duck, that’s all I’m saying…” You grumble, sinking back down into his embrace. The two of you relax into a comfortable silence for many minutes, your husband’s breathing so steady and calm that you assume he’s fallen asleep. When he speaks again, his soft voice almost startles you.

“The kitchens did particularly well with the lemon cakes this evening…”

Your eyebrows furrow together at the statement and you lift your head again, meaning to give him a confused stare. The cakes were exceptionally good this evening, but you can’t help but notice the teasing lilt in his voice.

You open your mouth to speak, but the darkness in Daemon’s eyes gives you pause, a breathy, barely audible whimper escaping your lips before you have a chance to stop it.

“However, I can’t help but be in the mood for a much different type of dessert, little wife.” He says lowly, gently pulling you up until your faces are level, careful to be ever conscious of your growing stomach. 

“Daemon –” You start, only to be cut off with a searing kiss as he presses his lips to yours. You whimper against his lips, your head already spinning in his embrace as his tongue toys with yours.

“It’s been so long,” he starts, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, nibbling at one spot that always has you seeing stars, “Since you’ve let me have what I want.”

“H-Husband,” you gasp breathlessly, your nails digging helplessly into his chest as you cling to him, “You had me just this, Gods, this morning for breakfast, if you’ll recall.” You managed to say between whimpers and gasps as he practically feasted on the sensitive spot on your neck, his hands softly kneading and caressing your breasts. 

He makes a small, displeased hum before he pulls back to look at you, his dark eyes studying you carefully before a small smirk grows on his lips, “You know very well that’s not what I’m after.”

Your eyes widen just slightly as you finally catch his meaning; you shake your head with a small chuckle. “Surely you can’t be serious,” your smile fades as he holds your stare with a small, unchanging smirk, “Daemon, I’ll crush you!”

“And what an honorable death that would be, sweet wife,” he chuckles, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he lifts you up and onto his lap, your head spins as you feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin linen breeches he has on, “I’ll be fine, it’s not as if this is exactly new territory for us…” He teases, gently skirting his hands over your belly. 

“We’ve never done it when I’ve been… like this, though,” you shyly point out, looking down at your bump. 

“Do you really not see how insatiable I become every time you’re with child?” Daemon asks, his voice soft and gentle, “I will only ever have you like this a scant few times. Please, sweetling, let me savor it.”

Biting your lip, you gaze down at him, eyes trailing across his bare chest and shoulders and up the strong column of his neck before they finally settle on his face – the look in his eyes nearly making you gasp. His violet eyes are fixed on you, roaming over your body with so much love and adoration that you feel as if you may melt from it. 

Before you even register the movement, you’re nodding. 

Daemon’s eyes instantly flick up to yours, sparkling with victory. His hands grip your hips again, gently guiding you up his muscular form as he silently thanks the Seven that you wear nothing beneath your Myrish lace nightgowns. A loud groan practically bursts from the prince’s chest once you’re positioned over his face; he loves being surrounded by you — loves the way your soft thighs bracket his head, the way you position your dripping center perfectly over his mouth, and the way the only thing he sees when he looks up is your belly, swollen with his seed, his child. 

If it were up to Daemon, he would happily spend the rest of his days here. 

Your chest heaves as you grip the headboard of the bed, your heart hammering in your chest from the anticipation of it. You whimper softly as his hands, rough from so many years of sword fighting and dragon riding, grab at your thighs and hips. 

He presses soft, sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs before licking a slow, steady line up your center; you can feel him smirk triumphantly against you as moans and whimpers spill from your lips. 

“Oh, Gods, Daemon!” You gasp, voice already ragged as you white-knuckle the headboard. Your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself even a fraction of an inch above your husband’s face, something he notices quite quickly. A displeased growl rumbles from his chest, making you pant as it vibrates against your core.

“Fucking sit,” Daemon rasps, tugging you against his mouth, his tongue roughly spearing into you as he grinds your pearl against his nose, hands moving your hips against his face. 

Your mind all but whites out as he rocks you against him, nose and tongue working in perfect tandem to send shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeeze shut, frantic moans pouring from your mouth as a fire steadily builds within you. 

“H-Husband,” you pant, walls clenching tightly around his tongue as he groans into your heat, “I— Fuck, I’m—!” You can hardly get the words out as Daemon seals his lips around your sensitive bud, suckling it at a maddening pace as his hands move down to cup your ass, kneading it roughly. 

Your face flushes at the slick sounds pouring from between your thighs as the prince growls against you, sounding as if he’s gaining as much satisfaction as you are. Your core clenches at the thought, pleasure threatening to consume you. 

“Daemon!” You cry urgently, shaking above him, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. You want so badly to thread your fingers through his hair as you normally would, but you can’t even see his face around your protruding belly. 

He groans loudly beneath you once more and fucks his tongue back into you, causing the knot in your belly to pull tightly before finally unraveling. Sparks burst behind your eyelids, your back arching as your whole body tenses and relaxes in time with his movements. 

The prince moans appreciatively, messily drinking down your pleasure as you peak on top of him. You jump when one of his hands smacks against your ass, the tingling sting extending your release, the intensity of it nearly making you go mad. 

Finally, once your signs of relief have turned into whimpers of overstimulation, Daemon releases you with a pleased hum, helping you shuffle back down his body until you’re straddling his hips once again. 

You laugh softly at the sight of him — his cheeks flushed a light pink, hair sticking up at odd angles, and a pleased, self-satisfied grin on his face. 

“You look as if you were the one who was ravished, my dragon,” you tease, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you trace over the muscular dips in his chest and stomach.

The prince chuckles lowly, his violet eyes still dark with lust as he takes in your curves. “Ravishing you is a pleasure in and of itself, sweet wife,” he drawls, smirking as you gasp at the feel of his cock against your sensitive core as he rolls his hips against you, “I trust you’ll allow me to feel it again?” He asks, that all too familiar cocky tone back, as if asking is merely a formality. 

Sighing happily, you bite your lip as you stare down at him, the knot in your belly beginning to tighten again as you feel his length pressing hotly to you. 

“I believe that can be arranged.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[gubsbuubs]

Sunshine Brews

Pairing: MGG x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3K

Warnings: none just pure fluff

Summary: Just a little meet-cute with MGG and a barista where they realize they have something in common, a necklace.

A/N: I don’t usually write fluff but I had this cute idea. Let me know if you want a series out of this! Hope you all enjoy it!

Any and all comments are appreciated - English is not my first language. Requests are open 🍒

"Blueberry muffin and one caramel latte, extra shot!" Y/N called out to her coworker over the noise of the espresso machine. The cozy coffee shop felt warm and inviting, with the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. Only a few patrons were scattered around, enjoying their drinks and pastries. It was slow at the moment, with the usual larger queue reduced to just two customers in line—Mary, the regular she was tending, and a man who waited after her.

"Here's your receipt, have a great day!" She extended her arm with a smile, as Mary thanked her and took it before finding a seat by the window.

The movement on the other side of the counter drew Y/N's attention to the new customer. As he appeared from behind Mary, he moved closer to place his order. Y/N's eyes lifted from where Mary had been standing, her gaze now caught by a tall man with a mop of tousled curls framing his face.

He wore a fun patterned shirt, the colors vibrant against the light filtering through the café windows. A small green neck scarf added a touch of flair, giving him a stylish and approachable vibe.

His eyes moved from the lettering and small drawings on the black chalkboard to meet the girl behind the register. She held a big smile, and he couldn't help but notice how it lit up her eyes, "Welcome to Sunshine Brews! What can I get for you today?"

"Good afternoon," he replied, his voice soft. "How are you doing..." He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the counter, as he squinted his eyes, clearly trying to read the tag placed on the right side of her chest. "...John?" His brows furrowed in confusion. He didn't want to assume anything, recognizing that names could be diverse, but his uncertainty was evident in his expression.

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at his confused look. "Oh, that's not my name. Easy mistake, though! I'm covering for a friend named John today." She tapped her nametag lightly.

"He had a little issue, so someone…" She motioned to herself dramatically, exaggerating her words, "had to come in and save the day."

He chuckled at her theatrics. "What a good Samaritan we have here today," he teased lightly "Shouldn't you be sainted for your heroic deeds?"

She playfully shook her head, "You know… sometimes I think I should be,"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, his expression genuinely curious. "And what would your saintly name be?"

She tilted her head slightly back, considering his question for a moment. Then, with a slight raise of her eyebrows, she declared, holding her finger up in the air, " How about Saint Y/N of the Extra Shifts"

"Saint Y/N of the Extra Shifts," he repeated thoughtfully. "I can already see the halo glowing faintly above your head."

"Well, someone had to do it, or you wouldn't have your coffee. Aren't you glad it was me?" She teased.

"Absolutely, Saint Y/N,"

"Well, I know you didn't come here to put up with my stupid jokes, so what can I get you started with?" Y/N quipped.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I loved that stupid joke," his gaze was warm as he met her eyes. "I'm glad your friend John didn't make it, because I'm really enjoying our conversation."

"Yeah, but good conversation won't fill your stomach,"

"You're so wise," he added in a sarcastic tone before glancing at the menu thoughtfully. "I think I'll go with a latte and..." He paused, his gaze flicking back up to meet hers. "Do you have any recommendations for a light bite? Something to tide me over until dinner?"

Y/N nodded "Our avocado toast is a popular choice," she suggested, gesturing towards the menu board. "Or we have fresh pastries if you're in the mood for something sweet."

"Avocado toast sounds perfect,"

"Coming right up," Y/N replied cheerfully. "That'll be eight dollars and fifty cents. And what's the name for the order?"

"Matthew," he said, handing her a ten-dollar bill. "Keep the change."

"Well, thank you," she said, extending her arm across the counter to hand him the receipt. Then she turned to her coworker, who was tasked with making the orders. "Hey, can you get me a latte and avocado toast?"

Glancing around the relatively empty café, Matthew´s eyes fell on a couple of stools just a few steps away from the counter. He pondered for a moment, he was enjoying the conversation with Y/N, and if he sat at a table, even one nearby, he wouldn't be able to continue their chat as easily. Noticing how there was no movement and he was the latest customer, he decided to sit by the counter, keeping the option open for more interaction.

Y/N placed some napkins and a sugar jar in front of him. "Here you go, just in case," she said with a friendly smile.

"Seems to be slow at the moment," he remarked casually, his eyes flicking back to her.

"Well, lucky for you, it means I have all the time to entertain you " she teased, tapping her fingers against the counter.

"Is that part of the saintly services you offer? Entertainment along with the coffee?"

Y/N chuckled, nodding with mock seriousness. "Oh, absolutely," she replied, matching his playful tone. "But you know, entertainment comes with an extra charge. Saintly services aren't free, you know."

Matthew feigned surprise, his eyes widening in mock indignation, leaning back slightly. "What's the going rate for entertainment these days? Should I be worried about breaking the bank?"

Y/N leaned closer. "Since you're new here, I'll make you an offer," she whispered conspiratorially. "Today's entertainment will be on the house if you promise to come back for more."

Matthew's expression shifted in contemplation as he pretended to consider her offer. He scratched his chin lightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, Saint Y/N, you're making it hard to refuse," he teased, his voice low and playful.

After a brief pause, he extended his pinky finger toward hers. "Alright, deal. I promise to come back,"

The pinky promise sealed the deal, and for a heartbeat longer than expected, their fingers intertwined. Y/N felt a rush of warmth as Matthew's gaze locked onto hers, their faces closer than they should be as they both leaned on either side of the counter.

"You better keep that promise now,"

Just then, Y/N's coworker arrived at the counter with his order in hand "Good afternoon," she said, breaking the brief silence. "One latte and avocado toast for Matthew."

"That's me," he replied with a nod, his attention momentarily on the girl as she set the food down in front of him. "Thank you." As the coworker walked away, Matthew's eyes shifted back to Y/N that had stepped back slightly to give room for her friend.

As he bit down on the toast, Matthew's gaze fixated on Y/N and he couldn't help but notice the faint blush that adorned her cheeks.

Unaware of his lingering gaze, Y/N observed the street outside while she ran her fingers through her hair with a casual grace. She swept it up momentarily before letting it fall behind her shoulders, and Matthew's eyes never left her, observing each movement with a keen interest.

His gaze lowered from her cheeks to her lips, tracing the delicate curve of her jawline down to her now exposed neck. It was then that the soft ambient light caught the glimmer of a pendant she wore, casting a gentle glow upon it.

Matthew's breath caught slightly as he noticed, recognizing it in an instant. His surprise was palpable. "Wait a minute," Matthew choked out, his mouth half full of avocado toast.

"Wha…. What?" Y/N asked, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor.

Matthew lifted a finger to his lips, gesturing for her to wait as he swallowed. His eyes were wide with excitement as he pointed at her. "You're wearing my necklace," he finally exclaimed.

Her hand instinctively went to the delicate pendant around her neck, feeling its familiar weight. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's my necklace," he repeated, a smile spreading across his face as he pointed at it.

Y/N furrowed her brows. "I think you might be confused," she stated calmly but firmly. "My nephew gave this to me as a present, so it's not yours... I'm pretty sure it's mine."

Matthew chuckled softly, "That's not what I meant..." He trailed off, leaning back slightly on the stool as he took a sip of his latte.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, a puzzled expression crossing her features. "I'm so confused right now," she admitted.

"You have no idea, do you?" he said, his smile growing wider.

She shook her head no , feeling a mix of amusement and frustration. "Well, then please enlighten me," she replied, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Matthew set the cup down with a soft clink, leaning forward slightly. His hand moved the scarf around his neck, and with a subtle movement, a small golden chain appeared from under it. His fingers reached inside his shirt, pulling out a pendant identical to Y/N's, hanging from the necklace.

"What the..." was all Y/N could mutter as she lounged forward, holding her upside-down necklace side by side with his. "I had no idea that's what you meant. My nephew talks about him all the time, but I never realized he was so popular," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

Matthew grinned, clearly enjoying her reaction. "It's always surprising to see where that little guy pops up."

"It's the first time I've met someone who knows about this book. It's such a cool coincidence." With a gentle release, Y/N let go of his necklace, but she remained there, her arms resting on the counter.

"Oh, I don't just know it, I really know it," he said with a playful smirk.

She raised an eyebrow, "Have you read it a lot or something?" she asked, "Do you also have a small child that begs for the same story every time?"

Matthew shook his head in amusement, leaning down for another bite of his avocado toast. "No," he replied, a chuckle escaping as he chewed.

"So…. just a grown man enjoying children's literature, then?" she quipped. "Not weird at all." she laughed

As Matthew swallowed, a small burst of air escaped through his nostrils, causing a soft laugh. It was incredibly funny how unaware she was of the punchline that was about to be delivered. "Y/N," he said once his mouth was clear, "I wrote the book."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her playful grin faltering for a moment as she processed his words. "Wait, what?"

He was clearly enjoying her flabbergasted expression. "You heard me," he said with a smile.

It was clear that the revelation had caught her off guard, her eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly agape. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies,"

Her mouth snapped shut, and her cheeks flushed faintly as she processed the information. "You're… You´re joking, right?" She managed to stammer.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He replied, his tone playful yet somewhat serious. He continued to watch her, admiring the way her expression shifted from shock to disbelief to realization.

"Matthew?" she asked as her mind connected the dots and her mouth formed a small 'O' shape. "As in Matthew Gray Gubler?"

"The one and only." He laughed, leaning in closer, his voice quieter. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't announce it to the whole café."

Her cheeks flushed once more as she galanced around, but no one seemed to be paying attention to their conversation. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, realizing her faux pas. "You're right, I shouldn't have reacted like that. Sorry."

He, in turn, smiled at her apologetic demeanor. "No worries," he replied, before taking the final bite of his toast. "This was so good," he said pointing at it.

Y/N completely disregarded his compliment. "Oh my gosh, this is so embarrassing," she continued, starting to ramble. "I mean, no offense; I should've recognized you. I don't know what I was thinking. I really am sorry for not recognizing you."

He swallowed the bite, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her struggle with her embarrassment. "Why are you apologizing?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting on the countertop. "Well, because you're like a celebrity," she began, stumbling over her words. "I mean, I haven't seen your face on TV in a while, but I should've recognized it." She paused, searching for the right words.

"You really don't need to apologize," he assured her, his voice soft and reassuring as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the countertop, his eyes locked with hers "Believe it or not I enjoyed being just a regular person. It's refreshing to not be recognized every now and then."

She let out a soft exhale, her embarrassment beginning to subside. "I never thought about it that way," she admitted, her hands finally stilling on the countertop.

"Most people think being recognized all the time is a perk," he mused, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "But sometimes, it's nice to just blend in and be treated like everyone else."

Y/N nodded thoughtfully, a small smile forming on her lips. "I can imagine," she replied softly.

"So, you mentioned your nephew earlier, what´s his name?"

"Oh, right," she chuckled softly. "His name is Ethan. Adorable little guy," she said with a warm smile on her face.

"How old is Ethan?" he inquired, genuinely interested.

"He just turned nine," Her eyes sparkled with affection as she spoke of her nephew. "He's such a sweet kid. Always full of imagination." Her voice softened with fondness, "You should see him; he's convinced Rumple Buttercup is real and has adventures all around town. Sometimes I catch him drawing pictures of Rumple saving the day in his notebook." A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "He's got quite the imagination, that one…" She paused, "Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"No… No, pelase, continue." He took one more sip of his coffee before adding, "He sounds like quite a young artist."

"He really is," Y/N agreed. "He's always drawing something, whether it's Rumple or his own little creations. I've lost track of the number of drawings he's left around the house."

"You know," he began, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret, "I'm actually in town for a book signing at the library tomorrow." his voice even quieter as he added, "I'll be dressed as Rumple Buttercup and everything."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, a delighted smile spreading across her face. "No way, really?" She exclaimed softly.

"Really," he affirmed with a grin.

"Oh my god, we have to go," Y/N blurted out, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "Ethan would be over the moon!"

"Unfortunately, it's sold out," he admitted, his tone apologetic.

Her face fell, disappointment washing over. "Oh no…"

Before she could dwell on the disappointment, Matthew bursted into laughter. "But I might know someone who could get you in… This guuuuuuy" he said, playfully pointing to himself and breaking into a little dance.

Her disappointment quickly melted away as she watched Matthew's playful antics. She leaned against the counter, a wide smile spreading across her face as she giggled at his silly dance moves.

"Are you serious?" Y/N asked, her laughter still bubbling under the surface.

Matthew nodded, his expression earnest and determined. "Dead serious. I can get you invitations," he affirmed.

"You're too much!" Y/N exclaimed with a playful shake of her head, still grinning from ear to ear.

Matthew chuckled softly. "Well, what can I say? I aim to please,"

She reached across the counter, intending to express her gratitude with a light touch on his arm. "I can't thank you enough for this," she said sincerely, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Matthew smiled warmly as he looked into Y/N's eyes, his hand gently resting on hers "I'm the one who should be thankful," he began, "I got to enjoy this amazing toast with a delicious latte, just like a regular person. And as promised, I got some great company by a saint," he added with a playful wink, "and for free, may I add."

"Well, you did promise you would come back, so next time it's not for free,"

"Ah, you got me there," he admitted, feigning defeat. "I guess I did promise… And I always keep my promises."

"Good to know you're a man of your word," she replied, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

Matthew nodded, feeling a flutter of nervousness in his chest. He cleared his throat gently, watching as Y/N straightened up, her warmth lingering on his arm as she withdrew. Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he glanced up at her with a hesitant smile.

"You should… you know… give me your number... for the invites, I mean," he said, his voice slightly uncertain.

Y/N met his gaze with a warm smile. "Sure," she replied softly, reaching for her phone on the counter. After a moment of tapping on the screen, she handed it to him. "Here you go."

Matthew chuckled softly to himself. "Saint Y/N," he remarked as he saw the saved number, "I should have seen this one coming."

"Well, it's so you know it's me," she replied playfully.

Matthew grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "I still can't believe I had the pleasure of meeting a saint over avocado toast,"

She chuckled, leaning slightly against the counter. "Aren't you glad John couldn't make it today?" she teased.

Matthew raised an eyebrow playfully. "Really glad," he replied "I mean, John's is probably a great guy and all, but I doubt Sunshine Brews has the budget for two saints… So it looks like I lucked out today."

"Well, consider it a stroke of luck for both of us then," she quipped.

The gentle dinging of the bell at the top of the front door chimed, signaling the entry of a new customer. Y/N glanced up from the counter just in time to see a young woman step inside, followed closely by a man with a briefcase slung over his shoulder. Before she could even greet the first arrivals, another group of friends strolled in, causing the bell to ring again in quick succession.

Matthew chuckled softly at the increasing activity in the café. "It looks like it's getting busy," he remarked.

"Rush hour," she confirmed, her gaze briefly flicking to the clock mounted on the wall.

"I should probably go," Matthew said regretfully, rising from his stool. "I've definitely taken up a pretty considerable amount of your time."

"I'm glad you did," she said sincerely.

"I will text you later... about the … invites, I mean," he trailed off, clearly a bit flustered by his own suggestion.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh softly at his flustered response. "Bye, Matthew,"

"Bye, Y/N," Matthew replied with a smile, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned towards the door. "See you and Ethan tomorrow," he added, waving slightly as he exited.

[enwoso]

IN PLAIN SIGHT — alessia russo

as promised and by very popular demand!! not even gonna lie i kinda love how this turned out:)

mainly just fluff but a little suggestive;)

navigation

being on england camp was something you always loved, being able to represent your country at the highest level was something you could only dream of when you were growing up, wanting nothing more than to follow in your big sisters footsteps.

being surrounded by your friends, your older sister leah all while being able to play the sport that you loved was something that never felt real.

"and then keira said- your not even listenin'!" leah huffed throwing her arms up in the air as you glanced from your phone placing it face down on your sisters bed as she turned to face you.

"i was!" you smiled sweetly in your defence, hoping leah would buy it and carry on with what ever she had been talking about as in reality you hadn't the simplest idea of what she had been talking about for the past twenty minutes.

"mhm, you looked it too!" leah sassed as your rolled your eyes at your older sister's dramatics. "anyways who you textin' with such a cheesy grin on your little face" she asked as your smile dropped a little. "don't think i didn't notice"

"i- uh just a friend" you stutter as leah raised an eyebrow clearly not satisfied with your answer but you weren't ready to tell her the truth of who you were actually texting out of pure fear of her reaction.

"and does said friend have a name?" leah smiled as she moved to sit next to you on her bed as your brain worked fast to try and figure out a way out of answering the question.

"oh it's just an old school friend, i don't-"

"yeah i remember your school friends which one?" you could tell leah didn't believe a single word that was coming from your mouth as she was sat with a look that you knew and seen quite a few time when you were growing up as she was trying to squeeze the actual truth from you but you were giving her no luck.

"um i don't think you met this one, anyways it's getting late i should probably get back to my room, busy day of training tomorrow" you rambled out quickly getting up from leah's bed as quickly as you could before she had the chance to bombard you with anymore questions saying a quick goodbye to your sister as you left.

walking down the corridor of st george's park in direction of a certain someone's room instead of your own, looking over your shoulder every so often to make sure that none of of the england girls where around to see your movements.

three knocks on the door in the same pattern you always did, as a few seconds passed before the door opened, alessia stood with a soft smile on her face as she let you in quickly shutting the door behind her.

"hi love" she mumbled into your hair as you wrapped your arms around her waist mumbling a hello against her as she lifted you up and walked from the doorway to her bed, lying down on it as all you could hear was her heart beating against her chest drowning out the sound of the tv playing a series that alessia had clearly been watching to pass time.

"m’sorry it took me so long to come, i was with leah" you said quietly moving so that the two of you were more comfy.

the blonde shaking her head, "it's okay, i knew that's where you'd be - so actually i was expecting you to be longer!" she assured you as you laughed a little at the last part knowing that leah loved to talk, your older sister always having something to say or comment on.

not always the shy angel that some thought she was - that being only reserved for those she wasn't as comfortable around.

as for you and alessia, nobody knew about your relationship. everyone saw the two of you as best friends and while you were to the outside, behind closed doors and away from prying eyes it had blossomed into something more meaningful, the two of you wrapped up in your own little love bubble.

you'd know alessia for a while having grown up with her and a lot of the current england squad in the youth teams all together however it wasn't until the world cup when you both admitted your feelings to each other a few weeks later after the heartbreak of the final, you finally after years of dancing around the bush asked alessia to be your girlfriend.

the two of you had been together now for seven months. and with each day that passed you were more and more scared of your older sisters reaction to you dating alessia.

you had grown bored of the series alessia was watching your fingers trailing up and down the blondes arm in hope you would peel her attention from the tv screen and onto you instead.

at first you were having no look until you felt a slight shiver from the girl, her face turning to look at you a sheepish smile appearing on your face. “hi”

“hi” she breathed out her face inches away from touching yours. the blonde looking into your blue orbs, deciding if she was going to make the move or if she was waiting for you to, seconds later bringing her hand up to your face, cupping your cheek and using her thumb to run across your cheekbones, pulling you that little bit closer to her.

you allowing alessia to pull you, your faces stopping that mere millimetre away from each other, alessia’s hand remaining in its place. taking in being able to feel your soft skin under her finger tips again.

your lips barely grazing, but you could feel your breath mixing together.

“please” you whimpered, unable to stop the begging tone from the slowness of the build up as it was killing you. “what?” alessia innocently asked as you rolled your eyes.

you could feel alessia’s lips graze yours as you moved that little bit closer, your lips now ever so slightly touching.

“just kiss me-“ you breathed out, alessia nodding and moving her head forward allowing your lips to connect properly. you both taking a deep breath at the familiar tingles from your connection.

your hand resting on the blondes thigh, squeezing it slightly as the blonde let out a small moan, finally getting the sound you’d been craving.

alessia ran her hand that was previously on your cheek to the back of your neck, “i love you” alessia moaned into the kiss, her breath hitching as she felt your tongue come out and graze her bottom lip. alessia bringing her own out to touch yours, you squeezing alessia’s thigh in response.

“i love you so much” you whispered against her lips, as you felt alessia pull lightly on the back of your hair. “wish i could stay with you tonight” you added as you both pulled away to regain your breath.

“someone would definitely get suspicious then, love” she smiled softly, her pupils dilated as she looked at you so in love.

you frowned for a split second, before moving to straddle the blonde as her hands quickly found your waist you the one this time to rest your hands on her neck.

leaning in ever so slightly, “we better make good use of the time we have together then!” you whispered, alessia seeing a change in your eyes, they were darker as you continued leaning in trailing kissing from her jawline down to her neck.

finding the skin of her neck between your lips as you kissed her neck with a little more pressure, your teeth nipping slightly at the skin. knowing exactly where and how she liked to be kissed, as alessia’s grip on your waist tightened as small whines fell from her lips.

“i- fuck, babe, no marks please” she cursed under her breath, as you hummed against her skin, however you knew you couldn’t make any promises to the blonde.

sitting down with georgia and ella while you ate breakfast conversating over small things as well as the next matches that were in a few days time.

“less is late down today?" georgia said out of the blue, your eyebrows raising a little, "she's probably still doin' her hair- y'know what she's like!" ella rolled her eyes as you nodded a long agreeing with the two of them.

you’d left alessia’s room early this morning after falling asleep in her room last night, not wanting to have to explain to any of your teammates why you’d be in there when they came to knock on for the blonde.

doing your usual routine of kissing her forehead, mumbling an ‘i love you’ and sending her a text message for when she woke up so she knew where you’d be before leaving to your own room to get ready.

your shrugged your shoulders as you put another spoonful of your breakfast into your mouth and the topic changed once again.

"so in ireland we need to go and try-" you were in the middle of a new topic of things you may have time to see and do in your short trip to ireland for the next match when all of a sudden milk is being sprayed from ella’s mouth and all of you.

"ELLA! what the fuck man!" you groan loudly looking down at your now soaking wet training jumper. "ay language!" you heard leah yell over from another table rolling your eyes you turned back to ella and georgia who were both sat opposite you as milk dripped down your face.

"what was that for?" you ask, moving quickly to take your jumper off, leaving you in your training top. you look up to georgia and ella who are both sending gawk eyes at whoever is stood behind you.

"what- oh hey lessi" you gave her a small smile as she stood stone faced behind you, wincing as you realised why she had that look on her face.

a hickey that you’d given her from last night had formed on her neck all red and purple, you could tell she’d try to put concealer over it however it wasn’t enough to cover it.

“oo um, you sleep well?” you cringed sending the blonde a sorry look as you watched the ella and georgia burst out laughing the two nearly on the verge of crying with laughter, you not totally understanding what was so funny.

“less- if you ask, the kitchen staff they may be able to give you a whisk!” ella joked in between her loud laughs with georgia, a few of the girls around the room looking over to your table with confused looks as alessia scoffed walking away in the direction of the where the food was being served to get her own breakfast.

you felt yourself sink further into the chair, unsure of how the next few minutes were going to go, georgia and ella finally beginning to stop laughing. “so you and less huh?” georgia wiggled her eyebrows.

“um- wait how do you know?” you asked, pushing the rest of your breakfast around with your spoon.

“well one you’ve just confirmed our suspicions and two it was pretty obvious mate” georgia pointed out as they both began to list out interactions they had noted between you and the blonde.

it ranging from little looks they’d noticed to the small touches and how you would act around each other when you both thought nobody was watching you.

“and from then, the whole team realised you were both together” ella finished as you hummed along, alessia now sat down next to you eating her own breakfast, your ears perking up at the sound of the words ‘whole team’

did that mean leah already knew too?

“what do you mean whole team?” you said calmly however you could feel your heart racing. alessia sensing your panic as she placed her hand on your knee to reassure you.

“well everyone had their suspicions, even leah” ella shrugged as your eyes widen but you were also wondering why she had never brought it up to you.

“um, i’ll be back” you shot up out your seat, rushing off towards your sister before they had a chance to ask where you were going.

the three watching as you rushed off in direction of type sisters table.

“le, can i talk to you?” you said quickly, startling your sister at your presence as she sat with keira, beth, millie and mary.

“yeah, what’s wrong?” she smiled turning to face you as you stood to the side of her, leah’s arm rest in on the back of the chair, noticing your panicked state.

“in private” you mumbled, your eyes flicking towards the two girls leah was sat with. your sister nodded as she began to stand up, telling the two girls she would be back in a minute as you both began to walk outside of the canteen.

“what’s wrong, why you all nervous?” leah asked, worried look growing on her face with each passing second as you both stood in the hallway of st george’s park. you fidgeting with the rings in your fingers as your tried to find you words.

“so, do you um- know about me” you trailed off, stumbling over your words as leah smiled to herself nodding knowing now exactly what you were going to say.

“about you and alessia being in a relationship? she finished your sentence for you, you head snapping up at your sisters words as you shyly nodded biting your top lip to stop the big grin from appearing on your face as you still were unsure of her initial reaction.

“of course, you two are not very discreet y’know- basically in plain sight!” leah laughed a little to herself as your smile slowly started to grow.

“but you do know that you live with me and i’ve heard quite a few of your conversations with each other over the past few months!” leah pointed out as you face frozefor a minute, your cheeks starting to go all hot and probably red as your brain replayed a few of yours and alessia’s conversation, some definitely not what you want your older sister to be over hearing.

“how come you never told me?” leah asked as you shrugged, you knew why but you weren’t sure if you were ready to admit that out loud to your older sister.

you sighed, “just didn’t know how you were gonna react, i guess”

“your so stupid at times, along as your happy i don’t care who your dating!” leah laughed as she pulled you in for a hug as you rolled your eyes at her harmless insult.

“sorry for not telling you” you smiled as leah nodded her hand waving backwards dismissing your comment.

“but if alessia ever breaks your heart, i will not hesitate to make her life a living hell!” leah said in her serious tone, her face dropping to that scary glare she did all too easily as she rambled on about giving alessia the talk later on.

you groaning as you rolled your eyes at your older sister protectiveness, nudging her a little as you both walked back into the canteen.

“hey! i’m just looking out for my baby sister!”

(pretend it’s you and less!)

y/nwilliamson

liked by keirawalsh and 732,549 others

y/nwilliamson forgot to mention🩷 @alessia

comments —

ellatoone and they thought we didn’t know🙄😅

1h         194 likes reply

leahwilliamson happy for you both but i was being serious about my last part - i’m watching you russo!

1h         327 likes reply

-> alessia 🫡

-> y/nwilliamson stop acting all tough! your a big softie!!

keirawalsh is this the hard launch?

1h         110 likes reply

-> y/nwilliamson something like that🤔

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[denwritesandcries]

The Wilderness Wants Us To (Kiss) – YJS

Pairing: poly!yellowjackets x fem!reader

Summary: You have experienced all kinds of weirdness ever since the plane crashed months ago, so why the weirdest thing so far is it seems like all the girls are suddenly courting you? 

Or, a series of kisses between you and your dear football team.

Word count: 4,6k.

Content: cursing, kisses, fluff, suggestive, angst if you blink, slightly dark, intoxication, the doomcoming, the wilderness but nobody has been eaten (yet).

Note: They’re all weirdos in a romantic, toxic and codependent way.

English is not my first language.

Your life has stagnated into a familiar routine since the plane crash. To clean. Hunt. Eat. Exist. Survive. Doing the same chores in the cabin, the usual hunting trip, seeing the same faces every day, not dying of hunger.  Not dying of boredom.

Nothing really seems to change other than the cultish trends that your friends seem to be slowly embracing, so if something different happens, you notice it immediately.

Once is an incidence.

Two, it could be a coincidence, but there are no coincidences in the wilderness.

Three is a pattern. That exists in the wilderness.

And the fourth is proof that there is definitely something weird going on – if you even have a sense of what is normal or not –, something that you have no idea what it is, but you know it’s there.

There's something wrong with your teammates. I mean, there's something wrong with all of you, but that's different even for them.

The thing is that you, thinking that maybe it was just in your head, only realized that you weren't imagining anything after the fifth time it happened and now that you know you can't stop thinking about it. Events keep coming back to you from times when this has happened before and you never connected the pieces.

You didn't notice at first, of course you didn't. Physical affection was becoming more common and normal between all of you every day and also because it was Jackie, the captain of your team, and physical affection on Jackie's part was already completely normal even before the plane crashed. She liked to pat you on the shoulder and hug you goodbye after classes and parties – as if she hadn't spent the day barking orders at everyone during practice, but it's Jackie and you really like her a lot, so it's okay –, you could always see her clinging to Shauna's arm, if not hers, then whoever was closest to replace her for a few minutes. Jackie likes to touch and you know it.

Receiving affection from her is like second nature, so you don't even blink when, on yet another boring and lazy afternoon, you give Jackie her old walkman, now repaired and working, and get a kiss as a thank you.

It was a silly treat to make her smile, just because she seemed so sad lately that it made you sad too. She squeals loudly and excitedly, before wrapping her arms around your neck and placing a kiss on your cheek.

She immediately runs off somewhere saying she was going to test it and show it to Shauna, completely abandoning the task of pretending to chop wood so you can complete it.

You only process what just happened when you hear a giggling coming from nearby, because of course Jackie would kiss you in front of your younger colleagues.  One of them points at your cheek provocatively and you lift a hand to your face to feel the texture of pink and shiny lipstick marking your skin. Of course, silly you not to assume that Jackie Taylor wouldn't stop wearing makeup just because of some plane crash.

Whatever, you thought, not bothering to clean the mark. Jackie is sweet. She does things like that all the time, obviously you wouldn't think there's anything weird about it. It wasn't even the first time she kissed you. Kisses on the cheek were a thing long before you left civilization.

You only wipe the stain from your face, in a short and hasty gesture, when you return to the cabin and Mari makes one of her smart comments about it, because there really was no big deal, but the provocation still makes you a little nervous.

(Jackie wears lipstick a lot more often after that, even though she's quickly running out of the only one she has left, but you don't say anything. It would be really weird to imply that you noticed her lips that much. Which you didn't do, no way.)

The second time it happens shouldn't have left you as perplexed as it did, after all everyone knew that Shauna Shipman was never far behind Jackie in the things she did, but it didn't pass through your head that she would kiss you. It was Shauna. Even though she was never rude, you weren't really close and it was embarrassing to admit that you found her a little intimidating. She had a tendency to stare in silence for a long time, which made you avoid conversations whenever you could.

Well, it wasn't a kiss-kiss since it wasn't actually on the mouth, but seeing as you weren't expecting it at all, it could have been. You're learning that reading Shauna is much more complicated than it seems, making it difficult to know if what awaits you is a punch, a bite, or – the most recent discovery – a kiss.

It happened because of the thing that seemed to drive your little society: meat. Because the food was almost running out and no matter what you and Natalie brought, it seemed like there would never be enough. And Shauna was hungry. Painfully hungry.

She always seemed to get hungry more quickly than the others, craving meat with an almost drunken need and you didn't quite understand why, even though you had noticed this detail some time ago. So when you and Nat are seen arriving back at the cabin carrying a deer, a big deer, Shauna practically runs up to the two of you, basically ripping the antler out of the blonde's hands and making you stumble to follow her back to the meat house.

You offer to help her just out of politeness and how rushed she seems, without expecting a positive response since it was common knowledge that Shauna preferred to work alone.

However, she nods her head enthusiastically as she hands you a knife and you swear you've never seen someone look so happy to slit an animal's throat alongside someone else.

When the task is done, you end up at the door with a full tray ready to be prepared for dinner back and Shauna is right behind you, with that same enthusiasm and silent yearning. It's a little unnerving, but at least she's not staring at the back of your head like she's trying to burn you like she usually does. You guessed any progress was welcome.

You just didn't expect it to progress to Shauna pulling you by the elbow to face her and tilting your face towards hers. You're so startled by the sudden touch that you only feel your face heat up as hot, wet lips meet the corner of your mouth when Shauna pulls away, taking the tray from your hands as if it weighed nothing and continuing on her way, muttering a quiet and embarrassed “thank you” over her shoulder.

You stood there like an idiot, feeling your bottom lip and part of your cheek tingle where she touched you just a moment before.

So Shauna kissed you. Okay. Nice. Maybe she was just very grateful and very hungry. Twice, coincidence. Nothing more than that.

 Right?

(Shauna looks away from you when she's caught staring at that night, which never had happened, but you attribute her red face to the fact that you're sitting by the fire.)

The third time is the one that makes you go “okay, maybe that's a thing now,” because apparently the kisses have nothing to do with Jackie-Shauna or simply gratitude – at least not entirely – and much more to do with the fact that it's you.

Which actually doesn't make much sense. Van and Taissa are together, why would either of them feel the need to kiss someone else? Why would they both feel?  And why you? It's true they haven't told anyone yet, but you know. It's a little hard not to notice when they both disappear at the same time into the forest or behind the cabin so often, but still. You don't kiss other people when you're committed. It's a principle, damn it.

Anyway, it's starting to get cold, you think there's just over two months left until winter arrives, maybe less, which makes tasks much more complicated and annoying to do. Especially when it comes to washing clothes.

Luck – Mari's damn shuffle – decided that you, Tai and Van would be the ones to do the laundry this time and the three of you dragged yourselfs grumbling and complaining to the lake, carrying piles of clothes in your arms.

Now, of all the things you have to do around the cabin, scrubbing clothes in cold running water is probably the one you hate the most. Cold, wrinkled hands, chills running down your spine, ew. The fact that Van and Tai went with you makes things at least a little less boring, with the redhead happily filling the silence, her silly jokes making the task almost bearable to accomplish. Almost.

“Ugh,” You groan for what feels like the thousandth time in the last hour, “We’re gonna end up catching a cold like this.”

“You definitely will, if you keep annoying me like this,” Tai replies, swinging her arm towards you, cold water splashing in your arms, “I'm gonna push your dramatic ass into the river, I'm warning you.”

The drops make another chill run through your body, so just for the audacity, you straighten up and let your body fall against hers with the most done expression you can muster in a few seconds.

Tai screams your name indignantly when a wet t-shirt slips out of her hands and falls straight to the ground, but you don't pay much attention when lets out a loud and exaggeratedly long sigh, hearing Van’s laugh as she watches the scene.

And Van, wonderful, too sweet for her own good, Van, decides to finally take pity on your little show – maybe you really were spending too much time with Jackie – and finish what you had left of your part of the pile and you would definitely have jumped in her arms and kissed her for it, if you weren't, you know, in front of her girlfriend.

It turns out that blinking your eyes and sighing doesn't work as well for you as it does for Jackie, because as soon as you get ready to go back, bending down to pick up the heavy basket full of clothes, a familiar hand pushes your chest.

“Shit, Taissa!”

“I said I would do it, didn’t I?” She stands in front of you, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised as she watches your form lying, shaking and soaking wet at the river's edge.

Van's laugh doesn't bring you that rush of happiness from moments before, since now you're sure that she only decided to help you because she knew what Tai was going to do anyway. That little shit.

You walk past them with the basket in your hands, a trail of water in your wake and a frown on your face.

The way back is completely silent, except for the sound of your fast breathing in your rush to get there and warm up and the girls' requests for you not to get upset over a silly joke. Whatever. You won't say a word to them no matter what they do.

“Oh, come on,” Van wraps an arm around your neck, “We didn’t want to make you so upset, right Tai?”

Tai moves closer, her shoulder brushing against yours, but you remain quiet regardless, even if your willpower to remain upset wanes a little.

“Right” she agrees, sounding very unconvincing, “What can we do to make it up to you?”

“We are so sorry,” Van reiterates, blinking innocently.

Your only response is a noise from your throat that sounds a lot like a petulant mumble and you feel the look they exchange over your shoulder.

And then Van's arm brings you closer and there are lips on either side of your neck. You freeze, breath hitches.

It's not fast like the other ones, but long and drawn out as if it's trying to prove you. A shiver runs down your spine and the baby hairs on the back of your neck stand up, even though you swear it's just because your skin is still damp from the fall. You can feel Van's hair tickling your face and Tai's breath is warm against your chin.

You blink and Van is walking away with a wolfish smile on her lips, whistling absentmindedly and Taissa has the basket you were carrying in her own arms.

“Aren’t you coming?” Van turns when she notices you still standing and Tai arches an eyebrow, as if to say 'so?' and you stumble after them.

“...Sure, whatever!” You stutter, face as red as your goalie’s hair, “But if I get sick, that’s on you!”

“You won’t!”

You return to the cabin with your head down, but for a completely different reason this time. You feel weird, embarrassed, even with your friends walking calmly beside you. It feels weird to just call them friends too.

(Three times – or was it four? It's a pattern. Definitely a pattern.)

You do, in fact, get sick and the fifth time feels more like a fever dream than anything.

Seriously. You survive a plane crash without any serious injuries, but a flu is what knocks you out. You end up in the attic, with a heavy chest, incessant sneezing and a high fever that won't let you sleep.

And of course, Misty Quigley hovering over you like a hawk.

In fact, all your friends seem to be hovering over you in an overprotective way these days, which might not be strange considering the situation, but other people in the group have gotten sick before, including the younger ones, and none of them have reacted like this.

Van and Tai spent the entire time staring like kicked puppies from across the room until Misty kicked them both downstairs so you could try to get some sleep. It wasn't doing much good, but the momentary tranquility was really appreciated.

Misty has been with you the whole time since your fever started and you let her ramble happily while she plays nurse, putting damp cloths on your forehead and helping you drink hot tea, even though you insist you're well enough to do so. She seems very happy to be helpful, so you let her spoil you as much as she wants.

You turn over on the cold floor, wrapping the blankets tighter around you as you sneeze again and Misty sits next to you, but there's nothing she can do at the moment to make you better, so she stays still, looking nervous and pushing her glasses on the tip of the nose with her fingers.

You think about how she seemed to have looked with longing and something that might have been envy when Jackie ran her hand through your hair in the morning before going outside with Shauna after leaving you another blanket. She looked the same when Lottie rubbed your shoulder gently and spent time by your side throughout the afternoon, leaving what appeared to be a half-cut crystal near where your head rested. It's just like she wanted something, but didn't know what or if she could do it. You don't know exactly what too.

Your ears ring and you think about your teammates, your friends and kisses. Four kisses on three occasions. Things that didn't happen before, but apparently happen now and that follow a strange pattern. You wonder who will be next to follow it.

You do what you do next in the fog of sleep and fever, because you'll never be able to actually sleep if you don't have a proper place to rest your head. It has nothing to do with the possibility opened in your last thought.

Her legs are soft under the blue and yellow shorts she wears when you crawl around and rest your head on them and it's certainly much more comfortable than the floor.

“Talk,” You mumble, clearing your throat at the hoarse voice.

“What?” She squeaks and you can tell it caught her in surprise by the way her eyes roam over your form, unsure of what she just heard and what's going on.

Misty is clearly alarmed, arms raised above her body as if she's afraid to touch you, her glasses falling onto the tip of her nose again as she looks down to face you, blonde curls falling across her face.

“What– What are you doing?” She asks.

“Weren’t you saying something about Plato?” You hold back a yawn as you fix yourself on her lap, ignoring her question completely, “Come on, keep going.”

She seems to ponder for a second, jaw dropped in confusion, but you don't move, so she picks up where you assume she left off. After a few minutes listening with your eyes closed, you feel her soft hand rest hesitantly on your back, running her fingers up and down when you don't protest.

You let out a sigh when you finally manage to relax, her voice calming the ringing in your ears a little and when you squint your eyes, Misty seems perfectly satisfied.

That's it, you think, that's what she wanted then.

Your body still has sporadic chills, but you feel like falling asleep, having lost track of how much time has passed with Misty talking to the walls about whoever the philosopher of the moment is. Your head feels heavy, you can barely keep your eyes open. It's good not to be alone when you're like this.

You're not sure whether or not you imagine the cold lips against your warm forehead when you sleep, but it counts as success for your little test. Five.

(You only wake up the next morning, feeling much better and more energetic, even without remembering a single word you said to Misty, just having fallen asleep on her lap for a while. The way she blushes and laughs after that, staring and following you around whenever she can, says that she remembers it very well. Coach Ben gives you a look full of sympathy when he sees her clinging to your arm, which you don't quite understand.)

The sixth time happens in the middle of the forest. It's windy, sun almost down, with Natalie walking beside you. It's the most peaceful moment you've had in your life in weeks, and it's also the moment you realize that maybe there's something wrong with you as much as the rest of the team.

Nat is talking, complaining about how Travis – the closest thing she'll have to a boyfriend in this place – is mad at her. He won't hunt or talk to her, much less touch her.

That's why you're following her, actually, the hunting part. You don't have much sense of your place in the group compared to the others, doing a little bit of everything when necessary, but Natalie seems to enjoy your company on these occasions, even if your aim with the rifle isn't as good as hers.

You spend so much time listening to her complain about mundane things like condoms and the flask of old booze she found in dead-mummified-guy's stuff that you feel the absurd urge to laugh. It's so strangely normal – except for the mummy part, but still.

Maybe that was what made you open your mouth after minutes of silence and broken snorts:

“So he can't get it up once and now he's mad at you? Damn Nat, if you need someone to make out that badly then I could help you with that.”

It comes out half as a mockery, half as truth, because that's what you do. Help people, fix things. But it's sarcastic, because it's just a stupid idea for Natalie to even consider.

Except she suddenly goes quiet and when you turn your head, she's looking at you. Eyes half-closed, mouth open, wanting.

When she kisses you, you're already waiting, longing for it, arms wrapping around you and pressing your body against the nearest tree. You think about how she was the only one who had the courage to chase your lips, to take what she really wanted.

The only thing you can feel is the weight of Nat's hands – cold, always so cold, even though winter is still a while away – on your hips, one sliding up your back to grasp the hair at the back of your neck, lips parting and tongue finding yours almost desperately and then you can't think about anything else but her. Natalie, who is much stronger than she looks and who also holds her own to stay sane in this place much better than anyone could imagine. Natalie, the bane of your existence and also your best friend. Natalie, who kisses like she hunts: with all the confidence her reputation demands.

If you close your eyes tightly and try hard, you can almost pretend you're at one of Lottie or Jeff's parties, listening to your friend complain about a stupid boyfriend, getting euphoric because she likes you better than the said stupid boyfriend.

And then she's pulling away, mouth swollen and hair completely messed up from where your hands had been placed. The moment ends and you come back to reality, picking up the rifle from where it was lying on the grass and looking around uncertainly. You guys didn't catch anything today. Food is running out.

You return to the cabin in complete silence.

(You don't see Natalie trying to talk to Travis after this, nor him with her, but you don't think she cares.)

You stopped counting after that, kisses and touches becoming a blur in your mind as the days pass and your worry increases. Whatever this is seems less important than what's happening at the moment: little food, few coats, winter approaching, a fucking baby coming.

However, it all comes back to them anyway, when you finally realize that you were right all along, that there really was something wrong with all of you and everything goes south quickly when someone decides to put mushrooms in the food.

It was an unspoken knowledge between you that the Yellowjackets would never be able to have a proper homecoming, so when the idea of a ​​doomcoming came up in the conversation, even as a bad joke, you were one of the first to agree to it. A bittersweet goodbye sounded better than nothing.

You just didn't expect everyone to end up on drugs and acting like they were in some kind of cult. What did you miss that got you all to this point?

There is someone howling in the forest. Someone, not an animal. Or maybe they really were animals, given the way they're all chasing you now.

Just a moment ago you were genuinely enjoying the night, dancing with Ravi to Lottie's humming music and drinking fermented punch for who knows how long, even with a small feeling of being watched sent shivers down your spine at times. Then there was no sign of Ravi or Travis – nor Coach Ben, but he escaped somewhere in the woods with Natalie's canteen in his hand the second Misty's back was turned – and things started to get... confusing after everyone helped themselves to some stew.

Now there's someone howling in the forest and your head is spinning, hurried footsteps sound behind you as you end up back in front of the cabin after running in circles, a rabbit cornered by an entire pack.

Leaves are stuck in your hair, the hem of your dress is torn and covered in dirt, and you're sure you scraped one of your knees while running. There are also a bunch of dilated pupils focused on you.

Shauna is the first to approach, which surprises you so much that it gives the others time to do the same, big, sad, hazy brown eyes seeming to see deep into your soul.

“Why do you keep running away from us?” she asks, a pout that you can't tell if it's fake or not formed on her face, sliding a hand gently up your arm to your waist pulling you close and keeping her grip tight.

Jackie has her head cocked to the side and a smile painted red rather than pale pink like the first. She looks a little more composed than you'd expect, standing next to Shauna and bouncing in her step expectantly.

That was all it took to realize that you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to, melting against the scalding skin as if you had no problem getting burned.

“I'm not. I just… I don’t know what’s going on.”

The words came out slow and slurred on your tongue as if you didn't know exactly what you were referring to.  This whole crazy night? Absolutely, but there are also so many other moments not recognized before.

You find yourself guided back to the cabin when you hear Lottie's voice in the background and Misty taking your hand to guide you. It all ends up there anyway.

You're unsure when you're placed in the pile of blankets and sheets on the floor, the lit fireplace warms the room like never before and there seem to be hands everywhere when Natalie enters your field of vision.

“I think you're a little too high right now, hun,” Nat scoffs, as if she's amused by your slowness.

You feel a laugh grow in your chest though you don't mean to, “You– you think so?”

“Yep,” she clicks her tongue, “The mushrooms hit hard.”

“Mushrooms!?” You let out a squeak of surprise when you're suddenly pulled back against someone's front, recognizing Taissa's nails scratching your back through your dress.

“'M sorry." Misty mutters disjointedly, tracing the lines of your palm like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“What–”

You stop mid-sentence when you make a sound in the back of your throat as you feel Van's teeth graze the junction of your shoulder and neck, bright green eyes and a wolfish smile on her recently healed face. You knew right away who the hell was howling.

“Oh, come on,” Van echoes with the same provocation from the day in the lake, “Don't tell me you're afraid of It.”

“It?” Your breath hitches when a hand guides your head up and there she is.

Lottie Matthews looking down at you, an antler crown on her head that makes you slack-jawed and hazy looking, looking completely divine and you hesitate when you realize that the entire team has gathered around you, as if they were waiting for something. What the fuck is going on?

Lottie leans down to your level, face dangerously close to you, and you swallow hard when your eyes settle on her lips. She never kissed you, not like the others, something that always left a doubt in your head; an almost embarrassing curiosity to know what it would be like.

She meets your eyes with a malicious gleam, like she knows exactly what you're thinking and leans in a little more and just as you close your eyes to meet hers, hunger lips stray to your jaw.

“Lottie–” you squirm and the hands on your hips hold you tighter.

Nat silences you, running her fingers through your face provocatively while Lottie trails kisses down your neck, working her way down. Everything seems too stuffy, like you're melting at their touch.

“It's okay.” She reassures, cold, chapped lips finding your chest, teeth scraping the skin, “It wants us to, can't you feel It?”

You can't feel it, not really, you never understood this strange connection everyone seemed to feel with the wilderness that you didn't, but there are gentle hands caressing you, making you sink deeper and deeper and Lottie is finally kissing you, just like you wanted; lips stopping right over your heart, as if she wanted to devour it.

“Yeah." You say, “I feel it.”

You're sure the cabin is on fire, but you're the only one who's burning.

[loveemagicpeace]

🍯Astrology Notes🍯

🪴Virgo rising- are very caring people. They take great care to ensure that you have everything you need, especially for your health. They will be able to tell you a lot about various medicines.

🌱Gemini rising- funny as fuck sometimes. They are people who talk and don't stop. You can discuss all possible topics with them if you want. They have a very open mind. But when it comes to being able to do something, sometimes they are not so open to new things. Let's say one difference between them and Sagittarius is that they are not traveling types and they don't like to travel that much.

💫You will feel most comfortable talking to people with whom you have the same compatible moon and mercury in your house. for example: mercury in the 9th house and the other person has mercury in the 1st house. With this you can see what topics you can discuss with others.

🪐People who has saturn in 1st house looks better when they are skinnier. Because their bones and body structure are more beautifully emphasized. Many times they can have weight problems(they can quickly lose weight from worry).

🍀Earth signs look very down to earth even when they are joking around. Even when they make a crazy joke, they still look down to earth.

🐚Scorpios quickly stop trusting you. You just have to do one thing and they are done trusting you. When they see that you are dishonest to them in any kind of way, they will not trust you anymore. Especially when they get to know someone from the beginning and notice that they didn't tell them something or hid something from them, and as I said, it could be just one small thing like say you're going to say you're eating pizza, but in reality you're eating hamburger. It is small lie. But this is sometimes also one of the reasons why pisces and scorpio don't go so well together. Because pisces tend not to say everything while scorpios are. Many times, pisces swim off into their fantasy world and sometimes get lost in it. Scorpios are always looking for the truth in everything. I have seen successful Scorpio/Capricorn couples many times.

🍁Fire signs are actually very active people. So you have to prove them love with actions. They want to see how much you are willing to do for them and how much you are willing to risk. When you go beyond your limits and do something really crazy for them, they will really appreciate it.

💷2nd house represents your money & 8th house where you invest money. The 2nd house reflects your underlying relationship to money and patterns around money are often deeply ingrained. With the Moon in Cancer here, your emotional wellbeing rises and falls with your bank balance, both of which may be subject to flux. You can be a rags-to-riches success, but with Saturn in the 2nd you might always feel poor, the millionaire who still buys the budget range at the supermarket. The 8th house is concerned with debt and our relationship to institutions which provide loans, mortgages, and overdrafts. Capricorn on the cusp of the 8th suggests paying your dues and insisting on a proper contract, Sagittarius here you can invest a lot in travel or even illegal things.

☀️The Sun is the central flame of our vitality. Acting according to your Sun sign and engaging in activities denoted by the house it occupies are important ways to increase your energy and vigour. For instance, with Sun in the 1st, you might need time alone in order to recoup your energies - the presence of others can drain you, Or with Sun in the 6th, maybe you like to spend spare time working in the garden or catching up on DIY. The Sun in Sagittarius might mean you like to explore far afield; if in Aquarius maybe you like to holiday with a group of friends. Sun in Scorpio- working in the shadows or researching something no one knows about is best for you. Sun in 7th house you like to devote a lot of your time to your partner.

🧸Some signs are naturally more work-oriented and some more suggestive of needing a slower pace. Capricorn (or its ruler Saturn) is often highlighted in the charts of anyone with a strong work ethic - by contrast, Leo, Libra, or Pisces might engender a bit more need for time off, to play, relax, or dream. Each Zodiac sign has its ideal gap year or holiday. The fire signs might favour adventure breaks, the air signs a chance to meet new faces, the earth signs maybe an eco-trip; and the water signs a sojourn by the sea or in quiet, restful places.

🩰The IC and the 4th house describe home, both as a physical place and as an inner sense of roots, safety, and foundation. If you have Jupiter in the 4th, it might feel natural to you to travel around or you might even choose to live abroad - or with Uranus here, you may experience many changes of home(many unexpected moves). With the Sun or Moon in the 4th, you might be so strongly connected to home and homeland that uprooting yourself will not be easy - your Sun here suggests your life revolves around home in some way, the Moon that your emotional wellbeing is closely tied to it. With Pluto you can feel that your home is intense and that you are always transforming through it (but it can also leave bad memories). With Mercury can mean that you change your home a lot. With Mars you may feel that your home is often chaotic or aggressive and you are looking for a home where you can become independent. With Neptune many times your home is confusing, strange. Many times you find your ideal place somewhere by the ocean. With Venus your home is loving, genuine and you have loving parents to whom you love to return. But it can involve a lot of money or love based on it. So you can feel that your parents never really appreciated you if you didn't have money.

🧚🏼‍♀️About Aquarius: I want to say one thing about them. I would say that if they really really want they will do it. But most likely they are independent people & lost souls sometimes. I think that they are scared of attachment. So that's why they are rather alone. They are looking for someone. Who will be goofy as they are.

💌I think Valentine's Day is for Libras. Libra is a sign of love, romance,beautiful things. And if any sign is inclined to & like to celebrate this day, it's definitely the Libra. But I find it a little strange that it is in Aquarius season.

💘Cupido is definitely a Sagittarius sign. Although people don't believe that Sagittarians are so loving and romantic, but they really are. Cupido shoots into the hearts of people who are meant to be together. If you hit a sagittarius deep in the heart with your love, then you can see the true side of them. Then you can see how loving they are.

🌅The people you attract into your life are usually connected to your North Node.For ex.: North node in Virgo in your 8th house- you will mostly be attracted to people who have a virgo placements, scoprpio placements, or pisces/ taurus placements.

🌊Pluto symbolizes power in whatever house it is. The power you feel in yourself and the people around you. Strong experience of feelings. For ex.: 5th house - privacy, romance, jealousy, strong emotions, strong happiness, attitude towards the things you do, you feel strong love, devotion. Obsession with changing partners maybe or affairs idk. 6th house - obsessed with perfection, control, work, high expectations. 7th house - you attract a lot of possessive partners, obsession with your partner, but at the same time you can be afraid to get into a relationship, mistrust. 8th house rulership- curious, constant control, secrets, power over your secrets, emotional transformations, many dark things, connection with birth and death, great interest in hidden things. 10th house - people can see you as a strong opponent, driven for a career, they can see you as a person who has a lot of secrets, you can present people with challenges. Big influence.

-Rebekah🧚🏼‍♀️🩰🌙

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Healing ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 034 ✦ ┆・

[ TW: Depictions of Body Dysmorphia, Internal Misogyny, Fluff Ending ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Can you send a message to pretty little princess hiding in your heart? Tell her that her knight in shining armor is here ] ¡! ❞

For a long time, you've hated the idea of being a girl. In desperation to fit in with everyone else, you purposely acted like a tomboy. Pushing away those barbie dolls, mocking the idea of liking make-up, being disgusted with the other girls hating to get dirty.

All of that for the sake of fitting in, all of that for the hope that maybe if you become cool enough in everyone's eyes by not acting like a girl— You would find acceptance and validation from everyone around you.

But now, now who's laughing?

You're a grown woman now, and yet you cant even apply lip gloss or any make-up. Your clothes? Shabby long sleeves and hoodies, shirts that make you feel bloated and icky.

Your own body makes you so uncomfortable that even looking at your own face in the mirror makes you gag. The sight of your eyes, tho round cheeks, those awful dry lips— It made so sick in the stomach you purposely avoid mirrors as if they're going to kill you.

Despite how terrible you felt about yourself, despite how much you hated mirrors— You somehow capture Jinwoo's heart.

That perfect, perfect boy.

A clean shaven face, fluffy hair that always misbehaves but makes him more charming, a small smile that feels like it's lighting up the whole world— Yes. That perfect Jinwoo is your boyfriend.

And despite him not giving any hints nor saying anything, he knew of your self-destructive habits because of your appearance. Truthfully, there's nothing wrong with you, you've always been perfect. But even if JInwoo told you that— The only replies he gets are nervous chuckles and fidgeting.

He really didn't know how to help you at first, he wasn't a girl.

Ah, but he has a sister.

So he approached Jinah regarding you. She was perplexed by her brother's confusing statements since Jinwoo is so unsure of what to say. So instead, Jinah suggested he observed you more than he normally does.

And observe he does.

Jinwoo would often peek on your phone, not that he's worried that you'll be cheating since he's always around you even if he's not there.

He noticed a lot of things, your pins often involved dresses, your favourites had various pictures of make-up and other pretty things. It intrigued him, after all, you never shown interest in girly things outwardly.

Once Jinwoo had done enough watching, he knew the problem right away and how he could solve.

So, on one faithful day on your date in a mall— Jinwoo purposely passed by a shop that had similar dresses he saw on your phone.

Your gaze would wander absentmindedly towards the displayed frilly dress that had strawberry patterns on it's graceful fabric.

Bingo.

"Pretty colour, don't you think?" Jinwoo asks out of nowhere, leaning down a little towards you.

"H-huh?" You sputter, realizing wha you have been doing. "Well... It's fine I guess"

"Come on" Jinwoo gently tugs at your hand, guiding you to the store. "Let's see if there's a size for you."

"Hey!" You squeak, grabbing his arm to try and stop him. "I-I don't wear dresses! It won't look good!"

"It will," Jinwoo gently smiles, flicking your forehead. "I wanna see you in a dress, so come with me, yeah?"

You reluctantly sigh in defeat, letting Jinwoo drag you into the store. The man was quick to move about and get the dress, pushing it in your hands and then directing you to fitting room. Jinwoo waited patiently, until he saw your little head peek from the curtain of the dressing room.

"Come out, baby" He coaxes softly, as if he were talking to a little child hesitant to show themselves.

And when you do, Jinwoo felt his breath hitch. His mouth would slightly hang open, his grey eyes complete still as it gazes upon your beautiful figure adorn in that pink strawberry dress. The way it so gracefully lands on your curves, eloquent and meek. The flowy freels making you look like you best belong in a fairytale book.

Jinwoo felt like he just fell in love all over again.

"I-I knew it, it looks stupid!" You cry out, immediately shutting the curtain but Jinwoo sprang up to his feet and prevented you from hiding away.

"Hey, hey, sarang" Jinwoo chuckles, "You look pretty, I just couldn't talk for a moment hahah..."

"But..."

"Sarang, can you look at me?" Jinwoo cooes softly and you hesitantly meet his gaze. "See that girl in my eyes?"

"She's the prettiest princess I've ever seen"

His words make you shy, like it always did. Somehow, Jinwoo had a knack for making you shrink into feeling like a giddy little girl in her birthday.

"So, will the princess please spoil me by wearing more pretty dresses?" Jinwoo asks, his eyebrow cocking up a little as he leans down. "Hm?"

"Okay— ???!!!"

You couldn't even finish talking as Jinwoo shoved atleas tten dresses into your arms.

The rest of the time? Jinwoo swears he almost died with every dress he puts on. His heart was bleeding a river at this point. You're such a pretty girl. How come you've never tried such clothing?

Jinwoo could tell that you absolutely enjoyed it, the way you were hopping around, spinning a little to watch the fabrics float and twirl along your movement— The look on your face proves that you have been dying to feel this way in forever.

He adores that smile of yours, more than anything else in the world. If you look this happy in such clothing, he can only imagine what you must have gone through to not have the courage to wear pretty things until today.

In the end, Jinwoo bought at least 15 dresses off of his wallet and the idiot seemed to be even more happier than you do.

Just as you thought Jinwoo would be done for today— The man decided to drag you into dior where at this point you wanted to cry.

"Nah-ah~" Jinwoo hums, continuing to guide you inside.

He scanned through the lipstick sampling area before picking up a single shade, holding it up to your lips.

"Come now," He says gently, and you obeyed.

With a mouth slightly hanging open, Jinwoo started applying the lipstick with intense focus. His stare was boring into you, it was as if Jinwoo is currently doing something extremely important.

After a few more seconds, Jinwoo swipes his thumb under your bottom lip.

"Look," Jinwoo turns you around, showing you your the lipstick he had applied on you. The color was magnificent, suiting your sweet features and making you appear dolled up even by just a little. "This colour looks so good on you, sarang."

"Why?..." You ask, pursing your lips. "You keep..."

"Spoiling you?" Jinwoo finishes your words for you, his voice growing a bit quieter. "I know it's rude, but I snooped around in your phone and found that you are very fond of pretty things. Not that I minded your current appearance, of course not. But I can't help but notice that you somehow feel like an imposter in your own body. So what am I to do as your boyfriend? I help you come out of your shell."

"My pretty little thing, if you want something, tell me" Jinwoo kisses the side of your head affectionately. "Didn't I tell you? I'll always help you whenever you need me, just say the word and I'll do it"

"If you want to be a princess, then I'll help you become one. So wont you tell that shy little girl in your heart to come out and play with her knight in shining armour?"

You didn't answer, but that was more than enough for Jinwoo to confirm what he needs to. So he picked a few more colours of the lipstick he knew would look good on you. He'll start out slow with buying cosmetics since he doesn't know much. Maybe he should ask Jinah once he's home.

After succesfully purchasing the lipsticks, he gently intertwines your fingers as he guides you out of the store.

"Why don't you say we test these out at home?" Jinwoo muses. "I wanna see how well they'll stain"

Oh that devious smile on his stupidly handsome face, you knew at that moment Jinwoo was planning to probably kiss you until he cant breathe.

꒰ A/N: I'm struggling to embrace my own feminine side, despite my age I don't know how to wear makeup nor do I wear pretty things. I still have a very bad case of body dysmorphia, so I made this fic to heal me and maybe even allow me to be a bit more confident. I hope you guys don't mind this very selfish fic</33 ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[starry-nights-garden]

&Team Reaction ✧ You falling asleep on their shoulder

✧ &Team all members x gn!reader ✧ genre: reaction, fluff, some humor ✧ warnings: none

K:

pretends to be offended when you fall asleep on his shoulder during your date night at his place

lowkey pouts and mumbles a complaint about how you can't appreciate the time spent with your boyfriend enough

?????

you’re stirred awake and as you're about to get mad at him he makes it clear he was joking and throws his arms around you tightly

"It's okay, if my baby wants to sleep we can sleep."

really he's just trying his utmost to gloss over the fact that you sleeping on his shoulder made his heart skip several beats and he's also sincerely praying you can't see that his ears are beet red

this just made him feel way too many feelings, and as he's letting you snuggle up to him while you're lying down on the couch he's kinda starting to regret his reaction

as he’s finally calming down he must admit you falling asleep on his shoulder was kinda nice, so from that day on he keeps hoping it would happen again

Fuma:

you're on the way home after a date night out and he can tell you're very tired

so he makes sure you can sit on the subway home, and once the seat next to you clears up he sits down too

will wordlessly put his arm around you and pull you just a little closer so that your heavy head will soon come to rest on his shoulder naturally

and then you really do fall asleep with him as your pillow, and what started as a simple caring gesture is soon causing him serious heart problems jdbdjdjx

this guy will just be blushing madly while trying to hide it from all the other people in the same carriage jdbdndnd

and if he hears you snoring softly that will just take him out, like he will be about to combust into a billion pieces right then and there

needless to say, once you arrive at your station, he will be the more tired one, and not just because you got a nice little nap to restore your energy :’)

Nicholas:

notices right away that you're super tired when your eyelids keep drooping in the middle of the day

you're over at his place for an entire day of just watching movies with him, but you're not even halfway through the first one and you're already dozing off at the other end of the sofa

he knows that the reason why you're falling asleep isn’t because the movie he picked out is so boring to you, but he feels the need to tease you about it anyway

"I didn't think you'd be that bored by it?" 

his playful complaint shocks you awake and you're quick to assure that that's not it

however, all your worries fade away when you see him grinning at you, and he extends his arms to bring you in closer

tells you it's okay and that he understands you didn't get much sleep last night

offers you his shoulder to take a nap and suggests finishing the movie afterwards

you agree without even being able to think about it, and you immediately doze off again

when you wake up you find yourself laying right beside him on the sofa, your head on his chest and his fingers drawing soothing patterns on your back

EJ:

lets out a soft "oh" when he feels the impact on his shoulder and he can smell your perfume right next to his face

you're studying together at his place, and because he knows how tired you are he tried his best to make it as fun as possible, coming up with elaborate examples to explain the parts you don't get and bringing your favourite snacks as a reward after memorizing each page

but now that you actually dozed off on his shoulder it dawns on him just how tired you really were

"Y/N..." - he calls out to you softly until he can see your eyelids flutter

tells you it's probably better if you rest for today and you continue studying tomorrow

when you agree and snuggle up to him more closely, he lets you

but his heart will also do the funniest things while watching you sleep peacefully so close to him…

Yuma:

his heart does flutter when your head suddenly hits his shoulder, but above all he's surprised that you're dozing off in the middle of the day

"Y/N... Y/N!" - calls out to you until you lift your head and look at him sleepily

scolds you for not sleeping enough at night and gives you a little lecture about how you need to use the day to be productive and the night to rest - not do whatever all night!!

when you start sulking and you tell him you couldn't fall asleep for hours he also realizes he might've been too strict

"Still... nighttime is for sleeping so... if you think you can't fall asleep tell me and I'll come over and help, okay?"

and now you find yourself smiling as he pulls you into an apologetic hug

lets you nap for a bit as you use him as a pillow, but makes sure you don't sleep too long so you could get a good night's rest later on

Jo:

he’s startled when he suddenly feels your head on his shoulder for sure, but after a second or two he’ll simply be smiling at you in adoration

the two of you went out to see a movie together - a pretty fun action movie - and he wasn’t aware of just how tired you must’ve been

but now that you’re dozing off on his shoulder despite the loud sound effects and a storyline he knows would’ve normally had your eyes glued to the screen in excitement, he can’t but let out a soft laugh

he’s not mad at you for falling asleep during your date, quite the opposite actually

he finds it adorable and highly amusing how you can sleep under such circumstances

will carefully put an arm around you to pull you closer, and though feeling you sleeping by his side like this makes his heart beat just a bit faster, he’ll simply let you have your nap time

will give you a soft laugh once you wake up, and he swears he’s not laughing at you, he’s laughing because you were just so cute!!

Harua:

he’s been talking to you about something and got really into it, so when you feel your ability to focus slipping away from you more and more you do feel sorry for him

but you also don’t want to stop him in his excited rambles, so you do your best to listen anyway

however, eventually your eyelids become too heavy and before you realize it you’re already dozing off with your head on his shoulder

“...ohmygod…” - he breathes out with wide eyes, completely panicking at the sudden closeness to you

whirls around before he can get himself together, and as a result your head now lands in his lap

and well, now he’s blushing madly, but eventually he’ll collect himself enough to figure that it’s better if he lets you sleep and gets you a blanket so you’re comfortable

forgets all about what he was talking about just earlier, and as he’s taking in your features from up close, tracing the lines on your face with a soft gaze, he feels himself calming down too

Taki:

was joking around with you while you two were watching a video on his phone and gets so into it that he fails to notice how you're getting sleepier and sleepier

as soon as your head lands on his shoulder, he's so surprised that he freezes up

he's not used to having you so close to him and also the way he can suddenly very clearly smell the perfume you're using makes his heart race like crazy

but instead of freaking out he figures he should simply let you get some rest if you're this tired and not move around until you wake up again by yourself

awkwardly fishes his headphones out of his pocket to continue watching the video without bothering you

but turns out he really cannot focus on a single thing happening on his phone screen while you're using him as a pillow :')

Maki:

you're sitting on the couch together in the late afternoon as you can feel your eyelids getting heavier 

the moment your head hits his shoulder he immediately lifts it up to shake you off, because he thinks you're playing around

gives you a playful smile but when he sees your confused and half-asleep expression he immediately realizes he fucked up

"Oh god, wait- You were really falling asleep? But it's not even that late yet?"

when you tell him you barely slept the night before he seems to understand, and he leans back to make space for you on his lap, giving it a few pats

lets you use his lap as a pillow for you to take a nap and promises to wake you up in time for dinner

[murdrdocs]

getting a small drawing of abby’s tattooed when mike proposes <3 the ring is your commitment to love mike and the tattoo is your commitment to love abby <333

this is sick in the bestest of ways :(

there's a ring on your finger, simple and minimalistic, nothing too extravagant. but you don't need extravagant. you don't want extravagant, either. you like the pure life you have now with mike and abby, and the ring on your finger is a reminder of your commitment.

but only to him. not to the little girl who hangs onto your every word. not to your new partner in crime who desperately wants to replicate your unset aesthetic. not to the person you smile with the most.

you're thinking on the subject one day whenever abby shows you a new drawing, smile big especially with the final teeth she's grown in. you smile down at it, too, like you always do, but your sights zone in on the three sets of hands clasped together.

it's your suggestion and abby is delighted to tag along with you. she watches with wonder as the artist presses the machine needle to your skin. she holds your hand when you wince and sweetly asks you if you're okay, actual concern in her voice when you shut your eyes tight.

you reward yourself with ice cream after, another expense added to the day but you couldn't care less. through licks and words full of chocolate, you and abby ogle at the permanent drawing on your skin, abby touching it over the second skin every few moments as she continuously breathes out sounds of wonder.

"i wonder how long it'll take mike to notice." abby poses the question as a hypothetical, nothing but the thought pattern of a child spoken aloud. but you like the sound of it, and you suggest keeping it a secret, abby delightedly pantomiming zipping her lips and tucking the key into your pocket in response.

you put her question to the test when you arrive home, bellies full from ice cream and a subsiding ache in your arm.

mike kisses you like usual, ruffling abby's hair when the two of you enter. abby giggles, shooting looks at you from around mike. you press a finger to your lips behind his back, satisfied that mike chalks abby's behavior up to her playful nature.

it's not until a few hours later whenever the three of you are watching HGTV (you and abby's new favorite channel) in the living room after dinner that mike notices. he's playing with your hand like always, twirling your ring around your finger, lifting and pressing his rough hands into your knuckles periodically. he traces his hand along the top of your hand, leading to your wrist, and that's when he stops.

his hands still, you think his breathing does, too, and you send him a glance. you don't say anything, he doesn't say anything, abby comments on the chosen wall color of the tv couples house.

then mike lifts your wrist, turns it around, and when his eyes meet yours they appear a little more glassy. "what's this?"

you lick your lips. "a tattoo."

you see abby's bob tousling in the wind she creates when she whirs her head around in your peripheral vision. you assume she's smiling and eager now that you've unlocked her zipped lips.

"of what?" mike's eyes bounce between his two beaming girls.

abby handles this one for you, bouncing to her feet. "it's my drawing!" she runs to the kitchen table, grabbing the drawing from a couple of weeks ago, and showing it to mike. "see!"

mike stares at the drawing, then at your wrist, taking in the three pairs of stick figure hands that are linked together, bordering your left hand.

when he stares back at you, you interpret his look as bewilderment. panic sets in and you start to consider that maybe mike didn't want you to commit to his sister like this. maybe this is too much. maybe you should've asked his opinion. maybe he–

and then mike kisses you. soft, yet passionate, and slow. you distantly hear abby's expression of distaste from beside you both, but the only thing you can really focus on is mike running his thumb back and forth over the second skin covering your tattoo.