#crying bcs there are only 6-7 chapters left

[celestiarambles]

new chapter of the pedestal!

hii here's a new chapter!

i apologize for any mistakes, it's almost 12:30 am here and i am about to crash out lol

trigger warning for online sexual harassment, prison violence and suicidal ideation! read with caution :))

The Pedestal - A Sombra Lars AU - Chapter 24 - celestiamirasol - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

[andrea-lyn]

@kaydeefalls is the loveliest ever for tagging me in this meme, bc it's an absolute fave, so ty ty!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

494, which definitely excludes some early career stuff I do not share. Yes, it's a lot, but hey, that's hyperfixation for you!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

3,646,862, which means 4mil is the next big target, and knowing me, I'll get there.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, my WIP folder touches the following fandoms: The Old Guard, Avatar the Last Airbender, XMFC, Interview with the Vampire, Roswell New Mexico (I very much want to write more Roy/Jamie, but just kicking around ideas rn).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

ready for my close up, mr. dameron (Poe/Finn), aka @swingsetindecember baited me with gogurt and I wrote a fic, and the gogurt is unique, but the baiting is not (see: my entire Mag7 oeuvre)

how to fall in love with a fairytale  (Poe/Finn), aka, I got into the Star Wars fandom at the right time

what a tale my thoughts could tell (Joe/Nicky), aka, I got into the Old Guard fandom at the right time and mind-reading does well

Your Hand In Mine (Poe/Finn), aka, see above

hallelujah, you're still mine (Joe/Nicky), also above

The next couple are still Old Guard/Star Wars, but this year a few newbies have crept into the top page, including Ted Lasso and IWTV, which is very exciting to me!

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, always, I am a slut for positive reinforcement and I want to give thanks for that.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Every once in a while I like to write something that guts me to write and makes me cry. Anyway, The Time Traveling Pilot technically has a bittersweet and happy ending, except it's also super angsty? Love the ouroboros of it all!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

....take your pick. With minimal exceptions, I'm a happy ending girlie by trade.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I had a run in Roswell New Mexico where I had to turn off guests because I was getting some really random, but vicious comments and I knew why, but it was still exhausting.

9. Do you write smut?

I've noticed as I get older, I've stopped as much, mostly because the tone doesn't seem to match what I'm doing. Don't get me wrong, I'll still include it, but it's usually more in passing than focused.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Hell yes, and I miss them, I need to write more.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, and my biggest piece of advice for any writer is to have an open policy for transformative works on your AO3, because that's how you get awesome translations and podfics!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes, and I love this too, and would love to do more of it. Honestly, sometimes I think that's the only way I'll ever finish the original novel ideas I have.

14. What is your all time favorite ship?

I feel like I don't have all-time faves, but I will say that there are some ships that stick with me even after years and I'll go back to them. Right now, I'd say those two that have longevity are Ronan/Adam, and Kirk/McCoy. Obviously then there are current obsessions like Armand/Daniel and Sokka/Zuko, but those first two just stick.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's only one. Literally, only ONE. I will probably never finish even though there's only a chapter left. It's a modern day Pride & Prejudice AU. It is literally the only fic I've ever abandoned after I started posting (pretty sure it's still on ff.net) and honestly, the only reason I'm not going back to it is because my style has changed too much.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Engaging plot, or so I like to think. I feel like I tend to have fun unique takes on things.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Not describing shit enough. I do a lot of vague things on purpose sometimes because it fits the mood, and sometimes because I'm just too lazy about my prose.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language during a fic?

So I used to. And then I realized that it's too much work to scroll or highlight, so now I'll just write in italics and denote the language in the prose after.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Mystic Knights of Tir Na Nog or Charmed - I can't remember which came first, but my username comes from the Mary Sues I wrote in both of those fandoms, bc I decided that I might as well own it. And here we are.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

It's always a flip-flop between my Webgott (Love Like The Sea) and this one, Baby, I'm Howling For You (my McDanno supernatural big bang). The latter is probably winning right now because I re-read it the other day and I miss world-building like that, so I'm dying to get back to it.

TAGGING TIME! I'm hitting up @myrmidryad @inell @atthelamppost @graygiantess and anyone else who wants to ramble about fics!

[slightecho]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

I got tagged by @daydreams-and-honeybees and @halcyonhue (it won’t let me tag you and idk why! 😭)

This is gonna be very interesting and silly bc I have written much and posted little!! 🤣

TAGGING: @silvvergears if you havent done this before and…… actually idk who among my fic writing friends has or hasn’t done this one bc I’ve seen it going around a few times, so if you are a fic writer and want to do it, i’m tagging you!! 😆

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

LMFAO only 4

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

481,043 words jfc 😨

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I used to dabble in writing voltron fic years ago, and that makes up the majority of works on my ao3 but currently writing for The Owl House and I’m hoping to outnumber the Voltron fics on my account with other fandoms 😎

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lmao uhhhh since I only have 4 published, I’m just gonna say the top two tbh 😅😅😅

Ashes takes the number one, with Crowd of Thousands as my second most kudos on a fic

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes!! I love responding to comments! I want to discuss things with people reading my fics and (especially in the case of Ashes), I wanna see what my readers theories are on what’s going to happen. It’s one of my favorite parts of having people who read what I write!!

If you’ve ever left me a comment and I haven’t responded, don’t be discouraged. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say beyond a giant thanks for reading. 😅 And sometimes I won’t reply if my last reply was a teaser

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uhhhh so if I had finished it, it WOULD have been the untitled Bungo Stray Dogs Heathers AU fic I got like 75% of the way done writing and then abandoned.

But other than that I don’t have any with an angsty ending—oh wait no ¡Viva La Gloria! is technically a published fic in my ao3 isn’t it?

Yeah it’s ¡Viva La Gloria! then lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Crowd of Thousands currently.

Ashes by the time it’s done.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Haven’t yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Pls don’t send me hate I’ll cry

Criticism and critique are fine. Just don’t be mean to meeeee pls 😊

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have.

Nothing published anywhere.

I’m not very good at it

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not really. I don’t really read them either tbh

I’m kind of the kid who doesn’t want their foods to touch on their plate when it comes to entire fandoms in fics it’s just not my thing

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not yet, or at least not to my knowledge.

Knocking on wood now

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Somewhat?

The planned Elowyn piece I have is something my girlfriend and I came up with together. So I have co-authored concepts

The first two or three chapter of Ashes, besides the prologue, there was a LOT taken from the discord RP that I’d originally come up with the plot of Ashes for. I had permission from that friend to use them. And I heavily, HEAVILY took out and then rewrote their portions (namely the Raine parts of the chapters “Moving Day” and “Hexside” bc the rest at the time were my characters). Their original writing has been scrubbed and a lot of Raine’s character and story arc has transformed into something else entirely. Pretty much all that remains is that they were the one who came up with the idea that Raine was Manny’s sibling. If they read it, they could probably still see the bones of what they wrote if they squint. But by the time Luz hits Eda with the door in “Hexside,” they’d already moved on from the rp. So it was very easy to rewrite around their parts and just reuse the posts I that I had written for those chapters.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

That’s too hard a question how dare you

I like too many ships

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh jeez.

Either the untitled Bungo Stray Dogs Heathers AU that was never posted anywhere, or The First Golden Guard.

Pretty much The First Golden Guard i have just notes scribbled out of the plot, what I think the first chapter is, and some various bits of dialogue from different moments in the fic. But then I started writing Ashes and that took over my life, and now I really want to write The Caleb Files, and the bonus stuff that got cut from Ashes. Plus the Elowyn fic. so I just don’t know if it will ever get written now

16. What are your writing strengths?

Description and voice.

I really love getting a little flowery when describing action or setting while writing. And in the case of setting in particular, I think I have a more natural ability.

I also really strive to make sure each character’s own unique way of talking comes through in their dialogue. Maybe not always when the narration makes the reader privy to their thoughts and emotions, but at the very least, their dialogue does.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Bro just cannot stop yapping!!

I actually genuinely do believe my greatest weakness is my inability to shut up sometimes. I’m sure if I go back and reread Ashes from the beginning, I’ve said the same shit multiple times.

Also sometimes I just get repetitive!! And I use certain colloquialisms like “just,” “after all,” and “as if” FAR too often.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

sigh.

I am a latinx person who lived through the VLD fandom… I have a LOT of opinions… and I have seen some bad Spanish dialogue written by non-Spanish speakers… the kind of shit that stands out to even me, when I have little verbal fluency.

Here’s the thing: I am not AGAINST anyone writing another language of dialogue into their fics. I actually do think it’s a good thing.

HOWEVER!!!

If you are a person who only speaks one language—if you’re a person who kind of doesn’t know what I’m talking about when I say ‘code switching’ or only understands the basic definition of code switching—I am BEGGING you to try and have someone with more experience in that language than you to proofread those dialogue sections.

The amount of times I’ve seen weird moments where the code switching didn’t make logical or emotional sense for the character beyond the author’s “I want to include Spanish here” is innumerable. And that’s not to say code switching needs to have a deep, profound reason all the time—sometimes code switching happens bc there’s no word or phrase in one language that directly translates from the concept or emotion you know how to describe in another! But from what I’ve found, there are a lot of people who understand code switching in concept (and that it’s important for representation) but not in practice bc they simply have no firsthand experience with it. I don’t blame them, though! It’s a hard thing to understand on description alone! Unless you’ve experienced it before, I don’t think it’s something you can fully comprehend. And it can stand out. You can even think you’ve done it right on technicality, but it falls flat.

A tiktok in how to spot AI images I once saw said “AI understands that a mirror, or stairs, or chair legs have to be there there, but it doesn’t understand why it functionally exists or what purpose it serves” and therefore it makes mistakes by adding twelve stairs on the right and fourteen on the left, or five legs on two chairs that are somehow sharing them, or mirrors won’t show the correct items reflected back. I’ve seen many well-meaning fic writers (and published authors!!!) do the exact same thing with language switching. They understand that it should be there, but not functionally why.

Also a basic “don’t rely on google translate” here….. but also a less basic one: different cultures of a shared language are gonna have different turns of phrase and different slang. I’ve also seen a lot of fics that have Lance (a Cuban character) using Mexican slang or words. That’s always awkward.

There’s just a lot. I could go on about this forever but I think I pretty much covered it all.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ever?! Lmfao Harry Potter when I was a young teen. I didn’t understand what I was doing at all and only did it because my older friend who knew I liked writing my original stories at the time said that I should try writing fic.

I didn’t even have a plot or anything. I just genuinely thiugh fanfic was writing your little self insert OCs and perpetually playing with them in a dollhouse made of your favorite thing 🤡🤡🤡

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Wholly and completely, without a shadow of a doubt

Ashes

It’s genuinely the first fic I’ve ever written where I have actually wondered if I was better off writing it as an original story and going the publishing route. Unfortunately for future me and fortunately for you all, I’m way too attached to the characters as their original names and incarnations to do that 🤣

It’s also the first fic I’ve ever written where I went into it already knowing every piece of the puzzle and having all the clues laid out to perfectly set them up ahead of time. I’m very proud of that and I long for the day where someone rereads Ashes after it’s over and discovers the tiny things in the extremely early chapters that were hints towards the end.

[everythingsinred]

Hi hii!! I hope you're having a nice day 💜💜

Ok I'm gonna be really mean with the 50 questions ask-

Whichever ones you want, with Ruka, Natsume, or Mikan

(i find it mean bc i am tragically indecisive)

i am doing great!

(i think that u sent this again, adding mikan... so i'll answer this one instead of the other one, if that's okay)

ur ask is so tempting so i will do as many as i can for all three, thank u <3

Ruka-pyon <3

1. Canon I outright reject? he would NEVER leave natsume not EVER. i know tsubasa had to basically drag him out of there but i hate that he left i HATE it

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on? i don't think he would ever date mikan after natsume's hypothetical death. i don't think either of them would be able to.

3. Obscure headcanon? his favorite disney movie is fox and the hound.

4. Favorite line? "Meeting you, and coming with you here to the Academy... I never even once regretted it." (chapter 146)

5. Best personality trait? his loyalty. he's very sweet and i love that, but his loyalty is what moves mountains, what fights wars, what transcends the rules of time and space.

6. Worst personality trait? i must have mentioned this at some point but he's perfect. but really i think he shouldn't feel like such a burden when he brings so much to the table.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon? i don't need a headcanon when i have character profiles! 140 cm/4'6 and 35 kg/77 lbs at his debut, 173 cm/5'8 and 66 kg/145 lbs in the last chapter. also i believe he's the youngest of the main four? he turns 11 in march, after natsume, mikan, and hotaru have all had their 11th birthdays.

8. Unpopular opinion about them? i've already said i only like his relationship with mikan platonically, so i'll say something else.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character? "bird meets tori!" where we see him using his alice with piyo. though it's been so long since i first met him that i really can't remember ever NOT loving him.

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)? my favorite ruka moment is when he's waiting for natsume in the backseat of the car to go to the academy with him. makes me cry every single time.

12. Crack headcanon? i like thinking of him growing little flowers on his windowsill in his dorm and that he very much likes baking... again "crack" i use loosely.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done? this...?? maybe? i dont think he does many dumb things...

14. Most heroic moment? i just think there's so much strength in ruka's actions in the new year's arc, even if he feels like such a burden the whole time. though i also think this one is very brave.

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done? very tough to say because he's a well-meaning child! i don't like to be negative abt the kids. that being said, this might be natsume AND ruka's worst moment lol. ruka was complicit in that.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them? zoe and i do have a ruka playlist, but it's private right now because it's unpolished. that being said, here are some songs from the playlist.

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about? his self-esteem issues, namely his feelings of being a burden and his apparent social anxiety that stems from a lonely, isolated childhood.

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)? lemonade!

22. Best physical feature? his pretty blue eyes! he's so beautiful!

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like? YOU ASKED THE RIGHT PERSON. i imagine he would be a lovely, simple floral scent, as well as something a little sweet and refined.

24. Most annoying habit? he's done nothing annoying??? tho for real i think people might get annoyed by his natsume-apologism (especially in story lol)

27. Their guilty pleasure? i think he'd probably like musicals but get very embarrassed abt it. tho i might just be projecting winston bishop on him based off his one musical performance as snow white that he obviously didnt even want to do.

31. If they had a tumblr what would it look like? VERY aesthetic, sweet, with lots of photography, poetry quotes, and pictures of animals.

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh? when he finally lets himself poke fun at natsume and mikan! they make him laugh a lot, when he puts his walls down <3

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry? when he thinks too hard about his family, because of how much he misses them.

35. Their idea of a perfect day? spending time with his friends and snuggling with an animal... i think he'd be content with simple pleasures.

36. Their favorite season? i associate him with spring! with flowers and baby animals and gentle weather. i think he'd like it too, for lots of the same reasons.

37. What they really think about themselves? he thinks of himself as a burden, obstacle, impediment, that he holds the one person he loves most back when all he wants is to help. as a result, he withdraws and hides himself away bc he doesn't think he's capable of contributing much anyway.

38. Favorite holiday? maybe easter? i'm not familiar with japanese holidays so i cant say for sure but the easter aesthetic suits him.

39. Favorite game? card games!!!

40. Favorite book? i have a predominantly western understanding of literature because i have a degree in english literature, so forgive me. i think he'd like romantic poets, like whitman, wordsworth, byron, and dickinson. he'd like romanticism for it's emphasis on the natural world and on emotion and justice. i think he'd like classic children's books too, like peter pan or alice in wonderland.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be? he'd wanna eat lunch with his parents because he misses them <3

42. 3 comfort items? i had a long and nice answer for this but tumblr ate it (which pisses me off so much u have no idea) so i dont remember what i'd said. the earbud transmitters hotaru left him, but i cant remember the other two. ill reblog again if i remember.

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise? i think ruka would like bread and pastries, lots of desserts. i dont have much of an inkling what he wouldn't like except that i believe he's a vegetarian so he wouldn't eat meat. i just dont understand how he could have such connection and empathy for animals, genuinely love them as friends, and have the animal pheromone alice on top of that, and eat them. i dont think he'd judge anybody for eating meat, but he wouldn't be able to himself.

44. Their happiest memory? meeting natsume <3

46. The person they most admire? natsume, mikan, and his mom. people whose strength he admires and maybe covets.

47. Their dream job? he wants to be a vet!!!!

48. Scariest moment of their life? poor ruka has gone through a lot of scary moments but i think he's managed to be brave each time anyway, which is very admirable. i keep saying natsume for all his answers, but i think natsume's death would be the scariest moment because he genuinely couldn't do anything to stop it. i think not only was it the moment he lost his best friend, but also a moment that made him feel like he really couldn't be of any help or support to natsume after all, that he really was a burden.

49. Favorite toy as a child? rich boy ruu-chan had a lot of toys and while i'm tempted to think he'd like stuffed animals, at the end of the day i think he'd be way more interested in playing with real animals. i think they made him feel accepted and understood and less alone.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out? i think the memories of the time between natsume dying and coming back would be a bit blurry. he wouldnt have been holding on tight to that period of time, to put it lightly.

Natsume <3

1. Canon I outright reject? I will never accept him dying young. sorry higuchi but i just cant listen to you.

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on? natsume LOVES chocolate and sweets. why do so many people insist on him hating sweets just because he's "cool" i dont get it???

3. Obscure headcanon? he listens to rap and rap rock. im sorry i just. cant imagine he wouldn't love rap. whatever.

4. Favorite line? i love when one of the kids asks him to tutor him when the whole class is in study mode, saying, "i thought if i went in with a 'do or die' attitude then maybe..." and natsume replies, "then die." (i know it's hard to see but it's at the bottom, where ruka's face is.) ALSO on a more serious note, "can you wait for me?" because it KILLS me.

5. Best personality trait? how sweet he can be!!!! no but seriously natsume acts cool but he's the most hopeless romantic of the bunch and i live by that.

6. Worst personality trait? martyr complex.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon? who needs headcanon when we have canon!! natsume is ten (a couple months away from eleven) when he's introduced and the second youngest (only older than ruka) in the main four (the boys being younger than the girls is so cute). he's sixteen at the epilogue and in kageki <3. he's 140 cm/4'6 and 34.5 kg/76 lbs when we meet him, and 175 cm/5'9 and 72 kg/159 lbs at the epilogue.

8. Unpopular opinion about them? i think the popular opinion is that natsume is a baby boy who deserves peace and love after a childhood of rage and agony but if you disagree, i'll throw u off a cliff myself.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character? im gonna be real with u. he was my fav from the start. i never ever had negative feelings towards him ever from the beginning. is that weird? idk. i dont really care. i saw him with his mask and was determined to watch the whole anime just bc he was in it.

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)? it's really hard for me to answer this but i think my favorite natsume moment is when he finally rebels against the ESP and persona... something he'd always wanted to do but couldn't, finally given the chance through the knowledge that he'd rather be dead than allow mikan to live through the same suffering that he does.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done? getting mikan to play the prince. he's so fucking stupid.

14. Most heroic moment? he wishes it was his death scene! i think his most heroic moment was when he decided to go to the academy for his sister. i pick this scene and not any others bc when natsume risks his life later on, part of it is motivated by suicidal ideation so it's kinda hard for me to think of those moments as anything but.

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done? same answer as ruka's. yes i say this even knowing that he might have killed people during DA missions. those other ppl arent real to me; mikan is.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them? again, zoe and i made a killer playlist for the main 4 ga characters. natsume's is the best though, we both agree. since, again, the playlist is still under construction, here are some tracks from it that suit him. (lots of them are triggering, particularly regarding thoughts of suicide, just as a warning.)

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about? everything? trauma, self-image, martyr complex, suicidal ideation, dealing with terminal illness... there's a lot.

19. Vices/bad habits? he has a lot! the worst is his overuse of his alice.

20. Scars? i'm sure he has some. DA missions are not safe and although natsume is canonically immune to his own fire, he's not immune to flying shrapnel and rubble. i like the anime showing us some glimpses into what his missions might look like. we even got to see him get shot, an injury he (presumably) patched up himself instead of going to the hospital for, which is VERY in character. the anime NAILED that episode (chef's kiss, best episode ever, hands down).

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)? cherry dr pepper (this is just a ridiculous joke zoe and i made that is now serious. what a sickening beverage)

22. Best physical feature? his eyes! so pretty. i also love his silky hair. he is SO pretty and has sUCH pretty eyelashes. most beautiful boy ever.

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like? he'd be a lovely scent, very woody and foresty. not floral or sweet.

24. Most annoying habit? martyr complex.

31. If they had a tumblr what would it look like? it's hard to imagine natsume having a tumblr tbh but i think if he did it would be a little anticlimactic. he'd mainly just reblog stupid self-deprecating jokes and edgy music.

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh? jokes with ruka <3 teasing mikan <3 :)

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry? sadly, natsume rarely cries. but he cries when he loses someone, so leaving his father, and i think he must have cried when he woke up after dying just to find out mikan was gone.

35. Their idea of a perfect day? a good day would probably be if he doesn't have to go on a mission. a perfect day would be the two christmases where he got to kiss mikan. i think he went to sleep very happy those nights.

36. Their favorite season? spring <3 though i always associate him with autumn and winter.

37. What they really think about themselves? BAD. not worth the trouble. exists for others. similar nonsense.

38. Favorite holiday? CHRISTMAS

39. Favorite game? playing cards with ruka! also its easy to imagine him being into video games, particularly violent ones.

40. Favorite book? i think he'd prefer manga to books but if he were to read books i think he'd like fucked up shit. maybe horror like stephen king or something.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be? his mom

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise? i base this off of official art (thus, canon), but pasta, chocolate, and strawberries are his favorite foods. i think he wouldnt like coffee (thats why he always drinks it in my fics lmao....) and i like imagining him as being a childishly picky eater. i dont really have any evidence for his dislikes. just vibes.

44. Their happiest memory? meeting ruka and both christmases <3

46. The person they most admire? i think he would admire his mother and yuka a lot. obviously, he also admires ruka and mikan, for being unlike him.

47. Their dream job? he simply does not dream of labor. it's really hard for me to come up with a job he'd love bc of how he's been forced to work as an actual child. he likes manga... maybe something involved with that?

48. Scariest moment of their life? when aoi burned down the village, though i do think he's had lots of scary moments after that too. i just think that was probably the moment he realized how powerless he really was, how much he was at the mercy of others simply bc he was a child.

49. Favorite toy as a child? i think he'd probably be a big fan of matchbox cars? or maybe im saying that bc i liked matchbox cars. (and also cuz theyre called matchbox cars). he seems to like basketball too!

50. A memory they’ve blocked out? natsume is a big ball of trauma so i wouldnt be surprised if there was plenty. i think he's kind of forced to compartmentalize a lot, since his experiences in the DA class are so gruesome and different from his school life, so he'd be forced to pretend like he didn't just go on a terrifying mission last night, which leads to unprocessed trauma and maybe even blurred memories.

Mikan <3

1. Canon I outright reject? if higuchi tachibana doubting that "natsume won" is canon, then i reject it. mikan MADE A CHOICE. in your manga, higuchi!!!! she even says, "these feelings i have only for you", which means the only person she loves romantically is natsume. higuchi YOU WROTE THIS.

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on? ^^^ that one. also she's not a masochist.

3. Obscure headcanon? even though natsume can have a potentially atrocious taste in fashion, i think mikan would find his fits cute nonetheless, maybe just bc it's him!

4. Favorite line? I love when she tells natsume to join her team before the sports fest. she NEVER asks for anything from natsume or tells him how she feels but she takes a risk this once and it's wonderful until he rejects her and she takes a long while to recover from that moment where she finally put herself out there only to get turned down.

5. Best personality trait? perseverance, in regards to difficult times and difficult people.

6. Worst personality trait? toxic positivity

7. Age/height/weight headcanon? we have canon!! she is (unbeknownst to her) eleven years old when she first comes to the academy and is turning seventeen when we see her again in the last chapters. she's 138 cm/4'6 and 33 kg/73 lbs at her debut and 158 cm/5'2 and 47 kg/104 lbs at the last chapters.

8. Unpopular opinion about them? it's okay that she's stupid! i dislike when mikan is made so much smarter, or when they significantly alter her personality, in fics. i think she's pretty great the way she is!

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character? HARD TO SAY. regrettably i wasn't always a huge fan of mikan, especially in the anime, bc i thought she was annoying. but i think when i matured just a little, it was hard to keep it up. i think i fully loved her on the second rewatch/reread. i couldnt tell u the specific scene bc it was too long ago.

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)? i reread just this little moment so often. i'm not saying it's a healthy moment, hiding her feelings until she's alone, but it's so her and it's so heart-crushing and tragic. i love it.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done? she's frequently stupid, but i really enjoy this moment, just bc of how naive she is, both to natsume's situation and to her own feelings. (mikan, girl, you're in love with him.)

14. Most heroic moment? is there anything more heroic than this?

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done? mikan rarely does things out of ill-will. i could say one of her well-intentioned blunders, but that feels cheap. i'll say this, then, when mikan tells natsume that him worrying about her is a bother. i'll talk about it during my essay, but mikan says that, against her urges to keep him with her, because she remembers the pain of him choosing luna over her and she, in that moment, reacts in a kneejerk way to make him hurt a little too. it's the only moment i can think of where she hurts somebody without at least meaning well. (and YES i know that this is right after luna told her to keep their encounter a secret, but mikan chooses to be cold to natsume in a way that she isnt towards hotaru or her other friends for asking similar questions.)

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves? mikan never admits anything to herself! that she loves natsume sticks out the most though.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them? AGAIN, zoe and i made playlists for the main 4 but they're unsuitable for consumption right now, so here are some mikan flavored tracks!

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about? her little useless complex as well as her toxic positivity and all the trauma she had to endure in a very short time frame.

19. Vices/bad habits? "keep smiling, mikan, no matter what!"

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)? orange juice and orange soda

22. Best physical feature? her smile, allegedly! i love the way her eyes are drawn (my answer for everyone is eyes bc i LOVE the way higuchi draws eyes...). i, like natsume, also LOVE when her hair is down.

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like? she'd be like her name, and have a fruity, floral scent! very sweet!

31. If they had a tumblr what would it look like? i think it would be super cute with lots of bright, fun colors, desserts, and positivity quotes.

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh? she smiles a lot. i like her genuine smiles, when she hears something she likes or spends quality time with people she loves.

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry? mikan is sensitive! thus she cries a lot! she cries when people around her are hurt, she cries when she doesn't get what she wants, or when things get hard. i think it's sweet.

35. Their idea of a perfect day? spending time with her class b pals with some light antics and shenanigans, or hanging out with her senpais in the special ability class would make her happy. later, going on dates with natsume, too. <3

36. Their favorite season? summer, but the lovely thing is how happy and awestruck mikan seems to be by every passing season. she loves them all! it's very sweet, how much love she has for life.

37. What they really think about themselves? despite her tendency to see the beauty or value in everything, she doesn't see much in herself. she thinks of herself as ordinary, boring, useless. she knows that people love her smile but she thinks that's all she has to offer so she hides her negative feelings away. ;-;

38. Favorite holiday? new year's!!!

39. Favorite game? she loves all games, but especially sports and high-activity games

40. Favorite book? she'd like high-spirited books with wacky characters, like pippi longstocking, anne of green gables, or matilda.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be? her parents and jii-chan

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise? obviously she loves oranges and she eats lots of oranges in the manga. i like to think she shares hotaru's love for seafood, bc seafood reminds her of hotaru, but hotaru is so insane abt it that mikan seems to have a tame love in comparison. and HOWALON, obviously. i dont think mikan would dislike much food or be a picky eater bc she loves to eat <3

44. Their happiest memory? i think her school memories with her friends, particularly lighthearted moments, would stick out as happiest. the culture fest or the dodgeball game or swimming class.

46. The person they most admire? hotaru, natsume, ruka, etc. she admires lots of people. she has a tendency to see the good parts of people and to focus on them until that's the main thing she sees.

47. Their dream job? i like to see mikan in people-oriented, caring-based roles, like as a nurse or a teacher, where there's emphasis on helping people. i think she'd really thrive in a career like that. i especially like imagining her as a teacher. (her husband can share some pretty decent benefits from such a career afaik)

48. Scariest moment of their life? probably the whole night of the escape arc. no part of that was easy. the entire night was stressful and scary

49. Favorite toy as a child? she makes her own mikan dolls! mikan is awful at homemade things, like cooking or sewing, but she loves it anyway! i think she liked making her own toys and seeing the beauty in her ugly little creations.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out? i think mikan would try and remember the hard moments so that she can get stronger, just based on the way she talks about such moments, like after pengy dies.

[yunarim]

♡ IDIA SHROUD ୨ : aligned with ☆ the stars : ୧ [headcanon] ˖ summary : dorm leaders as their typical zodiac signs' traits ˖ tags : astrology, zodiac signs observation, general personaliy traits and relationships ones too (traits such as behavior in relationships are on the end of the every character's description), gn reader 마지막 인사 To My First [scenario] ˖ summary : paper kiss game! (where the paper drops) ˖ tags : gn reader, fluff, vdc/sdc mentions (thus book 5 spoilers)

day by day [scenario] ˖ summary : he discovers you sleeping and covers you with a blanket, but you assume it was someone else! ˖ tags : gn reader, fluff

love words [scenario] ˖ summary : confessing your love through sleep ˖ tags : gn reader, fluff, reader wears lip gloss in vil's part, french i'm not sure i used correctly in rook's part (i don't speak french uhm...), flower language in malleus' part, hello kitty stickers in lilia's part bc i'm a fan monochrome frame [headcanon with oneshot elements] ˖ summary : yuu can neutralize the use of any kind of magic with a touch. ˖ tags : female reader, books 1-7 major spoilers, hurt/comfort, cursing in leona's and vil's parts, mention of blood in leona's part, jp translation terms (dorm leader, VDC), can be read platonically in all of parts except vil, idia & esp malleus ones (i imply romantical way tho) where's a doctor when you need one? [headcanon] - rus ver ˖ summary : dorm leaders with natasha-like reader (hsr) ˖ tags : female reader (she/her pronouns), fluff, slight mentions of injuries, reader kinda works part-time at NRC as a nurse, reader wields a gun but no violence mentioned (she just uses it canonically but i left only the part that she only has it in her property)

hands wrought under the dark veil [headcanon with oneshot elements] ˖ summary : overblotted reader ˖ tags : gn reader, angst, books 1-7 major spoilers, action takes places alongside with malleus overblotting, mentions of crying, mentions of blood, mentions of nausea, emotional instability, yuu can insinuate darkest illusions into the minds, open ending if you will ⋆˖ written in you heart [headcanon] ˖ summary : reader introducing barbie culture to the dorm leaders ! ˖ tags : implied female reader (but no pronouns used actually), fluff, implied reader has all the movies downloaded on the phone and got transmigrated with it, watch me being emo about barbie movies, games & songs because totally not me was obsessed with them in my childhood— attention please [headcanon] ˖ summary : reader who is fluent in boys’ native languages ˖ tags : gn reader, cultural references in some parts, reader is aware of the original fairytale in vil's part, slight cursing in vil's part

A TWISTED ISEKAI travel experience [series] ˖ summary : you and your reliable partner grim are the most famous interdimensional travelers under the Official Isekai Association. you're used to traveling into psychological thrillers and horrors. however, this time something goes wrong, and you suddenly turn into the protagonist of… an otome game?! ˖ tags : gn reader, fluff at times, angst (i'm offering EXTRA angst and drama for lilia & idia for you today), mentions of death, idia's part being quite dark actually, BUT there's a happy ending (or i think so but feel free to allegorize as you please! :)) . . . loading : real-life otome simulator ☆ [series] ˖ summary : It seems that the world is preparing for its imminent cessation. Indeed, it's far from common that a peculiar extrovert with a secret passion for otome novels on the one hand and an eccentric shut-in, a professional in all game genres, except for socialization simulators, on the other, will collide in the same room. A new otome novel that breaks the top games of the year, the two, who bet on an all-clear 100% true romantic ending walkthrough on the first try, and Ortho, who quite unobtrusively suggested them to team up. ˖ tags : female reader, reader is yuu, extrovert reader, second-year reader, sfw, fluff, chapter 6 spoilers . . . loading : real-life otome simulator ☆ - chapter 1 . . . loading : real-life otome simulator ☆ - chapter 2 . . . loading : real-life otome simulator ☆ - chapter 3 . . . loading : real-life otome simulator ☆ - chapter 4

♡ ORTHO SHROUD (platonic)

© yushiiae 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧.

[caffiene-fueled-fuckery]

My M*A*S*H Fic Olympics Contributions

Hello!! I thought I’d link the pieces that I wrote for the M*A*S*H Fic Olympics that ended on Monday. I didn’t get to do all 7 days, but I got 5, so I’m super proud! Links and brief summaries below!

Day 2: Weather

Title: When It Rains, It Pours

Pairing: Gen, Hawkeye & BJ, Charles & BJ

Prominent Tag(s): hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,129

Status: Complete

Day 3: Horror

Title: Blood in the Water

Pairing: Father Mulcahy & OC

Prominent Tag(s): hurt/comfort, trauma response, blood and gore

Word Count: 2,159

Status: 1/2 Chapters

Day 4: Orange

Title: Shades of Amber, Heart of Gold

Pairing: Gen, Max Klinger & Kellye

Prominent Tag(s): POV Max Klinger, One-sided Attraction, Colour Theory

Word Count: 362

Status: Complete

Day 6: Injury

Title: God, Keep My Head Above Water

Pairing: Father Mulcahy & OC

Prominent Tag(s): Deaf Character, Hearing Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Mutual Pining

Word Count: 3,766

Status: Chapter 1/?

Day 7: Secrets

Title: Halfway Between

Pairing: Gen, Radar O’Reilly & Max Klinger, Radar O’Reilly & Henry Blake

Prominent Tag(s): s03ep24 Abyssinia Henry, Episode Continuation, Max Klinger Sees Ghosts, Grieving Radar O’Reilly, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,868

Status: Complete

I had a lot of fun the past week writing all these pieces! It was definitely a challenge, especially being so new to the fandom and trying to gauge how my interpretations of the characters fit into the narratives. I’m typically an angst writer, so the short piece about Kellye was a challenge, but I ended up being really proud of it! Also, the OC in both the fics with Father Mulcahy are the same OC. I’ll put some details about her down below! Those fics were both floating around in my head before the fic olympics started so yeah, it was self-indulgent. Apologies, lol. If you give any of these a read, I’d love some feedback! Reblogs are welcome! :)

About my OC in the two Mulcahy fics:

Name: Della Woods

Gender: Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: May 12th, 1922

Age: 29 (at the start of the war)

Hair Colour: Chocolate brown

Hair Style: curly, falls just below her jaw

Eye Colour: Light brown

Skin Tone: very pale

Height: 5′9″ (yes she’s tall for a woman, esp in the 50s)

Job: Nurse, has experience with psychiatric patients (though this doesn’t come through in the first fic, I hadn’t really thought about it yet)

Love Language (giving): Physical Touch (main), Words of Affirmation

Love Language (receiving): Quality Time, Words of Affirmation

Temperament: Energetic, Playful

MBTI: ENFJ

Scars or markings: One above her left hip that curls around onto her stomach (from an accident many years ago), lots of freckles

Her relationship with Mulcahy: they’ve been really close friends/best friends pretty much since Della joined the 4077th, which was just after Mulcahy did. He got very comfortable with her over time because she never tried to pull anything on him, but she wasn’t cautious around him and actually called him by his name (which is John in these stories bc I can’t keep up with how many times it’s changed, but he tells the other nurse to call him that so idk that’s what I went with). She’s very physically affectionate and likes to tease him, and she’s pretty much the only one who can get away with that. Aside from Hawkeye, she’s the only one that Mulcahy will be vulnerable in front of. 

While he’s shy, Della is a social butterfly, and she’s kinda wild when she wants to be, which makes him worry. It’s warranted, she’s a bit of a daredevil, lol. But when the roles are reversed and he pulls something reckless, she’s all over him. And again, aside from Hawkeye, she’s the only one that’s comforted him/seen him cry, and also is the only one that knows how to handle him when he gets sorta panicky (I wrote in another post somewhere that I headcanon him as having terrible anxiety). They both love each other a lot and overall it’s a very playful relationship, but don’t mess with either of them because you will feel the other one’s wrath. 

When it comes to jealousy, Della knows she gets jealous and tries not to, but ultimately fails. Mulcahy on the other hand doesn’t understand why his chest feels so tight when he sees her off with some guy or hears the other men talking about her (she sometimes sleeps around and dates but it’s really only because she can’t have the person she really wants. Or at least she thinks she can’t). They both have rather intense feelings for each other, but Della never said anything because she figured she could never have him and he never said anything bc of his vows and also a lot of denial. TLDR; they’re chaotic and playful but also very emotionally close and care about each other a lot. Best friends fr. 

Other random facts about Della:

-she’s incredibly perceptive to subtle changes in people and their moods

-99% of the time is chaotic and playful but when something happens or someone is upset she immediately cools to like 1% and is incredibly gentle. It’s like whiplash, honestly. 

-she’s terrified of birds. Especially chickens. But somehow, hot chicken sandwiches are her favourite...

-she has a friend back home who is deaf and knows very basic ASL

-her mother died when she was a teenager

-she’s from Philadelphia, PA, just like Mulcahy, but they never met before the war

-she became a nurse and moved into an apartment with her best friend, but her friend moved out when she got married, and now Della just has a vacant room in her apartment back home

-she shares a tent with Nurses Kellye, Baker, and Able

-Klinger knows she has feelings for Mulcahy but never says anything about it. Just sort of gives her a knowing look

-Frank actually doesn’t bully her like he does with a lot of the others. He actually seems to like her. And everyone is bewildered by this. But Della is a little shit and will use it to her advantage to help the others

-Mulcahy may be camp therapist tm but Della is group therapist tm. She’s also the only one who knows how to calm Mulcahy when he’s anxious (I head canon that he has horrible anxiety but I’m likely just projecting but its fine) and is the only one (other than Margaret and BJ/Trapper) who can calm Hawkeye when he’s it one of his rants or is overstimulated (back on my ADHD/Autistic!Hawkeye bs)

-She used to play field hockey

-She finds her dress uniform too stuffy and would much rather wear her worn in fatigues instead

-She’s a night owl and goes on walks a lot at night after stressful days

Anyway yeah so that’s my M*A*S*H OC. I might make another who is closer to Radar’s age bc let’s be real, he needs a friend his own age. Thanks for reading if you made it this far. I was brainrotting and needed to put all of this info somewhere so here it is!

[ariapmdeol]

8:11 anon here again. Wow. W o w. Brain empty but just. Wow.

Went through all the endings and then had to go back to Arrival Point S to cope with all the other ones. And, as expected, the first ending and S destroyed me. Cried at least two times. My god. It's been a while since media made me cry, and I certainly didn't expect to get so emotionally invested in CoE.

However! I have questions!! Spoiler-y ones? If you don't mind, of course. Sorry if it's a lot?? I'm definitely going to re-watch everything again to connect whatever is left.

First off: is there a "canon" ending? Surely S is what everyone wishes to be canon (although E is pretty good too, in its own way, definitely wouldn't want it to be canon, though) but is there a defined one by the developers? Actually, what even is the first ending gotten before S?

Second: what triggers change the endings? I figure that for deaths it's mostly a matter of wasting time, which is really neat and genuinely puts urgency into the situation.

Connected to that, what's the blue-colored person speaking at the end of most endings? The one who "guides" the player on what they missed to try again?

Third: honestly what (and who) the hell is Kanou. Man shows up as quickly as he dies, reappears in like two endings, commits suicide in both. Is he just the local cryptid? A doll? There's something going on with him, between the Told You So death, the text about murdering coworkers at a previous lab, and his corpse disappearing (and, in specific endings, showing up as...human? Dialogue specifies that)

Fourth: you mention the DLC, but also Hermits Room and Interlude, however I don't see them in the playlist? Do they have to be played specifically as there's no uploads?

Fifth: wow Utsugi is so incredibly fruity. My god that guy is gay, good for him, good for him. That's not a question just need to state it. Also Sanemitsu being emotionally not there ever and Atou threatening him every five seconds. Peak dynamic, love them all so much. Shinano being happy. S ending my beloved

Sixth: I heard something about a...cipher? An art book cipher? Or an ARG? Idk but if you're willing to explain.

That's...it? Surely I have more questions but these are the main ones I can think of now. Again, sorry if this is a lot???

And!! Enjoy 8:11 whenever you get the time for it!! It was so fun to play and mind-boggling.

CONGRATS ON FINISHING AAAA!! i'll answer all these in order!! let me know if you need clarification on anything <3

Yes, there is a 'Canon' Ending'. S+ is considered the canonical ending! This actually answers the other part of this question: the Ch 8 Arrival point S goes through S (Future), which directly leads into S+ (Empyrean Point). The two endings are connected, and S needs to happen in order to achieve S+! OH ALSO. THERE ARE POST-S CHANGES, which i will put under the cut bc I have collected them <3 These technically happen in S+, but we don't see them bc we only check back in when Atou is in ch 8 already. The DLC (Records of Sanemitsu Isoi) takes place almost exactly 3 years after S+. (These are shown in the playlist after the Ch 4, 6, and 7 extras <3).

ENDING FLAGS: Fun bonus fact: the purple text will tell you what you missed, and this changes based on what you did wrong! S Root: get all the info, don't let anyone die. A Root: keep everyone alive but don't get all the info. Ensure that you have charged Shinano's Phone B Root: everyone alive but Shinano's phone was not charged or unlocked. C Root: Succeed in saving Yanagi. Fail in Saving Karen D Root: Succeed in Saving Karen. Fail in saving Yanagi E Root: EVERYONE DIES!! YIPPEEE Mx. Purple Text is something that you'll learn about in the DLC, so I'll RAFO you for now (Read and find out). It is purple specifically! (though i also made that interpeted it as blue at first sdajkldsjkal)

Kanou Flag: in Chapter Four, you can read Yuusuke Aiba's Journal without Kanou (this is shown in the extras for chapter 4). This starts the kanou flag. This is what triggers a couple of small changes surrounding Kanou (the quick flash of him in ch 6 comes to mind) and grants access to the kanou elevator scene. TLDR Kanou was infected with cells, which let him live a little longer, but not enough to grant abilities. They talk about dying as a 'human' because if he lives longer, his cells will morb and he'll become a doll or a creature. He also gives us a Note that says something like 'live for me'. This note gives us a buff during the origin beta boss fight (his "curse" protects atou <3)

The first Five records of the DLC (+ the intro) are in the playlist! for anything beyond that point, contact me here, on discord (@ ariapmdeol), or on twitter (@ AriaPMDEoL ) and I'll help you!

UTSUGI FOREVERRR HE'S SO. he makes me so emotional i love you noriyuki utsugi. Sanemitsu my darling my beloved he is trying but he also sucks so much <333 i love him. The Reiji-Sanemitsu-Haruki family means so much to me. they make me emotional UEEEE. S and S+ make me explode,,

YES there are ciphers!! there's an official artbook for COE (which unfortunately isn't being sold right now orz orz) Which has a few ciphers in it! The one that i was looking at is HORRIFICALLY warped (i genuinely don't think we were actually meant to solve it LMAO) but I solved it and a friend was kind enough to translate it for us! There is also a Cipher in DLC, and a few others in the DLC 2020 credits! I have solutions to all of those as well. It's less 'ARG' and more "here's some information hidden behind a cipher." They're not REQUIRED reading but they help a lot with theorizing, and I've been finding it to be a lot of fun :D

I CANNOT WAIT TO PLAY 8:11 I AM VERY EXCITED HEHEHE

OK POST S CHANGES ( you'll have seen one of these before). These are sorted by chapter. DON'T WORRY IF THESE DON'T MAKE SENSE TO YOU YET.

CHAPTER 1.

"You want to forget the rat without a head" has been changed from Red to Purple.

CHAPTER 4.

There is an Item on the floor in chapter 4 (the room that you have to walk through in order to get to Aiba's journal) which reads "Zero Does not Exist".

Chapter 6:

This document has been replaced, the first time you look at it, by a document by CODE:DANTE. This one is a little long so you can DM me and I'll grab it for you!

Chapter 7:

ok so. this is shown in A root but it's not an A root thing, it's a Post S root thing (it's because of how the YT translator got their endings, dw abt it). All mentions of Seodore Riddle have been removed

This text has changed (both in normal vision and in Vision shift. it reads:[normal vision text] 'This is not the start of a nightmare but the end of a peaceful dream' and 'but what will you see when you wake' is added post S. [purple text] 'Aare you enjoying this divine comedy?' with 'i'm glad, you've enjoyed the love of god' added post S.

^this section was translated by tumblr user hermitroom!

[rose-tinted-juls]

i literally wrote this in november and left it in my drafts why am i so stupid? anyway. life is busy when you're in your final year of uni that i can tell now but re-reading this chap of ma&thp gave me the long desired feeling of normalcy, so thank you, mackie dear <3

1. THE AIRPORT SCENE I'M SOBBING. the "oh my god is that charles leclerc" was so perfect there even if it's so simple god i love chris. "charles leclerc wants you, could have stopped there" OMG if he said that to me i would literally die on spot. good thing he never will

2. CHRIS BROUGHT CHARLES FLOWERS 😭 AN ACTUAL BOUQUET 😭😭 "just because" 😭 i honestly can't. just simply can't.

3. "anything you want to know, i came tonight with my life story ready." - "her dad'll like that a lot." so simple yet so perfect again. i love charles' interactions with her family.

4. also i just love how close chris and her dad is. like. i 'm just so soft rn

5. when charles didn't say no to the wine bc he doesn't want to offend Cindy and then keeping Chris frim saying anything about him not actually liking wine, i LOVE how real he is. if this ain't me anytime i'm a guest at someone's

6. SHUT UP THE SCENE WHERE BILL ASKS CHARLES ABOUT WHAT HE LIKES MOST ABOUT CHRIS 😭😭😭 his answer is just too much for my little heart. "...how lucky i am to have her in my life." JUST SHUT UP. i literally can't take it (+ "now that i'm properly embarrassed for the rest of my life" lmao love that line)

7. cindy and charles looking through the photo albums, soooo lovely so cute so soft, i want this

8. oh WAIT that paragraph about the childhood photos and the protective parent act that charles wonders about. WAIT. that's such a good paragraph put in such a clever way, i love it. "you can't be mean to someone when you look at them and imagine the tiny version of them playing dress-up in a princess themed bedroom" + "he should get a few baby pictures from his mom, he thinks. to show them to chris, just so that she isn't allowed to hurt him." I'M SCREAMING WHY IS IT SO GOOD

9. "[charles] is hit with a sudden wave of gratitude towards the way he's been wholly and completely welcomed into her life like this. the night of endless nerves aside, the excitement of learning all the chapter of her life that predate him is something he isn't going to take for granted." i mean. just these lines. they melted me. i'm just a puddle. a crying mess. why is he so sweet 😭 why do you have to make him so sweet, mack 😭

10. i love charles and chase's conversation about racing stuff. i just love it. also how charles pays attention to shen chris falls asleep so that he can tell her later on when she'll ask, that is just pure sweetness over there. but the whole conversation about car racing is just perfect. and when charles just goes for it, "taking a shot in the dark", asking what drafting is, i just felt so proud lmao i would never be able to ask that question i'm so bad team social anxiety

11. this following conversation: "promise you won't get lost in the woods and eaten by a bear today. at least wait until i'm there to witness it." - "i can always outrun you, they say you only have tk be faster than the other guy." - "you wouldn't let me get eaten by a bear." - "well, i might." - "wouldn't." - "would." I WANT THIS. I NEED THIS. WHEN IS IT MY TURN. i'm just such a sucker for this type of couple's banter

12. charles getting lost during his run is just so funny, but also when he's thinking about how nice it is to not worry about anyone watching him. "here it's just him, just charles. there's nothing special about it, which is what makes it so fucking special." poor baby i can't even imagine the life he has to live in this aspect. this paragraph was perfect to remind me how deep down he's just a human being like anyone else which i (and so many of us) tend to forget bc he's like a literal god and like idk. this just hit me deep in my chest.

13. "he's not french. monégasque, and very proud." this whole part is just *chefs kiss* omg i love chris.

14. THAT PART WITH CHARLES AND THE "DO YOU WANT ME TO BE JEALOUS?" AND THE "SHAME, I WAS GOING TO PUT ON A SHOW." OMG JEALOUS!CHARLES IS BE SOMETHING I'D DIE TO SEE especially in this universe

15. "her laughter, musical and infectious, is all he hears when the entire place laughs." AND "even the eax dhe plays with the ribnon on the bouquets she hold-something so small and trivial, it all captivates him." AND MOST OF ALL THE "he finds himself swept away by a tide of emotions, some messy kaleidoscope of feelings that defy articulation. there's something magnetic about her, an irresistible urhe to kiss her that seems to linger in the back of his mind, always. it's all lined up for him, a million synchronized harmonies that underscore every interaction. the changing colours of leaves and the smell of rain on a pine patio, the hesrtbeat of a conversation, a light in every roo.. his perception of his own emotions, the way he feels about this fucking woman, jt's so clear it becomes cloudy. every stolen glance and shared smile is this integral part of their connection, this thing that he can't let go of." OKAY POET GO OFF. MACK YOU ACTUAL GODDESS OF WORDS I'M IN SUCH AWE OF YOU. SUCH A GORGEOUS PART. SO SO SO PERFECT. brb gonna go sob for a while

16. "may your love be modern enough to survive the times, but old-fashioned enough to last forever." why is this line so genuinely perfect? like this punch-in-the-chest and make-your-mind-spin kind of perfect.

17. charles worrying about chris' speech 😭😭 (i mean same here but he's just so soft and so smitten and so lovely) but like "you know that you're the kind of person who is easy to love, yes?" i'm actually sobbing now 😭 and the "he's smart enough to know when it's time to just dance with his girlfriend." where are the boys/men like this in real life 😭😭

18. the "she opens her fucking email. he's in love with her, and she's opening her fucking email while telling him it's not possible." hits SO HARD. an actual punch in the gut. so good.

19. and this deserves its own point: "there's nothing more he can add to the conversation, not now. not when he's just ran face-first into a brick wall off i love you." awh charles you're in love with her 😭😭😭 and you finally realised it yourself 😭😭 i genuinely have tears in my eyes. actual tears. i'm.... wow.

oh my lovely lovely mackie, you true inspiration and goddess. this chapter brought me so much joy, more than you can imagine (i mean not like all the previous ones didn't do the same but this was just a whole new level of that). thank you. i wish i could tell you this in person just so you could see how sincerely i mean it, and that i could give you a big hug to express my overwhelming appreciation for you. love you loads

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—07. Homegrown —word count: 15.8k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... I don't really have much to say lol... just that I love this chapter and it got a little out of hand. I hope you love it like I do!

Chris takes a personal day at work on the Thursday Charles gets into Georgia. She wants to make sure she’s the one picking him up from the airport, doesn’t want to spend a single second longer than she needs to without seeing him, hugging him, kissing him. 

His flight lands at 10:15, but by the time he gets through customs, baggage, and calls Chris three times after getting lost in the Atlanta airport, it’s 11:30. She finally finds him outside the Maynard Terminal, backpack slung over his shoulders, suitcase next to him. He looks so perfectly like a boyfriend, she thinks. “I can see you,” she says. “Do you see my car?”

“No,” he laughs, and it pours from the car speakers like sweet honey. “I don’t.”

“Okay, well, stay put, then. I’m coming to you.” She manages to make her way across two lanes to be right on the curb, and then he spots her, his whole expression taking shape when their eyes lock. She rolls her window down as he approaches, and slots the car into park. “Oh my god,” she giggles. “Is that Charles Leclerc?”

He rolls his eyes. “Open the trunk?”

“Charles Leclerc wants me to open the trunk?” She says, pushing the button on her door-panel to pop the hatch open. 

“Charles Leclerc wants you,” he says, hoisting his suitcase up into the back of the car, tossing his backpack there, too. “Could have stopped there,” he chuckles, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. She blushes, a cheek-aching smile still on her face. He slams the trunk shut and makes his way around the car, opening the passenger door. “Hi, pretty girl,” he properly greets her. “What’s this?” He asks.

Sitting there, on the passenger seat, is a bouquet of flowers. Red roses, white roses, and white carnations for passion, new romance, and luck. Filler greens and red estelles for encouragement. Manilla and sheer white tissue paper wrap the flowers, a dark red ribbon tied into a bow around the stems. Next to it, is a matching envelope with his name scribbled in purple pen. Inside the envelope is a white greeting card with “just because” printed in simple, black lettering, a handwritten note from Chris on the inside. 

Chris smiles. “They’re for you.”

“For me?” He asks, the hint of a giggle in his tone. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Chris shrugs, watches him carefully pick up the flowers and the card and climb into the car where he further examines them. “It’s not a big deal,” she says, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “I had to go with Hannah to the florist this morning.”

“No, it’s so cool. Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before.”

Chris frowns. “Never?”

“I mean,” he shrugs, “my mum once, but that doesn’t count,” and then he starts to open the envelope, but Chris stops him.

“No, please,” she says, her hand covering his. “I can’t watch you read it, I’ll die.”

He laughs, “you’re so cute.”

Her face stays straight and solemn. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” he sets the flowers and the card down securely between his feet. “I’ll wait.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

Chris can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. God, she feels like such a child. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to kiss you, now.”

“Okay,” she giggles. “You’re going to kiss me, now.”

His lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. It’s like they hadn’t been apart at all, the way their mouths perfectly fit together. His hand finds her cheek, thumb moving carefully over her skin, letting her deepen the kiss. They let themselves just be for a few moments, to let everything else fade away and cling onto their perfect moment. “Seriously,” he says when they pull apart, and then he gives her another quick peck. “Thank you,” and then another on her forehead. “I missed you. How are you?”

“I’m good,” she nods. “Hungry. Very hungry. How are you?”

“Hungry, also.”

“How hungry?”

“Very.”

Chris nods, kisses him again, just because she can. Because she couldn’t for so many days. “I know a place, but it’s a surprise.”

It’s a twenty-three minute drive to Pig’n’Chik Barbeque in Northern Atlanta. Charles is visibly apprehensive of the little red building and the parking lot filled with the aroma of southern barbeque, but he keeps his commentary to himself. Chris knows it’s probably a little overkill, the hole-in-the wall joint being even a little too gimmicky for her taste, but that’s the whole point. The place is supposed to be gimmicky, while also being good. Chris used to love this place as a little kid—Bill would always take the kids there whenever they’d gone to the city. It was his favorite place then, and so it will always hold a place in her heart. 

Charles holds open the door, a bell attached to it announcing their entrance, eliciting a greeting from the staff, a “Hey, guys! How’re you doing?”

“Good, thank you,” Chris smiles, moving through the restaurant towards the diner-style bar at the back. She holds her hand out behind her for Charles, turns to tell him: “You might not have been able to get a seat at your sushi bar, but I can get us up at the Pig’n’Chik bar,” she laughs. 

Charles matches her laugh, a playful eye roll and the shake of his head before they’re sitting down on the red leather barstools. 

She’s telling him before they even have the menus in front of them what they need to order; fried pickles to split, lemonade to drink because it’s not pig’n’chik without their lemonade. She’s going to order the shrimp and grits and he absolutely needs to have the catfish.

When he cocks his head at the idea of… eating… catfish… she tells him he’s not allowed to look it up, and that he also has to trust her. “It’s the best thing on the menu,” she says. 

Charles quirks a brow. “Then why aren’t you eating it?”

“Because the hushpuppies will kill me,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Honestly, you probably shouldn’t eat them, either.” The grease that comes along with eating a deep-fried batter ball isn’t good for anyone’s system, especially not someone who isn’t used to this kind of food. The last thing she needs this weekend is a boyfriend who can’t be more than three feet from a bathroom. 

It’s an hour and a half, at least, until they’re pulling into what Chris affectionately calls her “driveway.” Charles thinks that anyone else would more likely call it a dirt road. A trail, even, that turns into a driveway after the trees clear and you can actually see the house. 

“This is all yours?” he asks, swears her yard is the size of his apartment lobby. 

She nods. “I mean, it’s mostly trees, but, yeah.”

He’s taken on a tour of the old-style farmhouse, which, by the way, is so incredibly her you’d think the place was built for her—lots of beadboard, all this delicate woodworking that a FaceTime call has never been able to do justice. Thick glass windows with the frame painted over, no central heating or cooling, a couple window air conditioners and old radiators to boot. The most like her, though, is the back porch. It’s screened in, has a creek to the floor that the dusty, antique rugs can only attempt to muffle. There’s two couches that couldn’t match less, but still somehow go with each other, both cozy with throw pillows and cushions and warmth. The whole place smells like her, sounds like her, feels like her. He’s immediately comfortable. 

Chris and Charles spend most of their afternoon trying to plan out their evening. Starting tomorrow morning, their weekend is on a strict schedule, so they want to make the most of their free time tonight before their dinner with her family. They want to make the most of it so badly that they can’t decide on anything at all, and end up falling asleep on her living room couch. 

When Chris’ alarm goes off—the one she’d set the first time she caught herself dozing off, realizing Charles was already passed out next to her—they grumpily get ready to head over to her parents’ house. It’s then, while Charles navigates around Chris and the countertop of her makeup, that she tells him all about Thanksgiving, about her mom pointing out the hickey, and she offers up a warning. “They’re going to pretend they hate you for like, half an hour,” she tells him. “Pretend you’re intimidated.”

“And…” Charles begins, running gelled fingers through his hair. “What if they actually don’t like me?”

“My mom likes everyone,” she says, gestures away at his words. “And my Dad, well, you’ve already met him. He liked you good enough then.”

“He liked me enough to talk to me for ten minutes,” Charles counters. “That doesn’t mean he liked me enough to date his daughter.”

Chris smiles in the mirror, carefully applying her lipstick. “Lucky for you,” she says, “he doesn’t get a say.”

– – –

His leg bounces for the entirety of the ten-minute drive, so much so that at a stop light he can feel how much he shakes the car. Despite that, he doesn’t realize just how nervous he is until they’re in the driveway—which is just as long and trail-like as Chris’ is. Their house is bigger, though. Much bigger. 

His palms are clammy, and he wipes them off on his jeans—should he have worn something nicer than jeans? Jeans are really all he brought besides clothes for the wedding, for sleeping, for working out in. Jeans are fine. Jeans are good. Their driveway is a dirt road, jeans are good. 

“Relax,” Chris says, trying (and failing) to hold back a little chuckle. “It’s not that serious.” He rolls his eyes because it quite literally is that serious. You only get one chance to make a first impression on your girlfriend’s parents, and when your girlfriend is as close to their family as Chris is, it’s an impression you’d really rather not screw the fuck up. “And the longer we sit here, the longer they’re going to watch from the kitchen window.”

With a deep breath, he climbs out of the car, walks up the rest of the drive and onto the porch a pace behind Chris. She raises her hand to knock twice, turning the doorknob and letting herself in before anyone could even attempt to answer the knock. He steps in behind her, into a wallpapered entryway with a tall table full of keys and pictures and discarded mail on one side, and a wooden bench with tan throw pillows on the other side. “Mom! Dad! We’re here!” She shouts into the house. 

A woman’s voice calls back, “in the kitchen! Dad’s upstairs in the office.”

Chris slips off her shoes and Charles follows suit, slotting them under the wooden bench next to hers. He hadn’t worn a coat, but she ducks into a hall closet to hang hers up. He’d worn a sweatshirt over a t-shirt, and he’s pretty sure he’d already sweat through the t-shirt. 

He thinks he could smell his way to the kitchen, the way the scent of the home cooked dinner fills the entire house. He follows behind Chris like a lost puppy into the kitchen, and as soon as she turns the corner and walks through the archway, she’s being greeted by her mom, wrapped into an oven-mitt clad hug. He gets a perfect view of her mom, gaze slotted over Chris’ shoulder. She’s not so scary, he thinks. He can recognize more than one of Chris’ features on her face—in the way she smiles and the shape of her eyes, too. That’s where her smile comes from, and her eyes, too. 

Over her shoulder, Chris’ mom opens her eyes, waves a bangle-bracelet clad, oven-mitt covered hand in his direction. Charles steps fully into the kitchen, determined to make a good first impression. “And  I take it this,” her mom says, pulling away from the hug, “is the charming gentleman you’ve been telling me nothing about?”

Chris laughs, catching his eyes when she says: “Yes, Mom, this is Charles. Charles, this is my mom, Cindy.”

“Hi,” Charles offers a handshake. His friends had reminded him—briefed him, basically—that Americans are fond of their personal space, and he figures if Chris is right, and they are going to be playing the intimidation game with him, there’s no chance he’s getting anything more than a— 

“Oh, please,” Cindy laughs, swatting his hand out of the way. “We hug in this family,” and he’s already being pulled in. His surprised eyes catch Chris’, who looks back at him with an oh, my God. I’m so sorry, glance, which makes him chuckle. If this is what pretending not to like him looks like, he’d hate to see what actually liking him is all about. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he hums, finally pulling away from the hug. “I have heard so much about you.”

“I can’t say the same,” Cindy laughs pointedly at Chris. “But what I have heard has all been good.”

“Well, anything you want to know, I came tonight with my life story ready.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Cindy nods. “Her dad’ll like that a lot.”

“Mama, where’s Beans?” Chris asks, and before he knows it he’s following her out into the backyard for the introduction that he knows is actually the most important. As they stepped onto the lush, green grass, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. In the corner of the yard, the aforementioned Beans, a friendly Golden Retriever, lays beneath the growing shade of an old oak tree. The fur around his snout is a distinguished shade of white, and he looks up with wise, kind eyes as Chris approaches, his tail shaking slowly at her presence. 

“Here he is, my Beanie Baby,” Chris says with affectionate enthusiasm, crouching down to stroke the dog’s ears. He follows suit, squatting down beside her. “Beanie, this is Charles.”

Charles approaches cautiously, fully aware of just how important this introduction was. He extends his hand, letting Beans sniff it gently. The elderly Golden accepts the gesture, the pace of his tail wagging picking up speed. “Hey Beans,” Charles said softly, voice warm. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Beans responds with a content sigh, his old eyes conveying the years of love and happiness he’s had in this very yard. He leans into Charles’ touch, relishing in the attention.

Chris laughs, “I think he likes you. He’s a bit slower these days, but he’s still the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet.”

After much convincing, and the promise (and fulfillment) of several treat bribes, they’re able to convince Beans to come back into the house, where he curls up on his bed with his milkbones. 

Chris’ dad, who joins everyone else downstairs ten minutes later, pops into the dining room while Chris and Charles are setting the table. Chris looks up in the direction of his footsteps with that radiant smile, warm eyes, like always. “Hi, Dad,” she says, her voice drenched in affection. 

“Mums,” the man smiles softly, greeting her with open arms and a gentle hug. 

“You remember Charles,” she says, and he steps forward, leaving the silverware settings on the tablecloth. Charles extends his hand first, is met with Bill’s firm, heavy handshake. 

“Mr. Elliott, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” His voice is stiff, polite, but there’s still a touch of earnestness that betrays his nerves. “Thank you for having me, I’ve heard a lot about you and your family.”

“Now, son, if I’m bein’ completely honest with you. I never thought I was gonna see you again after Texas. I wasn’t feelin’ you out the way I should’a been, if you know what I mean?”

Charles nods, even though he thinks he picked up about seventy-five percent of what was said. “Yes, sir.” He thinks he’d probably answer any question thrown his way, if it meant when he left tonight it was in her parents’ good graces. 

Her parents, Bill especially, do maintain their intimidating presence for just as long as Chris says they will. Sat at the dinner table with all of them, next to Chris and across from Cindy and Bill, he can’t help but feel the weight of the situation as they all eat. 

“So, Charles,” Bill says, wiping his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of wine. They’re all nursing glasses of wine, even Charles, who despite never having been particularly fond of the drink, was too scared to say no when Cindy offered. He’d glared daggers at Chris to keep her from speaking up. “Monaco, right?”

Charles nods. “That’s right.”

“A racecar driver from the rich and famous’ playground,” Bill continued. His voice is low and inquisitive. “I’m sure you can see why I might be a lil’...” he chuckles, “worried about you.”

Next to him, Chris cocks her head defensively, leans forward in her seat. “What are you trying to imply, Dad?” Charles unconsciously moves his hand to her lower back in an attempt to reassure her silently. He knows why Bill’s asking questions like this, he knows the reputation certain aspects of his life carry with them. It does put a butterfly or two in his stomach that she’s so eager to jump to his defense, though. 

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just quite the party lifestyle you live, isn’t it, Charles?”

“I don’t know if I would say that,” Charles laughs awkwardly. Chris takes a big sip of her wine, leans back in her chair again. He moves his hand from her back to her leg, where she interlocks it with her own under the table. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll go out with my friends when I’m in town, or we have something to celebrate, but… I’ve honestly become more of a home person these last years.”

Bill raises his brows, takes another bite of his food. “Really?” Charles nods. “That must be difficult, son, all the traveling you do. Alotta’ people in alotta’ cities. How d’ya handle that?”

Charles smiles, fully aware that Bill is just attempting to gauge his character. “It can be lonely at times, but I'm committed to a steady relationship. I like to think I’ve learned to balance my racing career and my personal life.”

“A steady relationship with our daughter.”

Chris squeezes his hand, he squeezes back, smiles softly. “A steady, committed relationship with your daughter, yes.”

Cindy takes a sip of her wine, smiles into the red liquid. She seems satisfied. Bill, not so much. “And what is it that you like most about her?” He asks. 

“Dad,” Chris laughs pointedly at her father, a hint of disbelief in the action. “That’s enough.”

“Sorry, Charles,” Cindy interrupts with an awkward chuckle, an attempt to keep the peace before Chris lunges over the table at her dad. Charles isn’t offended by the question, so he wonders if maybe Cindy is apologizing to Chris more than she is to Charles. “He doesn’t mean to come off so investigative. Chris is just our baby, everyone has always looked out for her.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” he nods, takes a bite of food. “As for the question nobody wants you to ask me,” he looks to Bill, remnants of his food still in his mouth. He speaks with the napkin over his lips. “It’s hard to even find a place to start with that, right? I mean, she…” he glances to Chris, finds that she’s already listening to him intently. He smiles, “you are an incredible person,” and he has to look away, because if he keeps going while staring into her brown eyes, he’s going to be as red as a tomato, completely and utterly smitten. “If you really want me to pick something, I guess I would say her kindness, and I’m sure you’re both familiar enough with her heart that I don’t need to ramble on about how lucky I am to have her in my life.”

Chris sinks in her seat, finishes off what’s left of her wine. “Well, now that I’m properly embarrassed for the rest of my life.”

Cindy laughs. “Oh, Chrissy, I haven’t even gotten the baby pictures out yet.” Chris turns to bury herself in Charles’ arm. He can feel how warm her face is through the fabric of his sweatshirt, and it makes him laugh. 

“Oh, my God,” she mumbles.

Charles’ ears perk up. “There’s baby pictures?”

Chris nods against his arm. “She’s a scrapbooker.”

He’s so boggled by the way that they can just switch up after that, the way that they stop trying to intimidate him and welcome him with open arms. He thinks that his Mum could never, that she knows within the first thirty seconds of meeting someone if she likes them or not. When it comes to Pascale Leclerc, you’re forever categorized by her first impression. He didn’t tell Chris that, because he didn’t want to worry her more than she already was in her sweats and messy-hair in Abu Dhabi. 

After the meal had been cleaned up, the four of them sat comfortably in the living room of Chris’ childhood home. Their home is so nice, so warm and welcoming.  He wonders if it’s always been such a comfortable place. 

Chris is sprawled out on the corner-seat of the sectional couch, Beans taking up the seat next to her, his head in her lap while she pets him mindlessly. Charles sits on the floor, back to the corner cushion, legs outstretched in front of him under the coffee table. Bill is in the recliner in the corner, working his way through a newspaper crossword puzzle, half-dozing off every ten minutes. 

Cindy carries a cardboard box down the stairs, sets it down on the coffee table in the middle of the family room. It’s full to the brim with worn, leather-bound scrapbooks, with Christyn Claire neatly written on the side of the box. She sits down on the floor next to him. Carefully, she pulls one out and gently sets it on the table, brushing the dust off the black leather cover. 

Charles watches as she flips open the pages, each one filled with their own vibrant photos, handwritten notes, and little trinkets that tell a story of young Chris. Charles can’t help the smile on his face when he sees the images of her in every stage of life, from a curious toddler with messy, curly pigtails to a teenager with the same smile he can’t get enough of. 

Cindy’s eyes sparkle with pride, and she has an anecdote for each and every photo. He’s captivated by it, not just the snapshots, but also the obvious love Cindy carries for her daughter. 

“This is Chrissy on the first day of school,” She explained, pointing to a picture of a young girl with a backpack almost as big as herself. “She was so excited to learn, has always been eager to take on new challenges.” Charles nods, hangs onto every word she says. “She’s always been a quick learner, even then.”

Cindy continues to flip through the pages, her and Charles silently sharing in knowing smiles at photos they both know Chris would find particularly embarrassing, making sure she doesn’t catch onto their shared moment from her seat on the couch. Cindy reveals photos from family vacations, birthdays, and school events. Her tales of Chris’ adventures—combined with Chris’ personal renditions added in—make for quite a delightful, and humorous, evening. 

“Ah, this one,” Cindy chuckles as she turns the page, revealing a picture of a grinning Chris covered head to toe in colorful paint. “We had an art day in the backyard, and Chrissy decided she'd rather paint herself than the paper.”

He laughed along, felt like he was growing more and more connected to Chris and her family with every shared memory. Part of him wonders if this is still a part of the protective parent act. If it is, it’s definitely doing its job. You can’t be mean to someone when you look at them and imagine the tiny version of them playing dress-up in a princess themed bedroom, or helping wash Dad’s car, or taking a nap at the beach on a mermaid towel. He should get a few baby pictures from his mom, he thinks. To show them to Chris, just so that she isn’t allowed to hurt him. 

“She’s always had a big heart,” Cindy said, her smile warm. “Her friends were like extended family,” she continues, pointing out a picture of Chris and several other little children. She points to a blonde, “You’ve met Hannah, right?”

“We’re going there, next, Ma,” Chris interjects. 

“Oh, well. This is her when she was five. I think Chris invited her to spend the night for weeks at a time.”

Charles nods, everything he knows about her, the way that she makes friends with anyone she interacts with, it all tracks, can all be seen in these pictures. He thinks that he could sit on the floor all night and go through every single picture in every single scrapbook, and still wouldn’t have enough, wouldn’t know enough about her. 

– – –

They leave the Elliott’s house a little after nine, and the air outside is cooler, now, the day fully transitioned into night. Charles sits in the passenger seat, eyeing Chris’ ability to perfectly maintain a speed two under the limit, and the way that she flipped her brights on everytime another car wasn’t cruising down the road. It seemed like this entire town was half-covered in wooded areas, so he supposes it’s better to keep an eye out for any wild animals. The warmth of the evening experience with her parents still radiates through him, but their conversation is now focused on their next destination; Chase and Hannah’s house. 

Chris, in the driver’s seat, is more animated than ever. She was preparing him carefully for the meeting, the anticipation of how her best friend and brother would perceive him hung in the air. She explained on the drive from the airport earlier that day that she’d “promised Hannah she would meet you before the wedding.”

As they rolled to a stop at a red light, Charles cast a quick glance over to her, feeling the weight of her guidance. “What should I know about them? Any advice on how to impress them?”

“Gosh,” she’d said, “I don’t know. Hannah’s easy. Chase is weird, but, just talk about cars or something. He really likes, um,” she pauses. “He races with you… from Australia, I think.”

Charles mulled over the comment, committing it to memory. There’s only one Australian he can think of racing against. “Daniel?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Daniel Ricciardo. He really likes him.”

Charles absorbs the information, realizing that Daniel would serve as an excellent conversation starter about racing. The light turns green, and she checks the intersection for a comically long amount of time before proceeding. He does everything he can not to laugh, and is hit with a sudden wave of gratitude towards the way he’s been wholly and completely welcomed into her life like this. The night of endless nerves aside, the excitement of learning all the chapters of her life that predate him is something he isn’t going to take for granted. 

– – –

They arrive at Chase and Hannah’s house for a relatively relaxed night in, greeted by the warm glow of a bonfire crackling in the backyard. The air was filled with the smokey scent of burning wood, and the soft lull of a country song pouring from a speaker. 

“Hi!” Hannah calls before the couple is even halfway through the back gate. “Hi, Hi, Hi, oh my gosh!” she squeals, hurrying over to the gate to greet them. “It’s about fucking time,” she adds, pulling Chris into a tight hug. You’d think it was the first time they’d seen each other in weeks, but Charles knew they were together just that morning. “And you,” the blonde continues, “must be Charles. Unlike everyone else around here, I’ve actually heard a lot about you,” she laughs. 

He laughs too, accepts her open-arms for a hug. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“William Chase,” Hannah calls to the man standing over the fire, a stoker stick in one hand, a glass beer bottle in the other. His head shoots up from the embers when he’s called.  He holds his beer up as a welcoming gesture, but Hannah isn’t satisfied. “Get over here!”

He meets them halfway through the yard, in a part that’s unlit by either the house lights or the glow of the fire. “Hey,” Chase says with a relaxed smile, pulling Chris into a side hug, and then approaching Charles with an outstretched hand. “You must be Charles,” he says, the two exchanging a laid-back handshake before pulling each other into a bro-hug. “It’s good to meet you, man. You want a beer or something?”

“I can get it myself,” Charles assures, “just tell me where they are.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hannah scoffs, “You’re a guest,” she insists, and it is already halfway up the steps of the back porch. “You want one, too, Chris?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Chris smiles, her hand finding his in the space between their bodies, interlocking their fingers and pulling him over to the fire Chase has already returned to. 

Chris and Charles find a cozy spot on the porch swing that sits in front of the firepit, a shared bench that seemed to be the ideal medium between two chairs and sitting on top of each other, perfect for family introductions. They sit side by side, thighs brushing against each other, his arm around her nursing his beer. Charles keeps the swing moving with his feet, but Chris has one leg crossed over the other, the base of her beer bottle leaving a darkened ring of condensation on her jeans everytime she picks it up. 

“You want another one, Chris?” Chase asks, shaking his empty beer bottle by its neck when he heads back inside for another round, and per Hannah’s request, to check on Reid. 

“I’m okay,” Chris smiles. She’s turned fully sideways, now, her back resting against his shoulder, both legs off the ground and onto the other end of the bench. “I’m driving home,” and then she cranes her neck to look at him. “Do you want another?”

“No,” he says, because he’s pretty sure he can already feel her dozing off while they swing, is almost certain it’s going to end up being him driving back to her place tonight. “Thank you, though,” and then he kisses the top of her head, pulls his arm out from under her body weight to wrap around her front lazily. She adjusts to his adjustment, leans into him and finds a comfortable curve in his chest. 

Even among the scent of wood and fresh cut grass and smoke, he’s found himself in the perfect position to smell her hair without even trying. He thinks he’s finally nailed her shampoo, coconut and rose, he’s almost sure of it. 

“Mate, Chris was telling me you’re a Daniel Ricciardo fan?” Charles asks, looking for a way to break the ice into a more active conversation, utilizing the very few tools he has at his disposal. Chase and Hannah seem both way lower-stress than Bill and Cindy did, but he'd still like to leave tonight knowing he made a good impression. Or, at least leave knowing he tried his hardest to make one. 

“Yeah, man. We actually started racing at COTA in 2020, and Renault and Daniel did this thing with our team, gave me a little good-luck message and stuff. It was real cool. I’ve been a fan of him since.”

Surprised, and trying to find common ground, Charles asks: “Do you follow Formula One?”

“You know, I tried after the whole Daniel thing, but,” he shrugs nonchalantly, takes another swig of his beer and leans back in his seat. “Honestly, all respect, but there’s just nothing quite like the roar of a stock car at Daytona for me. It’s like thunder, man.”

Charles nodded, an eager grin on his face. He doesn’t know much about NASCAR, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t study up on it during the flight over. “The sound of those engines at full throttle must be crazy. It’s V8’s, right?”

“Yeah, V8. What are y’all running? Isn’t it hybrids?”

“Yes,” Charles laughs. “They’re crazy with the engineering. Basically, you have a turbo V6 combined with energy recovery systems… it all helps keep us lightweight.”

“That’s another thing that blows my mind, how light your cars are! I know you pull crazy downforce, but I swear it’s a totally different game on an oval, dude. Our cars are like, thirty-three hundo.”

Charles’ eyes go wide. He knew they were heavier, but that’s like… it’s more than double, he thinks, or has to be close to it “Oh, my God!” He laughs, taking another sip of his beer. Chris chuckles, too—he feels it in his chest. He also feels the nonsensical shapes and patterns that she traces over his sweatshirt sleeve while he talks, the way she seems completely lost in toying with the fabric. 

“I know, you guys got fuckin’ feathers compared to us!” Chase gins, joining in on the laughter. 

Charles leans forwards a bit, and when he does it, Chris adjusts her positioning. She’s somehow managed to slide gracefully down until she was curled up on the wooden bench, resting on her side with her head on his tights. She’d found a makeshift pillow in his lap, and he couldn’t mind it less. “Yeah, I don’t know,” he says, checking his watch so that when Chris asks him later tonight ‘when did I fall asleep?’ he can give her a proper answer. “We are all about precision, crazy aero packages. It’s not just about speed and downforce, it has to be managed so perfectly.”

“There ain’t no time for precision when you’re wheel-to-wheel at Talladega. It’s all about survival. We’re out there swapping paint and shit. Bumping and drafting are all a part of the game.”

“How crazy is that?” He questions, even though he doesn’t have more than an educated guess as to what drafting is. “The way the air affects your car when you’re always that close?”

“I mean, I guess I don’t notice it all that much because I’m so used to it, but yeah. We’re always pushing the limits, especially in the high-banked ovals. Drafting is both your best friend and your worst enemy.”

“Drafting, mate,” he peruses, taking a shot in the dark when he says: “that’s like getting the slipstream, no?”

“Exactly, yeah,” Chase nods. “All drag reduction shit.”

“It’s crazy, when we’re wheel-to-wheel, we’ll do about anything not to make contact”

“It’s ‘cause your shit weighs ten pounds,” Chase laughs. “It’ll fly away if there’s any contact.”

They go on like that for some time, comparing technicalities. There are few things Charles appreciates more in life than actually getting to sit down and talk racing with someone—true, technical, perfectionist racing. There’s no investigating what the problem with this year’s car is, or what he hopes happens next season. It’s just… how they work. How different formula racing is from stock cars. He feels like this is something he can actually talk about, a conversation he knows he can contribute knowledge to. 

“Riveting stuff, boys, really,” Hannah finally interjects, sitting down into her camping chair. Charles hadn’t even noticed she’d left, but here she was popping the bottle cap off another beer, taking a big swig. “You put Chris to sleep and I’m on my fucking way.”

Charles stills, his movements suddenly gentler as he tries to crane his neck to see her face. “She’s asleep?” He asks, half-whispered. 

Hannah nods, and Chase chuckles, “Dude, she’s been out cold for like half an hour.”

He smiles down at her, shaking his head, and then checks his watch again. 10:36pm, she didn’t even make it an hour and a half, poor girl. Charles brushes her hair out of her face and carries on with the conversation. His mind is completely absent to the fact that his fingers continue their exploration of her hair, a natural masterpiece of unruly waves. Each strand has its own rhythm, defying any form of order. The curls become even more pronounced as they cascade toward the nape of her neck, dancing freely with the erratic breeze. 

At the root of her bangs, there’s a stubborn cowlick, and one side of her face-framing cut has a mind of its own, constantly threatening to tumble into her eyes. Amidst all that delightful chaos, small, intricate braids intermingle with the curls, held together with tiny brown elastics. His touch is reverent as he selects one, playfully twisting it around his finger while he speaks. 

With painstaking care, he slides the elastic from the braid, and doesn't miss a beat in conversation with Hannah and Chase as he carefully unravels it. Their words dance in the air around him, and by the time he becomes cognizant of his actions, he’s on the last little braid. 

When it’s time to turn in for the evening, when the conversations are more yawns than actual questions, Charles wakes Chris up softly. He runs his hand up and down her upper arm slowly, squeezes her elbow to coax the sleep from her heavy eyes. “Baby,” he hums softly. 

Chris stirs with a groan, sits up and stares back at him with empty eyes, like she has no clue what year it is. He bites back a smile at the state of her, raises his brows and waits for her to say something, to scold him grumpily for waking her up. Chris Elliott is a force to be reckoned with when she’s woken up, and it’s something you only have to witness once to be scared of ever seeing again. She doesn’t scold, though. 

Instead, a soft smile pulls on the corner of her lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles back. She’s already leaning against the far armrest of the swing, curling up into the corner like she’s going to go back to sleep. She probably will, it’s been far too easy to wake her up. His hand finds her knee, thumb rubbing circles along the denim fabric. “Are you ready to go home?”

She nods, but her eyes are already closed again. Chase is already dousing the fire with water. Hannah’s already inside cleaning up. Charles opts to leave her there, sweet and peaceful, while he collects her things from inside. 

It’s the first time he’s been in the house, and it's just as ambient as the backyard is. The warm glow of the dimmed lights accentuate the charm of their modern-farmhouse decor; wooden shelves bathed in the soft radiance, full of potted succulents, framed photographs, and small artworks that offer a glimpse into their lives. Large, strategically placed windows allowed for a gentle cascade of moonlight to slow, making the entire place feel calm and serene.

Chris has been wearing a pair of Hannah’s slippers since she went inside for the first time, so the first thing he looks for is her shoes. He finds them in the entryway, just outside the door, and finds her keys on a small table there, too. Her phone is on the kitchen counter, the purple silicone case practically glowing against the black granite countertops and pristine white cabinetry. In the living room, he notices a little figure lying on the couch—Reid, he assumes, lies nestled under a Cars blanket, a scene of pure childhood innocence set against the backdrop of grown-up sophistication. The entire room excludes warmth, thanks to an oversized gray sofa and a plush rug, all enhanced by the dull LCD of the quiet television and subtle nighttime lighting. Behind a throw pillow on the same couch, he finally uncovers her purse, carefully slipping it out so as to not disturb the sleeping child. 

“It’s not worth the fight sometimes,” Hannah explains, but Charles didn’t need one. He remembers the age of begging to have a sleepover on the living room couch, to stay out past his bedtime and watch shows on the big television. It was the highlight of his weekends, sometimes. 

“He’s adorable,” Charles says. “I love the blanket.”

Hannah chuckles softly, crossing her arms over each other to hug her small frame. “It’s his favorite movie,” she shrugs. “Wants to be just like his dad.”

He puts all of her things in the car before he even attempts at getting her into the car. Everything is neatly put into a place, her address typed into his GPS by Hannah and plugged into the aux on the radio, and she still sleeps on the swing. 

His humor buoyed by the absurdity of the situation, Charles decided to start with the slippers. He gently slid them off her feet, one by one, and handed them over to Chase, who watched on with the bemusement of an audience at a comedy show. With a soft, nearly conspiratorial tone, Charles whispers: “Chris, baby,” planting a tender kiss on her forehead. 

In response, she produces a mumbling symphony of incoherent sounds. “That’s not French, mon amour,” he chides playfully, prompting a breathy laugh from her lips. His aim is to keep her here, to prolong that delicate state of semi-sleep where she tattered between slumber and annoyance. “Let’s go home, yes?” he inquired. 

Chris, in her hazy state, offered a subtle nod. Charles grinned, heart painfully warm, and said, “Could you help me out?”

In response, she obligingly wraps her arms around his neck, and he effortlessly hoists her into his arms, carrying her in a bridal-style embrace. He guides her to the waiting car with gentle steps, Chase strolling alongside them to open the car door.  She stirs when he sets her in the seat, fastening her seatbelt. 

Chase shuts the door and the two of them exchange a classic, old-as-time bro-handshake-goodbye, a silent acknowledgement of both their meeting today and their future introductions all weekend long. 

It’s not until they’re at her house, the soft purr of the engine falling silent as he properly parked in the driveway, that she’s really awake. Her sleepy eyes flutter open with the automatic cab lights. 

He moves swiftly, circling the car quickly to open the door for her. As she grumpily emerges from the car, he gives her an encouraging smile. “Go get ‘em, killer.” he playfully whispers, his hands working against her shoulders. She meets him with a death-glare he could never possibly be afraid of. 

Chuckling, he plucks her phone from the passenger seat, locks the car before following her up the driveway.

The journey inside concludes shortly in her room. Chris has an early morning ahead, and a late night, too. Charles marvels at the resilience; doesn’t know how she’ll manage tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. As she settles in under the comforter, he can’t help but watch her for a moment, all sweet and sleepy and beautiful, like always. 

Soon enough, the exhaustion creeps up on him, too, and he finally succumbs to sleep’s gentle embrace, entwined with the woman he finds himself cherishing more with what feels like each passing breath. 

– – –

He wakes up when the soft chimes of her alarm break through the morning darkness. The dim glow of the clock on the nightstand reads 6:30 am, and it was clear that daylight has yet to pierce the veil of a southern winter outside. 

He can’t help but appreciate her attempts to tiptoe through her morning routine. The effort is commendable, really, but the old, creaky wooden floors and the protesting door dram betray her intentions. He doesn’t mind, though—How could he? Any moment with her, even early morning ones where she bustles around the space, is better than a moment without. 

Lying in the cozy bed—which, by the way, her bed is so fucking comfortable, he allows himself to fully wake up, knows that her morning rituals would be far more entertaining than any dream he could have cocooned in sleep. 

His sleepy gaze watches her as she moves through the bedroom gracefully, her face illuminated by the soft glow of dawn creeping in from the curtains. He smiles at the little sounds and routines that make up her life, the ones he never gets to see, to savor. Watching her move about is a special kind of beauty, one that makes him feel lucky, insanely so, to experience a life with her in it. 

Leaving the comfort of the bed, he ventures out into the kitchen. He knew she had an early start, a long day away from him, and he was determined to steal every extra moment they could share. 

She’s finishing her lunch, packing it into her backpack when he sneaks up behind her, snaking his arms around her middle and hugging her from behind. “Hi,” she laughs, turning around in his arms to face him properly. 

He gives her a kiss and her lips taste like her morning coffee. He marvels at the ease with which she can make someone’s day—make his day. 

She grins, and there is a special kind of mischief in her eyes when she playfully warns him: “Promise you won’t get lost in the woods and eaten by a bear today,” she says, and then, because she can’t help but add it, “At least wait until I’m there to witness it.”

With a chuckle, he teases, “I can always outrun you, they say you only have to be faster than the other guy.”

Her laughter bubbles out, filling the room, and his chest, with warmth. “You wouldn’t let me get eaten by a bear,” she replies. 

He pauses for a minute, then playfully concedes, “Well, I might.”

“Wouldn’t.”

“Would.”

– – –

After she left work, he found himself helpless in the war against sleep. What was the point if she wasn’t around to keep him up? If nothing was around to keep him up? It was almost eight o’clock before he finally got up for the day, feeling refreshed and ready for yet another evening of introductions. 

His breakfast consists of a simple serving of toast, nothing anywhere near extravagant, but enough to stave off his hunger. Not to mention, he’d rather not make a mess in her house with the very first thing he does all day. 

After breakfast, he heads out for a run, decides he’s going to try and navigate his way around without getting lost. He fails, miserably, because it seems like everywhere he looks has the same landmarks—trees, trees, and more trees. The cool air is invigorating, though, and the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the pavement keeps his mind clear, gives him a certain appreciation for the fact that he doesn’t have to keep his eyes and ears open for anyone who might be watching him. No, here it’s just him, just Charles. There’s nothing special about it, which is what makes it so fucking special. 

Returning home—to her home—he enjoys a shower that washes away the cold sweat of the run. Dressed and ready, he ponders his plans for the rest of his day. It’s hours still until Chris is home and the festivities really kick off. 

As if on cue, his phone buzzes, Chase’s name popping up on the Caller ID. Hannah had insisted on him exchanging numbers with both of them the night earlier. Just in case Chris decides to fuck off to another country again without telling us, she’d said. 

He answers, listens to Chase’s offer to join in on a round of 9 holes with him and Bill, considers it for only a moment, and accepts enthusiastically. He’s in the passenger seat of Chase’s truck within the half-hour. 

“Survived the dragon, I see?” Chase greets Charles with a smile, clearly still amused over the previous night’s encounter. 

Charles chuckles. “Just barely.”

– – –

The day was pristine for golf, with a brilliant blue sky overhead and a gentle breeze. Charles has played at some pretty impressive courses around the world, but something about this one felt special. The green really wasn’t all the lush, and the views weren’t outstandingly picturesque, but. But, there was something that felt so special about it. 

Bill, the most experienced of them, begins the round with an expertly executed swing that has Charles chuckling under his breath. His ball soars through the air, landing with pinpoint accuracy in the fairway. Chase follows with a powerful drive that seems to only gain momentum as it sails. It gracefully lands not far from Bill’s.

Charles takes his stance, feels a bit like a circus clown amidst his partners, but steadies himself nonetheless. He draws the club back, manages a swing with a surprising degree of finesse. The ball leaps from the tee and manages an astonishingly straight shot that lands in a… respectable position. He’s not too far off Bill and Chase. 

Charles would never call himself a golfer, but he’s grateful for Chase and Bill’s attitude—the way they are constantly pretending he’s better than he is, blaming any mistakes (he has a beach full of sand in his shoes from all the traps) on the fact he’s rented his clubs from the course. 

As they stroll down the lush, sunlit fairway on one of the holes, Charles decides he’s brave enough to start a conversation, rather than just participate in one. He turns to Chase as he addresses the only topic he can think of. “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh? You’re feeling good?”

Chase grinned, golf club slung casually over his shoulder. “Dude, more than anything. I’ve been trying to marry Hannah for a long time. I’m lucky, you know.”

Bill nodded, “Y’all are all but by now.”

“Anything specific you’re excited for?” Charles questions, can’t help but be curious about the details. “Or just a big ball of excited?”

Chase chuckles. “I’m really looking forward to the ceremony. The moment I see her walking down the aisle, it’s gonna be somethin’ else.”

Charles smiles. He wasn’t expecting such a romantic answer, not given what he’s experienced from Chase up to this point. His answer feels more like something you tell your closest friends, not your little sister’s boyfriend you’d just met for the first time the night before. “How about the holiday? Any special plans?”

Chase’s eyes lit up into a laugh. “Ah, the honeymoon. Yeah, we’re going somewhere… sometime. I don’t know, it’s not at the top of our list of things to get done.”

“All I know, Son,” Bill, whose been quiet for what feels like some time now, offers up some wisdom, “Tomorrow’s gonna be real overwhelmin’, but remember it’s your day. Savor all of it.”

Chase nods in agreement, “Don’t worry, Pops,” he chuckles, pats Bill on the shoulder, “I’ll savor it all.”

“And if you get nervous,” Charles laughs, “feel free to let it mess you up out here,” he says, gesturing to the fairway. The whole trio shares a laugh, but Charles seriously wouldn’t mind if the other two suddenly forgot how to golf. 

With Chase excusing himself to meet up with Hannah at the rehearsal dinner venue, Charles is left with just Bill, the pair heading up to the country club’s restaurant for a late lunch. The ambiance inside is refined, and they sit next to big floor-to-ceiling windows that offer views of the manicured greens and vast wooded area they’re situated inside. 

As they settle into their table, Charles takes a sip of his water, wiping the condensation from his hand on the side of his pants. He can feel the weight of the conversation that’s likely to follow—there’s no Cindy or Chris around to keep him in check like there was last night. 

Bill, cutting right to the chase, speaks in a casual tone. “So, Charles, how’re you finding our little corner of Georgia? I reckon it’s awful different from Monaco.”

Charles smiled, appreciating the comfortability of his voice. Maybe Chris was right, he was getting himself worked up yesterday over nothing. “It’s different, for sure,” he laughs. “Home is home, but there is something about the calmness here, the open space. It’s refreshing. And meeting everyone, it’s been great.”

Bill, who’s been nothing but stern in his expression for the entire time Charles has known him, seems to soften, even if just slightly. “I gotta admit, I was a lil’bit… cautious when I first learned about you and Chris. Fathers, y’know, we worry.”

“I can imagine,” Charles nods. He understands. Of course he understands. “You have my word, I have pure intents. Chris means a lot to me.”

Bill seems fully contemplative now, his usual sternness fully replaced when he looks back at Charles. “She’s real happy with you from what I can see, and her brother tells me you treat her real well. That’s the kinda stuff that matters to me.”

His chest feels stupidly warm at the remark. If Chris is half as happy as he is, they’ve really got something here. Something real. Scary real. “I care about her deeply, Sir, and I want her to be happy, too.”

Bill chuckles under his breath, shakes his head softly. “You’re not seventeen, son. You can call me Bill.”

“I care a lot about your daughter, Bill.” It’s an easy thing to do, he thinks. There can’t be a person in this world that knows her and doesn’t care for her. Not when everything about her makes him believe in luck, in something otherworldly—Gods or guardian angels or invisible strings. 

“See?” Bill questions, picking around what’s left on his plate with his fork. “We’re already buddies.”

– – –

Bill drops Charles off just before Chris gets home from work. He’s not in the house for ten minutes, is still moving around the kitchen searching for a glass to fill with water when the door swings open. Chris enters the kitchen with Reid, half a dozen things in her arms and a familiar four-year-old in tow. “Hey,” she greets, lifting her bags onto the counter next to him, setting down all of her belongings. 

“Hi,” he greets, hand finding a familiar space on her lower back, pulling her closer to him, to lean down and give her a quick kiss. “How was your day?” 

“Long… and chaotic,” she sighs, forcing a weary smile onto her lips. Charles frowns. Searching her eyes for elaboration, she just shrugs. “Reid, say hi to Charles,” she introduces. “Charles, this is my little tornado, my nephew, Reid.”

Reid looks up at him with bright eyes and a mischievous grin. “Can I call you Chuck?”

Charles laughs. “No, you can call him Charles,” Chris answers on his behalf, before he gets the chance to tell the kid to call him whatever he wants. 

Reid rolls his eyes. “Hi, Charles,” he huffs. “Auntie Chris says you’re gonna help me get ready.”

Charles smiles warmly. “That’s what I hear. It’s quite a mission to accomplish, do you think you are up for it?”

Reid nodded enthusiastically. “Totally. I’m almost five.”

Chris chuckles, and Charles’ eyes shoot over to her when she does. Hearing her laugh isn’t enough, he needs to see it, to share in it. “Good luck with the tie,” she tells him. Charles winks at Chris, grins down at the kid in front of him. “Reid, you like Cars, right?”

Reid’s eyes go wide, his head snapping over to look at Chris, who matches his expression with a smile on her face. He turns back to face Charles, “How did you know that?”

“So, it’s true?”

Reid nods apprehensively. “I love Cars. My Dad is in Cars 3, y’know? He’s got, like, a awesome race car.”

Charles feigned surprise, “No way! That’s like being a superhero.” He leans down conspiratorially, speaks quietly, just to Reid. “Do you know Lightning McQueen?”

Reid’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he launched into a passionate monologue about the Cars movies, the story, and the characters—paying a special interest to Chase’s automotive-self in the animated world. Charles listens with genuine interest while Chris quietly prepares a snack for the boy. 

He gets ready while Reid eats, moves around Chris in the bathroom. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, using her entire arm to move her stuff off one side of the sink vanity. “I’m taking up your side,” she continues, pulling her curling iron out of her hair, carefully cradling the steaming strands. Charles smiles. His side. He kisses her softly, then— mindful of her unfinished makeup and hair. She smiles out of it, gives him another quick peck, “what was that for?”

He shrugs, reaching for his hair gel, “Just because.” 

– – –

They get to Dahlonega right at five o’clock, thanks in massive part to Charles’ ability to comfortably drive above the speed limit, and in small part to Chris’ ability to finish her makeup while Charles does a poor job at avoiding potholes. 

Every event this weekend takes place at the same place—a vineyard about thirty (if you speed) minutes from Chris’ house, but it’s nothing like what he would usually think of as a quote-en-quote vineyard. It’s more of a… barn put in the middle of a field, but. It’s beautiful nonetheless. 

“How do I look?” Chris asks as they walk up the long drive from the parking lot to the barn. She runs her hands over the thighs of her jeans, straightening them out. 

“Do a spin,” Charles says, and she does. “Hot,” he nods, smiles. Chris rolls her eyes. “Always hot.”

Hannah is running around with a woman wearing a nametag—the wedding planner, he assumes—like a chicken with its head cut off when they get there. Reid bolts away from them as soon as Chase is in his eyeline, chatting with his groomsmen around the bar. Charles trails behind Chris, hand interlocked with hers, as she makes her way over to a frazzled Hannah.

She greets them with a smile, swiping her hair off her shoulders and opening her arms for hugs. “You look beautiful,” Charles comments, kisses either of her cheeks. 

“Oh,” She laughs. “This is new.”

Charles laughs, pulling away from the hug, “Sorry.”

“Oh, no. It’s fun,” she says, looking to Chris. “You should’ve dated someone French a long time ago.”

“He’s not French.”

“But y—”

Chris cuts her off. “Monégasque,” she continues. Charles smiles meekly. “And very proud.”

The setting sun cast a warm glow over the venue as the wedding rehearsal began. Charles found himself sitting in the second row, behind both Chase’s family and with the rest of the partners of the bridal party. 

They’re orchestrated by the meticulous woman with a name tag from earlier, carefully moved through the motions of the ceremony tomorrow. Charles watches with quiet amusement as they navigate each and every step with precision. The officiant guided them through the script, the words blending into a hum that surrounded the ceremony space. 

He partakes in the bland small talk with the other partners—how beautiful, how exciting, how sweet—all the stuff that random strangers with no present connections have to talk about. Charles can't help but glance at Chris intermittently, catching her eye and exchanging silent conversations that only they understand. She’s just so pretty up there, her brown curls cascading off her shoulders while she holds two mock-up bouquets of flowers. She bounces in place, practically, obviously half as tired and bored with it all as he is. 

As the run-throughs progress, he can feel her restlessness like it’s his own. Her wide eyes betray her thoughts when, without words she tells him, this is so boring.

He chuckles under his breath, meeting her gaze with the minute raise of his brows, an unspoken agreement passing between them. So boring.

The repetition of the steps continues, though, each run-through blending together into the next. Charles and Chris share more glances, continue to communicate the same sentiment of impatience to a point of amusement. In the stolen moments, he finds solace in the connection, a reminder that even the most orchestrated events can’t stifle their shared sense of humor. 

As the rehearsal finally drew to a close, the sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm, golden hue over the gathering. The group dispersed, heading towards the dinner that awaited them. 

When Charles catches up to Chris, she’s talking with the best man—Ryan, who the wedding planner kept asking to take this a bit more seriously. He seems nice enough, brother-y enough. Charles thinks he probably has a few good stories about Chris, even more about Chase. 

“Everyone always thought we had a thing going,” Chris tells him after the introduction has finished, while the two of them wait at the bar for their drinks. 

His brows raise, leaning back off the bar to scan the room for the guy. “Do you want me to be jealous?” He asks, lets his hand rest on the small of her back, thumb moving smoothly against the fabric of her top. 

“No,” she says, but the smile on her lips tells him she’d be entertained by the sight of a jealous version of him. “I just didn’t want you to hear it from someone else this weekend.”

He nods, picking up the drink that’s set down in front of him/ “Well, did you?” He asks, taking a swig of the dark liquor. 

“Did I what?” Chris asks, moving her drink closer to her, stirring it with a little black straw. 

“Did you guys date?”

“Oh,” she shakes her head. “Never.”

Charles nods. “Shame, I was going to put on a show.”

The welcome party kicks into full swing after the satisfying sit-down meal. Laughter and chatter fill the rustic barn, the air buzzing with the lively energy of the gathering, of the weekend. Charles, having eaten the entirety of his dinner earlier, finds himself following Chris as she seamlessly navigates the crowd. 

The burger truck, stationed at the edge of the venue, offered a tempting array of late-night treats. The scene of grilled meat wafted through the air, enticing those who weren’t around for the earlier, intimate dinner. 

The barn was alive with the murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, the bursts of laughter. It seems like a million people fill the space, a million strangers—a mix of extended family and friends and coworkers and distant relatives and even distant-er friends. For him, all of these faces are unfamiliar, and he relies on Chris like a lifeline to guide him through most of the interactions. 

She effortlessly leads the way, introducing him with a warmth that mirrors her nature of being. She moves through the place like she owned it, with a grace that seems to come naturally to her, connecting with friends and family alike. Everyone seems thrilled to see her, absolutely beside themselves. He understands them, even if he doesn’t know them, and observes with quiet admiration her ability to make everyone feel at ease. 

She seems to flourish in social settings, her personality shining brightly. She greets old friends with hugs, shares jokes with cousins, compliments grandparents’ outfits, and introduces him to each and every one of them, punctuates every interaction with her infectious laughter. 

He’s always felt like he’s more of a one-on-one guy, that his connections are better made independently rather than in groups. Chris, though, could lead a crowd anywhere with this unwavering confidence. She doesn’t make a single misstep all night, navigating the whole evening perfectly, makes an evening he’d spent the majority of outside his comfort zone anything but unsettling. With her, his words feel valued, important, intelligent. He’s content to be her partner in social settings longer than anyone should be. 

It’s long past midnight when they finally get back to her house, the fatigue of the day well-settled on their skin, casting a convincing sleeping spell that made the prospect of a comfortable bed a welcomed one. 

The house is silent, the hush of the night hugging them as they reach the bedroom, the weariness of their bones palpable. Anything but falling into the comforter seems like quite the ambitious endeavor. 

The comfort of the sheets cradles them as they sink into the mattress, a shared haven offering respite from the busy weekend. “Next time I come here,” Charles yawns, the effort of the evening present in his voice, “we are doing nothing.”

She must be more drained, he thinks, she’d worked almost a whole day before this, but contently, she responds with a gentle hum, snuggled up close to him. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Perfect.” The simplicity of doing nothing seems like the perfect plan, a promise of unhurried moments and the luxury of just being together. He wants more of that. He wants more of her. 

– – –

He wakes up for the first time that morning, if you can really call it waking up, to the shift of the bed as she climbs out of it. He doesn’t check the clock, doesn’t even hear more than the creak of the floor before he’s back asleep. He wakes up for the second time, and you still probably can’t call it that, to her standing over him, fingers running through his hair. She gives him a kiss and comments on something he can’t hear through sleep. 

The third time he wakes up that morning, it’s to the ringing of his phone on the bedside table. Her name is on the screen, a photo of her grinning in front of a statue in Monaco and holding a thumbs-up. 8:34, his phone reads. The sun is shining in through the opening in the curtains. 

She’d forgotten the steamer on the living room coffee table when one of the other bridesmaids picked her up two hours earlier. He says he’ll bring it, asks if the girls want coffee, swears he remembers her order. She texts him the other three girls’ orders. Within the hour, he’s riding with the wedding planner on a golf cart from the parking lot to the bridal suite with four long-winded coffees in one hand and a steamer in the other. 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the bridal suite, but it wasn’t what he found. The chaos hangs in the air like a sweet perfume. He weaves between makeup artists, hair stylists, and bridesmaids to find Chris, talking with Hannah and a makeup artist about what’s about to be painted onto the bride-to-be’s face, fulfilling her maid-of-honor duties. 

Chris looks up quickly to scan the room, eyes landing on him and immediately returning to the conversation at hand before doing a double-take, a heavy sigh leaving her lips when she recognizes him and the objects he carries. 

“Hey,” she greets, takes the steamer from his hand and kisses him. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you,” and she kisses him again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he laughs, pulls a coffee out of the cardboard cup holder and hands it to her. “Your hot dirty chai with one shot of espresso, oat milk, and salted caramel.”

“A man after my heart,” she says, taking a sip of the drink. He winks—anything more and he’d blush bright red—and continues reading the orders off. 

“Brown sugar oat milk latte with blonde espresso for Hannah,” he says, pulling it out and handing it to the blonde and pulling out the next one. “This is the… Iced matcha latte with soy milk and strawberry cold foam, and the…” he holds up the cupholder, one drink left in it, “Caramel brûlée latte.”

The groom’s house—which is where he’s affectionately sent to after the coffee delivery—is a direct contrast to the bridal suite. College football plays on the television, the cheers and groans of the game providing a lively soundtrack to the prelude of the wedding. The girls were all half-ready, but the guys are still shoveling breakfast foods into their mouths on the leather sofa. 

Noon arrives, and with it the collective decision that it was time to actually start getting ready for the wedding. Chase and his groomsmen needed to be ready for pictures at three, which meant that Charles and the rest of the bridesmaid’s boyfriends needed to be ready to be anywhere but the groom’s house at three. 

Between the laughter and the beers and the arguing over the best way to iron a shirt, there’s a knock on the door. He doesn’t even bother to look who it is, assumes it’s a relative of some sort. When Ryan, the never-had-a-thing, you-don’t-need-to-be-jealous Best Man has a hand on his shoulder, telling him “Chris is outside, she wants to talk to you,” he meets the guy with furrowed brows. 

He finds her just where Ryan said she was, pacing outside on the concrete patio, ready head-to-toe for the wedding procession. He can’t help but be struck by her beauty, the way the delicate fabric of her dress accentuates her figure, the way the color complimented the glow of her skin perfectly. Her hair is pulled back off her face, revealing the curve of her neck, her subtle makeup highlighting her features. 

He feels like he’s seen her a million times by now, in a million different ways, but there was something almost ethereal… angelic about her in this moment. The nerves in her eyes and the tension in her shoulders only add to the charm, make her feel more real, more human. 

He’s never looked at her and thought she wasn’t beautiful, but there are moments where he’s particularly struck by her allure. This is one of them. 

As soon as she lays eyes on him, her words rush out in a torrent. No hello, no pleasantries, just— “I’m freaking out, Charles. This speech… I’m just. I’m terrified I’m going to mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess it up,” he promises. He’s heard Chris’ maid-of-honor speech probably a dozen times by now, and she’s a different level of nervous every time. This might be the most nervous he’s seen her about it, though. “Can you… can you listen to it, please?”

He nods, his gaze steadying her shaky one. “Of course, let’s hear it.”

She unfolds the tiny, half-crumpled piece of paper out and delves into her speech. He focuses on her words, the genuine affection and admiration for Hannah present in each and every syllable. When she finishes, she meets his eyes, a mix of hope and anxiety in hers. 

“Well?” She asked, her lip caught between her teeth. 

Charles smiles. “It’s amazing. You are going to do great.”

“Are you sure? Because the part where I talk about Colorado—”

Charles shakes his head, puts his hands on her shoulders. “It’s perfect,” he says, gives her a quick kiss. “You’re perfect.”

She sighs, relief visibly washing away the tension. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grins, “You would still do great. But I’m here anytime you need it.” She gives him a quick hug,  and he can feel the gratitude seeping through the squeeze, so he makes it last just that moment longer. He just, he gets such a surge of pride that he gets to call her his, that he’s lucky enough to call her his girlfriend. “Go knock ‘em dead,” he laughs. 

When three o’clock finally does roll around, the wedding party separates to head off for pictures, and Charles, along with the other significant others, joins the convoy heading down to the ceremony space. The excitement among the group was palpable, everyone connected in some way to Hannah and Chase’s love story, ready to witness and be a part of their union.

The ceremony starts at four, and hell if he can’t stop catching Chris’ eyes the entire time. He doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed a wedding quite like he’s enjoying this one. Chase and Hannah are lovely, and the officiant’s words resonate with sincerity, but he’s less attuned to the details of the ceremony itself and more absorbed in the captivating spectacle that is Chris. 

Her laughter, musical and infectious, is all he hears when the entire place laughs, and her discrete attempts to wipe away tears, to pretend they aren’t falling, melt his heart entirely. Even the way she plays with the ribbon on the bouquets she holds—something so small and trivial, it all captivates him.

He finds himself swept away by a tide of emotions, some messy kaleidoscope of feelings that defy articulation. There’s something magnetic about her, an irresistible urge to kiss her that seems to linger in the back of his mind, always. It’s all lined up for him, a million synchronized harmonies that underscore every interaction. 

The changing colors of leaves and the smell of rain on a pine patio, the heartbeat of a conversation, a light in every room. His perception of his own emotions, the way he feels about this fucking woman, it’s so clear it becomes cloudy. Every stolen glance and shared smile is this integral part of their connection, this thing that he can’t let go of. 

There’s something so fucking special about her, and he can’t make sense of any of it.

Cocktail hour is at five, and the whole family—everyone at this entire wedding he knows—are off doing ‘golden hour’ pictures. Charles lingers by the bar, stuck to the outskirts like a wallflower. 

He’s suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity. It’s not often he’s put somewhere completely on his own like this, almost always has someone he can use as a lifeline if he needs to. Everyone here seems to have known eachother forever, and he feels like an intrusion on their camaraderie, worries that if he does manage up the courage to start a conversation with someone, they won’t understand him, or worse—he won’t understand them. 

His social battery is just… it’s drained. It’s been a long couple days of mingling with strangers, of trying to impress everyone. He’s ready to just curl up somewhere with Chris and enjoy the limited time they do get to spend together—alone—this weekend. 

Maybe then, with some more fucking time, he could sort out all his nonsensical thoughts. Make some sense of his own feelings. 

At the reception, he’s seated at the family table with Bill, Cindy, and Reid. Chandler is there, too, but she and her girlfriend Lex seem about as interested in him as they are the dinner menu. They give him a passing greeting, an introduction, if you can call it that, but content to leave it at that. 

They’re only a few feet away from the head table, where Chase, Hannah, and the bridal party are sat. So close, but when you’re as drained as he is, when you’ve been prim and perfectly proper for more hours than you can count, just want to be with the one person around who you don’t need to impress… Chris’ nameplate might as well be a quarter of the way around the world. 

There isn’t some big announcement or introduction for the bridal party, they just filter in after the conclusion of pictures with the rest of the family. Chris is one of the last to filter in, and finds that the rest of the bridesmaids and the groomsmen are all settled in their seats. Chris doesn’t head for her seat. Instead, she makes a bee-line for her family table, for Charles, who is scrolling through his phone and nursing what she thinks is Chase’s signature drink. 

She sneaks up on him, but he isn’t startled by her arms when they wrap over his shoulders. “Hi,” she greets, leaning over to kiss him. It doesn’t take her but a second to feel how tense he is—it’s in his shoulders, in his kiss, in the way he just keeps spinning the liquid around his glass instead of drinking it. Most of all, it’s in the way she doesn’t get even a hello back, just a focus smile and a kiss. Her brows furrow in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m just tired. It has been a busy couple of days.”

“I know,” she nods in agreement. “I was thinking, we should get super drunk tonight, skip brunch tomorrow, and then do nothing all day. What do you think?”

He laughs, and she feels the vibrations in her hands. “Deal,” he says, holding out his hand to shake on it right as the DJ comes over the microphone. Ladies and Gentleman, Chris’ eyes go wide, practically death-dropping into a squat so quickly she nearly loses her balance in her heels. Charles laughs, but she doesn’t miss his hand reaching out to steady her. If I can direct your attention to the barn door, let’s all give a warm welcome to the reason we’re all here tonight. I’m pleased to introduce for the very first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Elliott! Even from her squatted position, she still claps and cheers for Chase and Hannah. 

As the clapping dies down, the instrumental of their first dance song transitions in. She shifts on her feet, from one heel to the other, and thinks about how graceful she would have to be to attempt to slip her shoes off in her current position. When she looks to Charles, she’s met with the clearest what-the-heck-are-you-doing look she’s ever been on the receiving end of, and a nod that all but picks her up and puts her in his lap itself. His arms slip around her waist lazily, like it’s where they’re supposed to belong, like a magnet pulling itself to the fridge.

As their first dance song starts, as Chase and Hannah sway around the dance floor as husband and wife, Charles places a soft kiss into her exposed shoulder. The warmth of his lips sends a chill up her spine. “Are you cold?” He whispers, and she shakes her head even though she’s been chilly since she put the dress on that morning—who the heck chooses one-shoulder bridesmaid dresses for their outdoor wedding in December? He runs his hands up and down her arms to warm her up with the friction. “You can have my jacket if you want.”

“I’m okay,” she says. 

“Okay.” Another kiss, and then he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Let me know.”

After the first dance, Hannah and Chase give a short welcome speech, thanking everyone for coming to celebrate with them, for making their day so perfect. And then, it’s time to eat. 

She offers to pull over a chair and eat with him, and then offers again silently after Bill makes a joke about how we won’t bite him. She doesn’t like to see him like this, so tired, so drained. “I’m good,” he says, “I promise.”

“Okay,” she says, but her return to the head table is hesitant, and she keeps an eye on him the entire meal. 

– – –

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Chris, and for those of you who do, you probably knew this was coming,” Chris laughs nervously, microphone in sweaty hands. She can’t believe she has to follow Ryan’s speech. He had the whole crowd laughing until they couldn’t breathe. “I’m not one for public speaking, which I know you all find very funny considering my career choice, but when your best friend since the oh-so tender age of seven is getting married, you throw caution to the wind.”

She looks at Charles, but has to look away quickly. Just imagine me in my underwear, he’d told her before she got up here. She can’t do that. She can’t look at Hannah or Chase, either, though, or else she’ll burst into tears. So, she just looks at the piece of paper in her hand. 

“So, let’s talk about Hannah. We’ve been through it all together, from the back of a Sunday school class at Grace Haven where two little girls made their first friend, to hiding from customers in the kitchen of the Pool Room listening to Mr. Gordon tell us about his ‘shine days. We weathered the storms of adolescence, rocked the awkward phase, and somehow managed to make it out on the other side with our sanity intact—well, mostly,” the room chuckles. Hannah laughs, and Chris thinks that maybe she can look at her—she can’t, can already feel the tears welling, the frog in the back of her throat. 

“But,” she cracks, “It’s not about the trials we faced in high school, it’s about the triumph that is happening right now. Chase and Hannah, standing—sitting—here, about to embark on a new chapter of their lives.” Chris turns to the next page of her notes, hand shaky when she does it. “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows getting here. Life threw us some curveballs, as it tends to do. But Hannah, she’s a force of nature. She faces challenges head-on, and with the strength of a thousand warriors.”

Chris’ eyes catch Reid, sitting on Bill’s lap next to Charles. He’s not paying any attention, but what four-year-old would? Instead, he’s swinging his legs back and forth, tapping Charles’ knee with the toe of his shoes everytime. Charles takes turns grabbing one of the attacking feet, his eyes unbreaking from her, before letting Reid wiggle it away, laughing softly at the interaction each time. “My best friend became a mom at nineteen, and there wasn’t much about it that was easy. But, like I always do, I watched her rise to the occasion, and I’ve never been prouder. I work with five-year-olds every day, and as similar as Reid is to Chase, he’s his mother’s son, and I would pay a million dollars to have twenty of him in my classroom. And Chase, you were there through all of it. When things got tough, you didn’t run; you stood by her. You became not just the guy she loved, but the rock she could lean on, the partner she deserved.”

Chris nods, continuing. “Some might say they don’t have the most conventional love story. But what is love if not a journey? One that involves bumps and twists and unexpected turns? Chase and Hannah, you’ve proven that love isn’t just for fairytales; it’s for the real, messy, complicated, and beautiful moments of life.”

Chris looks past Hannah, to Chase. It's just as hard to maintain eye contact with him. Harder, maybe, because he looks like he’s about to cry, too. Chris can count on one hand the amount of times she’s seen her brother cry. “Chase, my big brother,” she laughs through a tear. 

“Fuck you, dude,” he says back, through an equally tearful laugh. Hannah’s hand runs in circles on his back. 

“You are so lucky to have Hannah. Everyone in this room knows that she has this magical quality about her—this remarkable ability to make even the most unlovable people feel like the center of the universe. I’ve seen her do it time and time again, watched her sprinkle her own special kind of magic everywhere she goes.”

“Hannah,” she says, turning fully to face her best friend, abandoning the piece of paper she has memorized and replacing it with Hannah’s hand. “You are my confidante, my partner in crime, my source of strength, and my beacon of light. You are the kind of friend who not only stands by people in the good times, but also holds you up when life gets a little bit wobbly,” Chris feels a single tear fall down her cheek, and then another. She sniffles softly. “Thank you for helping me through the wobbles,” she squeaks. “You’ve been my sister as long as I’ve known you, Han, I’m just glad it’s finally official.”

Chris turns back to address the crowd, raising a glass of champagne to two of her favorite people. “To Hannah and Chase. May your love be modern enough to survive the times, but old-fashioned enough to last forever. Cheers to the messy, the beautiful, and the happily ever after you both so richly deserve.”

Hannah wastes no time enveloping Chris into a bear hug, rocking back and forth on their feet. The lace and tulle from Hannah’s dress scratch against Chris’ arms, but she doesn’t mind. She’s too busy trying not to cry onto the fabric while the rest of the tables clink their glasses to her speech. Chase is next with the hugs, a stupid one that’s stronger than Hannah’s. 

“Dude,” he laughs, “you didn’t have to make me cry.”

Chris sniffles. “I love you.”

Chase pauses, squeezes her a little bit tighter. “I love you, too.”

Speeches are followed by the father-daughter and mother-son dances. Chris sneaks back over to the family table during the latter, makes her dad move over into Cindy’s seat so she can sit next to Charles. He has a fresh glass of the same drink from earlier, and is nursing it the same way he did the first one. 

“You know,” she says, checking the state of her makeup with her phone’s camera. “You’re going to have to pick up the pace if we’re getting wasted tonight.”

He laughs, the side of his foot bumping against hers under the table. She leans her foot back on the heel of her shoe, toys with the hem of his slacks. “Is that right?” He spins the drink, talks into the bottom of the glass, but she’s not fooled. His ears are red at the simple action. 

“Yeah,” she nods. “Let me show you,” and then takes the glass from his hand, downing what’s left without a scowl. It’s dark liquor. She loves the burn. 

Chris is like… she reminds him of that battery rabbit. A constant source of energy. She’s practically bouncing off the walls, giddily introducing him to anyone they come across that he doesn’t already know. She’s just so personable, and the buzz she’s gotten from the champagne and the stolen sips of his drinks only make her more lively. She knows everyone here, he’s sure of it, but she could befriend a brick wall if it gave her five minutes.

It’s impossible for even the most sullen people not to feed off her energy—everyone is swallowed up by her laugh, every conversation brightened by her presence. She’s so fun to watch that he wonders if he’s dreamt her up, created a figment of his imagination in the shape of someone just so good. God, she’s good. 

They survive the newlywed games and the anniversary dances, even make it all the way to the cake cutting before it becomes an Elliott family party—which, if you didn’t know, is synonymous with a drunken rager. As soon as Hannah swipes a finger full of frosting across Chase’s cheek, it’s game over. 

Drinks flow as freely as laughter echoes, and the dance floor is nothing more than a playground for a bunch of drunken idiots. Chris and Hannah, seasoned dance partners, showcase their moves with infectious enthusiasm, dancing the blurry line between elegance and idiocy. 

When the music slows, though, she’s always finding her way to him, heavy arms around his neck, his around her waist. If they know the song, they take turns butchering the vocals and giggling until the other person kisses them. 

“So, how was my speech?” She asks soberly, swaying along to the tune of some slow song he’s never heard of. 

“You made that speech your bitch, baby,” he slurs, even though he has a million and one questions about her speech. 

He’d heard it. So many fucking times, he’d heard it, and not once had he heard the ending. He thought he heard the ending—he did hear the ending. It was just different. Shorter. Sweeter. Didn’t put a confused knot in his stomach. Thank you for helping me through my wobbles. A remarkable ability to make even the most unlovable people feel like the center of the universe. He doesn’t want to entertain them as connected, to live in a world where they’re connected. 

“You think so?” She beams. He can’t ask when she smiles like that. 

“Yeah,” his tongue feels dry in his mouth—cottony. He’s bothered, and he doesn’t understand why. “It was great, very personal.” He shouldn’t let it bother him. It’s a fucking speech at a wedding for people he barely knows. It shouldn’t bother him, it shouldn’t rot his insides, the concept that two sentences could be in any way related to one another. It shouldn’t bother him, really. It does, though. And he can’t stop himself when he’s half-drunk the way he could if he was sober. “Everything you talked about… it’s all you two, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Hannah’s done a lot for me, y’know. I’m sure we’re like you and Joris, just. I cry more than you.”

“Even the, uh…” he clears his throat. “Even the whole thing about, um…”

“Charles,” she laughs, brows furrowed in a way he thinks only he could perceive. 

He sighs. “You know that you’re the kind of person who is easy to love, yes?”

She doesn’t look at him when she nods, or when she smiles, or when she kisses him. “I know,” she mumbles, and it’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever said. The easiest lie he’s ever spotted, but it’s even clearer that she doesn’t want him to push on it, so he doesn’t. He’s smart enough to know when it’s time to just dance with his girlfriend. 

– – –

They wake up the next morning disgustingly hungover. Like, stare at the white ceiling for twenty minutes talking about how hungover they are and praying they don’t throw up, hungover. Her ceiling is textured, and the pattern repeats every foot-or-so like it’s been stamped on. That’s how hungover he is.

He showers while she makes them prairie oysters, and despite how absolutely horrifying it looks, sounds, and sells, he manages to find enough trust in her to force it down with a grim scowl. Fuck, it’s disgusting. Horrifically so. 

They take an uber out to the wedding venue to retrieve Chris’ car, and she gives directions back to the Dawsonville Pool Room with her eyes half closed, sunglasses over her eyes. Everytime he looks at her he thinks she’s turning green. 

The owner recognizes her as soon as they’re walking through the door. Charles doesn’t understand a single fucking word the guy says. Chris orders “two Bully Burgers, but I swear to holy Heaven if you put slaw anywhere near my plate you’re gonna see the Devil, Mr. Gordon.”

He responds in something Charles could technically call English, and Chris shakes her head, a smile pulling on her lips. “I’m serious, he’ll back me up,” she says, thumb pointing to him. “He’s not from around here, you’re just another stranger.”

The greasiest, sloppiest, most mediocre burger he’s ever eaten is put in front of him five minutes later, and he feels like a new man after. Still absolutely strung out and exhausted, yes, but like his stomach is content to stay inside his body. 

Later that afternoon, when they’re both half asleep on the couch, some stupid sitcom playing as background nose, he’s still thinking about her fucking speech from the night earlier. It’s still bugging him. “Baby?” he mumbles against the skin of her shoulder. He doesn’t even know if she’s awake to answer. 

“Hmm?” She hums. 

“We do not have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but. You are a very lovable person, I think.” He couldn’t give any specific examples of what makes him so sure of this fact, he honestly couldn’t. But isn’t that proof enough? That just her being is enough to answer the question. 

“Babe,” she stretches against him, speaks through a yawn. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, I just. I don’t know.”

“No, it’s okay. We can talk about it.” She adjusts, if just slightly, so that it’s easier for her to look at him while they speak. “When everyone has the same complaint, all your old friends and old boyfriends tell you that you’re too much or too little, you realize maybe you’re the crazy one.”

He doesn't like that reasoning. He thinks it’s a load of bullshit, actually. “Why do you think of yourself in this way?”

Chris laughs. “It’s fine, really.”

“It’s not,” he says, because he knows it’s a lie. 

“It is, because I’ve come to terms with it. I accept it.”

He frowns, hates the way she seems so content with this. Like it’s something that is even kind of rational. It’s not, he knows. He pauses, can’t even come up with something to say to her level of absurdity. “I don’t think you should accept that.”

She turns away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, and laughs softly. “I’m sure you don’t.”

“You are not unlovable.” She’s not. She’s not. He knows she’s not. He knows, he knows, because of rain on a pine patio and leaves that change colors. He knows, because if she was unlovable, he wouldn’t love her. And he does, he does love her. 

Wait.

“Well, we’ll see. Everyone always sees.”

No, hold on. Wait. His stomach is tangled, flip-flopping and fluttering like every butterfly this side of the Atlantic has suddenly taken up residence in his insides. You don’t love her, you idiot, he thinks. But he does. Fucking… His heart races. He hopes to God, pays to something he’s not sure he believes in that she can’t feel it against his chest. That he can get away with it. “See what?”

She shrugs. “If I knew, nobody would see it,” she laughs. He laughs along, too, but it’s so forced that it sounds like some pre-recorded bit. She’s so casual about all of this that he feels like he needs to pinch himself. It doesn’t make sense, he can’t wrap his mind around it. But Chris, she’s comfortable enough with her bull-fucking-shit ‘facts’ that she can pull her phone out and scroll through it while they wrap up the conversation. “And before you ask, ‘What if I don’t see anything?’ like everyone else but Hannah always asks, nothing happens.”

“Nothing happens?”

She opens her fucking email. He’s in love with her, and she’s opening her fucking email while telling him it’s not possible. “You win, I guess.”

“I win you?”

“I mean, I don’t like to consider myself something that can be won,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. His heart is beating so loud he thinks the neighbors can probably hear it. “But for lack of a better word… sure. You win me.”

He nods. There’s nothing more he can add to the conversation, not now. Not when he’s just ran face-first into a brick wall of I love you.  Fuck. Fuck. He’s totally in love with her. What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[nathank77]

4/27/24

10:59 p.m Edited/Added to

So I had heart palpitations when I closed my eyes again last night... luckily they passed and fell asleep on just the half MG of xanax. I didn't need any other drugs, thankfully.

I woke up around 12, that's the longest I've slept straight through the night since psychosis minus after microsleep, while I was smoking weed. The nights I didn't microsleep during October I could sleep through like 7-10 hours. That was only like 4 or 5 nights between October 10th and November 3rd... and then when I started sleeping regularly again I was able to sleep like 6-10 hours straight when I was smoking pot. Then I quit pot and insomnia got terrible...

And before Xanax when I finally fell asleep after, "black heading," for hours I could stay asleep longer like 6-10 hours but it took so long just to fall asleep and some nights I never did...

Then I started Xanax and I've been able to fall asleep but usually i wake up ever 2-3 hours...

Anyways I took benadryl at 12 and then passed back out. Woke up at 2 p.m and then fell back to sleep without benadryl and slept until about 3:30 or 4 p.m idk bc microsleep fucked with my ability to know if I slept or not... all I know is that's why I keep a sleep tracker...

I decided not to do my laundry... I need to do my bedding and I've been putting it off bc my hoodies pile up so fast from Contamination.. and I need to have them to use the sleeves to grab stuff, so i have to plan to do my bedding the day after I do my clothing and towels bc otherwise I have a huge pile and can't do it all in one day.

However I needed a day with limited to no bathroom time. My laundry machine is in the bathroom, and even if it wasn't, doing laundry triggers major OCD. So I just decided to have a red bull day aka two 12oz red Bulls in a day and play video games.

I'm glad I made that decision. I'm playing bully and working on chapter 5. I am cooking dinner and taking a break. I should have that finished and uploaded prob around 3 or 4 a.m depending on how slow my MacBook is bc I've had to piece together the video bc of breaks... I'm taking pictures so I can submit them to apple so I can get my computer looked at and have a case at the apple store but I have to do it over the phone first and submit pictures. To combine a 1 hour video I have to wait 20 minutes it's ridiculous.

Anyways, I got my sneakers, I love them but the right shoe squeezes my baby toe strangely I've been fucking with the laces but I can't seem to get it right. Idk if this is one of those beauty is pain things or what but I might return them bc it's uncomfortable and if I get lines in them, they won't take them back but we see. It's actually both toes when I walk... I might do a return.

I'm hoping I can get some good gameplay today. Unfortunately I'm stuck on my old Xbox one s bc my stupid cloud saves won't transfer over to my series x which is fucking obnoxious...

Idc about most of my saves but I care about some-

1) Silent Hill 2 bc of my 10 star thank God that transferred over.

2) far cry 2 bc I have a over 20 hour save file and I'm half way through the game but it won't transfer to my new system......

3) Bully bc I have almost a 100% completion save file and one achievement left for 100% but it won't transfer.....

4) Minecraft bc of my castle which I've invested over 36 days working on thankfully that transferred over.

5) Silent Hill Homecoming bc I unlocked all the endings but whatever I can live without it even though it's obnoxious.... it won't transfer..

Anyways I won't play fc2 on my old system bc I'll easily play over 20 hours on the second half so I have to troubleshoot it..... I already tried for hours last night.

I'm sucking up bully for now to finish my playlist and I may accept losing the 100% completion save file which is fucked.

It's nice trying to relax but technology is a bitch and yea... I only picked Bully bc it doesn't trigger my OCD.

Also I've noticed at least in one way my hallucination has improved. When I played bully months ago the entire experience was intruded upon by the hallucination... however I think the last time I played it was like November when it was much worse.

There is a lot of dialogue so it helps drown it out. I've noticed with games with dialogue I can enjoy them mostly.

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Habits - Part 1

(A/N) oh hey, it’s the comeback (cumback?) fic i didn’t intend to be the comeback fic. i really did want to update stuff and post this other yelena fic i have that’s actually cute and has a real plot to it but instead i read Come Back To Me by reminiscingtonight and it was just so goshdarn good that it got me to write this garbage instead! her fic is extremely good and it has 3 parts to it!!! hotdamn!!! i read it at work and it made me happy. anyway, hi! i had to cut this into two parts! expect inconsistency! i’m back to a 6-7 day work schedule with the holidays but i do have something kinda planned for december! ok enough rambling! let’s do this!

Rating: E (literal p0rn without much plot) 18+ Only!

Warnings: fuckboy!yelena (lowkey tho lmfao); protectiveAF!natasha; hella smut; ye olde ‘best friend’s sibling’ trope; nat and yelena are only 2 years apart in this bc it makes me feel better abt age gaps and ill be honest math is not my strongsuit; yelena basically fucks ur brains out idk what else to say; oh, also, reader’s parents r shitty and manipulative; mentions of past abuse, but super brief; really the parents dont pay too much of a role in this half

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader; Natasha x Fem!Best Friend!Reader; Natasha x Wanda Maximoff (i love redheads)

Chapter Word Count: 7.2k

Total Word Count: 30.1k

Synopsis: It’s been a few years since you last saw your childhood best friend, Natasha, and her little sister, Yelena. Transferring colleges leads to you needing a roommate, and that roommate just so happens to be Natasha. Not much has changed between you, you’re still thick as thieves. Her sister, however, is a completely different story.

| Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

gif source

 Russian Translations: Malyshka - babygirl; Milaya - darling; Dorogoy - sweetheart |

You’ve known Natasha Romanoff for, practically, your entire lives. Your friendship was sealed the day she pushed Jason Grey off of the swingset for calling you ugly in the first grade. You were basically inseparable after that. 

Yelena is adopted when you and Natasha are nine, and she is seven. Melina and Alexei had adopted Natasha before leaving Russia, and were apparently keen on adopting the little toddler young Natasha couldn’t stand to leave behind. It took a few years for the paperwork to go through, and the payoff, it seemed, was worth it. The second they’re reunited, Yelena and Natasha are sisters without a doubt. It may not have been by blood, but that didn’t matter.

Of course, Yelena is also adopted into your friendship with the redhead soon after. Yelena was curious while she adjusted to her new life, always inquisitive and asking questions. Eventually, her curiosity turned into complete headstrong foolishness. Sneaking home lizards and the like. 

You didn’t mind, though. 

In all honesty, you preferred their house to your own.

Your dad was a very busy person, and your mom wasn’t the best company. She was a perfectionist, through and through, and often expected the same from you. The pressure was really put on you when you started middle school. You needed the best grades, the highest place in whatever after school activities you chose. It was grating, exhausting, and their fights that rode late into the night never helped things.

Still, Yelena and Natasha were your distraction from it all. The more pleasant side of life, the side you couldn’t stand leaving.

Until, of course, you had to.

You’re fifteen when it happens, the threat of it. The word felt so ugly and obscene at the time. Divorce. You spent hours in Natasha’s room crying, both sisters helplessly holding you until you ran out of tears. 

That Christmas, your mother actually left until February. That was when your father really began to spiral. He lost his job. He started drinking. He started yelling at you. Started hitting you. You could have told someone - you should have. You only told Natasha and Yelena, though, forcing them to swear to never tell a soul. It was stupid of you, really.

You’re weeks away from sixteen when the shoe finally drops.

He hits your mom. She grabs you, and you’re driving out of town before you can even process it. The image of Natasha and Yelena following your mother’s car has, naturally, haunted you every waking moment since it happened. Your mom was always very anti-social-anything. No cellphones, no email, nothing. Contact with your best friends was hopeless. Gut-wrenchingly hopeless.

You’re grown-up, now. At least, on paper. The rest of high school was spent all the way in New York City, and you didn’t make many friends. You dated a few people here and there, but mostly you focused on your schoolwork the way your mother demanded you to. It became a saving grace, the idea of getting somewhere far away from her.

You don’t get far for long, though. Your first two years are spent at a college you can go to from home. You hate every second of it, and it takes a long while to convince her to let you transfer to another school where you won’t have to be watched like a hawk.

That leads you, at last, to Temple University. Philadelphia. Sure, it’s just a few hours’ drive away but that distance is fucking gold to you. You had originally searched for a roommate through a variety of social medias, looking for friends of friends you could possibly bunk up with - and that, miraculously, lead you back to Natasha.

The reunion is the happiest you’ve felt in so long, you cry. You spend hours catching up among the unpacked boxes, when Yelena is brought up.

“She’s coming a week after me. I transferred from Ohio State, and she’ll be a freshman. God, she’s gonna be thrilled to see you. She spent, like, months crying over you when you left.” 

You snort. “What, and you didn’t?”

“How could I when she was inconsolable?” Natasha scoffs. “It did suck, though. We missed you. I missed you.” She squeezes your hand tightly. “And now we can finally get drunk together like we planned for your sweet sixteen.”

“I didn’t get a drop of alcohol until I got to college,” you gripe. “Mom became like, the grade demon of my worst nightmares.”

“Your dad still lives there. Why didn’t you visit?”

“Yeah, joint custody didn’t last long.” You cringe. “He, uh, got one supervised visit with me in New York and sort of strangled me.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“It’s chill, now,” you lean back against the sofa, the only piece of furniture in your living room that’s accessible. “I mean, it’s whatever. He’s a deadbeat, anyways.”

And for the next handful of days, you and Natasha become as close as you had been before you left. Some bonds just transcend years like that, and you’re glad it was this way for you and Natasha.

The week before school leads to Natasha wanting to throw a party to celebrate. You aren’t surprised she’s already made friends here - she’s always been the more social type - but she seems very giddy when she explains her reasoning.

“Does this have to do with that Sokovian chick?” You ask when Natasha finishes cleaning the place for the millionth time since she’d woken up this morning. (Which, by the way, was six o’clock, because Natasha is fucking insane.) “Wendy?”

She glares at you from over her shoulder. “Wanda,” she corrects. “And, no.” 

You laugh at the flush on her cheeks. “So if she shows up to the party I should tell her it’s invite-only?”

“No! Don’t be an asshole!” Natasha whines, throwing the paper towel she’d been using to wipe the bookshelf. It’s not even dirty, but you smack it away with a squeal. “And, by the way, there’s another surprise guest coming, but it’s a secret.”

“Ooh, my favorite actress wrapped in a nice little bow for me?” You ask with a dramatic fluttering of your eyelashes.

“Don’t be gross.” Natasha scolds. “You’re worse than Yelena.”

“Little innocent Yelena?” You cackle, knowing full-well the blonde had been nothing short of troublesome and clever when you left. 

“I have it on good authority that she was being a fuckboy when I moved away.” Natasha tuts. “She was just waiting ‘til I left before she started fooling around with people. Typical.”

“Could it be that anyone interested in her was terrified of her big sister roasting them alive?” You inquire teasingly, tapping your chin as if you were truly considering what other options there could be.

“Very funny.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t ‘roast them alive’. They’d scream too much, I’d get caught immediately.”

The seriousness in her tone makes you laugh. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be caught dead or alive looking at your sister like that.”

She sticks her tongue out in response, quite childishly. You really, really missed her.

- - - - -

Okay, fine, surprise surprise, the girl with the strict mother is a lightweight. So what. 

You aren’t hammered, you’re more aware of yourself than that. You’re two drinks in, though, so you’re chattier than usual and a bit too bold. Natasha says you’re a riot when you’re drunk, so that’s something, at least.

You’d just disengaged yourself from a conversation with a guy named Steve - who was strangely old-fashioned but incredibly sweet - to get a drink when you slam into a body. Off-balanced from the rush of blood to your head, you’re lucky that the person steadies you with strong arms before you can fall flat on your face.

You look up at your savior and immediately lose all ability to speak and think and breathe. She’s got blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes, the smirk on her face smug as she watches the way you take in her muscular body. She’s damn hot, a ripped band t-shirt underneath a red flannel, cuffed jeans and combat boots - this is a woman who also likes women, which happens to be one of your favorite type of women.

“Don’t tell me you’re already wasted,” the Russian accent surprises you less than the husky richness of her voice. Oh fuck. She’s really hot. You should say something cool, probably.

“No, she’s just a fucking lightweight,” Natasha’s voice is a saving grace. You look at her with a desperate, silent plea. “(Y/N), meet our secret special guest: Yelena.”

Holy shit.

“Y-Yelena?” You stammer, stiff as a statue as the blonde hasn’t moved her hands from your waist yet. 

“Long time no see,” she grins.

You step away from her, hoping to clear your head a little. “Y-you, uh, you grew up.” She’s taller than you by a few inches, now. 

She chuckles. “I have,” she confirms, the amusement in her tone telling you that she hasn’t forgotten the way you’d eyed her like a piece of meat moments before.

Natasha looks between you for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face, before she jumps and looks down at her phone. “Wanda’s almost here. I’m gonna go meet her outside. Keep this one out of trouble,” she points at Yelena, who pouts at the accusation of being troublesome.

You make a whipping sound when Natasha walks away, joining Yelena in gut-twisting laughter when Natasha flips you off.

And then you’re alone.

With Yelena.

Out of things to talk about.

“D-d’you wanna drink?” It comes out rushed and awkward, because now that Yelena is looking at you again you feel extremely nervous. 

“Sure,” the blonde is smirking again. You’re starting to dread that smirk.

You lead her to the kitchen, fighting hard to keep your mind from going anywhere but the blonde behind you. What the fuck was WRONG with you? This was Yelena. Little Yelena, who Natasha had just said she’d kill people for and you have absolutely zero doubts in your mind that Natasha Romanoff could get away with murder.

You and Natasha had been reunited for little more than a month and you were thinking of her sister in ways you absolutely, totally, should not. 

It’s not until you’re in the kitchen that you remember it’s a closed off room, unique to the apartment complex, effectively trapping you with Yelena, without any other partygoers.

Shit.

“S-so, what’s your poison?” You ask, turning to the several bottles of liquor you and Natasha acquired for the party.

“I think I’ve already found it,” she’s way closer than you’d expected. She leans against the counter barely a foot away; close enough to be in your space, but not so close that you’re brushing skin. It’s still too close, you think. 

“Nat made sure we had that- that, uh, jet fuel you Russians call vodka.” You reach for the bottle with slightly shaking hands, amazed at how much she’s affected you by just being near you. You feel like a stupid, horny teenager and she literally only touched you once to keep you from falling over.

“I’m not talking about vodka.” Yelena steps forward and you suck in a sharp breath. She’s way too close now. “You know, I always had a bit of a thing for you, growing up.” She says it so casually, you actually don’t process the words at first. “When you left, it was my first real heartbreak.”

“Yelena-” you start, but she keeps talking:

“And just when I thought you were gone forever, Natasha tells me you’re her new roommate.” She licks her lips, and your stupid eyes can’t help tracing the motion. Her smirk widens. “I knew I couldn’t pass up the chance.”

“The chance to- to what, exactly?” You squeak, eyeing the door behind her. Is anyone going to come in here and save you? Do you want them to?

Yelena raises an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. She’s leaning closer. You find yourself quite frozen, unable perhaps unwilling to move from your spot. “I saw the way you looked at me. You want this just as much as I do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lie. You’ve never been a good liar.

Yelena laughs. “Ha! You’re still a terrible liar.”

“And you’re a brat.” You mutter, and then she’s got you pinned to the counter, the edge digging uncomfortably into your back. Both of her palms rest on either side of you. You’re trapped. You’re definitely going to die here.

“Oh, am I?” She teases, amused as she leans in close enough for her breath to ghost your lips. “What does that make you, then?”

“Natasha’s best friend.” You put your hands on her shoulders, pushing lightly to keep the distance between you and hopefully encourage some more. “Who does not want to die a horrible, bloody death for having Natasha finding her pinned against a counter by her little sister.”

Yelena hums, a thoughtful sort of sound that’s very low in her throat. “Who cares about what Natasha thinks? I don’t.”

“You should.” You sound suddenly hoarse as Yelena’s eyes flicker down to your lips.

The front door opens. You push Yelena harder than you’d intended, but she doesn’t budge much. Holy fuck she’s strong. She moves aside though, chuckling lowly as you put a respectable distance between you.

Natasha bursts into the kitchen, Wanda Maximoff in tow while the pair giggle scandalously. Your best friend pauses, looking at you and then Yelena, apparently picking up on the tension that still remains.

“Oh, is this your girlfriend?” Yelena asks, successfully erasing whatever the fuck that was.

You’re in trouble.

You’re in deep, deep fucking trouble.

- - - - -

The next morning, you stumble into the kitchen sleepily. Wanda spent the night in Natasha’s room, but luckily you were out like a light the second you laid down. Yelena took up the couch with two of your four blankets - why Natasha couldn’t spare her own sister some blankets, you’re too frightened to ask - and the mass of blonde hair splayed over the armrest tells you she’s still sound asleep.

You breathe out a sigh of relief once you’ve made a cup of coffee, and it turns soft moan of appreciation when you take your first sip.

“Morning,” a voice startles you, making hot liquid spill over your fingers. You wince, setting the mug down as you turn to face the intruder. Your words get caught in your throat when your eyes find Yelena. Yelena who, apparently, slept in a sports bra and Natasha’s old sweatpants last night.

When your eyes move back to Yelena’s face, she’s wearing that stupid cocky smirk again.

“You know, for someone who denies eye-fucking me, you seem to do it an awful lot.” Yelena sneers. Your cheeks warm considerably. You take your mug and move to the kitchen table, too cowardly to duck out of the conversation and too afraid of her bringing it to the living room where Natasha most certainly could hear it.

“I’m not eye-fucking anybody,” you huff.

“That must be why you’re the color of a tomato.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh,” her smirk widens, “is that an offer?”

You scoff. “Holy shit, you really are impossible.”

“Maybe you should just admit the truth to yourself.” She begins making her own cup of coffee. You’re relieved to not have those piercing eyes on you anymore, but you don’t let down your guard. 

“And what truth is that?” You ask, hoping to sound casual.

“You’re just as into me as I’m into you.” She answers simply, throwing a look over her shoulder. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting. I’ve waited this long.”

You grit your teeth. “Jesus, Lena.”

“I’m just being honest.” She joins you at the table, looking calm as ever even though you’re practically having a meltdown internally. “I’ve wanted you since I could want anyone like that.”

“You really shouldn’t say shit like that.”

“Why?”

“Because-”

“If you’re gonna use the best friend excuse again, it’s a shit one.” Yelena rolls her eyes, sipping her coffee. You cross your arms defiantly, earning an amused grin from the blonde. “If anything, she should be happy. She already likes you.”

“That will change the second I touch you.”

“So you do want to touch me?”

You bite your tongue. How the fuck does she keep coming at you so fast like this? You haven’t even finished your first damn cup of coffee. It’s too early for this.

“Yelena-”

“Oh! Sorry!” A familiar voice pulls your attention to the doorway. Wanda is standing there in one of Natasha’s shirts and a pair of pajama pants. There are hickeys all over her neck, her hair clearly messed up from a long night. “I didn’t hear you guys. Kitchen’s practically sound-proof.” She chuckles awkwardly, eyeing the coffee pot. “Is- is that fresh?”

“Yep, help yourself.” You nod and she quickly makes two cups of coffee. You and Yelena share a meaningful look, united in your opportunity to tease Natasha later.

“So, Yelena,” Wanda begins, cutting the silence. “Natasha said you got a scholarship here for lacrosse. That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Yelena leans back in her seat, grinning. “Been at it since freshman year of high school. My grades were fine, but this was the only offer that was a full-ride.”

Wanda hums, eyeing the door with a soft expression. “That’s nice. I’ll see you guys later, yeah?”

When she leaves, you’re once again emerged in that strangely charged atmosphere that seems to gravitate between you and Yelena.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not stick around to hear Natasha and Wanda go for round two.” She says, wrinkling her nose.

“Dunno, the kitchen is pretty soundproof apparently. This could be our only safe space for a few hours.” You say it flippantly, meaning it entirely as a joke, but suddenly Yelena looks like the cat who caught the canary.

“And what do you suggest we do to pass the time?” She asks.

“You’re right, a day out sounds great,” you stand so quickly the chair almost falls over. Yelena is cackling at you, but you ignore her. “Get dressed, jerk, we’re going into the city.”

- - - - -

“Ooh, this is cool,” Yelena eyes the vest with a hungry expression. 

You snort. “What, are you enlisting?”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you not see all of those pockets? I could fit so many things in there, you wouldn’t even know.”

You’ve been out with Yelena for the better part of three hours, and in that time you’ve come to realize how much you’d missed her. Not that you weren’t aware of it before, but it feels like the world was somewhat dull without her presence. Her sarcasm, her cleverness, her mischievous grin. 

She’s too endearing for your own good. 

And beautiful, too. You think that’s the worst part. You often just find yourself looking at her, in awe of how she looks and speaks and acts. Still so confident in herself and everything she does, in the most mundane situations. Right now, as she pulls on the vest to look at herself in the mirror, she looks lovelier than ever. 

Oh no, you think distantly. This was not a good idea! 

“What do you think?” She asks, giving herself a long once over before turning to look at you. “I look good, right?”

You smile, unable to resist it. “You look very cool.”

“I knew it!” She hisses under her breath, turning back to the mirror. She really is cute. She catches your gaze through the reflection, winking when your eyes meet. You blush, deciding the floor is very interesting and a thousand times cooler than anything else in the store.

“Damn, it’s thirty-six dollars,” Yelena sighs. 

“I’ll buy it for you,” you offer without thinking about it.

Yelena throws her arms around your neck and for a horrifying moment you brace yourself for her lips to meet yours. Instead, she hugs you, and you have to force yourself to relax again.

“You’re so sweet, thank you,” she gushes.

You’re in deep shit, you just know it.

Natasha calls you around two to ask where you and Yelena were. By this point, you’d made your way to a little cafe, where you ended up talking about what happened in your years of separation. Yelena is relentlessly flirty, apparently keen on proving to you that you’re attracted to her and you certainly aren’t making a good case for yourself what with all the blushing and, admittedly, occasional flirtatious comment.

When you tell her where you are, Natasha says she and Wanda will join you.

“Aw, and I was enjoying our date,” Yelena pouts when you tell her the news.

“This was a date?” You ask with an amused snort.

“Of course it was. You bought me this nice vest and breakfast, and you also just bought me coffee.” Yelena rolls her eyes, as if it were obvious.

“Do me a favor and don’t ever call this a date in front of Natasha. I like my blood inside of my body.” You warn.

“So you agree, then?” Yelena brightens. “This is a date?”

“Yelena-”

“I’m just repeating what you said,” she bats her eyelashes innocently.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and pointedly not responding. She seems to take this as a victory, since she’s still in a happy mood by the time Natasha and Wanda join you.

“Cool vest,” Wanda compliments, sitting beside Yelena while Natasha takes the seat beside you. 

“Thanks,” Yelena grins, “(Y/N) bought it for me.”

“What, did she ‘forget’ to bring her wallet?” Natasha scoffs, earning a pout from her sister.

“It’s a few belated birthday presents,” you excuse, heart warming just a little more when Yelena’s eyes meet yours again. Her lips are ever so slightly curved upwards, an almost unnoticeable smile.

You spend another hour or two at the cafe before Yelena complains about having to stay at a dorm her first year. 

“Moving in with you guys would be so much easier,” she sighs. 

“We only have two bedrooms.” Natasha snorts. “I’m not sharing my bed with you, you’re a violent sleeper.”

“Am not!” Yelena gasps, clutching her chest. “That is a baseless accusation.”

“You literally punched me in the face once.” Natasha scowls.

You burst out with laughter. You were actually there for that one. You were all still pretty young, so you managed to squeeze into a small tent in Natasha’s backyard. Yelena practically begged to be between you, but Natasha was right: she’s a violent sleeper. She kicked a lot, but she was always facing away from you, so it was always Natasha who got kicked. When Natasha tried to turn Yelena over to face you because you were laughing at Natasha, the blonde woke up and suckerpunched Natasha with such impressive accuracy you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Keep laughing, (Y/N),” Natasha warns, “and I’ll start thinking you two are up to something.”

You have to fight the very sudden rise of panic in your chest. What the hell are you worried for? You aren’t up to anything! This wasn’t even a date!

“You’ve caught us,” Yelena recovers, casting you a sly smirk. “We’re conspiring against you.”

“I fucking knew it.” Natasha throws a balled up napkin at her sister.

- - - - -

It’s the last Saturday before school starts. Since the party on Wednesday, Natasha and Wanda have been entirely consumed with one another and Yelena has decided that tormenting you is her favorite pastime. When she drops by unannounced, she makes it a point to tease you and flirt with you when Natasha isn’t watching or listening.

Even worse, when you go to sleep, you keep dreaming about her. Yelena has become a permanent fixture in the back of your mind, always a second-thought. You hate yourself for it. You should be thinking of Natasha first, and how goddamn betrayed she’d feel if you went off and slept with her baby sister.

You’ve decided tonight is going to be a good night to get absolutely wasted. 

It’s not going well.

You’re on drink two and you’ve moved to the dancefloor at the behest of Natasha. She’s introducing you to someone whose name you don’t quite catch. She’s hot, sure, but you’re too confused and stressed to really listen. 

The more Yelena hung out with you, the more you were starting to question what it was, exactly, you were feeling about her. She’s Natasha’s sister, yes, and you’ve known her for years. Practically grew up with her. Her friendship was always a valued one, even if she was younger, but suddenly all of that is fogged up by this… great, big something she’s implanted in your brain. 

You want to scream. Or cry. Or forget yourself.

Yes, that last option is too appealing right now.

It’s easy for a while. You let the woman - Carol - dance with you provocatively, her hands gripping your waist in a way that, typically, you’d definitely enjoy. Even when you can feel her hard muscles moving against you, you can’t quite stay in the moment long enough. You keep picturing Yelena behind you, arms around you, hands moving from your waist to your sides. It feels good - you’re definitely turned on - but it’s not what you want and that’s all the more frustrating.

Carol, swaying her hips flush against yours, leans down until her lips brush against your ear. “Wanna come back to mine?”

You should. You should definitely go back to Carol’s.

But you can’t.

“I’m actually feeling a little, uh, lightheaded,” you separate from her, trying not to wince at the kicked puppydog expression on her face. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she recovers quickly, smiling. “Need a ride to your place?”

You shake your head, swallowing your agitation. “I’m fine. I could use the fresh air. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least get your number?”

Because you feel guilty, and because you can feel Natasha eyeing you questioningly from a few feet away, you give Carol your number before slipping through the dancing bodies. Natasha catches you by the wrist before you go, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Just nervous about school,” you lie smoothly. “I’ll see you at home?”

“I’m going to Wanda’s after, actually,” Natasha smiles fondly at the woman still rolling her hips in time with the music. “But I’ll see you at some point tomorrow?”

You nod, giving a polite wave to Wanda before finally escaping the club.

The night is blissfully cool on your overheated skin. You can’t believe how worked up you’d actually been. Maybe you should go back and take Carol up on her offer-

No, that wouldn’t be right. Carol is definitely into you, and she seems really sweet. You shouldn’t just fuck her because you can’t stop thinking about wanting to fuck your best friend’s sister.

Oof.

You don’t think you’ve actually finished that thought before.

God, I’m a horrible friend. You think bitterly, beginning the short walk back to your apartment.

Your mind isn’t any clearer by the time you get home, but you become very sober when you realize the lights are all on and the TV is making noise from the living room. Grabbing the baseball bat you keep by the door, you creep towards the living room on high alert.

“Do you really think a serial killer wouldn’t remove the only weapon you have by the front door while breaking in?” A familiar voice makes you go rigid. Of course. Of course that’s exactly how your night would go. Perfect. Fucking perf- “Are you just gonna stand there like an idiot or are you going to put the stupid bat down?”

You blush, setting the bat aside while muttering several expletives under your breath. Sure enough, Yelena has made herself perfectly at home on the couch. 

“It’s a Saturday night, don’t you have a life? How did you even get in?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway that leads from the front hall to the living room, the edge of the kitchen door tempting you to just hide until Yelena leaves.

“Well, I heard Natasha and Wanda were going out, so I figured you’d be home alone.” She shrugs. “And Nat gave me a key.” She dangles the object with a grin.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t go out to a club with them?” You shake your head with a scoff. “I’m not a total shut-in.”

“You totally are, but whatever.” She snorts, scooting over and patting the spot next to her. You eye her with blatant suspicion and she laughs. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, reluctantly sitting beside her with a decent amount of cushion space between you. She’s watching some classic movie no doubt from Natasha’s collection that she keeps hidden in her room.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, withering further into the guilty haze you’d left the club in.

Hey, it’s Carol :) If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to ask ;)

“Who’s that?” Yelena asks, peering at your phone.

You shove it back into your pocket with a scowl. “Nobody important.”

“Bullshit. You know you’re not a good liar.”

You glare at her, but it does nothing. She holds your gaze evenly, almost patiently. It makes you even angrier at her, at yourself, at the way your stupid body won’t fucking listen to reason. “Just a girl I met at the club tonight. She’s a little… eager to see me again.”

There’s a brief look of hurt on Yelena’s face, but it’s so brief you almost don't notice it. “Oh? What’s her name?”

“Carol.”

“Danvers?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

She scoffs. “You can do better.”

“Yelena,” you begin warningly, disliking the abrupt change in atmosphere. 

“What? I’m being honest.”

“She seems… nice.”

“Just ‘nice’?”

“We didn’t exactly talk much.”

“Oh, so you were-”

“I wasn’t doing anything because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, actually.” You snap, unable to control yourself. You want to sound angry, but really you just sound tired. “Fucking Christ, Yelena. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Her expression brightens considerably at this. She moves closer, and you’re once again snared by those damn green eyes and that dumb cocky smirk that you’ve come to associate with Yelena. “Really?”

“We really, really shouldn’t do this.” You state, hoping you sound stronger than you actually feel.

“And why’s that?” She tilts her head, amused. “Because of my sister? She should give you her blessing. Who else would be better for me than someone she already approves of?”

You don’t like how reasonable she sounds when she’s breathing the same air as you, her eyes searching yours. 

“She’s going to kill me if-”

“If.”

There’s something magical about the word ‘if’. Maybe dancing with Carol had you more worked up than you’d thought. You wish you could blame it on the alcohol but with Yelena so close you’re achingly sober. Maybe there are no excuses for what happens next. 

Yelena’s lips find yours with absolute raw lust. Part of you hoped that just doing this, just kissing her, will satiate the longing for her that plagues your mind. (The rest of you knows better than to be stupid enough to believe that.)

Like with everything she does, Yelena kisses like she has something to prove. Maybe she does. You don’t care because it’s making your mind go completely blank and your body is buzzing with a million galaxies being born under her attention. You drink her in like a woman starved, drowning in her scent and her taste and the feeling of her hands curling into your hair and pulling you closer, closer, closer.

She’s on top of you, you aren’t sure how it happened. Her lips and her teeth and tongue are on your neck, finding places that pull quiet sounds from the back of your throat. You can feel her smirking against your skin, god- 

You are a horrible, horrible best friend.

(Why is it getting harder to care?)

You shove aside the guilt. You want this. You need this. 

“I’ve thought about how you’d feel like this for so long,” Yelena breathes against you. You’re positive she’s just left a wicked hickey. It makes you bite back a moan. “How you’d sound,” she continues, fingers dancing along the edges of your shirt, earning a quiet whimper. You let her pull it off of you, and she’s already unbuttoning your jeans. “How you’d taste,” she purrs, kissing down to your collarbone. She moves between your breasts, placing deliberate, wet, hot kisses wherever she pleases, more often than not leaving a dark red mark behind. When she eases your jeans off of your legs, she kisses your thighs and you’re so fucking desperate your hips twitch involuntarily.

Yelena laughs throatily, tossing aside the clothes with such smug pleasure it makes your teeth itch. “So sensitive,” she notes, almost carelessly tracing the edge of your bra. “Or are you just that desperate for me to fuck you?”

“God, Yelena,” you rasp. This is very much not the rambunctious freshman that ran after your mom’s shitty old sedan. Time has turned Yelena into the perfect weapon against you. Go figure. 

Where the fuck did your bra go?

Your fingers curl tightly in her hair when lips wrap around one of your nipples. Finding it harder to keep your noises at bay, a small whimper escapes you when teeth graze against the sensitive skin. Yelena hums against you, eyes flickering up to meet yours. She switches to your other breast, one of her hands slipping between your legs to rub against you through your panties. 

Her smirk is wider than ever when she pulls away from your breast. “Fucking soaked, just as I thought.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

In an instant, she has your hands pinned above your head. You stare up at her, dumbfounded. “How the hell did you get so strong?” You ask, unable to resist doing so.

She bites her lip, fighting a smile. “You should mind your manners. For being so rude, I’m going to make you beg for it.”

You gape at her. “What? You’re the one who said you wanted to- that you’ve been wanting to-”

“Yes,” she hums, leaning down so that she can place more marks on your neck. How the hell you’ll hide those monsters in the morning, you’ve got no idea. “But I like taking my time. You, however,” she snaps the waistband of your panties against your skin, earning a hiss of pain and pleasure. “You don’t seem like you’ll last very long.”

Yelena brings a lot out in you, apparently. You’ve never really considered yourself ‘bratty’ or anything before. But the idea of doing exactly what Yelena doesn’t want you to do is so goddamn tempting. Maybe because you know she’s going to make it very much worth it in the end. Yelena has always been one to keep promises.

“No.” 

Your answer takes her by surprise, certainly, but she recovers quickly. She looks delighted, even, when she leans back just enough to look you in the eye.

“No?” She repeats slowly. “You sure about that, malyshka?”

You nod, mouth incredibly dry.

Yelena growls under her breath, returning to her assault on your neck while her free hand starts to massage your already sensitive breasts. You suck in a sharp breath, decidedly holding back any noises you want to make. Yelena catches on fast to your ploy by the time she pushes a knee between your thighs to put just enough pressure against your core to make your body feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh, don’t hold back, milaya. I want to hear those pretty little noises you make,” Yelena croons, rolling her hips so that a delicious friction temporarily relieves the growing agony between your legs. You hiss out a curse, hands straining uselessly against the one Yelena uses to keep you firmly in place. “Aw, you want more?”

“I want you in less clothes,” you huff impatiently. 

“You haven’t earned that yet.” Yelena tuts, her free hand now dipping beneath your panties. She finds the pool of wetness waiting for her there and hums lowly. A keening sound that doesn’t resemble any sort of sound you’ve ever made before escapes you, unbidden. “All you have to do is ask nicely, malyshka,” she drawls, “and I’ll make you feel so good.”

With another roll of her hips, Yelena has your resolve reduced to ashes.

“Please,” you whine. “Please, Yelena.”

“Please what?” 

You try not to roll your eyes. “Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me, I want you to make me-” you’re cut off by a long, deep moan that escapes you very unexpectedly when Yelena’s fingers plunge into you without warning. A new look of victory crosses Yelena’s face, lips quirking up into a grin as she watches you with rapt attention, taking note of what makes you break your internal vow of silence.

When she adds a thumb to your clit, you’re incoherently begging for more.

“More?” Yelena taunts. “Greedy thing, aren’t you?”

“Please, please, more,” you rasp. Pathetic. 

“Mm, I love hearing you ask so nicely,” Yelena praises. You’re trembling beneath her touch, now. “Beg me again. One more time malyshka.”

“Please, Yelena,” you meet her eyes desperately. “Please, I need more.”

“Okay, alright,” Yelena hums her low laugh into your skin, lowering herself until she’s between your legs. “You can have more, dorogoy. You can have everything you want if you keep being good for me.” You’ll do anything she fucking asks if she keeps-

With your hands freed, nothing stops you from grasping at Yelena’s t-shirt while a long, wonton moan rips itself from your throat. Yelena is eating you out like she was born to do it. It’s amazing how quickly she’s learned to make you fall apart - or maybe you’ve really just been anticipating this enough to make it feel that way - but it isn’t long before you’re reduced to mindless, senseless noises that could be full sentences but you aren’t sure.

Yelena hums when one of your hands grips her hair, hips trying hard to move against her. She uses the hand not currently pounding into you to hold your hips down, not allowing them to budge even an inch as she drives you closer and closer to the edge. When her fingers curl and press against a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, your orgasm hits you without warning.

The blonde is relentless. She doesn’t slow down, just focuses harder on fucking you deep, deep, deep until another climax ripples through you. She waits until you’re a sweating, trembling mess before finally slowing down enough for you to catch your breath.

Yelena places several kisses along your body while she returns to your lips, and this kiss is different from the others. Softer, less rushed. You dare even say it’s passionate. You return the kiss lazily, body limp between aftershocks of pleasure while Yelena slowly withdraws her fingers.

She only pulls back from the kiss to pop her fingers in her mouth, sucking on them obscenely before kissing you again and letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Fuck. Your hands move to her waist, pulling her flush against you. 

This time when she pulls away, Yelena is smiling. Not the smug, cocky smile that you’d been expecting. It’s a real one, a bright one that reminds you sharply of the little girl you grew up with. If you had any doubts before that she’s wanted this for a long time, they’re gone in an instant when you see the joy in her eyes.

Instead of letting the guilt take hold, you press a soft kiss to her lips and smile lazily at her. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

Her eyes search your face, like she can’t really believe that you’re requesting this, but she nods and starts working on her vest - the vest you’d bought for her, you realize with a shocking amount of satisfaction - and shirt. 

With every inch of skin newly exposed, you run your fingers along it or skim kisses in spots that make Yelena inhale sharply. She’s not as vocal as you are, but her hums of encouragement are damn hot so you’re not complaining. She seems very content to be on top of you, apparently, and that’s just fine. Once her pants and panties are off, you reach down between her legs while placing kisses along her neck and shoulder.

You both let out quiet moans when you find the wetness waiting for you there. You wish you could feel more smug about it, but honestly you’re just eager to make her feel something for the way she’s worked you up this week.

You make small, teasing circles against her clit, feeling her hips move in time with the motions. Your kisses move to her jaw, and when her mouth meets yours you slip your fingers inside of Yelena and swallow the resulting groan.

She rides your fingers with reckless abandon. She keeps placing purposeful kisses to your neck, your shoulder, your jaw, collarbone - Yelena is intent on making sure you don’t forget the occasion. When you add a third finger and curl your hand so that she can rub her clit against the heel of your palm, Yelena bites down hard. Without even being touched, you suddenly find yourself dangerously close to having another orgasm; a broken, strangled whine slipping free.

Yelena moans, her breath hot on your ear. She moves until her thigh is pressing against you again, her hips rolling freely against the fingers inside of her. It causes just enough friction to make you clumsy in your thrusts, brain and body fighting for control.

“Come with me,” Yelena murmurs, and just like that, you’re both teetering over the edge together. Your body has officially turned into a twitching, useless mass of limbs. Your breath lingers with Yelena’s as she quakes with aftershocks of her own climax, and when you’re able to breathe again she connects your lips.

It’s lazy, it’s messy. Your hands rest on Yelena’s waist now, the blonde’s body resting on top of yours while her arms rest on either side of you. You’re incredibly tired - and a little bit thirsty, but you’re way too comfortable to move right now. Yelena is warm, and it feels nice having her this close. 

When she ends the kiss, she places another quick peck to your lips before resting her forehead against yours. You already feel guilty, but there’s just too much coziness in the afterglow of this moment. Yelena’s eyes are searching yours for something, her smile tender.

“I really have wanted this. For a while.” She says quietly.

“I know.” You move one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

“I missed you.” She leans into your touch, never breaking your gaze.

“I know,” you repeat, kissing her gently. “I missed you, too.”

Guilt be damned, Yelena’s smile is worth it.

~ part 2 ~

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[evansbby]

Girl I was literally one of your first likes but I couldn't respond right after I read it because I was running late for my lecture. But this is what I think of the latest POYT chapter

IT WAS AWESOME : 11/10

1) For the first time I did not hate Steve and was actually hurt when he hurt in the very end. It was as if I had the mark and I could literally visualize him being hurt seeing Omega being taken away just after she's aid yes to marrying him, after he told her he loved her and after she told him she was pregnant. That's absolutely devastating.

2) I STAN OMEGA. The way the girl finally let her real emotions out this time. For once her inner Omega was stiffened by her other feelings. Each time she hit him for each of his bs was so so so stress busting. Fr she was under so much pressure. I am so happy she finally put herself first and stood up for herself. The way Steve treated her was absolutely unacceptable.

3) FUCK OFF BUCKY. Tf is wrong with you?! What kind of sick person leaves a girl out in pouring rain and laughs? The audacity he had to think Omega would cheat. It doesn't only show how bad of a friend he is but also how low he thinks of Omega. You really think she would be unfaithful to Steve because he did that to her? And even if she was - trust me lad - not happening with you out of all the people. Fucking knob. I wish Steve threw him out of the house.

4) Even tho Sam was shitty throughout the series seeing him sincerely apologize was kinda nice and sweet. Made me break into a little smile between all the angst.

5) Peter, baby ik you're heart's in the right place, but respectfully ...... piss off. Not happening. Also hilarious that he's the one GRIPPING Omega and dragging her away. WHY CANT THESE BOYS LEARN A BIT ABOUT ✨️CONSENT✨️

6) Jensen getting to play was so sweet, now all he needs is some nice company who actually treats him well.

7) As a reader I want to feel like a part of the story, I DID. IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME. I felt as if I, myself was in that poytverse. I saw Omega cry and imagined Steve sketching her at night in the dim moonlight when her skin glows and she's so peaceful and finally looks like an angel cause she is one. I felt the love, I felt the rage and I felt the hurt. There was so much that I can't even begin to comment on everything. I bet I missed out a lot but I really wish I got to comment on each and every line.

It was everything I imagined and more. It was so well written, love. Honestly, it probably made my entire week and will get me through my hectic schedule. I also recommended it to my best friend and I Def think she'll love this too.

Btw, the I love you and I am pregnant at the football game after they won the game - straight out of a fairytale. It think Steve might truly deserve Omega now. And the one where he exposed his neck for her to mark - MADE ME SO WEAK.

Ok I should stop now or else I'll get carried on-

~A <3

ooof bestie so many opinions!!! firstly thank you so much for reading, ily😩💕 lemme answer them in order!

1. Poor Stevie😩 finally poured his heart out (as much as someone as heartless as him can) and it was all thrown back in his face when his omega left him. His perfect life — future wife, baby, everything — was ripped away from him and I wonder how sadistically he will react to that🤔

2. Yassss omega finally let Steve have it! I wanted to write this for all of us, bc all my readers have hated how she was treated — so i was hoping it would be super satisfying to see her voicing her frustrations!

3. Bucky is kind of delusional… I guess he just can’t seem to grasp that Steve got to omega first. He’s insulted that she’s not interested in him — bc he’s slowly becoming obsessed with her😮‍💨 her rejection insulted him so much that he not only locked her out in the rain, but he also twisted her arm painfully😭😭 the villain of poyt, and we haven’t seen the last of him!

4. Sam showing signs of maturity! But also… omega didn’t forgive him and she doesn’t have to hehe.

5. Unfff exactly!! All these boys need to chill and give omega some space to figure things out for herself!! 😤😤😤

6. Jensen played well!! I didn’t write it in the chapter, but he played well and even Steve was begrudgingly impressed. Not nearly as good as Bucky would’ve been tho.

7. Oh bestie, as a writer this is so lovely to hear!! All I wanna do is make sure my writing invokes some kind of emotion within the reader, so I’m so so so happy that you felt that when reading!! Thank you so much!💕💕😌

[the-acid-pear]

I'm really bored so this is a perfect opportunity to pick up where i left off

Chapter 4

E(vil) Coli.......

Marcille just got such a reality check Chilchuck i love youu

I'm actually so falling in love w the way this chapters go they really feel like a little kids cartoon but i dont mean that in the condesending way i mean that in the, lighthearted let's focus on this character's issues today way

I fucking adore Senshi's unchanging button eyes. TBH creature eyes, to me

CHILCHUCK I FUCKING ADORE YOU THE WAY HE WENT FROM SYMPATHY TO RAGE IS AKGJBN UYHJBKGYUBB

HE ACTUALLY RECOGNIZED HER ACHIVEMENT AND CALLED HER BY NAME THAT'S SO CUTE 💥💥💥💥

Chapter 5

It's actually kinda fun to see Senshi struggle to like, fit in w these maniacs.

I do actually kinda hope he stops being so, uncooperative i guess? Like chill king ily but chill 🙏

i love how straight foward chil is tho

He just put his finger inside boiling oil he's so built different i love it

"what gorgeous bones" LAIOS. ?!

the little blush...

they're so. 🏳‍🌈

Chapter 6

Thought Laios had his pussy out in the cover

tf2 soldier......

THE WHOLE DEATH SYSTEM HERE IS SO FUCKED UP GOD

Obsessed how Senshi had to draw the line at that metal is too fucking far

this was pretty cool

Chapter 7

This is so freaky ouhwuhuhg

Chilchuck don't be so mean let Laios have his autism moment level catastrophic

"*not actually true" literally calling his ass out

THE MOST EXPRESSION WE'VE BEEN SEEN SENSHI PUT, HE ACTUALLY IS DUBIOUS OF EATING THIS THAT'S AMAIZING

Laios what's wrong w you <3

Chapter 7.5

ARMOR SEX

Chapter 7.6

Alright this setting is just silly + cute tbh.

THEY LET CHILCHUCK BE EATEN BY Hungry Sellers

SENSHI ON MARCILLE VIOLENCE

Chapter 8

Obsessed w Senshi's mancave

The golems have such good designs oh my god

PANTY SHOT

"and exploiting a loophole in the law" based senshi

where are they peeing + shitting........................

he really is a bit of a jerk but that's ok

WKJIJIUIJGU SENSHI LOOKS SO CUTE HERE THO 🥺🥺💞💞 He really said ^_^

ah fair there are built in bathrooms cool :)

essential worker senshi, iconic

okay genuinely cute how he did say IN HIS WAY that he cares about the team i need to study this man under a microscope

Chapter 9

oh no chilchuck accidental criminal................

oh my god this is so cool ACTUAL criminals now i love the worldbuilding

japanese kobolds ough........

also i love these orc designs sm

they're getting jumped...

Senshi you're insane i want you

CHILCHUCK GRABBING HIM BY THE BEARDAJGNBHJGNFKJIH

no sir orc don't teach your kid to continue the cycle of violence created by genearations past..............

ABUSING HIM

I actually cant tell if Senshi is teaching the baby or preventing it from fucking up

Senshi just wants to grill for god's sake...

I'm actually going to cry i'm not joking that baby is gonna push me over the edge

All Laios do is blush

Chapter 10

Laios abandonment........

im literally so in love w that kobold fuckign doggey

DUNGEON WEED HELL YEAH

what 😦

EVIL MONEY... EL PROBLEMA ES EL CAPITALISMO!!!!!!!

This manga is so cool

jewel bug hamburger so cute

Chapter 11

This manga has hooked me up so hard <- he has nothing better to do

Can we eat spirits doe? 🧐

Farlyn i fucking love you goddamn...

Sir i dont think that's particurlarly holy but i trust you anyway

this manga is fucking mental

GKLMKJGNJAHB EVEN SENSHI CALLING OUT LAIOS 😭😭😭😭

Chapter 12

He's so insane it's great ily Laios

this is just like the hit movie with rogers rabbit and duffy duck and, brendan fraser too innit?

oh my god this is gettin really cool

One last chapter for today that plotline was too cool

Chapter 13

I feel so fucking bad for my man Chilchuck

finger guns kissie mouth marcille...

I love how everyone gets pushed to face their fears, i hope Chilchuck gets to do that as safely as Laios could

senshi 👌

NOOO LEAVE MY MAN ALONE HE'S BEEN THRU ENOUGH

i fucking love that Laios is the only one shocked by his age bc he's human 😭😭😭

I'm getting so anxious my legs are going cold so I've decided I'm gonna start reading Dungeon Meshi. Gonna do the classic manga liveblog format too 👍

Chapter 0

It's been so long since I did something like this man goddamn.

Oh this manga is really fucking short! Only 97 chapters goddamn. Might get to finish the whole liveblog in like, 2 rbs.

This is so silly n cute tbh

Catgirl looks HORRIFIED

Wait is, is the dwarf naked? Is he in his fucking underwear??

Thought they were praying for the food for a second

WHY ARE WE JUST RANDOMLY SHOWING A BRUTAL DEATH FROM A DRAGON THIS. THE WHIPLASH

Oh she's alive nvm

Chapter 1

Goofy ahh dragon

Love that it's formatted as a menu that's cute

Well that was a haunting introduction

Capitalism is one hell of a bitch <- pretty sure this has nothing to do with that

I love this short critter's beautiful black eyes

Why is she breakdancing to express discontent?

Man these chapters are long, like 45 pages each. That makes it almost 200 chapters since 20 pages is more of the average length.

THE BLUSH. HUNGRY BASTARD UTSYFSYSEYSRRUD

"who are you?" He was licherally there when the girl was vored what do you Mean who are you . . .

Un capo se trajo un disco.

Holy shit you can die?

Marcille you're such a girl fail it's honestly hot

Oh Chilchuck is a name i though it was an insult

Sabés el asado que te puede hacer el Senshi, te caes de culo

Chapter 2

The settings are beautiful

👍

The way death is handled feels so Weird

Laios I did not wish to learn about your bondage kink

Chilchuck is so real I love him 😭

Chilchuck why were you at the gallows...........

Chapter 3

Already got in the groove of it

He looks so distraught at the unbalanced diet

"reptilian features" "cool" "cool"

I love Laios and Senshi's relationship they're such a good team

Senshi is sooo silly

These are such good ppl tbh

THANK YOU FOR YOUR MOTIVATIONAL APEECH SENSHI

I'm using the same site I did to read Baki and bro there's a clown in the notes who keeps adding the image of Marcille being told elves are good cock sleeves and it's starting to seriously annoy me.

Stopping for now so I can eat and stuff 👍

[shina913]

Okay so I reread Coquet up until chapter 8 (I’m not sure my heart is ready to relive the angst yet) BUT a few things I need to comment on:

1) If haru is in love (🙄) with Jennie then why the fuck is this man all side eyes and daggers to JK??? Like??? Is it just typical male bravado or? And was he really gonna tell reader about the whole Jennie sich at the wedding rehearsal dinner??? 😐 when he cornered her before she was like you know what it doesn’t matter and blew him off (iconic btw)

2) JK literally tells her “trust me” (like direct quote) THREE (3) TIMES. Once in each chapter for the first three chapters…oh shoot and then he writes it at the end of chapter 8 so that’s four (4) times!!!!! And idk 😐 I’m upset about it 😭 the man has been literally begging for her trust from the beginning??? They even had a whole ass convo about the inherent irony about it but he also has done a really good job of being open and honest I think and I’m just even more sad now 🤧. YN is gonna need quite the grand gesture to make it up to him 👀👀👀, bc he deserves it!!!!

3) chapter 6 had a ridiculous amount of foreshadowing in it that went completely over my head 🤦🏽‍♀️ I took so many screen shots of it 😂 I’ll send a separate ask with them bc wow…I should have seen so much of this coming wtf. IT WAS RIGHT THERE THE WHOLE TIME 🤯

4) this line in chapter 7 hits different now and just 😣😬

Like I know after he’s like no no that’s not what I meant but it still hurts to hear more now that we know what went down and that he called off the wedding (for now 🤞🏽).

So, I had to sit and think about this for a minute because I’m in the middle of trying to write Coquet 9 and it’s getting way too angsty 😂😂😂

Anyway, I’ll answer this per question:

1) The short answer is—typical male bravado. He feels threatened and somewhat insecure that the woman whom he left is somehow happy without him? Also, (even though I only glossed over it) –JK literally just got there and everyone is already fawning over him?? That’s just testimony to how ‘charming’ he is. Those 5-star ratings don’t lie!

2) Ah…trust. Very tricky. 😬 So, going into this date, as I wrote in Part 8, he wanted to try something ‘different’ for this booking. This was going to be the last one—ever since, well—keeping up with his other job has been a challenge lately, which is mostly why he stepped away from being an escort (tiny spoiler there). I’ve also gone into a lot of introspection from OC’s POV in the beginning, where she is fully aware that this is all for show. It’s fake. That’s not new information to her because she wanted this. But as she spends more time with JK, those lines are blurred…and then there’s their convo about being honest with each other early on. As someone who’s recently gone through a bad breakup, OC finds herself questioning his motives even though he is trying to be honest with her. I think that’s one thing that JK forgets. They haven’t really gone into detail about OC and Haru’s breakup and all that. At the heart of it, there’s some trauma and lots of apprehension on her part. That’s the bit of reality that I’m trying to add there. She’s obviously attracted to him but it’s also a confusing time for her. I sort of implied that OC hasn’t really gone out with anyone since Haru dumped her so—it’s a complex dance.

For JK’s part—this is the first time he’s actually trying to be himself around someone he’s attracted to. It’s also been a while for him (another spoiler) so in a way, there’s also some lack of experience on his side.

They’re both trying to figure things out as they go. Also, as deep as I feel like this story has gotten, I have to keep reminding myself that we’re basically talking days here—not even a week into them getting to know each other. In ‘Bachelor/Bachelorette’ context, this marks the end of the group dates and we are just starting to get into 1-on-1 dates and maybe, MAYBE…the fantasy suite. In the end, somebody gets disappointed and/or ends up crying and having to leave in a fancy car 😂😂. I hope that made sense?

Having said all that, he still didn’t deserve those words from OC. She was emotional and irrational, yes but—at the end of the day, words hurt just as much, if not more so…OC will have to grovel!

3) YES it did LOL!! I like to set my table early, you know. But sometimes, the details get buried…much like that locket detail when I first read HP: OOTP 🤣! I literally had to go back after they referenced it in HBP. But anyway, I felt like I was a bit more explicit in my writing and I appreciate that you actually went back to look. Some readers were already picking it up after I published that—hence all the, “I knew it” comments 😅

4) I just wanted to really drive the point home—that Taehyung loved Jennie soooo much, which would make the scene in Part 8 much more potent…and in turn, it will also play into the next couple of updates. Funny enough, as my sister was beta-reading this part for me, she referenced a similar musing that Taehyung made in “In The Soop” (I think??) where he talks about his mixtape and he says he doesn’t know when he’ll release it yet and that he keeps deleting songs because he doesn’t want to sing about emotions that he doesn’t feel anymore.

And, honestly, how you’re interpreting that speech now wasn’t my initial intention but given the context of the events that took place after that, that can easily apply to that situation, too.

As I’m writing Part 9, there will be similar monologues to this, or at least in the same context. It’s a bit dramatic but then…I wouldn’t be me if it wasn’t dramatic, right? 😎

[professionalsimpfor2dboys]

uhh .. any tips on how to play obey me 😀 LMFAO its so confusing ,, do I just play the main story and ignore the chats bc main story stuff hasn't happened to me and I think I read way too far ahead??, sorry if this is sudden LMFAO

hii!!

okie, so some tips!

so, the chats that pop up usually don’t really pertain to the main story anyway & are just for fun most of the time. I believe most chats are time-based, so you likely won’t be getting chats that are past your current place in the main story unless a certain amount of time has past! so, you can read them no problem most of the time since they’re mostly just for fun fillers and such!

in terms of winning dance battles in order to get to the next main story part, your cards are EXTREMELY important!

you can acquire cards from gacha pulls in Nightmare (as you likely already know) and also by combining card pieces that you obtain from “pop quizzes” which are essentially special events that are available for a certain timeframe.

(If you haven’t noticed, parts of the story & dance battles are called “lessons” & events are called “pop quizzes” since it’s supposed to be that we are attending RAD and doing schoolwork there.)

From highest level to lowest in terms of card rarity (ie. power potential) is UR+/UR, SSR, SR, R, & then N (anything below SSR doesn’t matter in terms of using for dance battles BUT some of them have wallpapers, outfits, & chats that you can unlock in “Devil Tree” which I will get to later!

Basically, you should prioritize leveling up your highest power potential cards first! I recommend having a strong enough card in each sin category since each dance battle varies in what sin they focus on (which you can see in the top right corner of each dance battle panel), which is Red: Gluttony, Blue: Pride, Yellow: Greed, Green: Wrath, Pink: Lust, Orange: Envy, & Purple: Sloth. It also helps to have two strong cards for each sin but with different characters on them since then they both can be used in the dance battle that wants that sin, but that’s more for when you already have strong cards & have the time to level up more. It also may help leveling up your cards with the best special skills! Any special skill that bans the opponent’s skills are extremely helpful, but honestly just having high level cards is the most important.

In order to continuously keep leveling your cards, you will need to unlock places in Devil Tree that you do so by using Grimm (easy obtainable through clearing lessons you’ve already obtained 2 or 3 stars on by clicking the Clear x5 button, though note that this uses AP, or through “:D Jobs”) and also items used to strengthen cards (they vary, but are usually obtainable through specific lessons that give those specific items or during Levi’s Otaku Boot Camp that comes around every once & a while to help with getting these items. it will tell you if you have the correct amount to unlock spaces in Devil Tree & if you don’t then it will show you specific lessons that give you those items).

Memory cards are also really important (but your main cards should be your priority nonetheless). You can obtain memory cards through “Chapter M” in “Nightmare” and they essentially work the same as cards.

There are also items called “glow sticks” that help you win dance battles that you buy from “Akuzon” with Devil Points. They’re extremely helpful, especially once you hit about lesson 30. I, personally, always only buy rainbow ones since they strengthen your cards much more than the other colors and pertain to everyone, even though they cost more it’s worth it in terms of strengthening.

During dance battles, you’ll see bars under your characters (on the ride side) that pertain to when their special attacks are ready. I recommend clicking them as soon as they are ready, so there is more time for the bar to regenerate & for them to be able to use their special attacks again.

so, yeah! that should be the basics & what is the overall priority of obey me! I hope it helped & promise you’ll get the hang of it lickety-split!

here are some actual “tip-tips” that are really helpful to know: (these are actually really helpful)

you are essentially given a free 18 devil points EVERY DAY by completing 7 of your daily to-dos, which are very easy to complete! I recommend doing it everyday bc it really adds up! (the daily to-dos refresh at 11 pm)

If you’re struggling with not having enough AP, then there is a deal that saves Devil Points that available once daily. Once depleting your AP to below 10 I believe, they will offer you 600 AP & some Grimm for only about 10 Devil Points. TAKE IT! It’s a wayyy better deal than manually buying AP with Devil Points.

Similar to the last tip, you can save money on rainbow glow sticks once every day. Simply lose a dance battle (making sure you have at least 20 Devil points) and they will offer a deal for 5 rainbow glow sticks, some Grimm, & some AP all for just 20 Devil points! mind you, one rainbow glow stick from Akuzon is 6 Devil points so do the math.

You’re smiley face character doesn’t ALWAYS dictate if you’re going to win the dance battle or not. The smiley face can be blue & crying & you can still win as long as you look at your opponents’ special skills & your total strength is only a few thousand points below that of the opponents. I recommend your smiley face character to be smiley when the opponents have any stun, paralyze, or confusion special skill that keeps your characters from being able to use their special attack. You can gauge how many glow sticks or leveling up you need by just going into the dance battle with either nothing or a few non-rainbow glow sticks equipped & seeing how far away you are from the line/the opponents special attack pattern.

Since the opponents’ special attacks pattern usually changes with every attempt at a dance battle, some of their patterns may be more advantageous to you than the others. If you have rainbow glow sticks equipped & believe you can win by trying again, simply close out of the game completely and reopen it. It will ask if you want to resume where you left off which you will click “resume” to & then it will restart the battle with your glow sticks still intact. This had saved me so many times. ESPECIALLY LESSON 4O’s BOSS BATTLE LEGIT JUST KEEP DOING IT OVER & OVER & YOULL EVENTUALLY GET IT!!

In terms of the fun customization part of Obey Me like the profile pics, Majolish outfits & wallpapers, special chats, etc. I found it extremely helpful to just go through Majolish & click on the item you want. It will tell you the card you can get it from & whether you have it or not!

Oh, & choosing the characters with sparkles around them for :D Jobs gives more of a chance of special drops!

Make sure to make a obey me save password for if you ever delete the app/get a new phone! They also reward you with 30 Devil Points if you do so, so there’s rly no point not to.

For surprise guest combos, you either memorize them or find them on google. But I can give you the main ones here off the top of my head:

Any of the brothers if they ask for a high-five EXCEPT FOR LUCIFER, SATAN, & BEEL: high-five, Head-rub, Head-rub

If Lucifer or Satan ask for a high-five: high-five, YOUR right/THEIR left shoulder TAP, hand tap (they usually have it on top of their chest)

If Beel asks for a high-five: high-five, chest-rub, chest-rub

Mammon if he says “muahahaha”: Head-rub, YOUR right/HIS LEFT arm rub, face-rub

Lucifer if you get 3 stars but he doesn’t ask for a high-five: lip-rub, Head-tap, Hand-tap

I think that’s all I can think of for now! maybe I’ll add more if it pops up! I hope this helped & sorry it got so long haha. I hope anyone who reads this enjoys Obey Me as much as I do! I honestly can’t wait for their sheep plushies I KNOW they’re inevitably going to come out with :D

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ close your eyes ✦

this chapter pairing; sub!seokmin x vampire!reader

genre&warnings; vampire!reader, sub!seokmin, dacryphilia(crying kink baybeee)🥴, corruption kink kinda went brrr in this a little, lots of teasing, dirty talk, a little mutual masturbation, tiniest hint of orgasm denial, whiny needy seokmin, allusions to subspace.

he said:

notes; THE-- ☠️ I exposed my crying kink in sdpp so we out here living our best lives now 😗💖 also seokmin being a whiny baby and crying bc everything you do to him is new and just too much for him is so fuckin hot ☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️ HENNYWAYS, you guys!! I cant believe monster mash is almost at the end, how the hell?!? this went by so fast 😭💕 and thank you for all the love and support on each chapter! even when tumb1r seems to hate me!! Lol, and for those in SoCal, be safe! stay indoors if u can, wear a mask if u have to be outside! And stay hydrated!! I’ll see y’all tomorrow! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~2300

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - x - x - x - x - x

you take a drag, i take a sip;

i want your legendary kiss

you know i got designer taste;

and your design’s too good to waste

when the beast comes out at night;

yeah, it always wants a bite

and i try, try to resist;

but then the devil always wins.

Seokmin doesn’t believe in vampires.

He thinks Halloween is fun, but doesn’t believe in ghosts, demons or anything of the sort so he spends the night in; feet propped up on the coffee table as he watches another rerun of another vampire horror flick that he’d seen at least two times prior.

It’d been thankfully quiet for most of the night, despite the pouring rain and periodic thunder claps, but he enjoyed the way it added to the spooky atmosphere of the holiday.

Seokmin scoffs at the TV a few moments later, hand lodged deep in the bowl sitting in his lap. “Vampires aren’t even real.” He mutters.

“Says who?”

The bowl of popcorn in his lap is sent flying, and he acts quicker than he, himself, anticipates. “Who the fuck are you!? How did you get in here!?” His eyes dance over to the front door still locked and momentarily wonders if he left a window open.

He pales, realizing that it’d be impossible anyway.

Seokmin lived on the 17th floor of the building.

“Well!? Fuck---I’m---I’m gonna call the c-cops!” His shaky hands reach for his cell phone on the coffee table as you giggle.

You take a seat on his sofa, picking off a piece of discarded popcorn as you pop it into your mouth. “And tell them what? Exactly?”

“That there’s a psycho in my fuckin’ apartment and that you broke in!” Seokmin holds onto his phone a little tighter, palms clammy. He didn’t even hear the door open. You nod, pretending to think. “Oookay, so what are you gonna tell them when I do this?” You disappear in a puff of smoke and Seokmin feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Wh---”

“Boo!” You whisper from behind him, laughing when he runs roward and trips back onto the sofa. “What the fuck!?” His eyes show panic and confusion, shaky fingers letting go of the phone that was in his hand as it clatters to the floor.

“I--What are y-you? Please, don’t take my soul, it’s all I have left! I swear!”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your throat, doubling over as he watches in fear. “Why are you laughing!?”

“I---you--you’re a funny one!” You wipe a stray tear from your eye as you catch your breath. “No, I don’t want your soul, I just want something to eat, that’s all~”

Seokmin’s eyes only read confusion when he stares back at you. “You want… food?”

“Mmhmm~”

You smile wide and Seokmin finally understands.

Ah. That kind.

He doesn’t know why he agrees. 

Maybe it’s in his kind and innocent nature to believe you won’t suck him dry like a caprisun, but he agrees.

Maybe part of it is curiosity too and maybe part of him feels bad that maybe you haven’t fed in a while, but he introduces himself after you do and he finds himself trusting you a little bit more.

He’s not totally sure why.

“So----So how does this work, do I just---” He cuts himself off as he shakily turns his head to the side. “Wait, how do I know this isn’t a Halloween prank?! Did Jeonghan put you up to this?”

“Oh! Jeonghan, you know him?”

Seokmin’s eyes almost fall out of his skull. This couldn’t be happening. “Are we talking about the same Jeonghan? Yoon Jeonghan?”

“Yeah, lanky guy with brown hair, right? Super lethargic?”

Yep. That was Jeonghan.

Seokmin nods slowly, still a little perplexed. “So, why do you know him exactly? He hasn’t replied to my texts for the last three days... You didn’t... do something to him, did you?” You sit next to Seokmin on the sofa and he flinches almost immediately; scooting over a little more to put some space in between you two.

  He wouldn’t admit it right now, but he thought you were really pretty.

“Um, no. He’s out of town and maybe just ignoring you but he lets me feed sometimes, y’know, when he is around. Maybe that’s why I was drawn here, y’know? Familiarity.” Damn.

Seokmin does feel a little bad now; for himself and for you. He bites his lip as the heat rushes to his face. “How---how do you usually, um, d-do it with Jeonghan?” The heat rushes down his body at the same time at his unintentional innuendo. “I mean, no! Not---not that, I meant how you feed! Fuck, sorry!”

Grinning, you’re quick to make your move as you push Seokmin down onto the sofa and straddle his waist.

“Wh--”

The words are caught in his throat as he watches you lean over to the coffee table to pluck out a lollipop from the bowl of candy. You unwrap it, licking it once before you bring it down towards his lips. He shakily parts them, welcoming the cherry flavoured candy into his mouth.

“You see, Seokmin,” You start, hands already roaming down his torso as he moans around the candy. “When people think of vampires, they think vampires just feed whenever, right? Just a quick bite here and they’re done.” He nods. “But that’s no fun~ So some of us like to play a little first, y’know? Get the blood rushing~”

You cup him through his sweats as he whines and he’s quick to thrust his hips up into your touch before he can even think properly.

Oh, fuck! Don’t do that! He tells himself.

A giggle from you is all it takes for him to blush even harder. “It’s okay, Seokmin. I want you to feel good too. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

“Y-yeah… O-okay…” His voice is muffled slightly from the candy still in his mouth, but he allows himself to lean into your touch. In truth, he was a little scared and a little nervous and he knew you could tell.

“Have you ever done anything… with restraints? Or things like orgasm denial?” You pluck the lollipop from his mouth; a thread of spit connecting it to his lips before you bring it to your own mouth. You quickly bite down on the hard candy, breaking it down into small pieces before swallowing. Seokmin grimaces a little.

“Um…” He’d never even heard of orgasm denial before, much less even had a thought about restraints. “...No. I--I’ve only… um… done it twice...”

You grin down at him, eyes flashing red. “Oh, Seokmin… you have so much to learn.”

You like shy Seokmin.

Maybe even a little too much.

“A-ah, no… no more t-teasing, I--ah!” He lets out a choked sob, hips thrusting up as you continue to tease the head of his cock. You move frustratingly slow and you don’t even bother to wrap your whole hand around him, instead just rubbing your palm across the tip as the tears pool up in his eyes.

“I--I don’t---mmh!” Seokmin bites his lip. He’s never felt quite like this before and the feeling was good, but unfamiliar.

“Don’t even think of cumming either~”

“But--” He chokes up again, except this time he can’t stop the tear that slides down the side of his face. You smile down at him, licking your lips.

“You’re so cute when you cry~ So pretty~” You pity him a little so you wrap your hand around his cock, working your hand up and down his shaft as he lets out a shaky breath. He’s unsure of where to put his hands, so he keeps them crossed over his chest, sweater paws keeping his clammy palms contained as he watches you.

“I--p--please, can I c-cum?” He whispers, voice small and slurred. “Nope~”

He lets out a small sob as he tries to blink away the tears.

When you feel him getting close, you pull your hand off of him; easing off of his lap and to the other side of the sofa. Seokmin watches in confusion, sitting up slightly as he watches you slide your panties down your legs. You toss the material at him, laughing when it falls onto his cock.

“We’re gonna play a little game~” He watches with an open mouth as you spread your legs; gulping when you immediately run your precum covered fingers through your wet folds. “We’re gonna touch ourselves just like this, across from each other, and if you can hold off your orgasm for, oh let’s say, 10 more minutes? Then I’ll reward you.”

“And---and if I c-can’t?”

“If you can’t… Hmm~ Then I’ll have to bring my ropes next time~” You wink at him, fingers pinching your clit as you moan out loud. The noise is enough for Seokmin’s cock to twitch and he wraps a shaky hand around himself as he watches you touch yourself from across the sofa. He uses your panties too, covering them in the precum that leaks from the head of his cock. 

It falls into relative silence as Seokmin bites into the neck of his sweater to keep in his high pitched whines and cries. He watches as you sink two fingers into your cunt and he sobs as he thrusts up into the his fist and your panties wrapped around his cock.

This is unfair, he thinks. 

“Mmh Seokmin~ I’m already imagining your cock fucking into me so deep… Ah, my fingers just aren’t enough~” Teasingly, you curl and scissor your fingers inside of your tight warmth, genuinely imagining it’s Seokmin instead. He releases the sweater material from between his teeth, drool dripping from his lips and eyes pooling with tears ready to spill.

“Please, I, hic, I--I can’t h-hold off, hic, I need t-to, hah, c--cum… I--I can’t...”

In a flash, the air is knocked out of Seokmin’s lungs as his back hits the sofa and he’s staring up at the ceiling. His sticky fingers find purchase in the material of his sweater again as you crawl back into his lap. You pry off the soaking panties covering his cock, tossing them to the coffee table as he groans.

You wrap a hand around his leaking cock, moving your hand up and down a few times before you use your thumb and index finger to circle the base as you squeeze hard. “Just a whiny baby boy crying and begging to cum. So cute~”

He squirms underneath you as he tries to get you to do something but you hold steady, fingertips wrapped around the base of his cock to keep him from cumming. “Now now, Seokmin. I’ll let you cum. But you have to be patient~ If you cum without my permission, I’ll make you wait even longer~”

Seokmin nods feverishly, uncaring of what came after. You still hadn’t fed from him too and he could’ve cared less about that.

You let go of his cock as he releases a shaky breath and he watches through foggy eyes as you raise your body until you’re hovering just above his cock. You use your hand to position him right at your entrance and Seokmin lets out a sharp whine when you drop yourself down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“A-ah, fuh--fuck!”

Your pussy is warm, wet and tight and Seokmin is really fighting a losing battle at this point.

He cries quietly, hips canting up to meet you bouncing in his lap.

“Mmh~ Seokminnie crying making me so fuckin’ wet~ Ah~ I’m gonna cum soon too~”

His head is fuzzy and every new sensation makes his body react in a way he never knew it could. The tears blur his vision but he can already feel his cock twitching and body tensing up slightly; a telltale sign that he was already close.

“I, hic, please…” He slurs out, already too far gone. His body felt weightless; a slight floating feeling overcoming him as he continued to fuck up into you. 

Your eyes flash crimson and you pry one of his arms away from his clothed chest, pushing the sleeve back as you kiss his wrist.

“Okay Seokmin~ I want you to cum, baby boy. Let me feel your cock throbbing and filling me up with your warm cum~”

Seokmin could die and be happy, thank you’s rolling off of his tongue through choked cries as he finally lets himself go.

The pleasure washes over him after a few more swivels of your hips and he barely even registers the fact you’ve already sunk your fangs into his wrist, too lost in his own bliss. 

You moan against his skin, drinking up just enough to get him lightheaded before you’re lapping up the wound.

Seokmin tasted extra sweet.

Licking your lips, you release his arm as it falls limp next to his body and you immediately bring your fingers down to your clit, rubbing harsh and quick circles on the nub to get yourself to cum.

“Oh, god, Seokmin!” You cry; walls fluttering around Seokmin’s overly sensitive cock as he whines and squirms underneath you.

You ride out your high, hips coming to a stop as you catch your breath above him. Seokmin, on the other hand, feels a little delirious and warm; fingertips twitching at his sides. “Ngh…” He whimpers, unable to even speak with how exhausted he felt.

You lift your hips, cum sliding down Seokmin’s cock as he groans in oversensitivity. “Ah~ Look at how much cum you spilled in me, Seokminnie~” His bleary eyes watch as you let the cum slide out of your pussy and right over his cock and he almost, almost hates the way his cock twitches as the sight.

Sitting back on his thighs, you watch him bask in his post-orgasm glow; smacking your lips as you reach for another lollipop from the coffee table. “So~ How did you like it?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice when you visibly see his cock twitch.

His throat feels dry, that’s all he knows. 

Seokmin’s clammy palms slide back into his sweater paws, pressed tight against his chest again as he gently leans up. You can’t help but smirk at his appearance; puffy red eyes from crying and cheeks stained with drying tears with his cock still curving up to his abdomen covered in his own cum.

“I---s--so what’re you g-gonna teach m-me next…?”

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

Before the beginning for the writing meme!!

ooooh tyvm!!!

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

continuing the lovely trend of "i have too many wips so we're doing all 3 of the most active ones for these prompts":

the brand new Baby Janus Angst Story:

yes, i could have summarized this, but it was more fun to write it out as a tiny scene with no context to explain what's happening. (actually i will give one very small drop of context, which is to say to refer to the 2 opening lines i posted for this story here.)

"Logan, I'm boooooored," Patton begged. "Please come play? You've been over there forever!"

"I am investigating," Logan repeated stubbornly, hooking the wooden hammer from Thomas's toy tool set around the knob of the faintly-glowing door and tugging. "I need to figure it out."

"But it's still the same as it's been all week," Patton protested. "You already know everything about it so far! We can't open it. It's boring. Playing without you is boring. Come ooooon! Pleeeeease!"

"It is not either the same." Logan pointed firmly at the door. "It has an apple on it today. And the light is a different color, it's yellow now. I need to investigate."

Patton heaved a sigh and plopped to the floor, staring down the hall and watching Logan continue his mysterious experiments. He had Thomas's toy science kit out now. The kit was great for playing potions. But Patton knew better than to suggest they play potions while Logan was focused like this.

Patton dug in the pocket of his hoodie until he found one of the cookies he'd stashed there this morning, only slightly crumbly, and began nibbling at it morosely. He hoped that whatever was happening with the door would finish soon. He was just as curious as Logan, and a lot more excited about the idea of maybe a new friend like he thought was probably inside, it was true. But waiting was maybe his least favorite thing in the whole world. After being lonely when Logan left him alone and wouldn't play.

if you're going my way, i'll go with you chapter 7:

see. see i could have chosen to be nice and write a few sentences of analogical fluff about them waking up in each other's arms the morning after rescuing roman. bc that happens between chapters 5 and 6. however, i am far too invested in hurting both the characters and my readers. so instead of analogical fluff, you get a few sentences that will be the conclusion to a flashback chapter we'll get eventually (when i feel like making people cry). it technically does take place before the beginning of chapter 7 bc it takes place way before (like over 5 years before) the beginning of the entire fic. enjoy >:D

He let the car door fall shut and watched, almost numb, as it drove away. It turned a corner and vanished from sight.

Remus’s legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to sit on the edge of the sidewalk, pulling his knees to his chest and shaking all over, staring into the distance with unfocused eyes, breath ragged and harsh and loud. 

It was not quite eight o'clock on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, and Remus Kingsley was all alone. 

one chance to change your fate chapter 10:

here, have a little snippet from a piece that uh. i probably cannot publish/nobody will read it if i do. bc it is the story of janus and patton's dads slowly falling in love years and years before the fic starts. so they are the main characters. and they are ocs. janus and patton are technically there but also they are children. so. it barely even counts as a fanfiction at this point, it's just straight up an original piece in the same au as the fanfiction. bc i am way too attached to the dads and have fleshed out basically their entire life stories. oops lol.

but anyway this is from the scene where janus calls arun pop instead of patton's pop for the first time :) which happened before the dads actually got together, bc they were really really close for a long time beforehand :D and it's really cute and soft and good!!

(side note of great importance, there is another equally cute scene of the first time patton called philippe dad instead of janus's dad, also before the dads actually got together, also bc of how very close they all were even before the dads got together. philippe cried, it was adorable.)

Janus’s eyes widened. “I did it?”

Arun chucked them under the chin. “You sure did.”

“Dad!” The nine-year-old all but launched from the couch, darting across the room to the kitchen. “Dad, come see—c’mon—” They grabbed Philippe by the sleeve and tugged him over to the coffee table. “Look what Pop showed me how to do!” They seized the page of math problems and held it up triumphantly. “Didn’t I—”

Arun saw the exact instant that Janus realized they’d said “Pop.” The child froze, shoulders tensing and eyes going huge, the snake pupil in their left eye narrowing to a razor-thin slit of panic and the human side of their face going pale.

Philippe half-reached for his child, but Arun was quicker. He leaned over and ruffled Janus’s hair. “You did it exactly right, kiddo,” he said, striving to keep his tone as casual and warm as could be, to convey safe and okay and good without openly acknowledging what had just occurred and making it a bigger deal out of it to the already-tense child before him. Janus hated for attention to be brought to their mistakes, and while this was in Arun’s opinion possibly the farthest thing from a mistake Janus had ever done, he still wanted to be mindful of his reaction for the sake of the child's comfort.

[ask me about my writing projects!]