#but it just constantly leaves me wondering if certain people genuinely like me or if its all surface level

[vengeful4ever]

ALSO I MADE A TERRIBLE REALISATION EARLIER

[darlingkikki]

wait need a 141 scare actors x reader blurb

Synopsis: A horror night worker sees you and gives his men a task; make sure you leave smiling. Pairing: TF141!Scare Actors x GN!Reader (first meeting vibes so nothing too crazy but Kyle’s too great for me to keep it lowkey lmao) Word Count: 3.6k (I think) Warnings: negative self-talk, reader is very lonely (reasons up to you) a/n: Let me know if I missed any warnings or did not keep it gender-neutral and I will fix it <3. You gave me the green light and you will pay dearly for how badly I wish I were a better writer. Happy Halloween!

A man with an interesting mustache and beard combo greets you at the gates.

“Admission for one?” He asks, glancing over your shoulder to check that your friends or partner aren’t lagging. 

The question pokes at the part inside of you that recoils into your shell when others notice how alone you are, the forever raw wound that no positive affirmations or small bouts with talk therapists have been able to scab over. It’s constantly bleeding, oozing thoughts in voices you both recognize and don’t. They cover a wide variety, though they lead back to you, a homing missile locked onto your actual self and not the warped beyond-recognition version they are about. The version no one who knows you sees. You’ve been told you’re actually not that bad; you’re still stuck on why they used the word actually in something meant to be complimentary. 

One therapist (the one you felt could help, but they decided a job in another state was more important than your problems), said that the best way to combat these thoughts is to fight them, think louder and harder in the opposite direction, even if you think you’re lying to yourself. So, that’s what you did. You psyched yourself up in the mirror for the better part of an hour as you pulled on your costume and repeated to yourself that this was normal. 

Why should an infamous horror night be such a big deal? People go out alone all the time.

“Yep,” you say with a forced smile. It’s enough, but it doesn’t feel like enough. So, you over-explain because your mouth never knows when to quit. “I love going to these alone, really puts me in the Halloween mood.” 

The man tilts his head to one side, observing that slight pinch of your expression. Your voice is light and measured. And that smile. You’re performing. Everything about this is fake, everything about you is fake, a mask worn when the switch in your brain flips to ‘social interaction mode’, so strangers think of you in a certain way. You want him to know you’re not the least bit insecure about being alone. Not at all. The distant sounds of screaming and laughter inside the park don’t carve into you like an ice pick.

You’re not fooling him—no one can, as far as he’s concerned. He’s posted at the entrance for a reason, not because he’s grown too old to run around and scare people with grotesque makeup or prop weapons. He’s an assessor through and through. One brief conversation and he knows whether someone will be a good sport or one of those rude assholes that think it’s cool to scream back at the actors or posturing snobs who shit all over their efforts. You may be lying to him and yourself, but you won’t be a problem. 

Something about you reminds him of someone. He draws the comparison only after you school your smile to a blank expression. You have smile lines around your mouth, evidence that the muscles aren’t under-used, he just wonders how many are genuine. 

You’re still staring at him as he extends his hand towards you, palm up. 

“Give it here,” he orders and gestures towards your own, which has been clutching the fabric of your costume as if you think it’s trying to escape.

You stretch out your fingers, persuading them to relax and hold out your clammy hand so he can press a stamp down on the back of it. The design glows a bright lavender when light catches it at a certain angle, indecipherable enough that you can’t figure out exactly what it says or depicts. You’re about to pull away when he stamps you again. You don’t ask why, assuming it’s because the first was too light or smudged. With a gentle parting squeeze, your hand is your own again. You start towards the exit as he’s stuffing the stamp back into his pocket. 

He speaks again just as you’re about to be past his shoulder. His voice is soft but gritty like a smoker's. “You have yourself a hell of a night, alright?” 

“Yes, Sir.��� You curse yourself for your unnecessary use of the title as you make it past the entrance to the park. You don’t know why you called him that, but it makes more sense than it should. He has a natural ability to garner respect, you felt it even in that brief interaction. He chuckles, rough and deep, as he pulls his phone out to make do with his mission.

You take a break from screaming and scurrying away from zombies and slashers to do something fun.

And what’s more fun than blowing too much money on playing carnival games until you win one of the large plushies? It seems easy enough after the woman running the stand explains the game to you—until you’ve sunk twenty bucks into it and only manage one ring on a bottle. The others have bounced off and landed on the ground. 

The stares of the wide-eyed plushies feel less like they’re cheering you on and more like they’re mocking you. Are you seriously playing a child’s game alone? And losing? Why? So you can win a dumb stuffed animal? You’ll leave here the same way you came and you deserve it.

There’s no way one is even worth the amount that you've lost so far. You’re ready to throw in the towel when you sense something behind you. 

It shouldn’t be something that spells danger, not with the woman who has been pocketing your money standing just a few feet away, but your body seems to ignore that fact and react as though Michael Myers himself is lurking behind you. 

You whirl around and your bones turn to ice when you find yourself face-to-chest with a tall, imposing figure. You’re too aghast to scream, mind-body connection severed, you’re left gaping up at the man like a fish out of water. He can’t have been there long, but you’ve been so caught up in the game that he could’ve been standing behind you the entire time. 

The man does not react to your fear, just meets you with an uncomfortably realistic-looking skull mask and unblinking eyes. His posture is rigid, like one of the decorative scarecrows you saw near the entrance. His eyes rake over your body in a way that reminds you of an x-ray, lingering on something for a prolonged moment. Whatever he sees, it pushes him to speak to you. 

“This one’s fuckin’ awful.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, dark pools glinting with humor, but you’re too busy trying to calm your racing heart to respond. He’s used to people being afraid of him beyond the context of working at events like this, so he steps around you and picks up the pile of rings on the table. You press a trembling hand to your chest and take deep, pacifying breaths.

In and out, you tell yourself, over and over, until your heartbeat no longer resembles the sound of galloping horses. In the time it takes you to collect your bearings, he's thrown each ring over the tops of three bottles effortlessly. Anxiety dissolves into confusion, even more when he turns to you and then jerks his head towards the higher shelves, ignoring the slightly annoyed woman behind the counter. She was probably hoping you’d spend another couple of dollars.

“Oh.” Confusion melts into realization. Your lips curl upwards, but something still doesn’t feel right. He’d broken character to help you for seemingly no reason. “Thank you, but you didn’t need to-” 

“Already did. Pick the one you want.”

His insistence is sharp but harmless equally. The prize is yours, so no use in trying to out-polite the man. 

When you look back at the shelves, it’s with a radiant smile. Even though you hadn’t exactly won one yourself, the kindness of the skull-faced stranger was enough to silence your worries. The perfect one picks you before you pick it. There’s a lone skeleton with cutesy eyes and a squishy body surrounded by a sea of adorable plush pumpkins and black cats. You point to it and the woman behind the counter hands it over with a half-hearted “congrats”. The stranger in the mask smiles at your choice, though you’re not looking at him. When you’re done giving testing squeezes to the plushie, you turn to the man to thank him again, but he’s nowhere to be found, gone just as quietly as he’d appeared.

Sometime later, plushie in your arms, you find the line for a walk through the cornfield. It winds around plastic dividers like a snake, but what else can you expect from the major attraction when the night is in full swing? You join the line, picking at the white tag sewn into the leg of your plushie. There’s a couple in front of you dressed in matching costumes; they decide the wait is the perfect time to get reacquainted with one another. A worker ropes off the divider so no one else can enter and the distracted group of friends in front of the couple doesn’t notice or care about them, so no one else accompanies you in the awkwardness of listening to smacking lips and affectionate hums. Bitterness swells in your throat like you’ve swallowed a pill without water. Stroking the soft underbelly of your prize helps—somewhat. You think about the sweet, albeit intense, scare actor until the giggling couple with now identically smudged makeup walks hand-in-hand through the entrance.

There is little to no light inside of the field. The brightest thing is the moonlight, which makes walking down the dirt path between corn stalks an even more eerie experience. It’s almost peaceful, ignoring the creepy props lining the paths and the random actors hidden in the stalks itching to grab at your ankles or jump out at you (three have accosted you so far). And soon to be a fourth as corn rustles in front of you, leaf blades bouncing off each other harsher than when skimmed by the wind. 

Another couple of steps and a man in a bloody burlap sack-like mask pops out with outstretched arms and a loud “boo” to top it all off—you yelp, nearly dropping your plushie on the ground.

The man responds with a laugh, infectious and warm, before tugging off his mask. Odd, you think, because none of the other actors had prolonged the interaction after leaving you short of breath. Well, none but one.

“I’m Kyle,” he introduces himself, flashing a disarming smile. It’s dazzling, you almost miss him holding out a hand. “Sorry for…you know, just doin’ my job and all.”

Without the disturbing mask, he’s quite pretty, the kind that makes you immediately comply and give him both your right hand and name. Your stamps glow under the moonlight, and he sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing. He thought you’d have left by now.

“Nice meeting you,” he says, bowing at the waist. 

He’s prince-levels of charming, much too relaxed for the environment. His costume is more normal than scary without the mask, just a deep red tunic and dark-wash jeans. You can make out small bits of hay stuck to his hair and clothes. It makes for a dorky and cute visual. 

He does not slink back into the corn as the actors before him did. Instead, he straightens, making a face at the stuffed animal you’re holding.

“You win that for yourself?” 

“Tried to, but one of the actors ended up helping me, actually.”

He quirks a brow. “You pick it because it looks like him?”

You don’t know how he guessed so quickly, but you nod, sheepish that he’d caught you clutching it so protectively, like you were holding a dear gift from a loved one. 

It’s just a stupid toy a stranger won for you. Won for you. You hold it tighter.

Kyle shakes his head, muttering “smart bastard” under his breath and then his eyes are on you. He has that deep shade of brown that’s impossible to say no to.

“The way to the exit can be a bit borin’,” he explains, his lips pursed in thought. “You alright with some company?”

And now you’re even more confused. Was he even allowed to? And why would he care if you’re bored?

“Will you get in trouble?” You ask, glancing towards the quiet path, trying to gauge how long you’d be pulling him away from his job. From what he’s saying, you can assume the exit is near, but you can’t see it from here.

“Nah, you were the last one coming through, so I’m free to roam,” he shrugs, stepping out of your way so you can walk side-by-side.

You soon discover Kyle is even more of a gem than you’d initially realized. He's more than just a beautiful person to look at, he’s funny, and more friendly with you than strangers ought to be. He asks about you. You don’t know what to say at points, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When your voice wavers or your tongue fumbles, he’s patient. He’s genuinely interested, actually listening, and those pools of brown are as distracting as you thought because soon you’re walking underneath the cobweb-decorated archway signaling the end of the walk.

Your heart clenches. You’re not ready for your night to be over. You’re not prepared for your time with Kyle to be over, to face that tonight has been one of the few times you’ve been the target of considerate treatment and could very well be the only time.

You miss the reflected disappointment in his features because a harsh sound cuts through the air, similar to the rev of a car engine. Then it happens again, just as cacophonic followed by maniacal laughter, and a large man barrels through the corn so quickly you scream and nearly fall over into Kyle’s arms. 

“Fuckin’ hell ‘Tavish, you nearly killed my new friend here,” Kyle laughs, patting you on the back. Reassurance. You’re in no danger. 

The chainsaw wielder lets the act go rather quickly, lowering it to the ground and regarding you with a mischievous grin. 

“Just doin’ my job,”—the man waves off the accusation—“Not my fault Price chose a screamer.”

You squint at the man who’d nearly given you a heart attack. Price chose you? Who’s Price? Kyle claps the man on the back of the head. They interact as old friends, brothers. 

“Sorry,” Kyle turns to you, apologetic. “Should’ve warned you about the main event. Got a bit distracted.”

In fairness, you were too. You don’t mention that it was because of his eyes..

“Apology accepted,” you say, “Though your friend is on thin ice.”

“Me?” The man in question scoffs like you’ve accused him of a grave sin. His lips press together to keep his laughter at bay, though he’s got about as much tact as the hair on his head, which is shaved on both sides, leaving a strip of hair down the middle. He’s cocky, you can sense that. Cocky people are to you what salt is to a snail, though Kyle doesn’t seem the type to surround himself with the bad kind, so you try not to curl in on yourself.

“Not jus’ his friend,” he says, sending you a wink, “I’m John, Johnny if yer feelin’ brave.”

Kyle rolls his eyes and nudges you with his shoulder to get you walking towards the park exit, a straight shot from the cornfield. “Come on, we don’t need to take this.” 

“You scared me too,” you remind him as Johnny takes up the space on your left side, “Don’t think I forgot about that.”

He snorts, “Touche.”

“A screamer an’ not afraid to knock you down a peg,” Johnny notes, “I like ‘em already.” He hasn’t stopped staring at the side of your face. You wipe your hand across your cheek in case something is on it. 

The walk through the park is quiet, save for Johnny and Kyle throwing friendly jabs at one another. Most people have already left; the last few actors send looks in your direction and carnival game runners are shutting off their lights and closing down for the night.

“You have fun tonight?” Johnny asks you once the parking lot comes into view. Only a handful of clusters of cars remained in contrast to when you’d arrived.

The most fun you’ve had in a while. You’ve grown used to that heavy chunk of loneliness sitting in your chest like a rock. You drag it around behind you, a life sentence. Let it tether to your emotions and bog them down, anchoring your feet in some instances and letting the ground swallow you whole in others. You’re going home with a small part carved out. A crevice where something less bitter and more sweet can wedge itself in and find a home, spreading far and wide if you’re lucky.

The two exchange toothy grins when you respond positively, a cheerful smile cracking your face open for them to see. The look withholds a meaning that you aren’t privy to. Price was right, as always. A special someone deserved more smiles tonight, and they’d accomplished their mission.

“Found you any earlier an’ I would’ve won you one of those too,”—Johnny gestures to your plushie—“Ah’ve got an arm on me, a mean one when it comes to the bottle toss.”

Kyle and you roll your eyes. You assume the people in his life have grown quite comfortable doing so. Your initial descriptor of cocky was accurate, but he’s endearingly cocky in a way that doesn’t put you off too much. 

“Watch it, the big guy will take your head off,” Kyle warns.

“He’s not even here. I can say wha’ I want.”

“He’s right behind you.”

“Nah, he’s—” Johnny spins around and gasps, similar to how you’d reacted earlier, though he is a bit more dramatic. “Steamin’ Jesus, where’d you come from?”

You turn as well, hoping it’s who you’re thinking, and it is. The man who’d won you the plushie you’re holding.

He looks at you in the same way as before, though his imposing figure seems more relaxed than it had been. You presume these men are all friends. They seem comfortable enough around each other to be.

“Price wants to see us,” he says, his deep voice rolling from his chest the way water does over the smoothed rock on the bank of a river. You can hear it much clearer now that your heartbeat isn’t thrumming in your ears. 

“Can it wait?” Kyle glances towards you. “Wanted to make sure they made it out alright.”

Another chip at that loneliness, but you don’t want to jeopardize anything with him and Price—who you assume is his boss—even if you’d prefer he continues lessening the weight holding you down beneath your rib cage.

“You’ve done enough, Kyle,” you say, pointing behind you with your free hand, “I can see my car from here, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“We cannae let ‘em go without makin’ sure, Simon,” Johnny insists, echoing Kyle’s sentiment and steamrolling over your assurance. 

Simon, finally a name for the face, or at least the parts of it you can see. Kyle and Johnny had shed their costumes, yet he wears his like a second skin. His stiff demeanor from earlier seems more of a costume than anything he’s wearing. 

Simon glances over your shoulder to where you’d pointed, dark eyes impossible to read. Johnny turns up the dial on his charm. At least that’s what you think he’s doing when he gives Simon a wide-eyed, puppy-like expression, pressing his palms together in front of his face and tipping his head forward. The picture would be complete if he sunk onto his knees with a bible in his hands.

He has the energy of the youngest son in the family. The visual brings a laugh tumbling from your lips and Simon relents, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Go on then, we’ll watch from here.”

So you do, waving at the group, who murmur their goodbyes, and then walking to your car. 

You walk slower than you need to, relishing in the experience of people wanting to ensure you made it anywhere safe. It’s a luxury. You strive for it like people dream about vacationing or owning a house. Unfortunately, time stands still for no one.

Chancing a look at the group of men as you climb into the driver’s seat, you find six pairs of eyes. Kyle smiles broadly, you get another wink and smirk from Johnny, and Simon blinks at you from behind his mask. You barely know them and yet their reactions are all so distinctly them. You beam, holding up the plush skeleton and waving one last time like an Olympic athlete holding up their medals before resting it on the passenger's seat.

Alone again, you push your key into the ignition and your car comes to life. The dashboard bathes everything in a golden glow. Come morning, when you’re bathed in a similar hue by the rising sun, you’ll think about this night. You’ll think about them, each of them, and you’ll wonder. Hugging your prize from the night, you will implant the memory into the grooves of your brain, where it can sit safe and snug, just as looked after as you’d been. You’ll wonder if any of them will end up in your life again, and hope the answer to that question is ‘yes’.

[bellaveux]

hi! could you please do one about reader x wanda on college where reader cheats on her boyfriend with wanda but wanda genuinely loves reader so much that she can’t help but want more?

DREAMING OF YOU | wanda maximoff x reader

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: angst w/ happy ending, fluff, smut

summary: while being constantly ignored by your boyfriend, wanda decides to keep you company for the night and eventually, for the rest of the weeks that follow, wanting more than just sex with you and vows to show you the kind of love you truly deserve.

content warnings: minors dni! angst with happy ending, some fluff, college au!wanda maximoff x reader, artist!reader, wanda is in love, cheating, mentions of drinking, toxic boyfriend named tyler bc i didn’t know what else to name him, one smut scene; top!wanda, bottom!reader, oral and fingering (r receiving), praise kink

word count: 12.9k

note: i’m so sorry for the long wait, it was not supposed to take a whole month for me to write :( i also did not mean for this to be so long, i kind of got carried away, but i hope you like it!!

There used to be a time when your boyfriend would always tell you that he loved you, no matter what the conversation or situation was. You would always ask him why he did certain things for you; give you flowers, take you out to dinner, wanting to do everything with you, or even things like fight with you, annoy you. He would always say ‘Because, I love you,’ no matter what. And, you missed those times. You missed when he felt like he was a part of you when you were his top priority as he was yours. Now, somewhere down the road, you lost all of that with him. He only has the time to take you to parties, as a sort of accessory to keep by his side, then refuses to talk to you, and ignores you half of the time. 

You never liked the parties your boyfriend always dragged you to. They were loud, too crowded for your taste and your boyfriend always ended up finding some kind of excuse to leave you alone all by yourself as he mingled around. You feel lost and disconnected in places like this while your boyfriend revels in the chaos of social interactions, all while seemingly drowning himself in beer and alcohol. 

Your likeness for him had slowly dwindled down over time, and you wondered what had happened between the two of you for him to change so much from the man you used to be so fond of. 

And, no, Tyler didn’t always use to be such a jerk to you. In the beginning, he was kind, and gentle and seemed to be interested in whatever you were interested in. He was the kind to buy you flowers when he would think of you, take you on romantic dates in the city, and tell you he loved you every day. You liked him in the beginning, maybe even fell in love with him at some point—well, you couldn’t remember what that felt like with him anymore. 

Now, he barely even replies to your texts, answers your calls, ignores you when you try to talk to him, and leaves you alone at a party full of people you don’t recognize, just for him to go and play beer pong and chug an unhealthy amount of beer with the other guys on the football team. He even lets these random girls feel up on him and openly flirt with him from time to time now, forgetting all about the girl he dragged along with him, who was now glaring at him from across the room. He doesn’t even do anything to stop them, which only fuels your anger even more. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to him being this way. This behavior had gotten quite frequent as time went on, and you’ve always thought about breaking up with him. But, each time, he’d fool you with those sweet words and apologies, and tell you he’d be good for you, do better for you, tell you he loved you, and tell you that he wouldn’t know what to do without you. 

And, for some reason, you always fell for it.

You don’t know if it’s because you so desperately want to cling to the past — the past that you remember being so good and lovely. The times when he treated you right was like a dream and you always wanted to believe it could be that way again. Somehow. Because, you liked him. At least, you did then. It was hard to know because everything felt awkward, everything felt insincere. You knew that when the next morning comes, he’ll buy you flowers once again, tell you how sorry he was for accidentally leaving you, and give you that lame excuse that he couldn’t find you in that crowd of people. 

“I wanna leave, Tyler,” you told him, after tapping his shoulder to get his attention.

He turned to you and glared, stepping away from the circle of people that wrapped around the beer pong table, “Are you fucking kidding me? We just got here. Fuck. Go find something to do. I’ll take you home later.”

Truthfully, you were over it. You didn’t even bother talking back about it anyway, having done so plenty of times already and it always had the same outcome. 

After a while, you found yourself in the kitchen of the sorority house, holding your third cup of some cheap alcohol you found and poured for yourself, not really sure of what else you could do but drink. The living room had that lingering smell of weed and warm bodies, and it was beginning to hurt your head the longer you stood in there, making you retreat to the back of the house where the kitchen was. The fresh smell of some brownies in the oven filled the air, and it was much better for your head than everything else outside of this room. They were probably weed brownies, but they smelled better than what was out there. 

The thought of leaving by yourself had crossed your mind several times already, wondering if your boyfriend would even notice if you’d be gone. Who are you kidding? He wouldn’t. You liked to think he would sometimes—that he’d rush right after you when you stepped out the door, grab you by the wrist, and ask where you were going without him as if he cared. But, that would’ve been too good to be true. 

And, you were too caught up in your thoughts to have noticed the figure that walked up next to you.

Wanda leaned over against the counter, standing quite close to you, nudging your shoulder lightly. You could smell that faint scent of alcohol from her lips even though she hadn’t spoken yet. She wore a big suit jacket over a plain shirt that fit loosely on her and held a red solo cup of her own, shaking it slightly as if she was checking if there was anything still in there like she couldn’t remember if she had drank what was in her cup yet. 

Wanda saw you the moment you stepped into the sorority house, always cautiously watching the door for whoever walked in. After all, she lived here. She practically had her eyes on you all night, first noticing that bored look on your face when you walked in with that jerk you called your boyfriend. Then, she saw the rising anger fuming in your eyes when he walked away and left you alone to go hang out with his friends and other girls that he didn’t seem to mind. 

She never really understood what you saw in him. From all of the stories she’s heard from mutual friends to what she has seen now, he was a complete asshole. Sure, when she met you for the first time, you were a happy couple, and he was good to you that time ago. But tonight, it was different. He was different to you and it only seemed to further her opinion of him. 

It was maddening—the way he treated you. Wanda always found herself caught in a bittersweet daydream, one where she yearned to trade places with him, to be the one who could treat you with the love and care you truly deserved.

She had always loved you. From the moment you two met in your first year of college, Wanda had always loved you. With every interaction, every shared laugh, and every stolen glance, her feelings for you only deepened, growing into an unshakeable love that blossomed silently within her. You were perfect in her eyes; you were beautiful, kind-hearted, and talented, but you failed to recognize the fact that you deserved way better than what that stupid boyfriend of yours does for you. The love Wanda held for you became a quiet force that fueled her determination to be there for you, to support you, even if it meant remaining in the shadows.

And, deep down, you’ve feel as if you had always felt it. That love she had for you. You felt it when she would look at you, when she talked to you, and at first, you couldn’t tell what it was. She was a private woman, always so reserved, and never really dated properly within her time in college, other than a few flings and hookups here and there. 

But you saw it firsthand each time she smiled at you. 

Undeterred, Wanda angled her body towards you, the corners of her mouth turning upward in a determined smile. She positioned herself delicately, her face mere inches away from yours, so that you could hear her easily under the booming music, “What are you doing here alone?” 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, taking a sip from your cup, not even bothering to look up at her. “Just felt too crowded in there.”

Wanda nodded and glanced out of the doorway, the first floor of the house practically flooding with people left and right. She noticed that solemn look on your face when you answered your question.

“Isn’t that Tyler outside?” She asked, even though she already knew the answer to that question. She watched you nod, your eyes staring down into the liquid in your cup.“Shouldn’t you be out there with him?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you sighed and shook your head, “No, he’s… He’s playing. I wouldn’t be much help… It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” Wanda countered, the levels of her own annoyance rising. “He’s being a shitty boyfriend.”

You didn’t say anything else and instead chewed on your bottom lip as you let her words sink in. He was, indeed, a shitty boyfriend, but hearing it out of someone else’s mouth felt bitter. Like you had to defend him in some way even though he treats you like shit. You knew that Wanda's assessment held a grain of truth, maybe a lot more than a grain, but your heart stubbornly clung to the remnants of love and loyalty you still felt for him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No, it’s fine,” you tell her, immediately shaking your head as you glance out of the kitchen window, seeing your boyfriend down his drink in the backyard. “He’s just… busy.”

Wanda glanced out the window once more, eyes landing on your boyfriend. He was cheering, having won the same stupid game he was playing since he got here for the third time already, and he was probably drunk out of his mind right now, clearly not caring about the woman he had brought along with him. That woman being you. 

And she could never understand it. 

Wanda turned away and looked over at you. You stared down at your shoes out of boredom, seemingly waiting for something to happen at least. You wondered when your boyfriend would notice the fact that you’re even still here, waiting for the past hour and a half for him. But, every time you looked at him, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“Do you want to go somewhere quiet?” Wanda leaned over and asked, scratching the back of her neck. “There’s less people upstairs… And it’s quiet in my room.”

Wanda didn’t know if it was the tiny bit of alcohol she had talking for her, but she couldn’t help but ask—not when someone as beautiful as you stood alone in her kitchen. 

“Your room?”

You took a moment to look past her shoulder again and over to the man you called your boyfriend, only to see him cheering on in front of the beer pong table with some other woman leaning close to him on his side. A sigh fell past your lips before turning back to look at Wanda. 

As your gaze shifted from the window to meet Wanda's eyes, a sudden hush fell upon you. Your heart skipped a beat as you found yourself caught in the vortex of an unwavering stare, one filled with undeniable affection. She was looking at you the entire time. She looked at you like you were the only one there—as if every person, every object, every sound had faded into the background, leaving only the two of you inside this house. An unexpected wave of shyness washed over you, a blush creeping up your cheeks, wondering about what you should say next. 

The gravity of Wanda's invitation to her room weighed heavily upon your conscience, knowing that accepting would lead you down an unfaithful path. A sense of moral obligation tugged at your heart, reminding her of the commitment you made to your boyfriend, who had now abandoned you once again. The knowledge weighed heavily on your heart, like an anchor that tugged at your sense of loyalty. You knew the dangerous allure that waited for you in her room. You very well understood the consequences, and how your heart might sway towards infidelity if you surrendered yourself completely to Wanda. 

With each passing second, your internal struggle intensified. But, why were you so worried about loyalty when the man you once loved seemed to have none for you? You recognized the injustice of your situation, feeling a bitter taste of resentment rise within you as you thought of your boyfriend's indiscretions, allowing himself to be swayed by the company of random women at a party. It was a betrayal in its own right—a crack in the foundation of your relationship.

You decided you didn’t want to see him anymore tonight. And Wanda had the power to do that for you. 

“Lead the way,” you said.

The woman’s eyes before you lit up at the sound of your words and with a tender smile, Wanda reached out, her hand extending towards you, a silent invitation for her to take you away from everything that worried you. You slipped your hand into hers, and with a gentle yet steady grip, her fingers interlaced with yours, beginning to pull you away and up the stairs. 

Wanda maneuvered through the crowd, sidestepping intoxicated individuals who seemed oblivious to the world beyond their own indulgence. Laughter and music washed over you as you reached the second floor and down the hall toward Wanda’s room. 

Your senses heightened as Wanda let you step into her private space, and you found herself instinctively pausing to take in your surroundings. Wanda made sure to not let your hand go, her thumb soothing over the back of your hand as you looked around. She stepped up behind you, gently resting her other hand on your hip as she pressed her front to your back softly. Your eyes swept across the room, drinking in the carefully curated collection of treasures that adorned each shelf and corner. The gentle hum of the music playing downstairs was muffled by the thick walls of Wanda’s room.

“Do you play?” You ask, eyes settling up the guitar by the side of her nightstand.

“Hmm, a bit,” she smiled as you raised your eyebrows, impressed at the fact. “I can show you any time you want. I can teach you.”

Her fingers brushed along the side of your waist, dancing along the fabric of your dress slightly as if she were forming guitar chords. Eventually, you let Wanda’s hands turn you around to face her, the soft scent of lavender filling the air as she leaned into you. 

“You look so pretty tonight, (Y/n),” she whispered, shamelessly staring at your lips.

Her gaze shifted from your mouth and into your eyes, and there you saw the gentle look she held solely for you. Wanda gently lifted the hand she held, guiding your fingertips to her lips, pressing light kisses against your knuckles. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“You already are,” you told her, the corners of your lips threatening to curve upwards.

Wanda smiled in return and brought her other hand up from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek and letting her thumb ghost over your bottom lip, “I mean… here.”

Her fingers trailed down to your jaw, “And right here.” To your neck, “And here.” Then, to your collarbone, “And… here.”

You sighed at the feeling of her feathery touches, closing your eyes as you relaxed in her hands. 

“Can I?” She repeated.

And for a moment, you took a second to look at the moment before you, your cheeks getting warm from Wanda’s actions. The warmth of her breath mingled with the sweet touch of her lips against your fingertips as she waited patiently for your answer for the second time tonight. As the words hung in the air, Wanda's gaze remained fixed on you, captivated by the emotions flickering across your face. In that moment, you appeared more enchanting to her than ever, having you so close to her for the first time, wanting to kiss those lips she’d been dreaming about for so long. 

“Yes, please,” you said. 

Wanda leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you, and softly pressed her lips against yours as she moaned. Every brush and hum of your lips sent shivers down Wanda's spine. Time became a distant concept as you lost yourself in her kisses. 

She slowly led you towards her bed, lips still pressed to yours. She had waited, with hope and uncertainty, for this moment to come. And finally, it was here. She’d show you. She’d show you how well she’d take care of you—how much better she could be than that boyfriend of yours. She’d give you everything you deserve. She’d prove it to you—change your mind, if possible, and have her be the only one to have and love you from now on.

Wanda pulled back after laying you down on her bed, staring down at you. She settled herself in between your legs and sighed at the feeling of your soft thighs under her hands. The sight of lips parting to catch your breath, your chest rising up and down, and your hair all over her pillows drove her crazy. Fuck. 

“Are you sure about this?” Wanda asked.

“Please.” You nodded, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeezing them, “I want you, Wanda.”

Once she was positive that you were positive, Wanda pulled her shirt over off, shuffled closer to you, and gently brought your hands up above your head. She leaned down and placed a chaste kiss against your lips once more before traveling down to litter soft kisses against your jaw and your neck. Her body hovered over yours as you squirmed underneath her touches, whining slightly as she sucked on your skin. 

“Wait, Wanda,” you called out and she immediately stopped to look at you, patiently waiting for whatever you had to say. “Don’t leave any marks.” 

Wanda blinked, feeling a sense of disappointment wash over her chest. She was excited to mark you, litter hickeys all over your skin as a reminder that you were hers for the night. 

But she only bit her lip and nodded in return, “I won’t.”

After a beat, Wanda started kissing you once again. This time, her hands traveled downwards, running them along your thighs and up to where they met the hem of your velvety dress. She pushed the fabric upwards, your skin meeting the cold air inch by inch. Wanda was quick to provide warmth, squeezing the softness of your push thighs. 

Her kisses eventually made their way down to the valley of your breasts, letting one of her hands grope your tits. Wanda groaned into your body as you let your hands run through her red hair, tugging at them slightly when she squeezed your tit with her palms. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered against you.

Getting to worship you like this, manifesting your true desires to her, and her alone, felt like a constant dream. She had always imagined what it would be like to see you like this; a hot mess underneath her, moaning for her to touch you. And now that it was here, she never wanted to let it go. 

She’d imagine all the ways, all the positions she’d take you in, and make sure to take good care of you both always. She couldn’t wait to make you feel good. God, it was driving her insane. She couldn’t wait to have you. She wanted to make you see how much better she would be for you. And if there was one thing she wanted more than this; it was time. She wanted this to last forever. She wanted to eliminate all of the chances that could make you slip away from her grasp. 

But you were here now, and she vowed to make it the best you’ve had with the time she was dealt with. 

Her hands squeezed your thighs slightly as she stared down, “Spread those legs for me, sweetheart?” 

Wanda kneeled and leaned down the moment your knees parted, the sight of your drenched laced panties coming into view from underneath your dress. Without a second thought, Wanda pressed the pads of her index and middle finger against the soaked fabric. With half-lidded eyes, she couldn’t help but lean down, pressing her nose against your clothed pussy.

“How are you this perfect?” Wanda sighed against your cunt, her fingers moving the fabric to the side to look at your wetness. 

“Wanda…”

She looked up from in between your legs and licked her lips eagerly, “Yes, baby?”

“Hurry, please,” you whined. You couldn’t wait anymore. “I need you.”

Wanda felt her knees go weak when she heard those words. The sound of your voice, her name coming from your mouth, your hands in her hair… It was all too, perfect—you were so perfect.

After moments of admiring the sight of you in her bed, Wanda finally hooked her thumbs under your panties and dragged them slowly down your legs, making sure you were watching as she did so. The moment they came off, Wanda dove head first in between your legs, dragging the flat of her tongue through your folds. Firm and long licks switched into quick, fast kitten licks against your clit that had your thighs shaking around her head in a matter of seconds. You threaded your hands into her hair, moaning at the suddenness of her attack against your cunt. You dripped your sweet juices onto her tongue, causing her to moan softly against your clit, sending vibrations through your body. 

“Tastes so fucking good, baby.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Wanda rolled her eyes to the back of her head, the taste of heaven filling her mouth. She moaned, lips and chin covered in her spit and your slick as she continued to eat you out. 

“Wanda!” You whined as she wrapped her mouth around your clit and sucked. 

The sight of your jaw dropping and your eyes rolling to the back of your head when she introduced her fingers into the mix was something she wanted to see over and over and over again. She carefully prodded your entrance with her middle finger, sucking onto your clit gently, teasing you by slipping barely an inch into you then pulling back out to rub you softly. As she did so, she could feel your hips buck and your legs tense up around her head as she hummed against your clit with a smile on her face. 

You were soaking wet, dripping your juices all over the covers of her bed. Carefully, she slipped a single finger into you all the way down to her knuckle. She then curled it, emitting the loudest whine you let out for her tonight. She continued to curl her finger over and over, occasionally giving your clit some attention, sucking slightly and licking it gently as your orgasm started to build. 

“Mmmph, fuck, Wanda, I—"

Her green eyes watched as you withered against her bed, because of her mouth, to taste you like this, and hear your delicious moans fall past your lips. She slipped a second finger into you, your velvety walls wrapping around her digits, coating them with your slick as you moaned into her pillow and pulled at the sheets. 

“That’s it, (Y/n),” she stared up in awe as she watched your head fall back into the pillow, moaning at the feeling of her digits moving inside of your pussy. “Keep on making those noises for me, beautiful.”

Her two fingers that were swallowed inside your warmth began to speed up the moment she wrapped her lips around your clit once more, and sucked as hard as she could. You screamed into her pillow, trying to close your legs shut, engulfing her head with your plush thighs. Wanda decided that this was the best way to go; suffocating between your legs with the taste of your juices on her tongue. 

Soon, your voice faded out and your moans became more like gasps and hiccups for air. Wanda closed her eyes, her mouth pulling away to move up your body, resting her lips against your neck as her breath fans across your skin. You whined and clawed at her back deliciously as Wanda pumped and pumped her fingers in and out of you at a faster pace. She could hear all of your juices squelching down there because of her fingers and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes back and moan at the sounds filling her room. She felt as if she was in heaven. 

Wanda’s eyes, her pupils blown out from lust and darkened in desire didn’t help either, as the wetness between your legs only seemed to pool more and more as she fucked into you.

“I’m gonna cum, Wanda—“

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” She whispered in your ear, grunting against the side of your face as she pumped into you harder with her thumb pressing harshly in circles against your clit. 

Your orgasm hit hard, a sharp cry coming from your throat as you came, arching your back as Wanda slowed her movements. The sound of your cry sent shock waves straight down to her own core, and her eagerness to move inside of you, pressing against that spot in your pussy caused you to gasp and cry out again, shaking violently as you came around her fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” Wanda groaned against your neck, breathing heavily against you as you trembled in her bed. God, she wished she could make love to you forever. 

And knowing that she couldn’t, Wanda made use of the time she had left for the rest of the night and fucked you for as time would allow her until the two of you grew tired and passed out on her bed. 

Wanda held you close, pulling her blankets over you, naked bodies pressed together as you slept for the rest of the night. She savored the precious moments the two of you shared, knowing that her time with you was fleeting and she might not get a chance as good as this. She took some time to watch as you slept for a bit, her heart swelling with the feeling of you against her. It felt perfect, like you were made to fit right into her arms. 

But a bittersweet reality loomed over Wanda's thoughts, a reminder that you belonged to another, your heart already spoken for by a distant boyfriend. The one person she envied, deeming him unworthy of your love. She wondered what it would be like to claim the entirety of your heart, to be the one who could provide solace and security for you in every waking moment, and not just for tonight. 

Wanda's eyes traced the delicate curve of your cheek, her fingertips brushing against the soft strands of your hair. With a tender touch, she brushed her lips against your forehead, pressing a small kiss on your skin before falling asleep herself, while listening to the soft sound of your breathing. 

She wished that this was forever. And she wished you wanted her the same way she wanted you. 

A soft rustling sound reached Wanda’s ears, like the delicate whisper of fabric against fabric. Fluttering her eyes open slowly, Wanda could feel the subtle shift of the mattress, the gentle weight redistribution that accompanied your movement. Through half-closed eyes, Wanda's gaze settled upon your silhouette as you leaned down to pick your clothes up. You were in nothing but your underwear and you sat there for a second to look down at your phone, the glow of the screen casting gently upon your face. 

“Hey,” Wanda whispered softly, propping herself up on one of her elbows, eyes still struggling to keep open.

You looked up in surprise, turning to see her rubbing her eyes as she looked at you, “Hey…”

“What’re you…” Wanda yawned and ran a hand through her hair. “What’re you doing? Are you leaving?”

There was a slight pout on her lips that you didn’t fail to notice. You watched her eyes lazily dart to the digital clock on her nightstand, furrowing her eyebrows slightly before turning her drowsy gaze away to look at you again.

“It’s six in the morning… on a Saturday,” she said as if it was obvious. 

“I know,” you nodded and looked down at your phone, the screen completely filled with texts and missed calls from that boyfriend of yours. “I just… I think I should really get going, Wanda.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Oh.”

Wanda sighed and sat up properly, grabbing her shirt from the floor to put on. A very big part of her wanted to ask you to stay, over and over again, so that she could wrap her arms around you, underneath the covers, have you lay your head on her chest, and sleep peacefully with you for as long as she could. 

But there was a slim chance you’d take that offer.

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s fine,” you said, fixing your dress as you stood up from her bed. “I really don’t live that far.”

Truthfully, you did live quite a few ways away, but you wanted to sort out everything that was running through your head, and the time it would take to walk to your apartment might just let you do that. 

Wanda bit her lip, wondering if she had done something wrong. She thought that maybe you were regretting the night before, thinking that one of the best nights she’s ever lived through was possibly a mistake in your eyes. 

She hoped you didn’t think that. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda grabbed her keys from her desk, just in case you change your mind. “I’m not tired.”

“I’m positive, Wanda,” you smiled lightly, knowing very well she wanted to back to sleep. “It’s okay.”

As you gathered your belongings, your movements deliberate yet tinged with a touch of haste, Wanda's gaze lingered upon you, committing every detail to memory. The way your fingers deftly secured a strand of hair behind your ear, the determined set of your jaw as you walked towards the door, the fleeting glances you stole in Wanda's direction—each moment etched itself in Wanda’s mind. 

Time seemed to stretch as Wanda observed your preparations, each passing second amplifying the ache within her. She longed to reach out, to intertwine her fingers with yours and convince you to stay for a little while longer. 

But the choice, ultimately, rested with you, and Wanda knew that she had to honor that.

“Wait,” she called out suddenly, her tone infused with a soft concern that you couldn't ignore, just as you had placed a hand on the doorknob. “One second.”

You watched her step away, rushing over to her closet near the corner of her room, then pulling out some brown jacket. With a tender smile, Wanda approached you, her hands enveloped in the folds of her own jacket.

"Here," Wanda murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she offered the jacket to you. "It's probably cold out there." 

There was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hidden message that spoke of the lengths she would go to protect and care for you, even in the smallest ways. Your eyes widened slightly, surprised yet touched by Wanda's gesture. A myriad of emotions flickered across your face—gratitude, a touch of longing, and a hint of reluctance. You hesitated for a moment, torn between accepting Wanda's offering and the weight of your own conflicted feelings.

“If you’re not going to let me drive you… at least take this,” Wanda said, sensing your inner struggle. “You can return it whenever. Or don’t. Whichever is fine.”

Your hand trembled ever so slightly as you reached out and accepted the jacket. The fabric felt warm and comforting against your skin, as though it held a piece of Wanda's essence within its fibers.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of gratitude and unspoken emotions. 

Wanda watched as you slipped into her jacket carefully, letting it fall gracefully upon your shoulders. It was a tad bit loose on you, and Wanda only found it adorable, nonetheless. It was her first time seeing you in one of her clothes and she had to bite back that smile that was threatening to show on her face. With a gentle touch, Wanda adjusted the collar of the jacket, ensuring it provided the utmost comfort and warmth for you. 

You left soon after, leaving Wanda alone in the silence of her room. 

The crisp air brushed against your cheeks, its touch a gentle reminder of the outside world. After walking out of the neighborhood, the city streets unfolded before you as you ventured forth, enveloped in Wanda's jacket. It was warm, you thought, like her. Wanda was warm. You felt her warmth the night before as she held you delicately like she was afraid of breaking you. 

The weight of your actions pressed upon you, the guilt of infidelity intertwining with the intoxicating sensations that Wanda had awakened within you. Thoughts of your boyfriend, once a source of comfort and affection, mingled with memories of last night.

As you walked, the city whispered its secrets. The laughter of strangers, the busy morning road full of people heading into work in the early morning, the flickering lights of cafes and bars, and the intertwining streets became a chorus of reflections, mirroring the complexity of your emotions. 

You wondered what your boyfriend was up to now, probably sleeping, and if he even thought of the possibility of you cheating on him. Would he even care at this point? You had always been a loyal girlfriend before your relationship had started crumbling, always being there for him as much as you could, trying to make him happy, just as he did for you. But, now, everything seemed to be thrown away, and it was like you didn’t even know him anymore. 

Instead, you let your thoughts shift to Wanda—sweet and gentle Wanda. You couldn’t help but compare your boyfriend to her. In the course of a single night, Wanda had unraveled layers within you that had remained untouched for so long.

As you finally reached your apartment, you stood before the threshold, your heart heavy with the weight of your choices. With a deep breath, you stepped inside, the door closing behind you. The echoes of the city receded, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echoes of conflicting emotions. You can’t help but think of the night before when Wanda showered you with that love and affection you’ve been craving. It was all you could think about. 

And in this moment, you felt that you missed Wanda more than you did your boyfriend. 

The entire month came around quickly, and the world around you sprang back to life, bustling with the rhythms of college life. The campus hummed with the energy of students making their way to their classes. As you made your way to the art building, you found yourself clutching a bouquet of vibrant flowers, another peace offering from your boyfriend, a gesture meant to make amends for doing something that hurt your feelings. Again. It was typical.

Yet, you didn’t feel anything as you looked at the flowers. The colors of the flowers seemed muted, the petals lacking the vibrancy that you craved. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment, a sense of disconnection that overshadowed any gratitude you should have felt. You couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something essential was missing.

And Wanda felt the same thing, if not, more. God, she missed you the moment you slipped out of her arms that morning. Just the thought of you in her bed, moaning her name just like you did that night sent her into orbit. She wanted you all over again. She needed you. And she just couldn’t help herself. Not when she got the taste of what it would be like to have you in that way. You were addicting. She wanted more. So much more. 

So, then, it happened again. And again. And again.

For the past month, you’ve betrayed your boyfriend, seeking solace and love in the arms of Wanda. Every stolen moment, every secret rendezvous, ignited a passionate flame within you that you had never experienced before. She made love to you every week that passed. You’ve been having frequent late nights in Wanda's room, hidden within the walls of the sorority house. She made love to you every week that passed, stole you away from your classes to make out with you in secret, wanting to have her hands all over you as much as she could. A lot of the time, it would happen on nights when your boyfriend would drag you to another party and he was too caught up to notice that you’d disappear, stolen away by Wanda so that she could keep you all to herself. 

On one hand, you felt guilty. But on the other hand, your heart yearned for Wanda and her touches, her gentle words, and the way she looked at you. With Wanda, you felt seen, heard, and cherished in a way you had never experienced before.

As your mind wandered through the labyrinth of your thoughts, everything around you seemed to fade into a blur of colors and shapes. But just as you were lost in the depths of your reverie, a soft but distinct knock echoed through your ears, jolting your senses.

“What are you painting?”

You snapped out of your trance and took in your surroundings. Unbeknownst to you, your art class, your final class of the day, had ended, and the studio was empty. Startled, your gaze shifted abruptly towards the door frame behind you, where a familiar figure stood, their presence bringing an instant surge of warmth to your heart. It was Wanda, the one who had occupied your thoughts so incessantly. She was leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded. 

“What are you doing here?” You stood quickly, eyes flickering with a sense of surprise and worry.

“I missed you.”

You rushed out of your seat, quickly making your way over to where she stood. Wanda shifted under your gaze the moment you reached behind her to close the studio door before grabbing her arm and pulling her further into the room in case anyone saw her. Caught off guard by the sudden pull, Wanda stumbled slightly, her attention instantly captured by the sight of you.

You stood before her, clad in an artist's apron, tiny smudges of paint adorning your cheeks and hands. Your shirt, with its sleeves carefully folded, revealed glimpses of the same colors that lived on your canvas. And Wanda couldn’t help but smile at you.

“What are you smiling about?” You rolled your eyes, shyly tucking your hair behind your ear as you turned around to avoid her stare.

Wanda shook her head but kept the smile on her face, following closely behind you as you sat back down on the stool in front of your easel, “Nothing.”

“Seriously,” you say, rolling your eyes before picking the paintbrush up from your table. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” Wanda struggled to find an excuse, “I was walking by and thought I’d come see you… just to see what you were up to.”

It wasn’t a total lie. But she missed you so much that she practically ran across the whole campus just to get to this building. And to be honest, she couldn't stop missing you if she tried. A month has passed since you left her bedroom that night, and the following weeks spent sneaking around with you almost felt both unsettling and heavenly to her—she had you, but at the same time, she didn’t. And, she hated it. 

In truth, Wanda's last class was located on the other side of the campus, far from the art studio. But the distance mattered little to her. She had to see you, and now that she did, fighting the urge to touch you was practically unbearable.

“I’m working on my final piece,” you told her, staring down at the palette box on the wooden table, using a palette knife to mix your oils. “It’s just some finishing touches. It won’t dry soon enough if I do a thicker layer… even though I should, but it has to be done by next Wednesday…”

You went on rambling quietly about what else you needed to do as if you were not only talking to her but also reminding yourself, which was cute, Wanda thought. She listened intently, slowly making her way closer behind you, peeking over your shoulder with a curious smile as her hand slowly rested against your hip. 

“What’s on Wednesday?” She asked, her front now pressed against your back as you continued to paint. 

Your breath hitched at the contact, but you made no move to back away. She was warm—and you learned that you loved that about her. You could feel her face next to yours, closely observing each stroke of your brush, watching how your fingers danced over the canvas.

“Well, it’s due Wednesday and there’s, uh,” you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling nervous and fuzzy in your chest knowing she was so close to you. “An exhibit. It’s on Friday, actually, but they need to finish preparing for it by Thursday. The art professors are choosing some students to showcase their portfolios at the museum down the road. It’s funded by the university.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “And you got chosen as one of the artists? Out the whole art department?”

You laughed and shook your head, “Don’t make it a big deal—“

“But it is a big deal!” Wanda turned her head to look at you, her eyes watching your features closely. “It’s amazing. Really.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched in your throat as you turned to face Wanda, the tips of your noses brushing against each other, causing you to pull your head back slightly. Your eyes widened, taking in the breathtaking proximity of your faces, your breaths mingling in the shared space in between. And you began to notice things you’ve never really taken the time to admire.

Wanda's bright green eyes, like emerald gems, sparkled with a mixture of affection and curiosity. The strands of her tousled red hair tumbled slightly, probably from wind from outside, framing her features with an effortless charm. You drank in the sight of Wanda, committing every line and curve to your memory.

“I think you’re amazing,” Wanda whispered, her eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips.

You watched her eyes as she did so, your cheeks flushing slightly—usually because of the fact that she always wanted to kiss you. 

Your voice trembled with a mix of uncertainty and longing as she began, “Wanda, wait… I don’t think we should—“

But before you could complete your sentence, Wanda tilted her head and closed the gap, her lips meeting yours in a gentle, yet fervent, kiss. Your initial protest was lost in the softness of Wanda's lips against your own as your eyes fluttered closed. Wanda's lips, warm and tender, spoke volumes of the love and adoration she held for you, and you couldn’t help but kiss her back. 

The kiss deepened, Wanda running her tongue along your bottom lip, wrapping her arms, and running her hands around your waist from behind you as you welcomed her into your mouth with a soft moan. She had been wanting to kiss you again since the last time she saw you, and now that it was finally here, it felt like a dream come true. 

You made out with Wanda until you felt like you were about to faint. You pulled away to catch your breath, keeping Wanda still by holding her shoulders in place as she continued to chase for your lips.

“Wanda,” you breathed, your mind filling itself with conflicting thoughts. 

“No one’s going to see,” she tried to reassure you, her lips brushing against yours.

“T-That’s not what I’m worried about,” A sigh falls from your mouth, turning your head away from her before she could lean back in.

Wanda's eyes tried to search yours, filled with a mixture of determination and longing, wanting nothing more than to press her lips against your mouth over and over again. Her voice trembled with a blend of frustration and vulnerability as she asked, “Then, what are you worried about?”

“I-I’ve been wanting to talk to you. This whole month with you… It’s been amazing. You’ve been perfect. Truly. But, I… I don’t know if this is a good idea… anymore… and I’m still with Tyler,” you finally let out, struggling to find the right words to say.

She paused, suddenly feeling tense after listening to you. 

“Then, break up with him,” she said softly, eyes gazing into yours, concentrating on what you had to say. 

“Wanda…”

“You said it’s been amazing. I don’t…” She shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows for a split second. “I don’t understand why this isn’t a good idea anymore. I don’t understand why you won’t break up with him. Do you even still like him? Do you not like me?”

You stood from your seat and walked a couple of paces away from her. “Of course, I like you.”

Wanda clenched her jaw, watching you carefully as you ran your hand through your hair, “You know what I mean.”

And for a moment, you don’t answer. It wasn’t because you weren’t sure of what the answer was, it was because of how sure you were. Wanda had given you so much love in one month and within this hour than Tyler could’ve given you in the past year. You couldn’t love Wanda even if you were tired. 

You closed your eyes, and sighed, “I do, Wanda.”

“Then, why are you still with him?”

“I don’t—I don’t know…” You stammered, frustration washing over your entire face. “I-I’ve been with him for so long and I’ve seen all of the good and the bad and I just can’t stop thinking about things like… what if he changes? I want to believe that he can, and lying to him constantly is starting to take a toll on me.”

“How long are you going to hold on to that ‘what if’? Hm? It’s been a month and he still hasn’t done anything to make you happy! He’s not just going to change overnight and besides, you’ve been constantly trying to talk to him about what’s wrong or what’s bothering but he doesn’t even seem to care!” She yelled, shaking her head slightly, “And what if he never changes? What if he keeps treating you like this? What then?”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you listened to Wanda’s voice, tinged with a mixture of heartbreak and determination. Love, fear, loyalty, and doubt waged a fierce internal war within you. You knew deep down that Wanda was right, that your relationship with him was eroding your own happiness.

“Well, what are you asking me to do?” Wanda asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I-I don’t know—“

“If you’re going to ask me to just be friends with you, I’m not doing it,” she said, shaking her head, the thought of it waking her heart. “I can’t… I can’t just be friends with you.”

Your eyes softened at her words, “Wanda…”

“And, I know it’s scary. I know… It’s not going to be easy. I know you really liked him at some point back then, and that it’s hurting you that he’s like this,” Wanda said with a heavy heart as she watched the first of your tears run down your face. It tore her apart to be the one to make you cry, but she knew that you needed to hear it. “But, I really like you, too. And, I want to do things right with you. I want to take you out on dates and share the things I have with you. I want to kiss you. So many times. I want to worship you. I want to give you all the things you deserve. But, I don’t want to do any of that while you’re suffocating yourself in this relationship... You’re not happy with him, (Y/n). Not like you are with me.”

Your gaze faltered, torn between the love you felt for Wanda and the lingering ties that bound you to a toxic relationship. Fear and uncertainty swirled within you, clouding your judgment and eclipsing the clarity of your own desires. 

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows again, her gaze landing on the flowers on the table, “Are these from him?”

The fact that you don’t say anything else answers Wanda’s question. She nodded, pain filling her chest as she stared at your back. Feeling like you ripped her heart right out of her, jealousy filled her veins and she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door. 

“He’s a dick, (Y/n),” she started, halting in her tracks before she could walk out. “Love isn’t about hiding behind a bouquet of flowers to avoid talking to you. It’s not about waiting to see if things get better when all he does is give you a five-dollar bouquet as his way to apologize. He should be on his knees begging for your forgiveness. Because, if I were him, I’d do everything and anything to make sure you’re happy. I hope you know that.”

Then, she left.

You don’t see her for the next several days, not after that argument. She doesn’t text or call you and she doesn’t visit the art building anymore. 

Days turned into nights, and you found yourself anxiously waiting for a message, a call, or any form of contact from Wanda. But the silence remained unbroken, leaving you to question the depth of the chasm that had grown between you. Your heart longed for Wanda's presence, for the sound of her voice, and the comfort of her embrace. 

You replayed the argument over and over in your mind, dissecting every word exchanged and every emotion unleashed. You understood Wanda's frustration, her desire to be together with you, free from the toxicity that clung to your current relationship. And yet, fear had clouded your judgment, chaining you to a life that no longer brought you happiness. 

The nights turned into weeks, and your heart grew heavier with each passing moment. You yearned for the sound of Wanda's laughter, the warmth of her smile, and the unwavering support she had always offered for you. The absence of her presence was a constant reminder of the choice you had made and the potential consequences of that choice. Two weeks had passed since the argument, and the silence that lingered between the two of you weighed heavily on your spirit.

And soon, Friday came: the night of the exhibit. A mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through your veins. The gallery buzzed with activity, the air thick with the scent of anticipation. Your artwork adorned the walls along with several other students, each stroke of your brush conveying emotions you had kept hidden for so long.

As the guests began to trickle in, your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers. Each passing moment filled you with a sense of anticipation. You wondered if Wanda would come, and if she remembered it. The murmurs and laughter of the attendees swirled around you, blending into an indistinct background noise.

As the minutes ticked away, each second seemed to stretch into eternity. Your heart raced, your palms clammy with nervous anticipation. And then, in the midst of your restless thoughts, about an hour into the exhibit, a figure appeared at the entrance of the gallery. Wanda's presence filled the room, her vibrant aura commanding attention.

You approached her, but you couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of conflict etched upon her face. Wanda's eyes, usually filled with a gentle glow, held a mixture of hope and trepidation. It was clear that she had taken a risk by attending the exhibit, despite the wounds of your recent disagreement.

The room seemed to quiet around the two of you as you inched your way closer, as if the universe recognized the significance of this moment. Your heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and remorse, realizing the depth of Wanda's love and her willingness to be there for you, even when it felt like she hadn’t spoken to you in ages. 

Wordlessly, you stood beside Wanda, your shoulders almost touching, as you both gazed at the art that surrounded them. As the colors of your artwork danced across the gallery walls, you allowed yourself to hope, to believe that perhaps forgiveness and second chances were possible. And standing beside her, Wanda silently promised to be there, ready to support and love you, no matter the outcome.

“You came,” you breathed out, once you were close enough for her to hear. “You… you didn’t have to.”

Wanda turned at the sound of your voice, taking a moment to admire the way you looked tonight. The sight of you only made her curse under her breath, questioning why you had to look so damn good all the time. 

“Of course, I came,” she said, subtle eyes skimming over the dress that wrapped around your curves. “I wouldn’t miss it. But, I am a little bit late… I didn’t know when it was starting.”

Your eyebrows twitched upwards as you listened to her words, pursing your lips as a way to hide the pain you were feeling in your chest, “No, it’s okay. I–I’m glad you’re here. I’m really happy you’re here.”

You hadn't expected Wanda to come, not after the fight and the painful silence that had ensued for the past two weeks. But she came anyway, to one of the most important nights you had been preparing for throughout the year and you were beyond grateful. You could kiss her right now. 

But the pain you felt in your chest mostly stemmed from the fact that seeing Wanda here tonight made you recall what had happened between you two in the art studio. For the whole week, you thought you wouldn’t see her again, and it hurt to think that when that was all you wanted. 

And not only that, but you were also disappointed in the fact that you couldn’t see Tyler anywhere. You wondered if he was going to come tonight, or if he even remembered. But, that doesn’t even matter to you anymore. It hurt, of course, but it was a typical feeling you grew tired of. She was right. And deep down, even though you chose to do the opposite of what she said, you knew she was, too. You felt guilty for hurting Wanda, and for trying to believe in your boyfriend when she had been telling you from the start that he wasn’t going to change. 

“Um,” you started, trying to find the words to say. “How do you like it so far? The exhibit? Did you get to walk around a bit?”

Wanda smiled lightly, noticing that this was your way to have a conversation with her, “Yeah, yeah, I did. It’s amazing. Everyone did a great job. You’re all really talented.”

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, turning away to hide the blush on your cheeks. 

“Your paintings are breathtaking, (Y/n),” she said, her eyes tracing the strokes of your artwork with admiration. “Almost just as stunning as their maker.”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder a bit. You knew it was a way for her to lighten up the mood on a night that was so important to you. 

“I’m serious,” Wanda smiled gently. “You look beautiful. Really. That dress… You’re stunning.”

A blush tinted your cheeks as she glanced down at your attire, a mixture of gratitude and unease evident in your expression. "Thank you, Wanda."

You were grateful. You really were. Tears of appreciation welled up in your eyes, reflecting the flickering lights of the gallery, as you thought about Wanda. You felt as if you didn't deserve Wanda's unwavering support, but you also couldn't deny the overwhelming gratitude you felt.

While your eyes occasionally darted to your phone, a sense of resignation had settled within you. You had sent countless messages to your boyfriend, seeking his whereabouts and wondering about his presence, but with each unanswered text, the realization began to crystallize in your heart. He would never change for you. He would never prioritize your happiness or love you the way you deserved.

As your eyes swept over the crowd, you struggled to find your boyfriend anywhere. His absence spoke volumes, a stark reminder of the shortcomings of your relationship and the love that had dwindled over time. But, Wanda's presence radiated with unwavering support and affection, reminding you of the love she had found in the midst of chaos. 

“(Y/n)!” Another student called out for you. “Professor is looking for you. Some other teachers are asking about one of your paintings.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” you told her, biting your lip as you turned back around to face Wanda. “I… I have to go. But, if it’s okay, do you think you could… I’m allowed to leave in about thirty minutes—The students just need to be here for the opening since that’s when all of the critics and important art people and professors come in… And the gallery stays open for the rest of the night anyway, but after that, I’m free to go… So I was wondering if you could… I mean, if you even want to—”

“Yeah, I-I’ll wait for you,” she said with a smile, nodding her head eagerly without a second thought, interrupting your adorable ramble before you could even ask your question. 

You had to fight a smile that was slowly making its way onto your face, “Okay, I-I’ll find you.”

Reluctantly, you stepped away to find your professor, who gestured toward a group of important art figures gathered nearby. You made your way towards them, your mind divided between the conversation that awaited you and Wanda. With each stolen glance, you couldn't help but notice the softness in Wanda's features, the way her eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions that mirrored her own.

Engaging in polite conversation with the art professionals, your attention wavered, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Wanda. You wanted to go back to her. As you listened intently to the conversation before you, your eyes would inevitably wander back to Wanda, who moved quietly, her every gesture captivating and graceful as she looked around

Yet, you knew that this conversation with your professor held importance for your artistic future. So, you remained present, exchanging pleasantries and discussing your work, all the while feeling the pull of your emotions toward Wanda, who appeared lost in your own thoughts as she explored the gallery.

When the conversation drew to a close, your professor commended you on your talent and potential, expressing a desire to further support your artistic journey. Grateful for the recognition, you excused yourself, your steps immediately directing themselves toward Wanda, who stood near a captivating sculpture. Your heart quickened as you made your way through the bustling gallery, your mind consumed with conflicting emotions. 

But before you could reach her, your eyes caught the sight of a familiar man standing passed the glass doors of the gallery. He stood out by the entrance, a bouquet in his palm as he was about to step into the building. 

Without wasting another second, you rushed over to where he stood, to try and keep him out because you felt that he didn’t belong here anymore. 

“What are you doing here?” you said quietly, your voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

“(Y/n)! I’m so sorry for being late. I-I got caught up with work. You know how it is, and—and I couldn’t find the building and there was so much traffic when I was driving here,” Tyler said, muttering excuses after excuses. He held out the bouquet, his expression filled with contrived sincerity, “These are for you. I know how much you like them—”

“Tyler, I don’t want the flowers,” You shook your head, not even batting an eyelash at the way his arms dropped to the side after you said that sentence, gripping the plastic of the bouquet tightly in his hand. “I don’t want you here. I want you to leave.”

Confusion flickered across Tyler's face, quickly replaced by defensiveness. “What? I just fucking got here. I-I came to support you—”

“I am not going to do this with you again,” You rolled your eyes and glanced to the side, too furious to even look at him.

"Do what?"

“This, Tyler. I’m done. I’m done embarrassing myself. I’m tired you of treating me like shit. I can’t believe I spent so long trying to believe you’d change for me, but I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m done,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes.

Anger flashed across his face, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "What the fuck are you talking about? We've been together for years. We can work through this. It’s just a rough patch."

“No, Tyler. It isn’t. I’ve already tried talking to you about this! So many times! But you just ignore me, you don’t talk to me, you don’t pay any attention to me, you flirt with everyone else and all you do for me is buy me so many goddamn flowers like they mean something for you!”

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he turned to look away.

“I’m unbelievable? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, you are! You’re always so fucking boring! Always sitting alone at parties, always wanting to leave early, and you never want to go out—“

“How is this my fault?” You cried out in frustration. “You… You don’t even love me anymore.”

“What, and you do?”

The argument spilled onto the streets, voices raised and emotions running high. Your heart ached as the realization hit you with crushing force—this was the end. The end of a relationship that had long been tainted by neglect, disrespect, and a lack of true connection.

“I’m not doing this again, Tyler. We’re done. You can go find some other girl to give those stupid flowers to. Because, it’s not going to be me.”

Without saying more, you stepped back into the gallery and rushed through the gallery, heading straight into the office room where you kept your things. You closed the door behind you, tears streaming down your face. You leaned against the table, your body trembling with both relief and sadness. The echoes of the breakup reverberated in your mind, reminding you of the pain you had endured and the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders.

As you allowed yourself to surrender to your emotions, you were unaware that Wanda had been watching when you ran into the room, seeing the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks as you walked. But she waited. Wanda understood the need for you to process your feelings in private, respecting your space while patiently waiting for you. 

Minutes passed and you wiped away your tears, taking deep breaths to steady your trembling form. You decided that you felt like the building was suffocating you and that you needed to leave, but you remembered Wanda. With each passing moment, your heart began to steady and you slowly grabbed your things before heading out again. You knew that your decision to break away from Tyler was the right one, even if it meant venturing into unknown territory with Wanda. 

As you finally gathered the strength to leave the room, you slowly opened the door, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the gallery once again. And there, standing just a few steps away, was Wanda. She gave you a small smile as you slowly made your way towards her. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Wanda watched as you tried to avoid her eyes as a way to hide the fact that you were crying. But she saw right through you.

You finally spoke, your voice trembled slightly, "I, um, think I need to get out of here, away from all this... everything. I know I asked you to wait—."

“No, it’s okay,” Wanda nodded immediately, her expression filled with empathy. "I’ll drive you home."

And normally, you’d protest and say you can go alone instead, but Wanda made no room for you to argue when she already started making her way towards the doors. Your eyes flickered with gratitude as you leaned into Wanda's presence, following closely behind her. 

You stepped outside, the cool night air embracing the both of you as Wanda led you to her car. She opened the door for you, gesturing for you to slide into the passenger seat. You settled into the seat, glancing at Wanda as she made her way into her own, your eyes shimmering with vulnerability. Starting the engine, Wanda guided the car onto the open road of the city, leaving the gallery and its lingering shadows in the rearview mirror. The world outside the windows slowly became a blur of city lights and passing landscapes as time passed. 

The drive was quiet. The soft hum of the car engine filled the air as she drove you home in a comforting silence. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights, getting lost in your own thoughts. But Wanda stole glances at you whenever she could, her eyes tracing the delicate curve of your profile, sitting so pretty in the passenger seat of her car. You wore a jacket over that gorgeous dress you wore, and every fiber of Wanda's being yearned to reach out, to hold your hand, or put hers over your thigh. 

But she restrained herself. 

The car eventually glided to a stop in front of your apartment, the engine purring into silence. Wanda turned off the ignition and her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she spoke softly. 

“We’re here,” she said, rubbing her hands against her jeans nervously. 

You pulled yourself out of your trance the moment her words reached your ears, glancing out the window for a moment before looking back at her. She was waiting. You met Wanda's gaze, a flicker of a smile gracing your lips. She was waiting. You nodded once again, but you didn’t move to get out or anything. 

Instead, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”

Wanda's eyes widened, eyebrows twitching in surprise, her initial shock giving way to a glimmer of hope that danced in the depths of her gaze. A gentle smile curved Wanda's lips, the subtlest of nods conveying her agreement, even fighting the urge to say ‘please.’

“Yeah.”

It was quiet when she entered your apartment, following behind in soft footsteps as you led her through your front door. She’s never really been inside before—all the secret nights you spent with her were in the comfort of her own room in the sorority house. She liked having you in her bed. Then again, she would love to be in yours, if you’d let her. 

The air felt heavy with unspoken words, tension lingering from the events that had unfolded at the gallery. She followed closely behind you, her footsteps light and cautious as you led her down the hall to your kitchen. The atmosphere in the apartment seemed hushed, almost as if it was holding its breath, mirroring the uncertainty that lingered in Wanda's mind. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she could say, how she could comfort you, or how to even begin talking to you. 

Leaning against the kitchen table, Wanda's gaze fixed upon your back, watching your every move as you prepared tea for her. Nervous anticipation coursed through her veins, a gentle thrum of excitement filling her chest as she stared at you. She found herself entranced by the sight of you before her. The dress hugged you in all of the right spots, every line and curve fitting you perfectly. And Wanda couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly the fabric draped over your frame, molding itself to you, as if it had been designed with you in mind. Wanda didn’t know how long she was staring. Her eyes traced the gentle sway of your hips as you reached for a teacup, and she wanted nothing more than to pull you close to her.

“I broke up with him,” you blurted out suddenly. 

Lost in her admiration, Wanda's breath hitched ever so slightly at the sound of your voice, pulling her out of her trance. 

“I-I feel more relieved than sad actually… It’s like… I don’t know,” you sighed. “Should I be feeling guilty for being happy that we broke up? I feel like should be crying right now, but I feel… thankful.”

Wanda watched as you continued to make two cups of tea, your back turned to her, listening to your words carefully. 

“I just don’t know if it’s okay for me to…”

You sighed again, and even if you didn’t finish your sentence, Wanda had a feeling she knew what you were going to say. She could sense the guilt and uncertainty that weighed heavily on your mind, knowing all too well the thoughts that plagued her.

Just as you were about to voice out the rest of your thoughts, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, holding you softly as her front pressed against your back, “Is this okay?”

For a moment, you don’t say anything, and Wanda wonders if she should pull away and keep her distance until you decide what you feel is right or wrong. But her thoughts dissipated when she felt you nod. She sighed in relief, letting her eyes flutter closed as she brought her head down to your shoulder, kissing your skin there. 

“I heard,” she started, mumbling into your shoulder so quietly that you almost didn’t hear. “When Tyler came. I just… I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t do anything.”

You stayed quiet as she spoke, slowly stirring the tea in the mug in front of you. Gently, she slipped her hand into yours, intertwining her fingers softly with yours before bringing it up to her face to kiss the back of your hand.

“I’m proud of you. Really. I am,” she said, rubbing the pad of her thumb along your skin.

“You were right,” You sighed and smiled gently, using your hands to run them over hers, the ones that rested against your stomach, holding you close against her, “I knew you were right. But, I should’ve listened to you sooner… I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize,” she said, shaking her head against your back. “I knew you were nervous about it. And that you were scared… I knew. But I pressured you about it anyway, even though I knew you weren’t ready yet.”

You turned around to look at her, your hands landing on her shoulders, “Wanda—“

“I would have waited either way. I already have been. I would still wait for you if you need me too,” she said, more sincerely than you’d ever heard anyone say anything before. “I would do anything.”

You stood there, your heart momentarily caught off guard by the surge of emotions that flooded your being. Wanda's words lingered in your mind, filled with a depth of sincerity that you had never experienced before. The toxic grip that your ex-boyfriend had held on your heart suddenly seemed insignificant, overshadowed by the overwhelming love you felt from just looking into Wanda’s eyes alone. You smiled sadly, slightly mad at yourself for not dropping everything to be with her sooner. 

Bringing your hand up to her face, you smoothed your thumb over her cheek as a way to calm her down, “You don’t have to wait anymore, Wanda.”

Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in surprise and hope. She searched your gaze, her heart pounding with anticipation, trying to find any signs of regret or disapproval. 

“Please tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying,” she breathed, waiting for the response that would shape the path ahead. But as she looked into your eyes, she saw something that sparked joy within her.

You brought a second hand up to cup her face and leaned in to press your lips against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact, the soft kiss did well to erupt butterflies in her stomach. Wanda sighed and dropped her head to hide her face against your neck after you kissed her, her breath tickling your skin slightly as her grip around your waist grew tighter. The corners of her own lips curved up into a smile that she 

couldn’t fight, a soft chuckle bubbling in her throat as she breathed you in.

“Do you really want this with me?”

“I love you,” you said, more certain than ever, watching as Wanda’s breath hitched at the sounds of your words. You smiled needily, entirely in love and filled with so many emotions you couldn’t contain them all at once. “I want everything with you.”

It was finally here—the moment when she could finally call you hers. Heart pounding, she reached her arms around you again keeping herself in your embrace and wanting to be as close as possible to you.

She hid her face again by tucking it into the side of your neck, nuzzling as close as she could, “I can’t stop smiling.”

Gently scratching the nape of Wanda’s neck to grab her attention, you urged her to bring her head back up. But the moment she did, you felt her lips press against yours. Her patience had worn thin, wanting to taste you after what felt like forever of not being close to you, not being able to touch you, hold you, or kiss you. Wanda sighed into the kiss, her hands sliding to the small of your back to pull you impossibly close to her while you let yours run through her hair. She moaned into your mouth when you tugged on it slightly.

Wanda smiled against your lips, thinking about all the ways she would love you, treasure you, unlike him. Her mind wandered in between the time she kissed you, the addicting taste of you on her tongue was making her feel weak in her knees. She found her hands slowly traveling down to your hips, then lower and lower, up until they rested on the lowest part of your back, her fingers bunching up the fabric of your dress. 

“What are you doing?” You pulled back with a giggle, looking at her, acting innocently curious.

“Kissing you,” she said, dragging her lips along the skin under your jaw, kissing you softly there as you tilted your head to the side to give her more space. “Can I help you out of this dress? Please?”

You shuddered at the sound of her low voice, your hands gripping her shoulders like your life depended on it. You nodded, about to say yes, but Wanda was quick to put her mouth on yours the second you opened it, slipping her tongue past your lips. 

The entire night she had to see your figure so beautifully displayed in this little black dress and ignore it. But it was damn near impossible now with you so close and moaning into her mouth. Wanda was at a loss for words. She just didn’t know how to say it. Everything was perfect now. You were perfect. The way the straps of your dress fell off your shoulders was perfect. The way you smelled and tasted. The way that Wanda could call you hers now, keep you all to herself.

And finally, her chest heaved only for a moment before she chose what to do and you closed your eyes and welcomed something you had long dreamed of. 

— navigation!

[sigilslvt]

Love & Lies • Toji Fushiguro

☣︎ Summary: You were once a horseback rider that people would kill to have on their tracks knowing they'd make good money betting on you. Things change, however, when a certain assassin with a gambling problem comes into your life.

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

Tags: fem! reader, ex boyfriend! toji, light angst, mentions of gambling, mention of animal death, manipulation, smut, brief oral sex (f receiving), p in v, creampie

WC: 2.7k

Art: arokushisu_11 on Twitter!

A/N: I would genuinely let this man drain my bank account as long as he fucks me like this immediately after, I'm not sorry.

I can fix him.

You had always made fun of women that claimed they could fix toxic or abusive men. Until you became one of them. Five years you’ve been with Toji. Five years you’ve been dealing with his addiction. You’d be fine if he was addicted to porn or collectibles or something, but no… gambling is his vice.

At first, it wasn’t a big deal, you met him at a horse race, after all. Being a rider, you knew people liked to bet. You thought he was a casual gambler when he was chatting you up to give you some sort of confidence boost because he had placed his bet on you. When you won, he called you his lucky charm and you fell for it. Instantly.

It wasn’t long before you started dating and you winning became less about luck and more about him running you and your horse ragged to make sure that you’d win when he bet on you. You’re still not sure if he was doing it because he just wanted to make big bucks off you or if he just genuinely thought he was helping and giving you motivation when he had you and Shiloh on the track constantly practicing. He claimed to love you, so there’s no way you were just a tool to him, right? Wrong.

Because here you are, two years after quitting because Shiloh broke her leg and had to pass over the rainbow bridge, and your relationship has deteriorated entirely. You no longer spend time together outside of him coming to lay in you guys’ bed at night. It’s become a circle of lies, loss, anger, apologies, and makeup sex. It never fails. He tells you he’s going to change, then he leaves after taking a job only to come back with no money to show for it. Of course, he knows that you wait at the track whenever he’s away for jobs, so he’s switched up his methods. Started betting on boat races, car races, you name it. It makes no difference to him as long as there’s the thrill of the gamble.

Every time it would happen, you’d tell him you were done. You’d scream and shout while he apologized, pleaded, and begged for you to stay after claiming he’d get help from one of the numerous places you’d called for him. Used Megumi as a way to manipulate you into staying by telling you his son loves you oh so much. It’d soften your resolve enough for him to touch you in all the right ways that’d make you forget just how angry you’d been. Fuck you stupid enough to believe him when he’d say he’d change.

This time is different. This time, after getting the notification that thirty million yen had been taken from your personal bank account, you pack your bags instantly. You don’t wait for him to get home, you simply write a note for Megu and disappear after changing your bank, phone number, and social media. You can thank him for one thing after all of this and that’s teaching you how to scrub your existence entirely. You do it well.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s been three years since then and you’ve moved out of the city, to the countryside. You’ve managed to live a peaceful life after regaining your funds, buying a small farm and a few horses. You’re happy. You miss Megumi, still. So so much. It’s taken everything in you not to contact Toji just to hear Megumi’s sweet voice again. He’s eight now, old enough to know you’ve gone and likely won’t see him again. You wonder if he misses you. If you hurt him by leaving.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. You brush yourself off, pulling your shorts down so your ass is better covered, and prepare yourself for your horseback riding lesson appointment. It’s the way you’ve been making a living lately, which you’re grateful for, because you get to do what you love and watch others grow to love it, too.

When you walk to your door, you get an uneasy feeling. One that makes you feel like you’re on a rollercoaster about to drop. You push it down and open the door only to see exactly why you were feeling that way. Your breath escapes you and you look up to see none other than Toji. Thankfully, your body reacts before you can even think to and you start to close the door, but his large hand stops it and you know you won’t be able to physically stop him, so you don’t bother to try and force it.

“Please. Please don’t.” Is all you say and his expression contorts into one of regret and sadness. You look away, knowing he’s not going to do anything but try to break you down and you can’t let him. You won’t.

“Just hear me out, doll. I swear I’ll leave if you tell me to leave after, but I just need to… I have to… fuck, I had everythin’ rehearsed, but seein’ you lookin’ more beautiful than when you left, I lost it all. Just give me a few minutes, please?” He asks, fidgeting and shifting on his feet. You’ve never seen Toji like this before. He was always sure of himself, always ten steps ahead, always confident. But the way he’s acting now isn’t even how he would act when he was trying to get you to stay with him.

You can’t find it in you to speak, but you nod, moving away from your door frame so he can step in. When he does, you close the door behind you and lean against it, taking a moment to take a deep breath. Your feet carry you forward to walk in front of him, leading him to the kitchen and pulling a chair out for him. Instead of sitting, you lean against your counter with your arms crossed as if they’ll help your emotional defense. “What is it, To…? After all this time, what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I… you left.” He says, rather plainly. As if he’s still shocked you did it. You nod, gesturing for him to continue. “You left and I didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t know if somethin’ happened to you, I-I thought someone with a grudge might’ve… I thought the worst, doll. It wasn’t till I saw the note you left Megumi under his pillow that I knew you left. I… why didn’t you at least leave me a note? Would that have killed you? Did our love not mean enough to you? I–”

“Stop. Don’t do that, don’t say that. Our love was everything to me. It wasn’t enough for you, though. Not enough for you to stop gambling so much that you drained even my money. I left without saying anything to you because I meant nothing more to you than being your lucky charm when I was racing for your wins. Don’t act like I did.” You spit, so enraged that you stand up and walk to him, bending down to get face to face with him.

There it is. That expression you were so used to seeing whenever he’d come home pissed from losing his money. “You think I didn’t fuckin’ love you? You think I was just, what? Keeping you around for shits and fuckin’ giggles? I love you so fuckin’ much. I tried to stop! I tried to live a straight life, I did! But every time I came home to see you so sad, so fuckin’ miserable, I broke down more and more. I didn’t know that I needed to do more than just fuckin’ quit. Didn’t know that there was more to a relationship than just providing. But, I know that now. I know that you and I can do this, I can make you happy, doll, just let me make you happy.” He pleads, the anger dissipating with every word he says, leaving only the look of a broken, desperate man.

“No. No, I won’t risk my happiness by allowing myself to fall for this shit again, Toji. I’m glad you figured out how to make a relationship work, I figured as much after seeing your girlfriend’s po–” You stop yourself, swallowing your words.

“You’ve been checkin’ in on me?” He asks and his voice is so hopeful that you feel a familiar crack in your resolve form. “Sh-she wasn’t my girl, she isn’t. I know what it looks like, but I haven’t committed, not since you, I-I can’t. Everytime I… no matter what whore I’m inside of, all I can see is YOU, doll. It’s always your fuckin’ face. It’s your name I moan, I… please. Please, baby, I’ll get help. I miss you, I need you, there’s no one else for me in this fucked up world. I know I took advantage of your patience and I know I don’t deserve you , but I’m askin’ anyway. One more chance. Just one.” He says, getting on his knees in front of you– something you’ve never seen him do during any of his episodes before.

You feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes and you look up, trying not to look at the man you can’t help but admit you still love. His hands find your thighs and his head rests against one, his arms snaking around you. “Please…” He lets the broken word out of his scarred lips before he begins to kiss your bare skin, smelling you in between kisses. “Please, doll… need you…” He keeps going when you don’t stop him, your legs beginning to tremble. His hands grip the back of your thighs tightly and he groans as his face lifts up to your clothed cunt, pressing a kiss to it and making your hips buck. “Tell me this ‘s okay, baby…” He says, emphasizing what he means by kissing you there again.

Your lip trembles and you shake your head, your fingers sliding into his hair and pulling his head away from you, making him look up at you. “You need to get help, To… that’s the only way this will-”

“You got it, babe.” He says before you can finish, immediately going back to your thighs, licking a strip up one of them. “M’gonna fuckin’ worship you like I should’ve.” He growls, wasting no time and hooking his fingers into the back of your shorts, pulling them down your legs roughly. You’re about to step out of them, but he stands up and picks you up, putting you on the table and spreading your legs for you.

You cover your face, not having been put on a display like this in so long, but he rips your hands from you immediately, slotting his lips onto yours. The texture of the scar on his lips was something you sorely missed and you nip at his bottom lip, his hips rutting against yours in response, his erection pressing painfully hard against your core. “Mmph, To…” You whimper out before he nods.

“Got you, princess. Lemme do my thing.” He chuckles, kissing down your jaw, then your neck, along your collarbone, and lastly over your chest before he grabs your tank top and pulls it down under your breasts, groaning when they spill out. His lips attach to one and fingers to the other, his slimy muscle working on your nipple within his mouth with a vengeance. Your back arches up off the table and your head falls off of it with a loud moan. He repeats the action on your other breast before moving to kiss below your navel and then your pelvis.

You roll your hips up, trying to get him to bury his head between your thighs already when a large hand pushes you back down on the table. “What’d I say, hmm?” He asks, making you groan and roll your eyes, needy for him. “Bad girl. Such a fuckin’ bad girl.” He hisses before he gives you an inkling of what you want, swiping his tongue between your clothed folds, making you jerk in response. He pulls your underwear to the side with one finger, smelling your slick, his eyes rolling back into his head as he does so.

“Tojiiii, stop!” You beg, embarrassed at how fucking nasty he can be with you. He doesn’t listen, of course, instead immediately plunging his tongue into your waiting hole, making sure to rub his nose against your clit as he moves his face side to side, moaning at your taste. You grip his hair again, your other hand grasping and massaging your breast like the added stimulation will help to alleviate the pressure he’s creating by teasing you. “Please… more…” You beg, breathing quickening as he continues to tongue fuck you.

“F’give me for wanting to enjoy you a bit more, princess. But, since you asked so cutely, I’ll give ya what ya want.” He hums, kissing your clit just once and standing. His hands immediately work to rid himself of his pants and boxers, gripping his fat cock and smacking it against your slippery folds. You look down at it and it looks angry, red and dripping precum from the tip. He smirks seeing your reaction, continuing to wet himself with your slick as he grunts. The second you give him what he wants– a needy whimper, he sheathes himself inside you.

Your pussy flutters and clamps down on his cock immediately, earning a long groan from him as he bottoms out. “Heh. She missed me, huh?” He asks, making you nod and blush. That’s enough of a response for him and he wastes no time flushing his body against yours, rutting into you with a force that only he’s capable of. His thick cock bullies your gummy walls, stretching you around him so deliciously that you can’t form any coherent thoughts or words, really. “Love you s’fuckin’ much, princess. Never letting you go again, n-ugh- never. All mine, y’r all fuckin’ mine.” He grunts out, fucking into you even harder, your table creaking beneath you.

“L-Love you, Toji! Love you s’much, s’deep! ‘M all yours!” You cry out, hands slithering up his shirt and raking your nails down his back violently, but you know he can take it. It only riles him up more. His hands move down to grab your thighs, folding your legs up so he can get in at an angle, kissing you as his tip turns your cervix to mush.

“Still as fuckin’ tight as the day you left, doll.” He growls between kisses and you feel your cunt clamp down harder on him, twitching. “Oh? Gonna cum?” He asks, sitting up, slowing down and rolling his hips against you roughly, purposely delaying your orgasm. “Tell me, princess… tell me you love me one more time and I’ll let you cum.” He hisses out, the slow, deep thrusts doing a number on him, too.

“Love you! Fuck, please!” You beg, trying to fuck yourself on his cock to get yourself all the way there.

“Mmm mm, you know what I wanna hear.” He delivers a punishing thrust into you once before continuing the slow and rough pace.

“I love you, T-Toji! I love you s’much, I’m all yours!” You moan out, earning a satisfied moan from him, his head falling back as he speeds up churning your gummy insides out with his cock like his life depends on it, the table now making concerning noises beneath you as he brings you to your peak and your orgasm washes away everything from your mind, your mouth falling open as you cry out and cum. A creamy ring forms at the base of his cock while your cunt clamps down so hard on him that he can barely continue to thrust, which pushes him over the edge.

“Nngh, fuck!” He groans, using all his strength to pull out and plunge back into you while he cums, the force of his thrust so hard that the table breaks beneath you and you both fall with it. He doesn’t bother to pull out, chuckling as he moves your hair from your face, kissing your forehead while you both try to catch your breath. “Missed you so much, doll.” He coos, his eyes so loving that you feel you’ll melt.

“I missed you, too, To… don’t let me down again. Please…” You breathe out and he nods.

“Never again. I promise.”

[crystallizsch]

thinking about jamil traveling alone for the first time but for some reason you’re still constantly on his mind

(i’ve been thinking about this and i just needed to get this out of my system and omg this was just supposed to be shorter but it ended up wayyy longer than intended)

(this is also an attempt at another x reader and it was proofread only by myself. some things might read awkward so go easy on me, i barely write 😔😔😔)

(kind of like a future au??? and can be read as romantic/(queer)platonic??)

Jamil had been planning this trip for months.

He had always wanted to travel to a new place by himself where he didn’t have to worry about anything or anyone else. Just himself and his own enjoyment.

Jamil planned on maximizing this whole trip. Reading everything about the place and making sure to see all the things that he would want to see while he was there.

However, you made sure to let him know that he should let himself loose and enjoy his trip naturally. It was supposed to be a fun, stress-free trip after all. Planning it out entirely defeats the purpose of that.

He needed to embrace a little bit of unexpectedness. You said it was “all part of the fun”. If he knew everything there was to expect, what would be the point in visiting?

Jamil saw what you were saying and admitted defeat. He gave you the benefit of the doubt and decided to have flexible and “loose” plans, as you suggested.

Meanwhile, Kalim had already thrown a whole “goodbye” party for him. Thank goodness that Kalim had gradually learned over the years to be more aware of Jamil’s wishes. They simply compromised on a small and humble party (even though Jamil would have preferred not to have one in the first place).

You came with Jamil to drop him off at the station where he was heading. You both exchanged your usual banter, and you wished him safe travels and for him to have fun especially.

You thought you imagined it, but before he was about to leave, he looked like he was about to say something else. And he definitely was about to. You'd never know what it was though.

Instead, Jamil simply bid you farewell.

As Jamil was walking away, you playfully shouted after him to not forget about you. It was only a joke (for the most part).

Jamil didn’t look back, but you know he rolled his eyes in exasperation. And he certainly did, which was followed by a soft smile on his face that you wouldn't get to see.

━━━━━━✦

Once he reached his destination, Jamil took in the new sights. He breathed in fresh air, his chest feeling lighter and more relaxed.

It felt wonderful that, in this place, he was just another face in the crowd. Nobody knows him. And he knows nobody. Everything was new and unfamiliar and he reveled in that feeling. You were right, it was better to experience these things firsthand as being there felt like a fresh start. Even though he knew that this anonymity would only be temporary.

One of the first things Jamil made sure was to keep his phone out of the equation. He needed to experience everything naturally without having the need to document what he saw as well as the stress of other people contacting him.

Jamil might have partially failed on the latter. He had to have his phone open for emergencies for certain people. Unfortunately, some worries and responsibilities can’t really fully leave him.

━━━━━━✦

Jamil first visited an antique clothing store. It was a charming and unique place filled with different kinds of wear, displays of jewelry and trinkets, and of course, the touristy souvenirs. Those were noticeably out of place, but it was to be expected.

Having experience and knowledge about his own job of being aware of what is around Scalding Sands, Jamil was delighted to know that the majority of the products in this store, at least, seemed to be of genuine quality.

Jamil may have to come back to this place. He thought you would really like that little trinket he saw through the window.

As Jamil strolled through, he was surrounded by a vibrant mix of sounds and colors adorning the streets. Individuals, families, tourists, and locals bustled about. There were even street entertainers as well as vendors who tried to sell him their wares, which was always amusing to say the least.

A catchy melody caught Jamil's attention, and he spotted a breakdancer performing on the street. He thought to himself that he might try out the routine for fun, and he'd ask what you would think. You'd enjoy the performance too, wouldn't you?

Jamil was exploring when he unexpectedly stumbled upon some festivities. It appeared to be the festival he had read about that he hadn't planned on participating in until later. Since he stumbled upon it now, he figured he might as well just check it out.

As Jamil looked around, he noticed a dance circle filled with people of all ages. Friends, families, and couples were all dancing together. He felt compelled to join in. It was as if the lively music and the enchanting atmosphere were inviting him personally, and he found himself dancing amongst the people.

The band played with much fervor, and the people were equally as energetic. Jamil was having fun. He caught himself laughing despite himself, his body swaying to the beat and in sync with the other dancers.

No one was here to judge him. No one to evaluate his front, or tell him to keep up an image. Jamil could easily just be himself. And after everything, he could easily choose to fade back into the background.

As soon as the energy died down for him, he looked back at the crowd. It still held the same energy when he went in, but he was personally spent.

Jamil wondered. If you were there, he might have enjoyed it more with you. That thought slipped through his mind, and immediately went away as it came.

The following days were a bit more mellow but still enriching. Jamil wanted to build up to an exciting finish but it seemed like the enjoyment peaked within the first few days.

The cuisine being served there was particularly fascinating. Jamil entered a restaurant, the aroma of delicious food enticing him in. He ordered dishes at a surprisingly decent price for the amazing quality they were being served. Seeing the way the dishes looked reminded him of how he had been getting better at making his own dishes more presentable. It still wasn't perfect; he could still learn more. He could actually take some inspiration from these dishes.

Jamil planned on researching more of the local cuisine once he returned. Then, he could try some rendition of his own and see what you think, as well as hoping that he could do these dishes justice.

━━━━━━✦

This isn't good.

Jamil felt... lonely?

He shouldn’t be feeling this way. What happened to enjoying this trip by himself?

Against everything Jamil told himself not to, he opened his phone and checked his messages, the majority of which were from people who inquired about his trip. This simply soured his mood. If Jamil had his phone ringing for them, he wouldn't have had a break. Why did he even open up his phone for this?

Oh, he knew why.

Your name specifically caught his eye with a preview of your message. He decided to open it up and he saw texts from you telling him to be safe and to have fun, which were basically the same things that you both exchanged when he left.

In the most recent text, you jokingly asked for him to send pictures, fully expecting that he wouldn’t. Admittedly, you were wondering what he was up to. You had really wanted to come with him but knew he really needed his trip for himself.

You felt a bit selfish sending that text because you knew Jamil shouldn't really be worrying about updating you or anyone else about what he was up to.

You didn't know that as soon as Jamil read that message, he briefly considered humoring you. He thought that perhaps he could take only a few photos here and there just to satisfy you. And then explain what else he had seen and experienced so far.

Jamil started to draft a message to send to you. He’s sure that you’d enjoy hearing all about it, plus it’ll be nice to have someone to share this experience with—

He paused at the thought. He saw that typed all he wanted to share at the moment, his finger hovering over the send button.

Wait a minute. No, no. What was he doing? Jamil quickly erased everything he typed out and shoved his phone back in his bag.

This experience was for him and himself only, at least for now. You’ll just have to wait once he returns from his trip.

━━━━━━✦

If Jamil was to be honest with himself, he had actually initially planned this whole trip with you in mind.

Throughout those months of planning, there was never a moment when he wasn't going back and forth with himself whether or not to include you in the trip.

You didn't know about this, of course. If he did manage to plan this whole trip with both of you, it would have been a surprise leading up to it.

But you yourself drilled into him how wonderful it was that he was finally able to go on a trip by himself. This was his very first opportunity to travel by himself and he doesn't know how long he will have that opportunity again. Perhaps it was your sentiments that finally convinced him that this trip was supposed to be for himself alone.

But deep in his heart, Jamil still felt something missing. He felt some kind of regret and longing that now he could not shake off.

As Jamil brooded to himself, he found himself standing in front of the antique store again. Once again, Jamil caught a glimpse of the trinket he had been eyeing the very first day he had been there.

━━━━━━✦

When you told him to not forget about you, you didn’t mean for him to take it so literally.

Jamil shrugged at the call-out, attempting to look unbothered. He had souvenirs for his family too, so it wasn’t like you were the only person he had on his mind.

But you just know he was embarrassed knowing that most of the souvenirs were meant for you. It was funny but really sweet. You assured him that you’d just return the favor next time.

Jamil really didn’t need you to, but perhaps it’ll also be payback enough for you occupying his mind while he was supposed to be away focusing on himself.

Maybe next time it'll be easier if Jamil would just bring you along.

[arcanarix]

toji x gn! reader, toji x afab!reader, etc. || reader is insecure sometimes, toji fixes that.

Toji is adaptable. That’s ingrained in his DNA; he’s far from a creature of habit. He gets off on all kinds of thrills (yes, in and out of the bedroom). He’s the sort of person who can’t be tied down or stuck in a place for too long. That’s why he can’t hold down a typical 9 to 5 and opted for dirty money. Because he needs that high however he can get it.

Maybe the one place he seeks stability is in his relationships. You see this firsthand. After all, he’s been married before, and even checks in on his son, Megumi, from his first marriage often. 

You have to admit, it does touch your heart in a way you never thought possible before. He really is a big ole softie beneath all of that bravado he sports on the day to day. It’s likely the people he works with knows that too. Hopefully it’s not something weaponized against him later on down the line. Then that means you have a huge target slapped on your back . . . 

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if he finds you boring compared to what he does for a living and how he maintains his lifestyle. Constantly on the go, constantly staying active, never leaving things unfinished and always tying up any loose ends before he can move onto the next thing. He’s as efficient as he is proactive. 

You prefer the opposite lifestyle–something easier going, something easy, in general. After the kind of chaotic life you have led in the past, prior to meeting Toji, it’s necessary for your sanity now. 

But if Toji genuinely feels a certain type of way, he is going to tell you straight up. He’s not only a man of action. He’s a man whose words align with his actions. There’s no bullshit with him, which is a breath of fresh air considering your personal history with relationships. The fact that a guy like him is your true first healthy relationship might be something of a concern to your close friends and family . . . 

“Toji?” you murmur, as you turn over to rest on your left elbow. Aforementioned man is scrolling through his newsfeed on his smartphone, with his reading glasses and all. He looks so unthreatening in this setting. No one will guess he’s a heinous murderer . . .

Toji glances sideways to meet your eyes, immediately softening under the subdued lighting of your bedroom. Even the lighting of his phone screen is dulled, so as not to disturb your own slumber, but you haven’t fallen asleep just yet as your brain is beseeched by worries you shouldn’t have in the first place.

“Are you happy with me?” 

Toji perks an eyebrow and he places his phone on the nightstand. You notice it’s faced up, like always. His screen can light up any time with a notification.

“Are you suspecting I’m not happy, or something?” 

“No,” you lie. Toji gives you a pointed look. You deflate, clearly on the losing side in this situation. “Yes . . . “

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No! It’s nothing you did in particular. It’s just . . . what do you see in me?” I’m nothing special. Not like you. I don’t even have the guts to touch a sword or a gun or any weapon of choice when it really matters. How can I protect you as well as you protect me? We’re supposed to be a team too, right? Not just partners . . . ?

Toji looks hard in your eyes, but that expression of his doesn’t lose its softness which gives you a sense of comfort, at the very least. He brings his hand to his head, scratching his hair as if he’s racking his mind for the right words to respond to such an on the spot question. You have to admit; you feel like since you have already dug your grave, you should lie in there and let him bury you alive then and there. 

You can absolutely expect him to tell you the full and honest truth, criminal or otherwise, he’s still not a liar. So you’re not sure if you’re ready for the cold, hard truth just yet but you can’t shake this nagging feeling in your chest and you just need some reassurance. That’s not much to ask for, isn’t it?

“What isn’t there to like about you?” Toji begins, tone as soft as that mushy expression on his face. You almost can’t believe someone as cold-blooded as him can even sport an expression like that. Then again, that must be what got his first wife to stick around, right? “You’re beautiful, you’re talented, you’re strong as fuck . . . even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“You must be full of shit if you think I’m going to fall for that sweet talking.”

“When did you ever think of me as full of shit?” 

Never, which is the problem! “You are a man of truth. Maybe not of justice, but of truth.”

Toji smirks. “I don’t play on any sides, you know. Just whoever’s on mine.”

“You know I’d never leave yours.”

“And that’s another reason to love you,” he tells you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much. It’s not good for your health.”

“Oh and what do you know about health, Mr. I Ate Five Quarter Pounders in One Sitting!?” 

“I’m a grown man! And I work out more than you!” 

“You know what–I can’t argue with that. But if I ate even a fourth as much as you, I’d be 300lbs by now.”

Toji chuckles at the idea. 

“And I’d still like you regardless.”

You can’t help the brilliant brush on your cheeks which is thankfully hidden from him. 

“Sheesh, were you always this sappy?” 

“Actually, not always. You just bring it out of me. Why, would you rather see another side of me right now?” 

“Nah,” you sneak a peck on his lips. “This is good. Besides, too tired for another round anyways. You wear me out way too much, Zenin.”

“Fushiguro,” he corrects. 

“You really have something against that clan.”

“If you had my history with them you would as well.”

“Again, I can’t really argue with that.”

You and Toji share a little smile. .

“So find anything interesting on your news feed?” you ask, peering over at his phone. Some notifications light up amid your conversation.

“Nah. Just a lot of celebrity gossip. Nothing special. Although you might like this picture of Henry Cavill I found not too long ago. It’s probably already lost in the sea of posts, but I can try to dig around for it–!” 

“--you silly, I appreciate it, but it’s not that important." You steal another kiss on his cheek. "Night, big oaf."

"Good night," he replies.

[onlycosmere]

I wasn’t going to say anything about it because, frankly, I regularly read much better criticism of Brandon Sanderson on tumblr.

However, Brandon responded to that Wired article, so I’ll share his response with you all.

Brandon Sanderson:

All,

I appreciate the kind words and support.

Not sure how, or if, I should respond to the Wired article. I get that Jason, in writing it, felt incredibly conflicted about the fact that he finds me lame and boring. I’m baffled how he seemed to find every single person on his trip--my friends, my family, my fans--to be worthy of derision.

But he also feels sincere in his attempt to try to understand. While he legitimately seems to dislike me and my writing, I don't think that's why he came to see me. He wasn't looking for a hit piece--he was looking to explore the world through his writing. In that, he and I are the same, and I respect him for it, even if much of his tone seems quite dismissive of many people and ideas I care deeply about.

The strangest part for me is how Jason says he had trouble finding the real me. He says he wants something true or genuine. But he had the genuine me all that time. He really did. What I said, apparently, wasn't anything he found useful for writing an article. That doesn't make it not genuine or true.

I am not offended that the true me bores him. Honestly, I'm a guy who enjoys his job, loves his family, and is a little obsessive about his stories. There's no hidden trauma. No skeletons in my closet. Just a guy trying to understand the world through story. That IS kind of boring, from an outsider's perspective. I can see how it is difficult to write an article about me for that reason.

But at the same time, I’m worried about the way he treats our entire community. I understand that he didn’t just talk about me, but about you. As has been happening to fantasy fans for years, the general attitude of anyone writing about us is that we should be ashamed for enjoying what we enjoy. In that, the tone feels like it was written during the 80s. “Look at these silly nerds, liking things! How dare they like things! Don’t they know the thing they like is dumb?”

As a community, let’s take a deep breath. It’s all right. I appreciate you standing up for me, but please leave Jason alone. This might feel like an attack on us, on you, but it’s not. Jason wrote what he felt he needed--and as a writer, he is my colleague. Please show him respect. He should not be attacked for sharing his feelings. If we attack people for doing so, we make the world a worse place, because fewer people will be willing to be their authentic selves.

That said, let me say one thing. You, my friends, are not boring or lame. In Going Postal, one of my favorite novels, Sir Terry Pratchett has a character fascinated by collecting pins. Not pins like you might think--they aren't like Disney pins, or character pins. They are pins like tacks used to pin things to walls. Outsiders find it difficult to understand why he loves them so much. But he does.

In the book, pins are a stand-in for collecting stamps, but also a commentary on the way we as human beings are constantly finding wonder in the world around us. That is part of what makes us special. The man who collects those pins--Stanley Howler--IS special. In part BECAUSE of his passion. And the more you get to know him, or anyone, the more interesting you find them. This is a truism in life. People are interesting, every one of them--and being a writer is about finding out why.

In that way, the ability to make Stanley interesting is part of what makes Pratchett a genius, in my opinion. That's WRITING. Not merely using words. It’s what I aspire to be able to do. People are wonderful, fascinating, brilliant balls of walking contradiction, passion, and beauty. I find it an exciting challenge to make certain that the perspective of the washwoman or the monk sitting and reading a book is as interesting in a story as that of the king or the tech-mogul.

And I find value in you. Your passion for my work is a big part of why I write. You make my life special. Thank you.

(NOTE: I do want to make it clear, again that I bear Jason no ill will. I like him. Please leave him alone. He seems to be a sincere man who tried very hard to find a story, discovered that there wasn't one that interested him, then floundered in trying to figure out what he could say to make deadline. I respect him for trying his best to write what he obviously found a difficult article.

He’s a person, remember, just like each of us.)

[gatitties]

Hmmm let's see, since I'm feeling romantic, something inspired in Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana!

how about a YN who has the beauty inspired of Marylin Monroe (not necessarily the same or exactly the same, but I say an extremely beautiful person) and with the sweet heart of Princess Diana.

•°°°•°•°•°•^•°

✧⁠*⁠。YN, who abandoned her role as a princess, to live on many adventures with Luffy, who won YN's kind heart.

All te people are amazed, even being a rival of Hancock, YN acted in movies , theaters and was a very welcome person in all corners of the world, YN was a good form of financial income on the Mugiwara ship, YN was someone so charming that she won the hearts of the Yonko and Shichibukai (you know me, needless to say💞😔💞)

But! due to YN's misfortune, one of the celestial dragons wants to marry YN, and they are constantly chasing YN, as well as pirates and bandits, as much as YN is strong, YN lived in constant danger, as she was always persecuted for being famous and extremely affectionate he was also very smart

even though he's young, he's already responded to Shank's sly and affectionate compliments and that he's already had drinks with the redhead, as well as not dispensing with good tea with Mihawk.

but, in addition to her theatrics being comedy, YN harbored many insecurities to herself, YN was someone who never felt genuine approval, who always wondered if she really deserved to be friends with the Mugiwaras and travel with them, but she loved them so much , and it frustrated her too many times.

YN always thanked Luffy at certain times for letting YN join the crew, as Luffy didn't know how happy it made her to see her teammates waiting for YN after a long day on an island.

YN also liked to give gifts to everyone YN could, whether from Shanks or even Whitebeard, who also had a lot of affection and respect for his faithful companions. YN simply loved and protected everyone they loved, even with Hancock's intrigues, which YN took advantage of and made jealous to piss her off.

YN running away from arranged marriages and making new stories, however much their emotional and mental problems could shake, the Mugiwaras in particular, always cheered YN up somehow, Brook singing and encouraging YN to sing, Luffy taking YN's hands and starting a nonsensical and strange but fun dance, Franky doing SUPER cool things to impress YN, Nami and Robin being kind and teaching new things, as well as YN teaching them how to act in certain moments of danger, Chopper being cute and letting YN hugging, Usopp making jokes, Zoro just making YN drink with him and Sanji bringing wonderful food and juice ✧⁠*⁠。

( sorry if it's long, hope you understand, do it if you want, have a nice day!)

─Shanks & Mihawk x fem!reader

─Summary: the peaceful life with little adventures that you were looking for always turns into chases, luckily you can always have a rest with two of your favorite people

─Warnings: none

"Will you go again?"

You smiled at Luffy's pout as you once again grabbed your trusty backpack to head to a small boat moored to the Thousand Sunny.

"Yes, I've already spent a couple of months with you all, plus I have an island to go to, they need staff for a play."

He nodded, still frowning, you said goodbye to him briefly before setting sail, the others found out later, you didn't like goodbyes so normally you would leave the ship to come and go whenever you wanted, Luffy didn't have many complaints since you were part of the crew since you ran away from your kingdom, abandoning your position as princess to go on adventures.

The thing is that your eagerness for the movies and the theater made you have to travel more constantly and get away from the Mugiwaras, at least you knew how to manage to fight or dodge the marines or pirates most of the time, since you had a reward for your head, not only that, but the last news you received, more like a threat, was that a celestial dragon wanted to ask for your hand in marriage. Despite being young, you had run away from many arranged marriages and this would be no exception.

After several days you arrived on the island, luckily there was no unwanted person waiting for you and you were able to tour the town warming the hearts of the people with whom you stopped to ask about the place. It didn't last long though because word spread fast, forcing you to keep a low profile for the rest of your stay until the day of the play.

Not everything is so bad when word gets out about your location, apart from marines, thieves or ruffians looking to take advantage of you or your reward, your friends also know where they can find you. You were a well-known person, either for your person in the world of acting or for your old role in your kingdom, not all you encountered after that were persecutions and dangers, you always met some of your friends on your days away of the Thousand Sunny.

"I don't know why I keep accepting."

"Aw come on, you always have a good time with me."

"Sure, whatever."

Mihawk crossed his arms, not looking at Shanks, both of them on their way to the bar in the town where you were, the swordsman's reasons went beyond sharing a drink with the redhead, although Shanks himself was also here because he found out that you would act tonight in a play. While the two men were spending the afternoon drinking, you were going over the last lines of your script, you didn't expect to see them there today, since they were usually busy with their Yonko and Warlord titles, you were unaware that these two would go to the end of the world to look for you if necessary.

You had to erase the goofy smile that grew on your face when you saw them sitting in the audience, focusing on your role once you went on stage, unfortunately halfway through the play a group of pirates broke in threatening you to go with them in a 'nice' way if you didn't want to be subjected to force.

There were few things that really bothered you, but one thing you never tolerated was someone interrupting your performances, even though Shanks and Mihawk were there, they stayed in their seats with a smile as they watched you use the stage set to hit and scold the pirates for having interrupted the play.

Luckily there were no more inconveniences and you were able to finish your work, the small anger quickly passed when you saw that those two were waiting for you at the back exit, you greeted them with your best smile and a warm hug.

"What are you two doing here? I thought you guys were busy or something, nice to see you again."

"We heard some rumors and I dragged Mihawk here with me, you know this guy needs to hang out more often."

The swordsman rolled his eyes, offering you his jacket since night had fallen a couple of hours ago and the wind was starting to get colder, you thanked him silently as you placed it on your shoulders.

"Yeah, he should travel and socialize more, why don't you join me in my next destination?"

You elbowed his arm with a mocking smile, he looked at you silently sighing, his head shaking slowly.

"I have places to be, but I wouldn't mind being with you."

"Me neither…"

The redhead put his hand to his heart pretending to be stabbed, he grabbed your shoulder dramatically, pulling you slightly.

"Why don't you offer me to travel with you?! I would also like to go with you."

"Because you have a crew to turn to, he doesn't."

Shanks pouted, looking at you with puppy dog eyes, giving his partner a dirty look without you noticing, though you caught him in the act which made you smile at his antics, you patted his shoulder pushing him to start walking.

"I'll think about it, but for now, why don't we go to the bar? I will invite to a couple of rounds."

[ghostsandfools]

Interesting Stuff From Yesterday's LAES Episode:

DISCLAIMER: I go insane under the cut. There is swearing. You have been warned.

Okay first of all, where are they???? Obviously in a dream, which Lunar says "doesn't feel normal", which is already weird, but they're in a location Lunar's never been in before. Probably not important I'm just curious, like, is it just some random place conjured up by Lunar's subconscious or does Res have him in a specific location for a reason???

Res works for Cetus apparently.

Lunar sees Res for the first time and goes "You don't have a face" and Res goes "Oh, I can assure you, I do." I'm sorry???????????

This is off topic, but these episodes stress me the fuck out. Like, the writing isn't always the best and I've seen people leave the fandom over some of the decisions the writers make. Now, I don't really care about how bad the writing is I'm gonna watch it anyways, but I genuinely get stressed out over the lore, it is an issue. I worry about it on a day to day basis, I think I'm starting to get WAY too attached to these characters.

Res looks so much like Nebula, I mentioned it in a separate post but like seriously, it's not even funny how similar they look. They could be twins, at least in my eyes idk if y'all see it too. Also, I love Nebula and I would NEVER accuse her of such heinous crimes, but the astrals have basically stripped her of her rights and are making her work constantly with almost no breaks and no pay, and from what we've seen Taurus specifically treats her pretty awful, and Res did mention hating Taurus and Leo, so... I mean I wouldn't be surprised if Res and Nebula were the same person.

Res has met Castor and Pollux at some point and thinks that they're "entertaining" so I don't know what the fuck that means but I'm scared-

The order to begin the infection has been given :)

We're all fucked :)))))))

Res didn't want Lunar there??? Lunar says "I shouldn't be here," and Res goes "You shouldn't be, this was a very private meeting," so Lunar can just get dragged into antimatter shenanigans with no say in the matter randomly????? Res didn't even intend for this to happen???????

The fact that Res doesn't care about Lunar knowing is scary. Res doesn't try to hurt Lunar or kill him or get him not to tell anyone, they just don't care. Which is worrying, because Lunar could tell the astrals, and the fact that Res doesn't care about that means that they're already far enough into this plan that the astrals knowing about it will hardly be a setback.

I was thinking, maybe Res stands for Residual or Residue. Because, they said they're made out of dark star power, but they AREN'T a witherstorm, so maybe they're residual leftover dark star power.

THEIR VOICE EVEN SOUNDS LIKE A CORRUPTED NEBULA, am I going crazy here??? Their voices even sound similar, except Nebula's is much smoother obviously, but they both speak the same way, y'know? AM I INSANE??? Like, their voices are different but the way they talk and their enunciation of certain words is the EXACT SAME.

Res being Nebula could explain their inside knowledge about the astrals. I mean, obviously they could just figure stuff out on their own or through Cetus, I'm assuming dark star power entities can probably spy on people pretty well, but it would explain why they already know Lunar and that Taurus is coming to Earth, I'm just saying...

OKAY OKAY OKAY okaay okaoaksyaa SO. Res talks about getting rid of one of the astrals for good, which is interesting. Gemini said that astrals can die, but they usually come back because they're stars and stars will just supernova and reform. But Res says they could get rid of one of the astrals for good and how Cetus would love having one less to deal with. They also say one of the astrals is already out of commission??? Unless I missed something, this is the first time that's been mentioned. I wonder who it is. Probably not Libra since she's a leader, not Gemini since they've been around recently, not Taurus because he's showing up soon, probably not Aries since they're the one who helped Gemini get into Lunar's dreams, SO WHO?!

Res, (with that incredibly sexy voice of theirs~), says that they "Need Lunar" and that he's the "Perfect Catalyst". Which is interesting because like two minutes ago they described themself as a catalyst??? I wonder what they need Lunar for, maybe to get more inside knowledge about the astrals for them?

It is getting more and more difficult for me not to talk about how hot Res is the longer this post gets, they said Lunar was "Ample for corruption~" JESUS RES, JUST KILL PEOPLE. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE HOT ABOUT IT, JUST KILL PEOPLE AND FUCK OFF!

WHY ARE THEY BEING SO SEDUCTIVE???? "What I'm going to do to you when I get my hands on you, I'm going to do so many horrid things..." I'M SORRY? EXCUSE ME BITCH??????

How do you turn positive star power into negative star power? Gemini said that when star power is harnessed, negative star power is the result. Lunar does not harness star power, he is basically an astral now which means he's MADE of it. Him using it won't produce any negative star power, which means Res has a way to convert pure, unharnessed star power into negative star power. Interesting. If I didn't have the memory of a goldfish when it comes to my hyperfixations, maybe I could tell you have that would work with stars and dark matter in real life, but I forgot so sorry :D

How many negative star power entities are there??? Res says Lunar will "become one of us". So far there are at least 2, Res and Cetus, but there HAS to be more than that. C'mon. There has to be. The astrals are also interesting, how many of them are there? Obviously there's the main 12, based on the zodiac constellations, but are there more based on other constellations? Are the "Astrals" just what the main 12 are called and any others are considered lesser than them? And then for the dark matter ones, are there 12 to act as dark zodiacs? Or are the less, or worse, are there MORE?

I wonder if Gemini made Taurus and Leo sound more scary as a way to get Lunar to behave himself. All they said was "Taurus and Leo destroy planets", but according to Res, they really don't. They only put planets out of their misery once they've been infected and already basically destroyed.

I wonder if Res did anything to Lunar while he was asleep? They say "you need to wake up" and then Lunar falls asleep in the dream only to wake up in real life, but I wonder if they could've done something to him in that time that he doesn't realize?

It's kinda interesting that Lunar's first thought was to go to Monty rather than Gemini or Moon or waiting for Taurus to show up. I actually have kinda a sweet reason why, more of a headcanon than a theory though. Whenever i have nightmares, my brain kinda goes back in time for a little while, and instead of calling someone I actually trust like one of my friends or my partner, my first thought is to go to my mom. Now, i don't talk to my mom anymore because she sucks, but I really liked her as a kid and when I have bad dreams I forget about all the people i have in my life now and wanna go back to her. And Monty and Lunar used to be so close, obviously Monty knows a lot about negative star power so they're a logical option of who to get help from, but i also think it would be really sweet if Lunar goes through the same thing and that's why they want to go to Monty first, because they're almost like a parental figure to him.

ANYWAYS, that's enough rambling and simping and theorizing and trauma-dumping and going fucking insane for today, if you read this far you have a VERY good attention span. I would not read a post this long, you are a better person than me.

[kalcifers-blog]

I have a thought and I physically need to talk about it BC I think the JSE Fandom as a whole does not talk about it nearly enough.

BEFORE WE GET STARTED!!! Content Warnings :

Discussions on mental illness, alcoholism / alcohol withdrawal, mentions of potential suicidal behaviour!!!!!

CHASE BRODY IS NOT AN IDIOT.

I feel like Chase gets mischaracterised as being a bit of a himbo at best and just straight up stupid at worst.

For the record I generally dislike the way that happens? Like there's already a big stigma around addiction, I'm actually very impressed with how Chase Brody is such a sympathetic character with his addiction being an aspect of that. I love how it shines a new light on this very real and scary issue that doesn't villainise Chase at all for his condition.

But this is exactly why I feel it's so important that people understand that Chase also isn't an idiot.

Genuinely speaking there are so many examples of Chase being someone who is an extremely smart individual and I think a lot of that gets overshadowed by the fact that he's an alcoholic and depressed.

EXAMPLES BEING:

He is immediately asking questions the moment he's in IRIS.

He's constantly making it known exactly how he feels about his predicament but at the same time he understands that at certain points (especially when he doesn't have a clear view on IRIS and what they're up too) he needs to go along with things and keep civil to not put himself in potential danger

He calls out the way IRIS puts him through shit and how fucking weird that is of them to do

The moment he sees a shimmer of hope (in the form of Echo) he immediately tries to comfort them and tries to help them and attempts to make a plan to leave IRIS

When IRIS attempts to relocate Chase he immediately calls out that they're lying to him, that something has happened

He can spot people being manipulative from a mile away and is very quick to shoot it down as soon as he can by making it known he knows exactly what they're doing.

I would also like to mention that all this is happening while Chase is very likely going through major alcohol withdrawal issues- the symptoms of which include: tremor, craving for alcohol, insomnia, vivid dreams, anxiety, hypervigilance, agitation, irritability, loss of appetite (i.e., anorexia), nausea, vomiting, headache, and sweating.

Chase is quite literally going through it, like every severely going through it and the entire time he is he's surprisingly got more of a level head than most people probably would in his situation. And he's doing all of this while probably going through some intensely bad withdrawal symptoms as well as all the mental shit Anti is putting him through every moment he can.

All things considered Chase is insanely capable of being able to keep fighting even through some of the hardest things a person could go through.

Chase Brody is not an idiot, he's not useless and he's certainly not weak. If Chase can go through all the things he has and he's still fighting tooth and nail to survive even tho he previously was shown to be someone who was very clearly suicidal? I just think it says so much about his character that at Chase's core he's smart and strong- in ways a lot of people wouldn't appreciate nearly half as much if they didn't physically see the things he was being put through continuously for potentially years at this point.

And again I wanna keep in mind that all of this is going on while Chase is quite literally at rock bottom, like we have only seen Chase while he's at his worst. The fact that he is so smart while he's at his worst only makes me wonder just how capable he has the potential of being once he gets the right help he needs and deserves.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Thank you for all your asks… I’ll reply to everyone at some point. Happy Saturday!

Talking about Fellow Honest, Rookvil and Sebek’s grandpa… the first asks are kind of spicy lol

Anonymous asked:

i just realized most of the boys in the playful land event u hc as tops so pls consider: NRC boys x fellow gangbang

(reverse gangbang for gidel and the two bottoms idk)

Anon, this is so hilarious; when we first realised that this was an almost top-only party, I wept. Rollo was lucky… Poor Fellow! And he almost got every single HORRIBLE one, too! Was lucky enough not to get Rook though; he wouldn’t leave his fluffy tail alone lol

Also bold of you to assume that NRC boys x Fellow gangbang wasn’t our minds CONSTANTLY while we were watching the event 😭 Those nasty brats…! It’s painfully easy to imagine them going “let’s mess this bastard up~”.

I haven’t drawn the gangbang itself, only some sketches implying it, but… I really should 😭 Let’s hope.

Haven’t thought about Gidel with Vil and Leona though! Surprisingly… he would scratch a certain itch for both of them I think lol

Anonymous asked:

Games are over, it's time to get serious! Tell me, which one of the boys ended up hooking up with Fellow during the playful land event? I know that the funniest and best answer is definitely "all of them", but I wonder if you have anyone in mind... Also, poor Fellow, there were so many tops in this event! He suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder and turns around to see Riddle form the Stitch event, who just shakes his head and goes "It never gets any easier...". On another note, does this mean we're going to get the fox's slut-istics eventually?

ANON OUT THERE ASKING REAL QUESTIONS, AND shooting me in the head instantly because I really wanted to say “all of them”!! 😭 But let’s consider that the great NRC gangbang didn’t happen, let’s humour the idea, let’s think about it…

I think the ones that are the most likely to hook up with Fellow are Lilia (he knows a nasty bitch that lacks training when he sees one), the Tweels (they are determined to enjoy themselves today, so Fellow should play with them!), Ortho (he’ll make Fellow uncomfortable with how un-innocent he is), Ace (he got super ballsy by the end there, tbh my money is on him) and Kalim fucking Al-Asim. Although the last one sends mixed messages as always because he is at the same time very openly flirty and very weirdly platonic lol Still, he seemed to really, really liked Fellow, so anything could happen.

God I love the word “slut-tistics”… If you mean the sluttiness chart that I did some time ago, then yes, Fellow absolutely deserves one! Let’s see… I think, it’d be something like this:

Promiscuity: 4; Flirtiness: 4; Sex-drive: 2; Kinkiness: 3.

Total: 13

He isn’t super loyal to anyone, but he also isn’t 100% promiscuous; to Fellow, having sex with someone and being loyal are two different things. He is loyal to someone he loves dearly, but this is its separate thing <3 Sex is survival, to be honest, he doesn’t do it for pleasure all that often. Still, because he had to go through the hands of so many deeply perverted people, his body developed some kinks that he didn’t even know he could have…

Flirting is an instrument of manipulation for him, but I feel like he also enjoys it genuinely.

Sooo if he is 13, that would put him just below the total slut tier wow impressive lol

(Also YOU ARE SO RIGHT ABOUT RIDDLE IN THAT EVENT I DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, oh buddy, oh poor little thing…)

Anonymous asked:

Hi! I love your blog sm and your art is amazing aaaa i loved that savannahclaw Rook you did, so handsome!! That description on the picture made me wonder, how would you say Rook and Vil would have first gotten together ? Did Rook ask Vil out or was Vil the one who dropped hints on wanting to get together? Do you think they went on dates or just straight up jumped into the bushes? LMAO ive always been curious on headcanons on how you would imagine them first dating before they became the silly couple we all know and love

Thank you so much, Anon!! <3 I am very happy you liked it!

I love talking about these two and especially the earlier stages of their relationship lol I talked about it in this post + wrote some hcs about their first time too.

I feel like they were getting closer and closer very quickly as they continued talking to each other every day, and then at some point the tension just got too strong. Maybe there would be sense for them to talk about their feelings, but it was the kind of situation when it was obvious even without words. So none of them really asked the other one out, but at some point they just started “dating”…

Maybe this isn’t how Vil imagined his first proper relationship to start, but it’s not like he wasn’t just as passionate as Rook was lol

Their little chats were their “dates” technically. But I think they had their first “proper date”(=going somewhere) after they started making out and having sex.

Anonymous asked:

Just out of curiosity, would you ever consider having head cannons or maybe even doing artwork of Sebek's grandfather, Baul...?

Like, in your eyes, is he a bottom or top? Do you ship him with anybody? Or does he just not interest you that much? Cause that's okay too! I'm just really curious, I really like Baul lol. 💚

We absolutely would whenever we actually get to read ch7 and know him better! I have no doubt that we are going to like him a lot, so at least one portrait sketch is a must. His design is cool, and I love his armour. He is one handsome croc :”3

We don’t ship him with anyone yet because we haven’t seen anything of him, but based on things we already know, it feels like he is going to join the top squad. But until we actually see him and learn how he interacts with others and what dynamics he has with people around him, we can’t say for certain.

Even if we end up not shipping him with anyone, I’ll write some solo hcs about him if someone wants to read them! By the time we actually get to know him, of course. It’ll take a while lol sorry about it.

[daughter-of-melpomene]

for the make an oc ask: Sadie Overall + Percy Jackson?? -🍂

Thanks so much for this, Alvita!! Gonna tag the rest of my Percy Jackson lovers @luucypevensie, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @bibaybe, and @manyfandomocs!! <3

NAME: Harley Bell.

LOVE INTEREST: Luke Castellan.

SUMMARY: Harley wasn’t at all what most kids at Camp Half-Blood expected when they thought of the demigods in Cabin Nine. Most expected the children of Hephaestus to be scruffy, big and broad and constantly covered in soot from their work - Harley hid her toned shoulders and arms behind pretty clothes, kept her face painted with tasteful makeup rather than the ashes of the forge, and was known throughout camp for making beautiful, delicate jewelry rather than weapons. Still, though, as a year-round camper, she was more than content with her life at Camp Half-Blood, even if most people did consider her unexpected - and she was also more than content to nurse her crush on Luke Castellan, the golden boy of Cabin Eleven, fully expecting it would never be reciprocated and forcing herself to be okay with that. Until, that was, one midnight when they’d run into each other by the camp’s lake and, after a deep conversation, Harley had finally plucked up the courage to ask Luke out - and he’d said yes. They’ve been dating for a year when Percy Jackson, a plucky, sarcastic forbidden son of Poseidon, stumbles into the camp after killing a Minotaur on its border, and though Harley notices her boyfriend taking a particular interest in the boy, she doesn’t think anything of it… but when Percy sets off on a quest alongside Harley’s favourite satyr and a determined daughter of Athena to help prevent a brewing war among the gods, Harley can’t help but notice a certain darkness growing within Luke, no matter how he tries to hide it, and she can’t help wondering whether she’s been wrong to never doubt him after all.

EXTRA INFO:

Well, this is a series based off of Greek myths, right? We might as well make it a tragedy.

So, yeah, Harley is definitely not your typical Hephaestus kid, but she’s just as good at forging as any of her siblings even if she does use it for jewelry rather than swords, and she can even animate small machines as long as they’re made out of metal.

A little bit like Annabeth, she is very in love with Luke and as such gets a little blinded to just how angry he is and just how much he hates the gods, so his betrayal and reveal of his working with Kronos comes as a very painful shock to her.

Luke does try to convince her to come with him when he runs away from camp, but not only is Harley super hurt by how much he’s lied to her, she knows how bad starting a war against Olympus could get and how many innocent half-bloods could be collateral as a result, so she refuses and tries to talk him down. It doesn’t work, and even though Luke does genuinely love her he sees her as being brainwashed by the gods and is furious that she won’t join him (think of it as an Anakin and Padmé thing, only he doesn’t, you know, choke her).

Harley never gets to say a proper goodbye to him before he leaves camp, and they never talk again before he dies in the final battle and she is able to kneel over his body and wish him a safe descent into the Underworld through her sobs. So, you know. Very sad.

send me a fandom and a faceclaim/love interest and i’ll make an oc!!

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | chapter fourteen | chapter thirteen| read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: Short–er chapter than usual, but the last few larger chapters completely turned my brain into mush lol and needed a little bit of fluff to cleanse my palate. The last bit was heavily inspired by the song “Wondering Why” by The Red Clay Strays, so shout out to all the people on tiktok for saying this is the perfect song to slow dance to, ily! I hope you are all having a lovely start to December! Stay safe!! :)

word count: 5982

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter Fifteen

Neither you nor Joel spoke of that night in the weeks that followed. Although left unspoken, what almost happened never left your thoughts. Every waking moment, whether you were with Joel or not, it consumed every part of you, oftentimes leaving you wondering if you’d ever get a chance like that again. You were sure it consumed Joel as well. He was still the same man as before, but something very subtly changed. The way he treats you and looks at you– something was different behind those complex eyes, something deep down. It was almost as if he’d gone soft on you, but was desperately trying to hide the fact, probably a way to try and protect himself. If that was the case, you understood why.  

There was a small part of you that felt embarrassed about that night, your feelings had been put on full display, something that you didn’t think Joel was aware of up until that point. His had been too, which made you wonder if he was embarrassed about it as well– if he regretted revealing that part of him–and perhaps that’s why nothing had been said by him. Every time that thought resurfaced, it nearly sent you into a panic.

You kept having to reassure yourself, knowing him, if he had regretted it, things would not have stayed so… normal between the two of you. Joel still stops by your place in the morning, the two of you sharing breakfast and coffee before heading out for patrol. If anything, the two of you began spending more time together. On the nights you aren’t at Charles’, you and Joel spend together. Tommy would sometimes join, but when Nessa found out about it all of a sudden she needed Tommy home more. 

Although you told yourself that you’d stop drinking, it was the one thing you and Joel often did together. Wake up, patrol, drink… you had a nearly permanent headache, but for you, it was a small price to pay. You were finally content with the life you’ve created, even happy at times. 

James had been avoiding you since that day too. You truly intended to talk to him, not that what you’d say would make things any better, but you at least owed that to him; an explanation. Of the many times you tried, he’d either leave as soon as you were within a 20-foot radius of him and the times you caught him off guard, he’d simply walk away without a word or look directed at you. You missed your chance to talk to James, missed the opportunity when it actually counted, and would come off as genuine.

You thought of maybe writing him a letter, leaving it on his doorstep or with Charles to pass it on to him– that way you’d know for certain he got it, whether he ended up reading it or ripping it to shreds; at least you would know that you tried. Ultimately, the thought seemed insincere and cringe, so you decided just to let things be. 

The remnants of your actions haunted you enough as it is. Between the dirty looks you received from Heather and Aimee, the cold shoulder treatment you received from Nessa, and Dottie constantly asking why you and James never come over together anymore– you felt like all that was punishment enough.

“Why don’t you and James ever come over together anymore,” Dottie often asked some variation of this question crossing her arms and furrowing her brows.

With Charles grimacing in the background, pretending as if he doesn’t hear, you’d return Dott’s curiosity with your own variation of answers– our schedules don’t line up anymore, he’s busy tonight, I was busy with… You wondered if she pressed James about it every time he came over, wondering what he said in response. 

Your actions followed you wherever you went, the only time you had real peace was when you were either alone at home, or when you were out on patrol with Joel with no one else around. The constant stares you received from the other guards around your age left you wondering who had been running their mouths and how much of it was actually the truth. 

Jackson reminded you much of the small town you were from, at least from what little you remember of it. The sense of a close-knit community, for the most part, you could rely on each other, but when it came to the gossip… Everyone took what they heard as fact and had no issues spreading it around.

–

The night after you and Charles spoke in the isolated corner of Jackson BBQ, you went over to his house for dinner as planned. A nervousness fisted your stomach, making it twist and turn with every hesitant step you took toward his house. You wondered if James would be there; if Charles had told him of your company that night– 

Unsurprisingly, James had not come. You weren’t quite sure if you were relieved by this or if some part of you had wished had shown up. 

After the excitement of your company had settled and Dottie and Henry went to sleep, you and Charles sat in his study like the two of you used to do. Most of the time spent had been in silence, but you knew Charles had something to say. His face clearly indicated he was biting his tongue, forcing himself to swallow whatever words that had been filling his mouth, remaining unspoken. 

“James is a good boy, you know,” He finally spoke, his words coming out calm but a feeling of heat behind them lingered after the room returned to silence. You let out a huff of air. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders.” 

All you could do was nod; a nod with no meaning other than you didn’t want to leave what he said unacknowledged. What you really wanted to do at the moment was roll your eyes, and if it had been anyone other than Charles initiating this conversation, perhaps you would have. 

“And,” His voice shook as if he was unsure whether to continue, smacking his lips and taking a moment to ponder on his thoughts. You watched him carefully out of the corner of your eye, your body slumped in the firm sofa chair. You tapped your fingers along your thigh as you waited for him to continue. “Joel, he’s–”

At the sound of his name, you shot up from out of your chair before he could finish, beginning to take long strides toward the front door. Whatever he was going to say about Joel, you didn’t want to hear it. You endured the nasty comments from everyone too often, biting your tongue when all you wanted to do was shoot something nasty back at them. You wouldn’t hear it from Charles. 

As you opened the door, Charles came up from behind you, pushing his palm against the door causing it to slam shut. The sound vibrated through the house leaving Charles cringing and eyeing the children’s bedrooms. Although your hand remained on the doorknob, you hadn’t tried to open it again, standing still while your breathing became messy, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Joel’s a fine man too,” Charles’ voice was dark as he spoke, but he was quick to release the words. His statement slightly caught you off guard, forcing you to face him slowly. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye and instead settled on staring at his shoes. “A lot of people here don’t get him and that’s– it is what it is, but he's a good man. He cares and a lot of people don’t nowadays.” 

You felt as if you were stripped bare, your mind and soul naked and completely vulnerable. All you could do was stare at the ground, how the shadow of Charles’ shoes met the raw grain of the wood and the gaps between each plank leading to an abyss of darkness. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, your shoulders tensing up to the point of pain. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice was small. Putting his arm on your shoulder, Charles guided you over to the couch. The two of you took a seat in unison. 

“James told me his… suspicious the day Joel came back, and then you were wearing Joel’s shirt at dinner– let me finish,” His voice was calm, soothing your panic. You tried to butt in, demanding to know whatever James told him, but Charles made you listen. “As I told you before, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I’ll offer you my thoughts, you can take them as they are.” 

Taking a moment to calm yourself, you nodded, urging him to continue. In, out, in… you guided yourself, the stuffy warm air barely doing anything to ease your breathing.

“Regardless of going about it the wrong way, you’re allowed to feel that way– you aren’t… you don’t belong to anyone,” He finally spoke, the reassurance running through you like a sip of cold water on a hot summer day. 

“I fucked up Charles,” You stated simply. “I should’ve– I should have actually talked to James, but Joel came back and– and–” You shook your head, coming to a loss for words, “I didn’t know if Joel would feel the same, and talking about it to anyone was just too much.  I– I don’t know. I thought I liked James, I really did, but when I saw Joel– and my heart, I just felt–”

The words rushed out of your mouth, you weren’t sure if any of it made sense. Charles nodded as he listened, though you weren’t sure he quite understood. You shrugged to signal you were out of words, left with nothing else to say as your breathing turned to shallow sharp inhales. Charles grabbed your hand, holding it in his, and ran soft strokes along your knuckles. You stared at your conjoined hands as he continued, it reminded you of your father, and how he used to calm you when you were in a panic. 

“Does Joel feel the same way?” Charles’ voice was monotonous when he asked. Forcing yourself to look up at him, you swallowed against the lump in your throat.

“Wha– what?” You narrowed your eyes at him, confused. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest.

“You said you didn’t know if Joel would feel the same way,” he quickly responded, a hint of confusion gleaming in his eyes.

You brought in your bottom lip tugging on it continuously between your teeth as flashbacks from the previous night poured in. You hadn’t realized your wording, you should’ve been more careful. 

“I don’t know,” you quickly correct yourself. You weren’t entirely wrong, for all you knew last night was just… you let out a soft sigh at your own thoughts. “I don’t know if he does.”

A silence fell between the two of you and you became too aware of the soft ticking of the wall clock. Tick, tick, tick. It sounded loud in your ears, your eardrums seizing on each tick.

“Let me talk to James, okay?” he finally said. A weight instantly released from your tense shoulders, the lingering headache disappearing in an instant. Coward, a voice whispered to you, but you ignored it–at least tried to ignore it. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” A heat washed over your face, your body folding in on itself, “about Joel, that is.” 

–

On this particular night, after a long day’s journey to an abandoned ranch and back, you and Joel found yourselves at The Tipsy Bison, tucked in the corner taking in drink after drink and going back and forth between playing billiards and darts.

The bartender for the night apparently was not very happy with how rowdy the two of you became over who won and who lost as well as how riled up you made some of the other guests for the night, to which he sent over Nora– out of everyone, her? You rolled your eyes, knowing she would likely report this back to James– to tell you it was time to wrap things up and go elsewhere. 

“Yours or mine?” Joel asked without fully clarifying what he meant, he knew you would know what he was asking. You jogged the few feet that separated the two of you, nearly tripping over your own feet before slowing down as he pushed against the door with his back and held it open for you. 

You took a moment to think as you stumbled out onto the porch, your hand lightly finding his wrist to grab onto for a short moment to keep you steady. He waited for your answer, slowly taking a few steps down, his torso angled towards you. You were humming softly to yourself as you sort through your thoughts, which were a blur even to you given your state. 

“Probably yours, because–” you started to say but stopped yourself mid-sentence. Joel completely turned his body to face you, now slowly walking backward in front of you. His face twisted in confusion. “Actually, I know a place we can go to.”

Joel cocked his head waiting for you to reveal the location.

The abandoned building.

–

The entire walk you were hoping to whatever higher power there was that the others weren’t there. You didn’t see them at the bar so that didn’t leave many other places they could be. You knew that Drew and James were both due to go out for an overnight run sometime this week to Teton Valley, but that still left Heather, Aimee, and Nessa unaccounted for. They wouldn’t go out there, not without James or Drew, you kept telling yourself–reassuring yourself–of the fact that the three girls were a bit wary of how far away the building was from the main part of the community, regardless of the safety each guard ensured as a priority.

It wasn’t a quick walk by any means. You had to walk past the cemetery and greenhouses to where a field lay bare. In recent months, Maria has tasked some of the community members to turn half of it into more farmland and the other half left to expand the greenhouses, but the work efforts have been slow, especially with the urgent help with harvesting. 

Past the field where the trees stand dense, there is a pathway, easily missed if you don’t know what you’re looking for. That pathway leads to the building and about a hundred yards past the building was the fencing that kept Jackson contained.  

Although it was hidden away from the community and not used for anything in particular, many of the guards as well as Maria and Tommy knew about it. No one ever explicitly said not to go to it, but many of those who knew about it seem to forget about it which is how it became the go to hang out spot for you and the others. It offered a sense of secrecy with safety and was far enough from the main parts of Jackson where you never had to worry about being too loud. 

The darkness crawled at your skin and a feeling of being watched hovered around you which seemed to help you sober up. Joel was behind you, only a few feet separating you from him. Occasionally you’d peer over your shoulder, mainly to make sure he was still there, in case you needed him for some reason. You could tell, even in the darkness, he was a bit hesitant about following you. 

“Where’re we goin’?” Joel asked for the fifth time as you passed the cemetery, each time he asked his tone became less and less patient. Regardless of his tone, the sound of his voice sent a calming effect to run its course through your body, settling your churning insides. 

“You don’t like surprises huh?” A faint smile formed as the breathy words came out of your mouth. It amused you to see him like this; fidgety like he had ants in his pants.

“No, not–” His voice conveyed to you that he was very clearly annoyed. You let out an overdramatic sigh which immediately shut him up. 

“You’re no fun,” You turned your body to look at him, narrowing your eyes at him as you stopped walking. He only stopped when there was about a foot separating the two of you. 

“Fun enough for you to spend your nights with me ‘parently,” he spat back almost immediately, a bit of humor and amusement lingering in his tone. As much as you wanted to fire back at him, you ignored his comment and started to slowly continue down the field. You could almost make out the details of the trees even in the darkness, meaning you were almost there. 

“Remember how I told you I would hang out with Nessa and her friends?” he nodded, falling into step right next to you. You paused before continuing, “I’m taking you to where we used to go.”

“And if they’re there?” The words rushed out of his mouth. The thought made a sense of anxiety fill your chest. 

“I think Drew and James are gone, but if the other three are there, then… we’ll find somewhere else to go.” You tried to steady your voice as you spoke. The thought of them seeing the two of you together, especially seeing you and Joel go to a place that’s so… secluded, did not settle well in your gut. 

When Joel didn’t answer, you looked up at his face. His lips were set in a thin, tight line and his eyes were hardened, locked on the gravel crunching beneath his boots with each heavy step. You pinned your eyebrows together, is he anxious? Anxious that they will be there, that they’ll see us, or anxious that it will just be us? 

You took one step to the side closer to him and gently knocked your elbow against Joel’s arm, catching his attention. His eyes widened as if he had been lost in some sort of mind-consuming thought.

“Okay?” You asked, desperate for some sort of reassurance that he was okay and this was okay.

He gave you a single nod, his body remaining tense. 

–

The lights weren’t on when you arrived at the crumbling building, a shadow of blackness surrounded it. Regardless of the fact, you still slowly peeked your head inside to make sure no one had been in there before trying the switch to illuminate the dark room. Even though they didn’t come on, you still flipped the switch a few more times, desperately hoping you wouldn’t have to go in blind. The building was relatively safe, but the dark still gave you the chills–the thought of something hiding, waiting to grab you– the fear still haunted you. 

You let out a loud sigh.

“The generator is a bit finicky,” you said plainly. The many memories of Drew kicking at it and cursing under his breath immediately resurfaced.

“Sure it’s safe?” he asked as he poked his head past the threshold of the door. Joel gently grabbed onto your bicep as he continued to survey the vast darkness of the building. His concern provoked a small breathy laugh from you. 

“Let’s hope,” you responded, half serious. Joel let out a throaty hum, not coming off as too enthusiastic. 

Joel followed closely behind you as you entered. 

–

You finally managed to get the generator that James somehow managed to get many moons ago to turn on and went around to the various outlets to plug in the string lights. Joel slowly walked around the perimeter of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, running his eyes along the walls filled with posters and pictures the gang had once put up, looking at the furniture all of you managed to take from the donation center somehow unnoticed or from the few homes that remained unoccupied. Though you were never on the best terms with most of them, a lot of memories had been created in this very room–times of peace and ease. Showing him this place must have felt almost as vulnerable as it must have felt for him showing you his spot. An ache began to develop deep in your chest. You let out a deep sigh, letting the ache escape into the air.

His eyes lingered for a good while on a section of the wall that had been solely dedicated to the Polaroid pictures that had been taken on the nights spent here. Bringing his fingers up to one that was stuck at an angle beneath another picture, he pulled it loose. From your quick glance across the room, you didn’t have to be next to him to know that it was the picture of you and James. 

James had both of his hands covering your eyes, a wide grin spread across his face. You had your hands wrapped around his wrists, your knuckles white as you tried to tear them away from your face. The longer you thought about it, you could have sworn you could hear yours and James’ overlapping giggles, Nessa yelling out ‘cheese’ before pressing down the shutter button. The ache formed once again, this time spreading from your chest to the pit of your stomach.

Without saying anything, barely provoking any sort of reaction from him, Joel turned and set it down on one of the side tables. As the picture left the tips of his fingers, his attention was immediately shifted elsewhere. Joel picked up one of the records from the stack piled on one of the small side tables, taking a seat on the worn and faded brown couch.

The distraction allowed you to swiftly sweep past the table, picking up the photo and slipping it into your back pocket to be discarded eventually. 

You came up to Joel’s side. Using the back of the wooden chair next to him to keep you stable, you bent over the side of the couch to the corner where the last string of light’s plug hung free from the outlet. The heat of his body clung to the back of your cold limbs and you leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you. Joel cleared his throat awkwardly, the sound startling you and causing you to fumble the plug, making it fall behind the couch. 

‘Sorry,” your voice was muffled as you reached your hand into the darkness, feeling around for the plug. A heat began to burn in your cheeks, spreading down to your chest, as you realized why Joel cleared his throat. You practically pinned him against the edge of the couch with your ass in his face.

You began to move faster, your fingers becoming tangled with the cord as you pushed it firmly into the plug. A small wheeze came from him as you straightened yourself, retreating a step back. 

“Sorry,” The words were now barely above a whisper. You raised your eyebrows, widening your eyes at him as you try to remain as neutral as possible. His eyebrows twitched as he finally brought himself to look up at you. You could have sworn his eyes glazed over the entirety of your body before eventually meeting your eyes. 

“Where’d you get these?” His voice was tight, guilty sounding as he changed the subject.

“Drew gets them when he goes into the cities outside of Jackson,” you responded, taking one step closer towards Joel, peering around his arm in the narrow space at the record he had been holding onto. “Most of them aren’t very good, but he picks up what he can find– I suppose it’s better than nothing.” 

He nodded very subtly, pinning his brows together as he flipped the record over, looking at the songs listed on the backside.

“And the player?” He questioned further. Joel must have heard the hitch in your breath with the look he gave you in return to which you turned on your heel, heading toward the couch sitting opposite from where Joel was.

“It was James’ father’s at one point,” You responded dryly, slightly cringing as you remembered how serious James was the night he brought it, making sure everyone– especially Drew– knew if it broke, there would be serious consequences. Joel said nothing in response, just going back to sifting through the various records.

The vibe completely changed from the time you left the bar to now–an odd sense of intimacy lingered heavily in the room. You needed a drink, just one to shake off this sudden awareness. 

Your eyes swept the room, landing on the old dented filing cabinet tucked next to the door. It was where the group kept all the alcohol each of you had been able to scrounge up as well as the collection of unmatching glasses that sat upon a tea cloth on the top. The filing cabinet was simply for safekeeping, you were desperately hoping that it hadn’t been emptied since the last time you were there. 

The broken handle was cold on your fingertips as you pulled on it. The drawer did not budge and you rolled your eyes, fully taking a seat on the ground so the top drawer was now eye level. You curse softly under your breath. Of course one of them would keep it locked up– probably Drew… greedy bastard, you thought.

You never noticed anyone locking it before, but then again, you had never paid that close attention–you didn’t need to. Running your fingers over the metal latches and then over the face of the lock, you pinned your eyebrows together. You’ve worked with this kind of lock many times before when you were still out on your own. They weren’t complicated locks, low security if anything due to them having a universal one-pronged key amongst this type.

Without any further thought, you pulled the small knife out of your pocket and flipped it open, ramming the tip into the keyhole. If you could just get it at the correct angle, it should just pop open. You didn’t care if the others knew someone had been in here. 

With a bit of jiggling, the shackle popped loose causing the corners of your lips to twitch slightly into a smile. Your eyes went wide as you opened the drawer–there was just as much, if not more than the last time you saw it. 

Rising back onto your feet, you look over your shoulder back at Joel who was still fully occupied by the record collection. His face was stuck in a deep sense of concentration.

Picking a bottle at random, you turned to face Joel shaking the bottle. The sound of the liquid sloshing against the sides and lapping over itself seemed to catch his attention as he snapped his head up, looking in your direction through his brows. 

“Want some?” you offered when he didn’t say anything, jutting the bottle out toward him. He narrowed his eyes, trying to look at the label– contemplating– before shaking his head and returning his attention back to the records. You simply shrugged before turning back around, flipping over one of the various drinking glasses on the top of the cabinet, and began to pour a generous amount. 

You kicked your feet at the concrete ground, dust and dirt dancing through the air, as you slowly made your way over to the other couch that sat across from the one Joel was currently settled on. Laying the entire length of your body sideways on the couch and resting your head on the padded armrest, you closed your eyes– just for a moment, you told yourself– holding your drink on your stomach with one hand and the other playing with the edge of one of the cushions where the stuffing began to leak out. 

When you opened your eyes, Joel was leaning over, placing one of the many records onto the platter of the player. Gently he let the needle fall onto the edge and pressed the button to turn it on. Music softly filled the room, the sound emitting from the speakers sounded muffled and scratchy, yet comforting and nostalgic. 

As Joel returned to his spot, leaning into the back cushion and widening his grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, you caught his attention. Holding his gaze, you sat upright, downing the rest of your drink and resting the glass on the ground. 

“What?” He asked as you flashed him a toothy smile, your lips spreading thinly across your face as the corners reached your eyes and the second wave of alcohol hit your bloodstream.

–

The music began to flow through your veins, your body swaying without any coherent thought running through your mind. Spreading your arms out at your sides, you began to spin slowly and your body began to feel weightless; your surroundings and Joel blurring together with each turn. The air running over your skin made goosebumps dance up your arms and you let out a small giggle. You felt so free… so loose… so… happy. You felt like the person you had once been a long, long time ago.

Slowing your spin to a stop, you quickly became dizzy as you came to your senses, your brain struggling to comprehend that you were no longer going in circles. With the alcohol in your system, it made your body’s reaction twice as clumsy. Joel was watching you carefully, a small smile on his face, and appeared to be very amused by you. You began to tumble to the side, the opposite direction of any sort of furniture to stabilize yourself, as your feet tangled together. Joel lunged from his sitting position for you, looping one hand around your back, the other grasping onto your bicep.

“Woah,” The noise came out of you in a breathy whisper as the falling sensation subsided. Joel’s eyes were soft in the dim lighting of the room, the light reflecting off of his dark and ever-tired eyes. 

As he helped you back up to the stability of your feet, he kept hold of your shoulders. You could feel his fingers gently but firmly pressing into your skin making your heart skip a few beats. Through your still semi-blurred vision, you make eye contact with Joel, who is steadily holding onto your gaze. His face, complex as usual, leaves you completely in the dark about what might be running through his mind. The look in his eyes took you back to that night. 

You softly ran your hands up along his arm until you reached his biceps, hesitating to curl your fingers around them. Dropping your gaze from his, you run your fingers along his worn flannel, the fabric is soft under the tips. All you can focus on at the moment is the feeling of the fabric between your fingers and the warmth that radiates from underneath. Joel has yet to move a muscle since you returned his gesture, though you were almost positive you could hear the beating of his heart– deep and wild.

Slowly moving your eyes along his chest to the skin peaking out where the top few buttons were undone–his chest hair poking through– up along his neck and into his eyes. Something changed from a few moments prior, from early this evening. Your breath hitches as his throat bobs and his tongue darts between his lips.

As you began to part your lips, trying to find any words to say, Joel very slowly ran one of his hands up your back, finding a home at the base of your neck where skin meets hair. Very softly he ran his thumb over your hairline, over and over. He was looking at you, but it felt like his gaze had been deeper– deeper than whatever he saw on the surface. 

“I haven’t heard this song in a very long time,” His voice was quiet but hoarse, rattling low. You had to force yourself to swallow, your mouth and throat growing drier by the second.

Before you could muster up a response– even a reaction– Joel gently pulled your head into his chest. You didn’t protest, you would let him do whatever he wanted to you at this moment. His hand lingered at the base of your neck with your ear flush against his chest. Still, he softly ran his finger along your hairline causing a chill to make its way down your spine. Your heart felt as if it were beating outside of your chest and you noticed how deeply and fast Joel’s was beating in unison.

Joel took the lead as the two of you began to sway your bodies in unison, simply shifting your weight between each foot, very slowly turning in a circle. With your arms loosely wrapped around his torso, you began to run the fabric between your index finger and thumb again. This is the moment you’ve been craving since you were left on your own at the beginning of the outbreak– a sense of safety, a sense of companionship, anything other than the loneliness that rotted inside your heart for far too long– always too afraid to admit it, too afraid to get close to anyone for the next day is never promised. Sure, you caved into the intimacy of physical touch, but emotionally… you’ve never let yourself cave into that. But Joel… Joel was different. This was different. 

The longer the music went on, transitioning from one song to another, a calmness settled between the two of you, your bodies melting into one another becoming one. You hadn’t dared to move your head, afraid that he’d let go of you entirely if you moved even just a bit; afraid that this moment would end sooner than you desired.

As the record player sputtered to a stop, the music abruptly leaving the room empty and silent, you and Joel remained together, swaying back and forth. Joel’s heartbeat returned to a steady, comforting beat. He flattened his palms against your back as a way to tell you, don’t let go– not yet. So you didn't, you would remain in his arms until he was ready to let go. 

Without creating any distance between your bodies, you shift your head to look up at him, your chin firmly pressed against the bare part of his chest. He angled his head just right so he could look down at you. For a moment all you and Joel could do is stare at each other, as if the two of you haven’t stolen enough glances in the time you’ve known each other. Joel’s bottom lip was full of color and slightly swollen as if he had been chewing on it. You blinked a few times to bring yourself to the present moment.

“I missed you,” The words flowed out of you before you could think of what the consequences of admitting that would be. In the moment it felt right, you felt safe enough to admit that to him and you wanted him to know.

His face was set in stone, but a glimmer of something appeared in his eye and his shoulders appeared to relax as he slowly exhaled. It seemed like he didn't know what to say back. You didn’t care if he felt the same way if he missed you or even cared for you the way you do for him. All that mattered was that he knew someone had missed him, that his absence here mattered to you.

“You’re the only person who makes me feel sane,” You followed up in a whisper, returning the side of your face to his chest and tightening your arms around him. His heart rate picked up once again– deep and wild. 

read chapter sixteen here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

[m-pennanti]

I have not been in this active fandom long but I have noticed a weird pattern (or flavor I guess?) in the discourse

A few imaginary examples:

- Everyone was hoping Joel got in s10 and then Joel went “actually I don’t *want* to join hermitcraft” and suddenly people started attacking everyone who previously said they hoped Joel was in s10 because they were “pressuring him”

- Pearl hid a few spider heads in xB’s base for him to find randomly and everyone hounded on her for griefing but when Etho burned down Gem’s house and didn’t help rebuild it it was a-ok

- Something big happened to Cleo and they made a video explaining she was taking a break for a while and people constantly bothered her about coming back sooner to the point they had to leave social media only two weeks into the break

- False made an amazing mini game with only one real flaw and everyone called it “ok at best and lazily made and could’ve done with a few more tweaks” and then Joe made a very flawed low-effort mini game off the top of his head and people started calling it “the best game on the server that so much effort was put into”

- Xizuma retired from Hermitcraft and the Hermits agreed that Cub would now host the server and some people were very upset that they didn’t choose Iskall and others bullied Xizuma about it despite it being a decision made by everybody

- Wels became active again on his own accord and had a lot of interactions with other Hermits and took a slightly different approach to his builds and people started saying they “hoped Wels would stop playing Hermitcraft and leave”

Again, these are not actual things that happened

But you can see it can’t you, you can see these things happening

These aren’t targeted at any ccs I kinda just threw names in randomly, maybe I am a bit biased but the only thing I did intentionally was people getting mad at the female ccs over the male ccs in the second example because I’ve noticed a raging amount of sexism in the mcyt community which obviously sucks

Just thought it was weird how this community has a weird set of themes that bother them and starts conflict while other things get shut down immediately like homophobia and misgendering, at least as far as I’ve seen

I wonder if it’s like that for other fandoms too? This is the only big fandom I’ve taken a deep dive into in my life so I wouldn’t know if certain fandoms having reoccurring discourse themes is a common occurrence. If they do it either isn’t very visible on the surface or it just flew right over my head (which happens a lot with me it seems)

Ofc as well these are all entirely my opinions and observations and this is my first time discussing them so I won’t have considered other sides and perspectives, especially if I’ve missed something and just never came across it due to how fresh into the fandom I am

Thoughts? I realize this type of post is very dangerous to share because it feels like the type people would get upset about. If I’m entirely and completely wrong I’d be genuinely interested in hearing about why

[skellymom]

"Vagabonds" Chapter 4 "Meet The Fam"

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

Hunter meets a smuggler Nomaadi Star Woman with a powerful force sensitive teen who changes the trajectory of CF-99's lives...as they ALL try to escape from The Empire together.

Chapter 3:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/729052697841582080/hunter-x-ocfem-reader-ongoing-series?source=share

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Word Count: 2K

Background: Hiding evidence, meet the fam Bad Batch Version, and Hunter made an "oopsie"!

Warning: Crying, fear, mention of sex, Hunter fluff/angst.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

"Meet the Fam"

Later that morning Hunter and Mad discreetly left The Oasis. They made sure it was neat as a pin, especially the firepit. Everything was as they left it minus a certain settee. Hunter carried a trash bag of ashes down to the street and dumped it under the rest of the bags awaiting pickup. 

Hunter turned to Mad. They regarded each other for a moment. This was the awkward part. What do you do now after spending intimate time together? Go to breakfast? Take a break and go separate ways? Are they done? Or do they plan on seeing each other again? 

Hunter had no idea what to do next. His relationships tended to end after the night was over. He was a specialized Republic Commando then and constantly shipped out. Too busy to have anything even remotely steady. Usually, he was the fun lay between the sheets, and nothing more.  

Mad was used to guys just giving a lame excuse and disappearing. Very occasionally she would touch base again with someone who didn’t mind her Nomaadi status, genuinely liked to keep up, or hadn’t disappeared or died yet. A very small pool of people. She didn’t want to speak first. Purposely keeping silent to see exactly where Hunter stood in this situation.  

Brown eyes searching green ones. 

“I...uh...don’t know how to say this...” he struggled with the words. 

“Yeah?” Mad nodded waiting for more. 

Hunter cleared his throat, “Well, I...uh...” Fidgeting. 

Mad shifted her weight and grimaced. Maker, this was painful watching him board the Struggle Bus. All his sexy bravado evaporated since leaving The Oasis. 

 “Listen, if It’s that difficult, just go. I won’t fault you for not having the words to say goodbye. It was fun while it lasted, Hunky.” Mad smiled and turned to leave. 

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!” Hunter blurted out. He looked horrified to have said that. He said the quiet part out loud. “Just...don’t go. Please.” 

Mad turned back around shocked. This was new. A strong, rugged man just coming out and proclaiming he didn’t know. The loud outward show of vulnerability...touching, endearing...and sexy. 

“No actual relationship experience, huh?” Mad’s face softened. “So, just you, your siblings, and work twenty-four-seven. For real???” 

“No. And yes.” 

“Sounds like the last guy I got really close to...approximately 15 years ago.” 

“Love’s Father?” 

“Yep. Didn’t know I had such a specific type.” Mad quipped sarcastically. 

Awkard silence. 

“Walk me to my ship. You can meet the rest of my family. That ok?” 

Hunter smiled warmly, “Perfect. But only on one condition.” 

“Oh???” 

“I can hold your hand all the way there.” 

Mad blushed, “Why not? You got to hold everything else.” She smirked and winked at Hunter. 

He chuckled with that wonderful low smoky tone that hit her ear just the right way. 

Mad walked back up to Hunter and offered her hand. He took it and intertwined her fingers with his. His hand was warm, strong, callused, his grip secure, yet gentle. Mad gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. A tingle shot up their arms again. Small, surprising, only enough to make goose bumps. 

“Mmmm...” Hunter purred. 

“How? What is it with you???” 

“What is it with us?” 

“Gift of the Force, maybe?” 

“What’s that?” 

“A Nomaadi expression. I’ll explain on the way to my ship.” 

“There she is. The Dread Beldame!” Proclaimed Mad 

Hunter took in Mad’s home. The ship was three times larger than the Marauder. It made sense, as she and Love lived on it all the time and constantly moved cargo. Certainly, it was going to be more comfortable than the cramped space the five of them had to share. The ‘Dame looked a bit on the old and shabby side, but clean and well kept. Mad and Love were constantly working on it.  

“Tell me about the meaning of her name.” 

“Well, it’s an old ship. Ships are usually referred to as female. She’s an old lady. A Dame if you're generous. Or, if you’re superstitious, a Beldame Witch. She may be old, but dreaded and comes with a veiled threat. We retrofitted her with some upgrades, and that includes weapons. Kinda like don’t fuck with this old lady, boys!” Mad laughed. “She’s the old gramma that houses and takes care of us.” 

“I like it.” 

“What’s the name of your ship?” 

“The Havoc Marauder. We go from place to place ‘plundering’...ahem...running jobs...and bringing mayhem. We don’t try to bring it...mayhem just seems to follow us. Plus, it sounds badass.” Hunter chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah...I totally get that.” The clusterfuck on Coruscant flashed into Mad’s mind. STILL thanking the Force that they escaped with Sil in tow. 

As Mad and Hunter entered the ‘Dame, they noticed it was a literal disaster area.  Mantell mix and fizzy drink cans littered the ship.  Aside from the mess, Hunter noticed the ship was ornately decorated.  Exotic tapestries, fabric curtains, and vibrant coverlets adorned the bunks.  The walls of the ‘Dame were painted with colorful images of flowers, plants, animals, the elements, symbols, eyes, handprints and so much more.  They wove around the ship, even covering the ceiling, like a pictograph story.  While the Havoc Marauder was utilitarian grey steel and flickering screens and buttons, the Dread Beldame was an explosion of texture, color, even smells.  Hunter’s nose picked up the familiar scent of Mad’s perfume, coming from a clear glass jar nesting on a bin of personal items.  It was empty save for a thin residue coating the glass.  Underneath that odor was the smell of incense, and past meals that had been cooked in the galley kitchen.  Hunter also smelled a small animal that must have lived with them, although he couldn’t account for its whereabouts. 

Mad heard a loud snoring coming from the bay.  A very large bald man was laying on his side asleep on the floor drooling.  A Tooka doll clutched in his arms.  Nearby, on the bunk above, was Love and a blond child asleep, limbs sprawled out and hanging over the edge.  Pieces of Mantell Mix stuck in their hair.  Sil on the lower bunk lying face down and sleeping the sleep of the dead. 

“WHAT THE KRIFF IS GOING ON IN MY SHIP!  DANK FERRIK, LOVE, SIL, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE!!! 

Sil bolts awake and slams his head on the upper bunk.  Love startles awake, jostling the blond child who yawns and stretches. 

Hunter firmly nudges Wrecker with his foot to wake him, “What are you and Omega doing here?” 

Wrecker snorts awake, sits up, “Oh...Hunter.  Met a new friend!  How did ya know we were here???”  Scratches his head, wiping slobber from his chin. 

Mad looks from Wrecker and Omega, to Hunter, “You know them?”  

Omega is now awake, sees Hunter and is instantly excited.  Jumping off the bunk, she immediately runs up and hugs him.  “This is Love and Sil.  Wrecker and I met them at the Mantell Mix stand.  They needed help fixing the shield on their ship.  We radioed Tech and all met at the Beldame. We watched holos while Tech worked on the ship.”  She seemed so pleased with herself. 

“I see you all FINALLY decided to awaken.”  Everyone turns to look and sees Tech standing at the entrance of the Beldame.  He’s holding a tray of caf cups and a large bag of food.  “Hunter, good of you to EVENTUALLY make an appearance.  I have been messaging you REPEATEDLY since last night.” 

Hunter looks down at his comm... he turned it off to have private time with Mad.  Several messages lit up in queue left unanswered.  Looks up at Tech with a guilty expression...to be met with a pair of annoyed spectacled eyes.   

“HELLO!  Names please!!!”  Mad throws up her arms, exasperated that NOBODY was answering her questions! 

“Mad... meet my family.  Big guy on the floor is Wrecker, this is Omega”, Hunter grabs Omega by her shoulders and spins her around to face Mad.  “The sassy one with the takeout is Tech.”  Hunter clearly looks embarrassed and off guard. 

“Oh...HELLO!” Wrecker is finally aware Mad was standing there. 

“Good morning...?  Nice to meet you...?”  Tech politely starts his greeting, then looks at Hunter with frustration.  Clearly Hunter is overwhelmed with the situation and doesn’t catch the cue to introduce Mad. 

“I’m Maadienne, but prefer to be called Mad” she nods to Tech and Wrecker.  They both nod back respectfully. 

Mad sighs and turns to Hunter, then motions to the teen now picking Mantell Mix out of their black spiky pixy cut and eating it, “This is Love.  My rando chaotic kiddo.”  The skinny teen with the port wine stain resembling a heart over one eye and bi colored irises smiles sheepishly and waves.  

She nods across the ship, “That’s Sil.  He’s Mads Couzin and my Nephew.” 

“Hi” rubbing his aching head.  Sil’s curly black shoulder length locks are sticking out all over the place.  Hunter stares for a moment at the teen and notices he shares Sil’s skin tone and hair color.  Sil slightly resembled Hunter when he was Sil’s age.   

Mad scans the ship, someone is missing... 

“Where’s Tiggy???” 

Everyone is silent for a beat and looks around at each other cluelessly. 

“Nobody was keeping an eye on the destructive poop factory?”  

Love is still calmly chewing on the Mantell Mix, Sil and Omega looked uncomfortably embarrassed, Wrecker scratches his head again, Hunter clearly has no idea what is going on... 

“The canine neonate has eliminated this morning.  She potty trained quickly and gives clear cues when she must move her bowels or urinate.  Tiggy was fed exactly at 8am this morning and is now sleeping somewhere peacefully on your ship.” 

All heads whip around to Tech. 

“Everyone, PLEASE help yourself to Caf and Breakfast Biscuits” as he sets them down, a flurry of hungry hands tear into the food.  “Mad, I attempted to repair your shield generator last night.  Unfortunately, it must be replaced.  The model is...rather antiquated. Echo has located a vintage parts dealer on the other side of Ord Mantell.  We think a suitable replacement can be found there.” 

Mad is taken aback by Tech’s words and the scene in front of her: Wrecker, Omega, Sil, and Love are all sitting together on the floor or up on bunks eating and chatting like they had known each other for forever.  Hunter, sipping caf is listening intently to his brother Tech explain how he and their OTHER brother Echo are trying to fix the ‘Dame’s shield.  She hardly ever encounters strangers (other than children) that just casually try to help without strings attached.  This is something she sees her allies among The Star People doing all the time.  It’s refreshing to see non-Nomaadi extend a helping hand... 

...but something keeps bothering her.  She can’t place it right away.  It’s elusive.  Mad scans the room, back and forth between the faces of the new acquaintances she just met... 

Tech is still info dumping. 

Wrecker is eating like he’s been starved for a week. 

Hunter is half listening to Tech, nodding, picked up a cup of caf from the tray. 

Something...it’s just at the tip of her brain... 

...her eyes flit continually between the brothers.  Tech, Wrecker, Hunter...Tech, Wrecker, Hunter...something familiar...Tech, Wrecker, Hunter...Mad’s struggling to make sense of something...a niggling feeling taking shape in her gut...Tech, Wrecker, Hunter... 

“Love?” Mad reaches out with The Force. 

...HOLY MAKER...it finally hits her...she didn’t see it with Hunter until now...but Tech and Wrecker’s faces...certain notes in their voices...THEY ARE CLONES! 

She stands still and tries not to convey any fear.  Are they safe with Hunter and his brothers?  They don’t dress like clones in service to the Empire.  Would they try to kill Love if they found out about their Force sensitivity?  They seem so friendly...but Mad is concerned this could change in an instant. 

“LOVE!  Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech are...CLONES!!!  I don’t know about Omega...” 

Love looks up as nonchalantly as possible to meet Mads eyes.  She can see veiled fear in Love’s expression.  

Love reaches out with The Force to Sil, “Couz...Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter are clones!”  

Sil, lacking Force ability and incapable of answering back nonverbally, froze staring back into Mad’s eyes. 

The hair on the back of Mads neck stands on end as she sees a change in Sil and Love’s expression.  Mad glances over to Hunter to see him staring a hole through her, caf raised just short of a sip.  She can’t read his expression.  Tech, totally oblivious continues to talk.  Wrecker’s attention span is lost in his breakfast.  Omega chewing on her biscuit notices Sil’s expression and shoots a look at Hunter. 

Hunter sensed something brewing with Mad, then smelled fear suddenly coming off her.  Then he picks up on Love’s fear and Sil’s body language.  THEY KNOW, he thinks and suddenly regrets not being more honest back at Cid’s.  He opens his mouth...” Mad...” 

Mad immediately reaches for her holstered blaster...

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

To read Chapter 5

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/733456994638462976/vagabonds-chapter-5?source=share

[blushinggray]

change of plans: part 4

the fuckboi!sero saga continues…

sero hanta x fem!reader

part 4/? (part 3 | part 1)

This game of back and forth you keep accidentally playing with Sero is becoming a headache. You're running circles around yourself, so you wonder if you should just bite the bullet and give in.

cw // slight angst, denial of feelings, sero with piercings

—

He called you that very same night after you got home from Jirou's place.

"You know, it's still not too late to invite me over." He teased directly into your ear from the phone speaker. You could only hope he didn't hear you shudder from it.

"I'm going to bed, so I don’t think I’d be able to entertain you, Sero. Goodnight."

"Alright then.” He had chuckled, the rumble so close to your ear that you could almost feel it, “G'night, beautiful."

He said it sweetly, but something in your gut felt weird about it. Not in an excited, butterflies kind of way, either. You tried not to think much of it since you really did go to bed soon afterward anyway — one of your deepest sleeps ever — but the feeling started sinking deeper when he didn't actually call you the next day.

Actually, he didn't contact you at all for a good few days until you got a totally random text out of nowhere from an unknown number. You replied within the hour and had a little back and forth with him through text, but he stopped responding after a certain hour, leaving you to brew and marinate in your own thoughts and ruin the rest of your day.

Now, over a week later, it's safe to say that you are absolutely fucked over him. He’s inconsistent with his texts, you can’t get a whiff of pot without replaying that kiss in your mind, and you even get irritated seeing people with digital cameras because you suddenly wonder if that’s what Sero would look like when taking taking photos.

Not a day has passed without him occupying some part of your mind — both waking and dreaming — and you are sick of it! Why do you have to waste your time wondering if you did something to turn him off?? Thinking that maybe you just blueballed him one time too many and now he's over you?? Why should you fucking care???

This is exactly why you didn't want to get involved with that stupid, hot fuckboy in the first place. You should never have given him your number. Because now you're just constantly waiting for your phone to buzz, stuck in your head about whether or not he's lost interest in you now that you've finally shown a little bit of interest in him. Which you didn't! You just left an opening to see him again. But maybe the fact that he didn't leap at it past that first night means that he really was just in it for the chase.

You hate all this speculation, and you hate how your mind just constantly replays how he kissed you, or held you, or pulled your head down to shotgun you in front of everyone. It's like an addiction you can't shake yourself off of. Even when you try to keep yourself occupied, the second you get a moment to yourself, your eyes are always darting to your phone.

You hate this. You hate this!

You can’t even text him first because that would be doing the exact opposite of what you warned yourself about from the beginning. And You certainly can’t ask Ashido or anyone else about it because then you'd be admitting that you want to hear from him! Which you don't even know why you do! Do you even actually like him, or did you just enjoy the attention he gave you? Or the way he touched you enough to leave an imprint in your mind that haunted you even when you're asleep? Or the way his voice or smile changes for the smallest instances when he’s with you? Or the way he pulled away from your kiss just to look at you with this lazy awe before diving right back in...

Okay, so maybe you got it into your head that he was being a little soft or sincere at moments, and that mayyyybe that was a tiny sign that he liked you in a genuine way. Maybe he was just hiding behind his playboy facade to keep his guard up for whatever his own reasons are.

You have to admit, Sero is the most interesting when he’s being sincere. When he gives you a soft smile that holds no motive, just pure affection and interest. When he shows his disappointment and shyness that’s usually hidden by his charisma and smooth talk. When he laughs at something with his whole belly and tears in his eyes. It’s because you’ve seen all these things about him that you let your thoughts linger on who else he could be. Even beyond his nice hands and body.

And that’s what makes it all the more disappointing when you finally catch sight of him on campus one day, lying in the grass with his arm pillowing some pretty girl’s head beside him. Oh, and they’re having a grand old time, taking turns puffing from a vape as she laughs at whatever he’s saying. You spot Kirishima with him, thanks to his bright red hair, and a few other familiar faces. Since his friends are with him out there, this much be pretty normal for him...

You have no idea what’s going on over there, what their relationship is, if she’s already seen or even touched his body more (better?) than you have, but you can’t look at this for a second longer. Turning away, you hold your head high and keep on your original route, trying to figure out why this hurts so much.

You don’t know what you expected. He’s been flirty and smooth and funny with girls (and guys) way before you met him. He’s gotten so good at it that it was probably laughably easy to get you wrapped around his finger, despite your initial reaction. That’s who he fucking is, and you’re no different than that girl he’s got laying on his bicep right now, or whoever the fuck he’s probably slept with in the past week or two when you were beside yourself just waiting for a call. You’re just another one for him. There’s nothing special about you that would make him want to ‘change his ways’ or be real with you.

You knew all that, and yet this still happened to you. Fuck, you hate this.

You’re sulking for the rest of the week, hating yourself for letting some jerk get in your head this deep without even having slept with him! That’s the most pathetic part about all of this. You’re tossing and turning at night without even having seen his dick!! It’d be another thing if he actually rocked your world and gave you the most amazing night of your life, but all he’s really done is make out with you a few times! It's honestly embarrassing!

Maybe you should have invited him over that night after all. At least then you’d know for sure if he’s actually worth all these mental gymnastics you’re putting yourself through if you were gonna go through them anyway. That’s probably one of the reasons why you’re so wound up in the first place, you haven’t gotten laid while knowing he’s probably getting it in whenever he wants. Maybe it would do you some good to find some other dude to fuck, just to take off the edge.

You’re waiting in line to get a coffee at a shop in the student center, mulling over the different ways you could get some new guy to sleep with you, thinking about opening one of those dating apps you’ve left in some folder when your phone buzzes with a new notification. And your heart spikes when you see Sero’s name attached to it.

From: Sero Hanta [photo]

Tapping on the notification, you look at the photo in confusion until you realize… Wait, that’s you. In line. That’s you standing in line right now. It’s the same outfit and bag, and you’re hunched over your phone.

Immediately, you’re looking up and searching around like some lost ducking. Where the hell did he send this from? You don't see him anywhere.

To: Sero Hanta ?

"Hey," his voice inevitably pops up beside you in the line.

And when you look up at him, you're immediately filled with want. He's dressed in warm-looking layers that make you want to bury your hands into the flaps of his fuzzy inner jacket and cuddle up to his chest. You can see black barbell studs on his earlobes peeking out of the beanie he's wearing. And worst of all, there's a thin black hoop attached to his bottom lip.

Which??? Where did that even come from?? You've seen and made out with him several times, but you've never seen this piercing on him before?? It's honestly kind of unfair????

"How's it going?" He asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Couldn't you have just asked that first instead of taking creepy photos of people without them knowing?" You raise your phone to show him the evidence.

"My bad," he lets out a small laugh, "I thought it'd be funny."

"Hmm..." You say in lieu of a response. So now he's trying to be funny and charming like usual, as if he hasn't been dangling you like a yo-yo for the past two weeks?

Ugh, your desperation is coming through again. Gross. As much as you want to say something, you don't need him to know that you were beside yourself thinking about him.

"Anyway," you change the topic, looking up at him and touching a finger to your lip, "Have you always had that?"

His face brightens with a smile, "No, I just got it, actually. I've only had it for about a week."

"I see. Looks good." You nod in acknowledgement before turning away to move up in line, trying to look and sound as unaffected as possible.

"Yeah?" He says, following you along the line, "I feel like that's pretty high praise coming from you."

"You're welcome." You quip back without looking at him again. Who knows what that face is going to make you do if you stare at it for too long.

He laughs and makes small talk about how your day's looking, pausing when you reach the counter and give them your order. Sero jumps in to order something for himself as well — opportunistic bastard — and tries to pay for you both, but you quickly smack him away and hand over your card, using intense eye contact to pressure the cashier to take it before Sero tries to butt in again.

Luckily, they do, which makes you sigh internally in relief as you move over to wait for the drinks.

"You didn't have to do that. I just piggybacked your spot in line, after all." He smiles, which is a sight you refuse to look at for longer than necessary.

"Just think of it as payback for lunch last time." You say.

"Oh?" He sounds amused. Ugh. "Weren't you gonna treat me to lunch somewhere else?"

You cringe at the reminder of what you said last time you saw him when you left Jirou's place. It sounded smoother in your head at the time, but looking back now... Ugh. Though you did offer to treat him to lunch, it was... only under a certain condition.

"That was like two weeks ago, Sero." You say, "Offer's expired."

"Aw, you're kidding! I was so excited about it!" He laments with a lighthearted sigh, clearly unserious. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Ah... me too. What a shame." You play along, copying his lighthearted tone.

He hums as he gently bumps you with his hip, "I don't suppose you could make an exception? After all, this piercing is still healing. I'm pretty sure I would've irritated it if I saw you again too soon."

Your heart jumps a little as an initial reaction because just thinking about the implication makes you a little warm. Plus, if he's telling the truth, then that could mean that he probably hasn't been kissing anyone else either. But after a moment, you also realize that it's a perfect excuse for putting you on hold without explanation.

The image of him cozying up to that hot girl in the grass the other day comes back and makes you huffy all over again. Because here you go again, jumping through all these mental hoops to justify this very fuckboyish behavior in hopes that you might still be on his mind when you're clearly not.

No, you need to stop this. Before you really embarrass yourself.

"You really think you're worth such an exception?" You say.

"Well, I suppose that's not up to me." Sero hums, still standing close to you.

"Hm, suppose it's not." you simply parrot, sick of all this dribbling and passing. He's the one who started this whole game but he keeps throwing the ball back in your court. Maybe it's time to just call a time out.

Before he can say anything else, your number is called out so you pick up your drinks and quickly hand over his before walking off towards the exit of the building.

"Hey, is something wrong?" He asks, keeping pace with you.

Yes, obviously.

"No. Why?"

"I don't know. You just seem... a little different than usual. Are you upset about something?"

Yes. Quite.

"Hm. Probably nothing the coffee can't fix." You say to avoid elaborating, taking a quick sip as if to prove it.

"Okay... well where are you headed to? If you're not busy, maybe—"

While Sero is speaking, you notice someone tall and blonde waving in your direction. As you both take a few steps closer to one another, you realize you recognize him, "Oh! Aoyama!"

"Bonjour~!" He keeps waving as he walks up to you.

"Ça tombe bien!" You shout, catching his wrist in your hand, "Allons-y. Je veux quitter ce mec."

Good timing! Let's go. I want to ditch this guy.

"Hm?" Aoyama tilts his head at you, quickly darting his eyes at Sero, "Qu’est-ce qu’il y a?"

What's the matter?

"Je te le dirai plus tard. On y va, s’il te plait."

I'll tell you later. Let's go for now.

"Oui." He agrees easily enough, gesturing with his hand to another direction, "Shall we?"

"Oui! Merci." You smile, slightly relieved when you turn to Sero, "Oh, this is my friend Aoyama, by the way."

"Right... The guy you practice French with." Sero says, observing Aoyama with a certain caution that you haven't seen before. Usually, he's pretty friendly with everyone. "I'm Sero. Nice to meet you, dude."

"And you." Aoyama returns the greeting and accepts the handshake.

"I'm actually gonna take off with him for now. I'll see you later." You say, inching towards the blonde as if switching sides.

"Wait!" Sero stops you by catching your hand in his, and you have to tighten up your throat in order to keep your heart from jumping out, "Uh, are you busy this weekend? Kaminari's having another kickback. Said he's gonna stream the new episode of Heroes Rising. If you wanna come."

Heroes Rising? Damn, you're tempted. You actually love that show. And it would probably be fun to watch with a group of friends, eating and drinking, smoking a little, discussing the series universe...

But at the same time, it would probably be another opportunity for Sero to mess with your head should he try something there. And you really don't need to be filled with more hope or head games.

"I'll... think about it." You eventually say.

"Sure thing." He says, finally letting go of your hand, "I'll text you?"

"Sure you will." You snort a bit, accidentally letting the bitterness slip out of your voice for a moment. Oops. "Bye, Sero."

"See ya, [Name]."

There it is again. That small softness that defers from his usual flirty arrogance and actually tickles at your chest a bit. Why does he always slip into that voice when you least need it?

Holding in your sigh, you turn back to Aoyama, "Allons-y."

—

"So you like him." Aoyama says when you're both seated at a bench on another part of campus.

"I do not!" You deny fervently, "I'm just... confused by him."

"Oh~?" Your friend raises his eyebrows with a knowing grin on his face, "And what exactly are you confused about?"

You heave a frustrated sigh, "I don't know. He's such a textbook playboy, but sometimes..."

"Sometimes?"

"Sometimes... there's more to him, I guess. And whenever he shows it, I think maybe he is worth liking. Or at least getting to know more."

"But?"

"But then he just goes back to that stupid playboy facade again, acting like he's interested in me when he's probably out using the same moves on everyone else." You wrinkle your nose at the image of him and that girl in the grass again.

Aoyama hums as he props his head in his palm, his arm leaning on the back of the bench, "So you want to be special to him."

"That's not what I said." You pout.

"Non?" Aoyama says, "Alors, qu'est-ce que tu veux dire ?"

You close your eyes with a sigh, wondering just what it is that you do want to say, or do for that matter. Are you really just going to keep running in circles like this?

"I'll ask again," Aoyama sits up, "Do you like him?"

Ugh, that's the ultimate question, isn't it? You still haven't completely figured it out for yourself. But since you think about him this much and enjoy kissing him and want to know more about him, that probably means one thing more than it means the other, doesn't it?

So begrudgingly, you mumble out, "... maybe. More yes than no."

"Is that something you cannot tell him?" Aoyama blinks, smiling yet still unreadable.

"Why would I?!" You protest, "I don't wanna go into it all serious just to get played. I'll look like an idiot."

"So you think he wouldn't be serious about you?"

"I know for a fact that he gets around. What would make me any different than any of the others?" You scoff.

Aoyama hums curiously, swinging the leg he's crossed over his other knee, "Well, I certainly don't know him, but I doubt he'd be so hostile towards me, someone he just met, if you were simply 'any of the others,' ma chère."

"What are you talking about?"

"Think about how it must have looked to him when I dazzlingly arrived on the scene;" He explains, "You completely turned your attention away from him to another radiantly handsome man, spoke with this beautiful stranger in a language that excluded him from the conversation, and all but ran off with the other man when he was trying to make plans to see you again. I mean, if I were him, I would surely be a little insecure about my own personal luster." He finishes with a giggle.

You can only raise your eyebrows at your friend in a deadpan look, because what?

"Aoyama..." You start slowly, "Are you implying that he saw you... you — with your knee-high boots and a shirt with ruffles — and thought there was something better us?"

Aoyama only smiles at you with his pretty but unreadable eyes, as if not confirming nor denying your words...

This is why Aoyama is so hilarious to you. Because while he's actually quite observant and knowledgeable about the world, he chooses to ignore all of the blinking signs of social norms and expectations in order to live in his own sparkly little world. Which you both respect and find ridiculous at times.

But you go along with it for now. It's not like you're not interested in his opinion on the situation.

"Alright, fine. Let's say, for a moment, that he disregarded all of the rainbows spewing out of you and thought I was interested in you. Maybe he was even a little jealous." You say, "Even if he was, that doesn't change the fact that he hasn't bothered to maintain contact with me. Or that he's still been flirting with others."

"That is curious." Aoyama agrees, "Perhaps he's used to thinking he has nothing to lose. Although that may have changed today."

"I doubt it." You roll your eyes, slouching against the bench with your arms crossed, "Honestly though, as much as I'd like to think he might like me, I also can't shake this feeling about him. Like I should still be careful around him."

"Careful with your heart? Or with your body?" Aoyama asks.

"Both, I suppose. It's not like one isn't connected to the other."

Aoyama makes a curious humming noise again, which prompts you to sigh, "What?"

"C'est rien. But to me, it sounds like he's already gotten to your heart."

You let out another sigh, because he's right. You hate that he's right and that Sero has already wired up so many circuits in your brain and body that he's got so many buttons to push.

At this point, what remedy do you even have? If he's already burrowed into your brain and your heart, should you just let him have your body too? Just for the sake of it? Would you be able to just get it out of your system and get over him?

"Should I go to the kickback?" You ask Aoyama, even though you feel like you already know the answer.

"Oui! You must! And don't forget to tell me everything afterwards." He says with a wink, making you shake your head and roll your eyes.

But you thank him regardless for coming to your rescue and listening to your woes before you send him off to class. Then you pull up your phone to text Kaminari.

To: Kaminari Denki what's this i hear about streaming the new heroes rising ep?

—

tbc

a/n: all my french is from google and youtube, pls be forgiving/kindly add corrections if you have them 🙏🇫🇷

edit: tysm to mia for helping me fix up the french a bit for this!!!

part 5