#i feel like it's just my experience really

[p1utofairy]

holy shit, the glow-up vibes are potent as fuck in this pile! people are going to be in absolute awe of you, pile one. your energy, your body, your face card, and your personality are going to have people bowing the fuck down to you. i'm not feeling any sense of arrogance or conceitedness either – you're just truly about to step into your most powerful and authentic self. this was always destined, pile one. this innate magnetism was always inside of you, but you just never truly knew how to wield it entirely. it's like you were dipping your toes in and out of the water, not sure if you should fully submerge yourself in it and become who you've always known you were, or stay digestible and dim your light so others around you could shine. no more of that. this is, and will continue to be, all about you, pile one. you are shedding the people-pleasing tendencies that have held you back for so long.

you are reclaiming your power. you have such a kind heart with a fierce spirit, and you've been suppressing that fierce side of you in fear of what others may think of you or say about you. too many times, you've had your back kicked in at the expense of sparing another person's feelings, and your spirit guides are getting restless from the sidelines watching you repeat these same situations time and time again. they're giving you the green light to boss the fuck up and show these people what you're made of. they're telling me that this is a rebirth for you.

i see you experimenting with your wardrobe and appearance: more sexy, more bold, and more alluring. dark eyeliner, sheer stockings, red tops, lace, denim, corsets, etc. showing more of yourself but still keeping it classy. i'm being drawn to alexa demie, 2000s meagan good/megan fox, and gabriette. very siren-like and hard to miss. this is going to be completely new to you, but it's going to feel sooo good and rewarding. a lot of what you used to say yes to is going to turn into straight no's.

you're going to notice a shift in the people, opportunities, and love offers you attract as well – more fruitful and abundant. they align more with the lifestyle you've always wanted for yourself now that you're rejecting the projections and expectations that no longer serve who you are at the core. you will not be settling for less, pile one, that's for sure! i'm hearing that it's basically giving your pinterest boards come to life lol. i love that for you. things that you've been specifically journaling about and manifesting for yourself are going to come to you with no effort – it's almost going to be alarming. it's like you've been waiting, waiting, waiting, thinking someone was going to come along and shift your reality for you, when really you were the key all along.

i'm seeing a lot of yellow and orange, so your solar plexus and sacral chakra are going to be so fucking activated. you're going to be very selective and protective of your energy, as you should. you'll just be like, wow, what took me so long to lean more into this side of myself? it was necessary, though, because it opened your eyes to the world we live in and how you have to operate and not short-change yourself in spite of what others want or expect from you. some people might not like this transformation of yours, but that's simply not your problem, and those people are not on your same frequency. you already spark a lot of jealousy, but this energy shift right here?! whew. hoes mad, pile one! i'm like seeing tiktok edits in my head of the hot villainous characters like katherine pierce and jennifer check lmao. you're winning, and they're not, my loves!

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES:

ashwini, ballin' by partynextdoor, unhealthy codependency, anuradha, tall in height, 1st house, neptune energy, neptune-asc, blick sum by latto ft. playboi carti, manifest it, shatabisha, fashion/modeling industry. scorpio, aries, aquarius.

things have been seeming very redundant lately, pile two. you've been craving change for a while now. i'm picking up that you're really at your wits' end in regards to the job you're currently working at and/or all the responsibilities you have on your shoulders. you've been pushing yourself so hard, but you're starting to wonder if any of it was worth it because you're not seeing the payoff just yet. you might be feeling overlooked or undervalued at the moment, but i definitely see things changing for you.

i see a new job/financial opportunity making its way to you, and it aligns more with what you love to do. it's an offer definitely worth taking, pile two! this is the beginning of something that's going to catapult you to the next level. i see this one opportunity leading to an elevation of your life. it's a chance of a lifetime. you're closing out this current cycle of stagnancy and getting the ball rolling on your desires and the lifestyle you've always wanted for yourself. this isn't on a small scale either, this is huge. it's damn near like whiplash – so sudden and unexpected but very well deserved.

i see you gaining more friends and networking with people that advance you and pour into you as much as you pour into others. this is oddly specific, but i feel like some of you have some very mean-spirited co-workers around you. do not tell these people your plans or anything personal, because they really don't like you (projection because they really don't like themselves lol), and they're secretly sending you the evil eye. if you don't have an idea of who specifically this could be, just know they definitely smile in your face and pose as someone who likes you but say things behind your back that prove otherwise. they're not stopping shit though, so your spirit guides want me to tell you that you have nothing to worry about.

for my singles, i was also picking up on a new romantic suitor having their eyes on you. this person could have a charming and bit of a cocky vibe going for them – they usually like to be chased rather than do the chasing, but something about you is intriguing to them. for some of you that have just gotten out of a relationship, i see you have a couple of options to choose from. there's this energy of being amused and entertained. a lot of people are going to find you to be very irresistible, and the way you carry yourself so gracefully will have many heads turning.

for those of you that are in a committed relationship, i see you two becoming even closer and more vulnerable with each other. any walls you've built around yourself in fear of disappointment or regret will finally be dropped as you learn to trust not only yourself but your partner fully as well. one more thing i will say is that you should make sure you're budgeting your finances properly and remember to take care of any debts you may owe, okay? 444 on the clock. everything is working out in your favor you shall soon see.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES:

6th house, krittika, dark skin, when one door closes another one opens, revati, transformation, jyestha sprung, ideal partner/dream person, taurus, pisces, scorpio moon, nasty by tinashe, fever by dua lipa & angèle.

you've really been keeping to yourself huh, pile three? you could be clashing a lot with your parents/family or just feeling misunderstood by the people closest to you. i feel like things have been a bit chaotic and unstable in your life, especially in regards to your home environment. one minute things are good, but when things get bad, they get pretty fucking bad. ugh, pile three.

i feel like you're very sensitive to your environment, and whatever is going on around you, you absorb it like a sponge. there's inner child wounds that you're working on, and it's really not easy, but your spirit guides want you to know that they're so fucking proud of you. you're doing the work that others weren't brave enough to do in order to heal yourself and your bloodline. some of you might have a very dysfunctional family, and it weighs heavy on you; most times you have to tiptoe around your emotions in order to keep the peace.

i'm also picking up that some of you might have older sibling syndrome – there's immense pressure and expectations put on you since you were a child. whatever the case may be, i feel like you actively doing the work is going to unlock a part of yourself you never really knew was inside. i can feel the passion, the dedication, and the motivation buzzing off you, pile three. 2025 is gonna be your year. the martian energy is strong in this pile. i feel like you had to learn the lessons and really sit back and observe the dynamics around you to come to the realization that NO, you do not want that for yourself and the ones that come after you. you want something stable, something emotionally fulfilling, something that makes you feel free in so many ways than one. you're a very compassionate and selfless person, and you will find someone who will pour equally into you as you do them.

this person that you're attracting is deeply committed, patient, financially secure, thoughtful, and extremely grounded. you'll never be an afterthought when it comes to this person – they'll support you and guide you (if you need them to) every step of the way. you're so used to figuring things out on your own and having to think for others, but this person wants you to simply relax and just be. i can see you pacing back and forth, venting to them, and just going on and on, listing every single thing you need to get done and do for this one and that one. and i can just see them sitting but rising to their feet and slowly walking over to you with this calm demeanor, putting their hands on your shoulders, and it's like everything melts away. they want me to reassure you that you're not alone – they want to carry the weight and release the burdens off of you because they recognize that no one has truly showed up and out for you the way you do for others. this is very beautiful energy, pile three.

as you step into this new chapter, you’ll realize that some of your past connections were often just bandaids for wounds you hadn’t healed yet. there’s a lot of clarity about your self-worth here. some of you might be working through daddy issues, and this healing is part of why you’re ready for a deeper love now. this is very specific and may not apply to all, but i keep picking up on pregnancy energy, so if you're ready for that, i do see potential for that with this person you're attracting. if not, then just be mindful of that lol. on the flip side, the person could have a kid, but again, this is just some scenarios i'm picking up on for a small fraction of you. i do see you getting long-awaited closure with a specific person or family member. when that happens, it’s going to feel like a massive weight has been lifted. pile three, this is your time to heal, grow, and attract the life and love you deserve. it’s so beautiful.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES:

faking it by calvin harris ft. kehlani & lil yachty, bharani, pussy power, all of the answers are within you so trust yourself, big d energy, a father, purva ashada, having receipts, dhanishta, capricorn, aquarius, pyrmaids by frank ocean, sagittarius, aries, coffee fucking by miguel ft. wale.

mind over matter...hm. that's what i keep hearing, pile four. i feel like you're in your head about something regarding your work-life balance. it's like you deprive yourself of going out and having fun because you worry you'll be overspending or won't have enough time; but i feel like this mentality is causing you to miss out on some really fun moments and memories, especially with your friends.

you're very responsible (almost to a fault, according to your spirit guides lol), and because you're so practical and matter-of-fact, you don't give yourself enough room to be spontaneous and open. for example, if you just got off work and a friend invites you out, you might think about the laundry you could be doing or some work you could be catching up on instead of just saying, "fuck it, yeah, let's go have some fun." gatekeeping yourself isn’t going to get you very far, pile four.

you're meant to be seen, and you're meant to let your inner child run free and have fun. keeping yourself tucked away in your room or isolating yourself is doing more harm than good - your spirit guides really want you to know this. there are potential love interests you don’t even notice because you're not putting yourself out there enough! some of you might have bad social anxiety, and being around new energies might feel overwhelming, but your guides want you to know you can work through this, slowly but surely - you've just got to start somewhere.

your quirkiness could open so many doors for you, and you don’t even realize it yet. there are so many people you're destined to meet and connect with on a soul level because you have such a unique spirit. you have this way of making people feel seen and heard. if you're single, i feel like your next romantic connection will be incredibly healing in so many ways. some of your past lovers or friends might have made you feel misunderstood or undervalued, but that’s going to change. this is just a quick sidebar, but i feel like you’ve got people (unbeknownst to you) talking about you or your personal business. so, be careful who you confide in because not everyone is your friend, especially in a work or school environment. even if they don’t know anything about you, it seems like they’re speculating and gossiping about you with others.

but anyways i feel like this "mind over matter" mentality comes from wanting to control situations and outcomes, and while it’s great to have self-awareness and discernment, it can also be debilitating: if you let it. i feel like you’re about to start challenging yourself to socialize more and just not give a fuck. wherever the day or night takes you, it takes you. it doesn’t always have to be a club or party, but even if it is, you’re still giving yourself the freedom to have fun and live in the moment.

your job will still be there the next day, okay? your laundry too. but memories? they last forever. so please don’t deprive yourself of the good ones, pile four. you are so worthy of them.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES:

hit me hard and soft album by billie eilish, vishaka, want more for yourself, magha, pay attention to the signs, moon energy, this person is manifesting you, pisces moon, purva phalguni, co-workers gossiping about you, leo, scorpio, libra, 11:11.

[pipthepiper]

You could make a Yandere Virgin Viktor, what he would be like if he were in love with his new assistant, but he hasn't declared himself yet..

( I don't know if you make yandere characters, if you can't do that I understand and I'm sorry for this request )

yandere!virgin!viktor who knows — just knows — you’ll be the one to take his virginity the instant he lays eyes on you.

he’s been waiting. waiting so long for that special someone to show up — the someone who he could give himself to wholly and completely, with absolutely no regrets.

and you are that person. viktor just knows it.

it’s in the soft way you speak to him, the way your gaze lingers on him from time to time, the occasions when you subtly slide against his front to allow your plump rear to graze his cock — you want to take it, it’s so obvious; you want him to completely lose his mind as he buries himself inside your pussy over and over, as he loses every bit of his innocence with each drag and slide. as you take it from him.

you want to be the one to fuck him up entirely. and anyone could see it, right? it’s not just viktor.

he’s sure sky can see it, more than positive that jayce can too — doesn’t miss the way jayce sometimes bristles with jealousy when you snuggle yourself into viktor’s personal space and talk so low it’s like you’re whispering to him (and only him); and viktor doesn’t even try to shake off the satisfaction it makes him feel.

you’re his as much as he’s yours.

and that’s why you don’t pull away when his hand “accidentally” grazes your soft chest as he reaches past you to grab something. it’s why you don’t bring any focus to the way his eyes practically undress you, despite the fact that you’re very aware of it. it’s why you lean into his touch, why you hug him for a fraction of a second longer than anyone else at the end of the day, why you smile and giggle so much when he talks to you.

viktor knows it, but something is holding him back; maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s doubt, maybe it’s his complete lack of experience — maybe it’s all three rolled into one. even the irrefutable fact that it’s destined by the stars fails to give him the courage to act upon it.

but one day, he will. one day he will bury himself deep inside that hot cunt of yours and lose every bit of sanity and innocence within your walls; he’ll fuck you so good that all the waiting will be worth it. he’ll give you his everything until you cry from how painfully deep his love is embedded into your bones.

he’ll make you see the truth.

but for now, viktor will simply fuck his own fist while he fantasizes about you; eagerly biting into his lip and craving the day he can merge your realities together to create one entirely new, entirely unique to just you two.

because that’s how it’s meant to be. viktor knows it.

actually my first time ever writing yandere pls be gentle </3 i actually really enjoyed writing this so thank you so much for requesting! gotta get back to the other drafts i have so many jfc thank you all for reading and i love you so much!

[hgfictionwriter]

First Time

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You and Jessie meet at UCLA and have been together a couple of months, but still haven't been intimate. In fact, she's never been intimate with anyone. But when your roommate is out one night, she might finally experience her first time.

Warnings: G!P content. Dry humping Simulated intercourse. Premature ejaculation. Cunnilingus. Penetrative sex. Loss of virginity. Unprotected sex. Praise kink. Language.

A/N: In response to this request. Virgin Jessie - shy, nervous, but just oh so eager to please. Happy holidays!

Jessie gave your hand a small squeeze as you walked across campus together. A bashful smile crossed her face at the way you turned your head towards her with a hint of surprise before giving her a warm smile and laugh. You giggled softly as you leaned in for a quick peck on her cheek mid-step.

"You are too cute," you told her as you faced forward once more.

"I just had a good night with you," she said as she reflected on the sunset picnic you'd had together at a nearby park. She released a quiet sigh as you approached the juncture in the path that signaled the end of your evening together; her dorm one direction, yours the other.

You stood together, your arms now resting across the back of her shoulders in a comfortable embrace. Jessie felt her face growing hot before she'd even begun speaking.

"Uh, my roommate's home tonight. Love her, but, it kinda sucks. Don't get me wrong, I love our dates," she gestured between herself and you as her eyes were affixed to the cement below, "and exploring the city together, but it would be kind of nice sometimes to have our own space? You know?" She shook her head quickly with a nervous chuckle as she looked back up at you. "I'm probably not making any sense."

You leaned in a gave her a sweet, chaste kiss, calming her nerves immediately.

"Good news. My roommate is at a party tonight. She probably won't be home until late," you told her.

Jessie's face lit up before she quickly quelled her excitement. She automatically assumed that meant she'd come over, but she shouldn't assume.

You laughed, giving her another quick kiss.

"Want to come over?"

Or maybe she could assume.

"Yeah. Sure. That'd be great," Jessie replied, trying not to sound too eager.

Though you'd been together a couple of months now, between the nature of her schedule and the realities of your living situations, there really was very little time where it was you two alone and in private. A night like this was rare.

In your dorm, you sat down on your bed and patted the spot next to you, inviting Jessie to sit down instead of standing awkwardly several feet away like she was.

"What do you want to do?" You asked as you leaned back on your hands and looking far too tempting. Jessie sat stiffly rubbing her already-sweaty palms against her jeans. She cleared her throat, glancing at you over her shoulder before looking away despite her efforts.

"Um, anything," she said before forcing a smile and looking at you once more.

"You're my guest," you countered with a smirk as you sat back up and nudged her with your shoulder, "it's up to you."

Jessie laughed, feeling the tension of the moment - whether it was solely in her head or not - settling all throughout her body as she nudged your leg with hers. "No, it's not up to me."

"Mm, I think it is," you said easily as you shifted slightly towards her, your knee coming up onto the bed as you tucked your foot under you. You held her gaze and it felt so intense to her in the best way possible.

"I want to do whatever you want to do," she offered with a shrug, turning slightly towards you on the bed now as well.

You held her gaze a moment longer before finally exhaling with a soft huff and looking away, an affectionate smile lingered on your face.

"Well, we don't get much time alone, so...," you trailed off as you slowly leaned in, capturing Jessie's lips. She smiled into the kiss.

The kisses started of very chaste, but things shifted just so as Jessie allowed her hands to ever so slightly wander; a hand gently cupping the side of your neck, her thumb softly caressing your jawline and her other hand toying with the hem of your shirt. You reciprocated, a thumb caressing her collarbone and your other hand on her knee.

Your tongue began to explore her lips and mouth and Jessie remained steady. Even if things didn't progress much, she could feel herself starting to get hard within her jeans. If you noticed, you didn't let on.

Jessie wanted to explore so much more, but you didn't make a move, so she didn't either. It was only a matter of time until you pulled back with a soft smile and rest your head on her shoulder.

She sat tensely, very keenly aware that although jeans gave some concealment, you could probably still very much see the bulge in her pants.

"Want to watch a movie?" You asked, getting up off of the bed without waiting for an answer.

"Y-yeah," Jessie stammered, still trying to be present in the moment and will her erection away. She looked around quickly and saw a throw pillow at the edge of your bed and laid it across her lap.

You returned with your laptop and coaxed her to the wall so you could both lean back and watch the movie. She couldn't help but notice how you very politely didn't acknowledge the pillow across her lap.

She sat there awkwardly at first as the movie started, but soon put her arm around you and you cuddled in. You both initiated light caresses throughout and it did nothing to help her with her arousal. It was nearly painful now and she honestly had no clue what was going on in the film. All she could think about was every touch, every movement, and her mind was creating an entirely different movie inside of her head.

Outside of Jessie being on the receiving end of a few fleeting, but heated kisses throughout your relationship, things hadn't gotten much more serious physically. What happened tonight is about as far as you ever got.

Jessie didn't know what to expect, really. She'd never dated before. She was never around in high school, so building that kind of a connection would've been difficult to begin with. And God knows she was even shyer back then, so between how young she always looked compared to the other girls and how she fell apart around anyone she had a crush on, it was no surprise that she was never seen as more than a friend.

Now, in uni, she was still shy - there was no denying that - but between her growing role on the national team, her role here on the Bruins and just exploring this new phase of her life, her confidence had grown. So though her nerves were rattling as she talked to you the first few times in class, she got through. She made you smile, made you laugh, impressed you with her smarts, and was over the moon when you gave her your number.

As you planned out your first date, she sheepishly admitted she wasn't entirely sure what to plan - she'd never been on a real date before.

It was embarrassing to her, frankly. Being in her second year - no serious romantic experiences to speak of, no girlfriends, and certainly no sex. All of her friends had lost their virginity and were, how should she put it, very confident and experienced in that department by now. And one would think she would be too given her athletic status, but that just wasn't her.

You'd been a little shocked initially. Bashful now in your own right over your own experience and history. Jessie profusely interjected - telling you there was nothing for you to be embarrassed about or feel ashamed about. You're beautiful, you're charming, you're smart - of course you'd have past relationships and experience. She joked she'd just need you to be patient with her.

"We'll take it slow," you'd promised with a sweet and caring kiss.

But now, two months in. Jessie regretted her joke. You'd really taken it to heart and now she felt like it was entirely upon her to push things forward. She didn't know where you stood - if you wanted more already or not and she didn't know how to proceed. She'd dropped hints - like tonight - and you didn't reciprocate the way she wanted.

So she worried. And fretted. And ultimately never pushed further.

Time went by achingly slow as the movie continued. Jessie couldn't help but shift uncomfortably in place as her member throbbed with want. You weren't even really doing anything - nothing explicit, certainly, but she wanted you so bad even a feathery touch sent goosebumps flaring across her skin.

"You okay?" You asked.

"Yeah," she assured you with a tight smile.

"You can move if you aren't comfortable," you told her.

"Oh, no," she dismissed with a rapid shake of her head and another reassuring smile. "It's not that. I mean - I'm not uncomfortable. I-I like being with you."

You chuckled, a faint smirk on your face as you kissed her cheek sweetly. "I like being with you, too."

As the movie continued and you drew faint, teasing circles on her collarbone and the odd fleeting breath hit the sensitive skin of her neck, she clutched the pillow in her fists and clenched her jaw, nearly grinding her teeth together.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You asked.

Jessie found herself letting out a slow exhale, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen.

"Yep, I'm good," she said almost curtly though flashed you a quick smile after. You frowned.

"You don't seem comfortable. I can give you some space if that's it," you said.

Jessie couldn't help the bewildered, frustrated laugh that escaped her as she looked up at the ceiling.

"No - that's, that's really not it," she said, feeling now like she could explode out of her own skin with the tension that had mounted in her body. She scratched at the side of her head as she struggled to figure out what to do.

"I, um," she stammered. She shifted, feeling compelled to stand up and get away, but quickly realized she couldn't - not without the tent in her pants being fully on display once more.

"Babe, what's wrong?" You asked, now looking genuinely concerned.

Jessie buried her face in her hands with a shake of her head. She dropped them heavily onto the pillow and let her head fall back against the wall with a dull thud.

"I'm just...yes. A bit uncomfortable," she eventually admitted, feeling immense heat radiating off her face. She could only imagine how red she must be.

"Um, well, is there anything I can do?" You asked tentatively.

She laughed. "No. I um," her mind attempted to conjure up the best response but she landed with another, "no." She caught the perplexed frown you shot her.

"Well, you seem unsettled. If I'm making you uncomfortable I'm really sorry," you told her as you sat back a bit.

She sighed before letting her head roll to the side to give you a frown of her own while she did her damnedest to push down the embarrassment that flooded her system. "Come on, you know."

"I-what?" You asked with a deeper frown.

Jessie sighed once more and ran a hand roughly across the back of her neck as her gaze settled on the blankets of your bed.

"It's nothing bad," she eventually settled on saying, mustering a look to you before flitting away again. "Least I don't think so."

"Okay. Now I'm really confused," you said. You took a small breath. "I wish you'd tell me."

Her face felt hot as ever as she laughed lightly and looked up to the ceiling once more.

"I just find you very, very attractive. So. I'm struggling a bit right now."

"Oh." You said simply. She studied you, but your expression was unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Jessie breathed, shifting slightly as she scratched at her temple. "That's so awkward. And we said we'd go slow. And I don't want to pressure you-"

"Pressure me?" You asked, voice rising in confusion and swiftly ending Jessie's ramblings.

"Well, yeah," she stammered slightly while offering you a faint smile. "I know I asked you to be patient with me. But that also means I don't want to push you at all. I mean, just because I'm-I'm...," she inadvertently looked down at the pillow in her lap, "whatever, doesn't mean we have to-"

"You aren't pushing me at all," you told her calmly. A hint of a smirk played at the corner of your mouth. "I'm...waiting on you." You held your hand up quickly. "No rush! I'm happy to take our time. But. Whenever you're ready. I'm ready."

She shot you a somewhat bewildered look. "Seriously?" She blushed as you couldn't hold back a laugh. She frowned. "I just meant you haven't initiated anything!"

"Why would I?" You returned, folding your arms across your chest playfully. "I know it would be your first time, so I thought we were letting you set the pace."

She blew a raspberry, blushing at the action before shooting you another tempered glare. "Well I could've used some encouragement! I just thought you weren't interested in more yet. You didn't reciprocate any-" she gestured aimlessly for a second, "you know."

"I reciprocated," you said pointedly, though still smirking at her. "Whatever you did, I reciprocated. But I didn't push further. It's important to me that you be entirely comfortable. I didn't want you to feel like we had to do more until you were ready. Hence, letting you set the pace."

A groan escaped her throat and she let her head fall back against the wall with another thud. She closed her eyes in frustration and mild regret for a moment before opening them and looking at you with a sheepish smile.

"Well. I'm..."

"...what?"

She gave an exaggerated shrug and a fleeting glance. "Ready."

You nearly snorted. "That didn't exactly sound enthusiastic." You laughed once more. "I'm looking for enthusiastic consent."

"Oh my God," Jessie complained as she dropped her hands into the pillow heavily once more. "You're going to kill my 'enthusiasm' with criticisms like that."

You gasped dramatically and Jessie's gaze snapped over to you.

"Just what every girl wants to hear," you teased.

"No, wait, I'm sorry," she offered as she adjusted her spot on the bed, facing you more fully, still keeping the pillow firmly in place. You seemed to be joking, but she felt compelled to reassure you either way. "I was just kidding. You never have to worry about that. I, uh," she glanced away playing with the seam of the pillow distractedly, "often, you know, struggle to," she cleared her throat, "contain myself around you." She felt heat rising in her cheeks once more and she went on in a rush. "I don't mean that disrespectfully at all. I meant it as a compliment. But now I'm hearing it and-"

"Babe," you cut her off as you reached up to hold her face in your hands. She stopped as your eyes searched hers. "it's okay. I understand. I was just teasing you. And I don't feel at all like you're disrespecting me. In fact," you gave a slight tilt of your head, "you can consider me flattered."

Jessie digested your words and eventually gave a couple of slow nods.

"So," you started. You lowered your hands, one landing to rest on her lower thigh. "[y/roommate] is out. She won't be back for hours - if at all tonight, to be honest. Do you want to...?"

Jessie swallowed. After so many years and countless dreams, it seemed the moment might actually be here.

"I-If you want to."

You gave her a look and a single shake of your head. "Do you want to. It's not enough if I just want to."

She nodded, maintaining your gaze. "I do." She chuckled, unable to stop herself. "Most definitely."

You gave her a soft smile. "Okay." You leaned in and kissed her slow, similar to how you'd done several times before, but this time it felt different. Jessie barely stopped the moan that nearly bubbled up her throat.

"You don't need this, then," you said gently as you picked up the pillow by its corner and pulled it away from her. Habit almost made her grab it and hold it back, but instead she let you move it away.

This time, unlike any other time before, you didn't politely avert your gaze from her bulge; you stared unabashedly. She couldn't help but shift slightly under your gaze and she cleared her throat.

"Don't worry," you told her, "I like what I see already." Surprise washed over her as suddenly you lifted yourself up and swung a leg across her to straddled her thighs. "I can't wait to see more."

Jessie just stared up at you speechless, though thankfully her body at least know how to react and her hands came to rest on your hips.

"Is this okay?" You asked. It took her a second, her throat dry, before she nodded.

"Yeah." A crooked smile tugged at her lips. "I love it."

You captured her lips in a heated kiss, this time your hips slowly started to grind upon her. Her breath shuddered and her eyes flew open at the sensations that shot through her.

Holy shit.

She stared up at the ceiling, a slight panic coming over her at the realization that there was a very real chance of her blowing her load before you'd even taken her pants off. If you were deterred by how she paused, you didn't show it, instead you tilted your head and began to start kissing down the side of her neck.

She remained still under your touch, her eyes falling shut now. A couple of small whimpers escaped despite every effort to suppress them.

"If you want me to stop, please tell me. We can stop at any time," you told her as you continued to kiss her neck and rock your hips against the hard bulge in her jeans. "I'm serious."

Jessie opened her mouth several times, but nothing came out. She merely nodded to start, eventually saying, "I-I don't want you to stop."

"Then I won't," you said simply, a lilt in your voice as your hands began to wander down her chest.

"Oh God," she said, again, cursing the inability to control her reactions. Her hips began to now push back into yours and her hands pushed under your shirt, a small moan nearly escaping at the feel of your warm skin under her touch.

You moaned against her neck and her fingers instinctively dug into your skin. The sound of your moan immediately burned itself into her brain and she decided right then and there that she wanted to hear that sound again and again.

Her mouth hung open as she breathed heavily while you continued to patiently explore.

"You feel so good already," you told her as you rocked against her restrained member.

"Oh God," she said once more and eyes slammed shut as she tightened her grip on you, pushing against you to the point of holding you in place.

You paused and she forced her eyes back open to see you looking down at her in concern.

"I, um, no, it's- I just." She took a moment to breath. "I'm seriously going to - you know. I just need a second. I'm so sorry."

To her surprise, a wicked grin crossed your face and you kissed her hard.

"You have no idea how hot that is," you told her unequivocally.

"Really?" She said with a near glare and blatant skepticism. "Because I'm pretty sure that's what girls make fun of most of the time."

"Not me," you responded, unbothered. "The thought of you cumming just from me being on top of you like this? Gorgeous. That is so sexy."

Jessie was ready to offer a rebuttal when you shifted off of her, giving her some greater reprieve.

"We can save that for another time though," you said benevolently. "For now..."

Jessie unknowingly took a deep breath as you started undoing her jeans. She felt like she was in a dream or a daze as you began removing her clothes and yours.

She originally thought she'd be too shy to look at you in your fully naked glory, but she surprised herself with how she couldn't take her eyes off of you instead. Her gaze raked up and down your body and she couldn't resist caressing your skin.

The moans of approval you gave her as her hands wandered or she kissed your skin had her in an altered state. This must be what it felt like to be high.

Soon you were back where you started, holding yourself above her, but this time her bare cock standing tall, precum dripping over the head and down the shaft oh so eager to be inside of you. Your warm hand gently wrapped around her to hold her in place. She felt breathless.

"Are you sure?" You asked as you held yourself poised above her.

Her eyes were fixed on her cock in your hand and how hot and incredible it felt to just have her tip nestled at your entrance. She forced herself to look up at you.

"I'm sure," she told you.

You smiled gently at her and leaned in, kissing her softly. She'd barely leaned up into the kiss when suddenly the heat from your core that rest on the head of her cock began to envelope her. She broke off the kiss immediately, eyes closed and jaw slack as your wetness stretched tightly around her tip and you slowly sank down onto her.

It sounded ridiculous, but she felt like she was seeing stars even eyes closed. Her jaw dropped further as your core fluttered warm and wet around her length and you settled on top of her.

Holy fuck. She'd masturbated countless times before. Hell, she even used the fleshlight - once - one of her teammates got her as a gag gift. But fuck. Nothing compared to this. No wonder people liked sex so much.

Just when she felt she'd steadied herself, you began to lift yourself up on her hardness once more until it was just the tip stretching out your entrance once more.

"Is this okay?" She heard you ask. She couldn't formulate words, she merely nodded and inadvertently began to push you back down onto her waiting cock.

You may have chuckled, she couldn't be sure, but soon you were establishing a rhythm, steadily rising and falling on her length. She could barely open her eyes. She heard you moaning softly as you began to ride her.

"You feel so good inside of me," you said as you began to rock yourself against her faster.

It felt incredible. Too incredible.

Her throat seized up as she felt the familiar tightening between her legs come on way too fast and by the time she'd even recognized the feeling she was gripping your thighs, fingers turning white, as she shot rope after rope of cum inside of you.

"Oh f-fuck," she stammered as she subconsciously jerked up into you as her orgasm continued. She felt mortified as she realized what was happening, but she couldn't stop and she could do nothing more than helplessly rut into you, muffled whimpers escaping her as she tried to quiet herself.

As her body slowly relaxed in the wake of her sudden orgasm, she vaguely began to notice how you tenderly massaged her scalp, stroking her hair. She blinked in a haze as you laid soft kisses atop her head. Despite your affection, her stomach sank.

"I'm so, so sorry," she began, voice pleading as she looked up at you. "I-I don't know-"

"Shh, it's okay," you assured her as you caressed her face and tilted her chin to kiss her softly. "I'm not bothered at all." Still, Jessie shook her head adamantly.

"I'm so embarrassed. Oh my God-"

"Hey," you said, cutting her off and looking her in the eye. "It's okay." She watched in confusion as the faintest smirk crossed your lips. "Like I said. It's pretty hot. I take it as a compliment. And besides," you went on lightly, brushing her hair back with your hands once more as you wiggled your hips atop of her and she held back a moan, "there's still plenty more night ahead of us."

Jessie quashed the rebuttal forming in her mind and instead simply looked at you and gave a slow, adoring shake of her head.

"You're the best. And I'm lucky to be with you," she said instead.

Before she could let her nerves get the best of her again, she gently nudged your hips with her thumbs, coaxing you to get off.

"I want to do something for you," she said and it only took a split second for you to smirk at her again. "What good manners," you said with waggle of your eyebrows as you rose off of her, obliging her request.

Her eyes fell to the sheets below as a pool of cum spilled out of you as down her softening cock and onto the bed. She stared wide-eyed for a moment at the mess you two had made, her cock pulsing at the sight as the visual tickled some part deep inside her brain.

She refocused as you settled onto your back, your head on the pillow.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, you know that right?" You said as you looked down at her. Frankly, she was too distracted by the sight of your wet pussy, cum still leaking out, and it took her a moment to register your statement.

She frowned. "I'm so into this. You have no idea," she breathed as she placed a hand on the inside of your knee, your legs automatically parting at the gesture. Her pulse quickened in anticipation.

"You're beautiful," she told you as she began to lay a few kisses along the inside of your thighs. Your scent overtook her senses and she felt herself growing hard again.

"Hand me that other pillow," you told her and she did so. She watched as you lifted your hips and settled it under them. "I find this helps," you explained. Jessie simply nodded, taking a mental note.

She began kissing her way up your thighs, her arms hooked under your legs and fingers gently digging into the top of them. Her nose was nearly touching your lips when she paused briefly.

"Um, I won't be offended if you tell me I'm doing something wrong," she said. "Or if you tell me I'm doing something right. I want to make sure you feel as amazing as possible. I've read a lot, but still, you never know. And-"

She looked up your body at you to see you smiling - maybe even cheekily - down at her.

"What?" She asked slowly, feeling a blush coming on.

"Nothing bad," you promised. "That's the perfect approach. And you're observant. And a good listener. So I'm sure you'll do great. My only tip is - when I tell you 'don't stop' - I mean it. Keep doing what you're doing - don't switch it up or speed up. Just do exactly what you're doing."

Jessie nodded intently. "Okay. I will."

Settling back in, Jessie began kissing along the juncture between your thighs and your core. Again, your smell was intoxicating and her cock throbbed, wanting to feel you wrap tightly around her once more. But first, she wanted to focus on you.

She laid a tentative kiss on your lips. A second time, gently suckling your folds, the taste of your cum and hers hitting her tongue for the first time. She peeked her tongue out and gave a faint lick through your folds. Her ears perked up as your hips shifted before her.

She gave another curious lick, this time at your entrance, surprised at the sensation of your juices on her tongue. She continued to patiently explore, trying to capture every subtle change in your breathing, any slight movement of your body.

"Mm, right there, baby," you moaned in approval as she settled her mouth around your clit. She sucked and licked delicately for several moments, again noting every reaction you had.

"Like you really mean it," you instructed as you rolled your hips into her face. Whether it was your words or the action, it triggered something in her mind and she dove in. You let out a low moan, your hand raking through her hair as you tilted your head back into the pillow.

That was the affirmation she needed. She abandoned her inhibitions. She gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to her on the bed and loving the small cry you let out as she fully latched on and lapped you up. She moaned into you and felt a wave go through her at how you moaned in returned, your hand still gripping her hair.

"Holy shit, Jess. Yes - like that," you told her and any need she had to come up for air dissipated in favour of wanting more and more praise from you.

Your hips began to buck into her mouth, but she stayed with you and didn't let up. Her senses buzzed as your legs grew restless and she felt you digging them into the mattress.

She continued her eager exploration, seeing what seemed to get the most reaction out of you and in time as she sucked on your clit and flicked the tip of her tongue against it you let out a particularly wanton moan and held her head firmly in place.

"Yes - oh my God. Right there, don't stop," you panted.

She resisted the urge to quicken her pace and instead did exactly as you instructed. You noises ceased for a moment and she was about to wonder if she'd done something wrong when a crescendo of a cry came from your mouth and your thighs locked around her head. You began to spasm against her and she felt a rush of liquid run down her chin.

She continued to suck and lick despite the way your hips jerked and eventually your body grew limp. She remained attentive, not wanting to stop too early until she felt you gently push her head away with a breathy laugh.

"Okay, okay," you laughed. "Give me a second."

"Oh," she said as she lifted her head, looking at you curiously before laughing softly herself. "Sorry. I didn't know if you wanted me to stop."

"No, no," you dismissed as you pulled her up onto you, wrapping your arms around her as you let out a content sigh. "You did amazingly."

"You're sure?" She asked as she lifted her head to look you in the eye, only to see you laying there, head tucked into her shoulder eyes closed. "You can be honest. I want it to be good for you."

You chuckled against her, giving her a squeeze. "That was really good. Like...hard to believe it's your first time kind of good."

Jessie felt a few embers of pride flare up within her chest and she bit back a satisfied smile.

"Okay. If you say so. But, if you want something different at any point just say." She began to blush, but forced herself to say what was on her mind anyway. She said it jokingly, despite how true it was. "I want to make sure you're fully satisfied."

"Mm," you voiced as you kissed her shoulder. "If that's just a preview of what's to come, you have nothing to be worried about."

Again, that prideful feeling stirred in her chest, but this time it was shrouded in apprehension. There were still other aspects of this she had yet to impress you with.

"Speaking of," you said, a lilt in your voice as you leaned up and began to lay teasing kisses on her neck that sent goosebumps across her skin. Her jaw dropped as your warm hand wrapped around her stiff member. "Seems like you're ready for round two."

She allowed herself a short laugh. "Well, you were really fucking hot, so..."

"Well, you felt - and tasted - how hot you got me just then, so, I guess we're even," you said with a smile in your voice as your hand began to slowly stroke up and down her length.

Even this felt so good, though. In the recesses of her mind she was already trying to formulate ways for you two to get more alone time together - she wouldn't be able to wait weeks and weeks again for this.

As good as it felt, she felt more in control this time around. Having cum earlier seemed to have take the edge off - slightly anyhow.

She grit her teeth together as you continued to patiently jerk her off. She subtly rocked her hips into your hand and you moaned softly in approval in her ear.

"So, ready for round two?" You asked. Her breath hitched slightly as she pushed into your waiting fist.

"Whenever you are," she responded. "Seriously. We don't have to rush," she went on, mindful of your request to give you a short break. She chuckled. "We've waited this long."

"Was the wait worth it?" You asked as your thumb circled her tip and your tongue teased the shell of her ear. She shivered, fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck," she breathed as her eyes closed. "Way more incredible than anything I could've pictured. You're so perfect."

"We haven't even got to the good stuff yet," you teased, nibbling at her ear as you hooked one leg around the back of hers, running it up and down her leg.

It felt like energy was pulsing through her body and she had to smile in disbelief at it all. "You're incredible. I love you so much."

"I love you too, baby," you said as you tilted your head to kiss her softly at first before deepening the kiss and eliciting a moan out of her as your rocked your hips against her, her length flat against her stomach and yours now.

"Now," you went on, whispering in her ear once more. "I want you inside of me." Jessie's breath hitched yet again.

Despite feeling more confident and at ease, the nerves she felt before started to come back.

“Do you want to be on top again?" She asked as her hands caressed your curves, appreciating your body as she awaited your response. She felt you shake your head against her.

“I want you on top. I can still call the shots while on my back," you said flirtatiously as you traced a single finger down her spine. She let out a breathy laugh, flustered by your reply.

"You're really sexy," she said in wonderment. "Did I tell you that already?"

"Not exactly," you said with a soft laugh as you grasped her hips and shifted both of you so she was poised at your entrance once more. You leaned up and kissed her. "I'll tell you what I like, but if you're feeling overwhelmed you can slow down or stop. Don't worry, okay? It's supposed to be fun. And it's about us connecting and being together."

Jessie nodded. "I know. And I hear you. But I also just want you to feel as good as you make me feel."

"Mm, you want me coming undone on your cock, do you?" You asked as you held her chin between your thumb and index finger.

"Shit," Jessie said as her eyes fluttered shut at your words alone. She smirked. "Come on, babe. You gotta give me a chance here."

It seemed to be the right thing to say because you beamed up at her and caressed her face.

"If I know you the way I think I know you, it won't be long until you know all the right things to do and say to have me falling apart at your every whim. So, I'm going to enjoy this while I can."

Jessie grinned above you. "While that sounds pretty fucking amazing, I really just love the idea of being the one to make you feel incredible. I hope I can do that for you."

"You're off to a good start already," you chuckled as you reached down to hold her cock steady at your entrance. You gave her a light tug and she allowed you to guide her forward, her tip nudging your entrance open. She couldn't help but let her head fall against your shoulder at how good it felt already.

Your other hand came to her ass and gently pushed her hips down, she moved with your pressure and she felt your heat envelope her as she slowly sunk inside.

"Fuck," she breathed at the sensation. Her fists clenched into the mattress next to you and it almost made her toes curl.

You chuckled good-naturedly as you ran a hand through her hair. "Feel good, baby?" Her head lolled against yours.

"Mm. You feel so fucking amazing. Holy shit," she said as your legs wrapped around her waist and she sunk even deeper into you. "Oh Jesus."

You moaned lightly arm wrapping around her shoulder while the other remained teasing her hair. "It feels good for me too. You're filling me up so full."

Her fingers curled tighter into a fist, the sound of the sheets straining in her grasp below her. "Christ," she said. She hadn't even completed a full stroke and she was nearly on the cusp again.

She didn't think she'd be into dirty talk, but from the way her cock twitched inside you at the mere words you whispered to her, she had to admit she learned something new about herself.

She felt short of breath, but you didn't rush her and she took a moment to reset before she felt composed enough to draw her hips back. She was slow and deliberate in the motion, admittedly not knowing exactly how much she could pull back so she pushed inside sooner rather than later.

She did this, slow and steady, a few times over, one hand of yours on her ass and the other now on her hip to guide her. The amount of concentration it took actually turned out to be a blessing because the edge that had seemed far too near a minute ago didn't feel so imminent now.

"Just like that," you said in her ear as she began to find her rhythm with less and less of your guidance.

She felt her confidence building just for it to be shaken as she drew back too far and felt herself pop out of you.

"Oh fuck," she said, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment right away. You massaged the back of her neck tenderly and reached down to grasp her cock which was now fully slick with your cum again.

"It's okay," you assured her as you lined her up at your entrance again.

Jessie quickly worked to dismiss her nerves; not wanting to get rattled by such a thing and just allowed herself to feel safe with you instead. She slowly pushed back inside of you, reassured by how you moaned softly in her ear as she filled you up once more.

Soon she re-established the earlier rhythm, this time knowing how far she could draw back before sinking back to the hilt inside of you.

"Is this okay?" She asked, voice shuddering ever so slightly with the movement of her thrusts. You nodded against her.

"It feels good," you told her and laid a hand on her ass again, pushing her hips a particular way. "Try rolling your hips like this." She didn't question it, just followed your lead and soon your head fell back against the pillow, mouth agape. "Oh fuck. Just like that."

She grinned, spurred on by your praise. It felt like bliss the way you began to cling to her and pant in her ear.

She was doing that. She was the one making you lose your breath, making you pant and moan, causing you to dig your fingers into her skin as your pleasure built. It was greater than anything she ever dreamed of and she wanted more.

She began to quicken the pace of her hips and by the way your moans heightened in pitch, you approved. She wrapped her arms under your back and held you close as she continued to rock on top of you.

"Shit, that's so good, Jess," you moaned as you clung onto her, nails digging into the back of her shoulders. She couldn't help but smile smugly though you couldn't see it.

"Yeah?"

The sounds of her thrusts in and out of you were wet and growing wetter. Her climax was close, but she was absolutely focused and determined to make you cum before her. She flexed her muscles pumping into you harder.

"Oh God," you said. "Fuck. I'm going to cum - don't stop, Jess."

Again, she followed your advice and remained as steady as she could, careful not to cum though knowing she was about to make you orgasm just about sent her over the edge.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and she bit her lower lip as she concentrated on staving off her climax. The way you whimpered in her ear and how your walls fluttered wet and hot all around her was driving her wild. She couldn't help the way the odd whimper or moan escaped her throat as well as she did her best to bring you to your high.

Finally, she felt you tighten around her in a way she hadn't experienced before. Her strokes stuttered as you began to convulse around her cock and she exploded inside of you for the second time tonight. She grunted, wincing at the overwhelming sensation as she emptied herself deep inside of you as you held her tightly.

"Oh shit," she breathed as she collapsed on top of you. Her body felt spent and exhausted in a way she'd never felt before. It was strange, but incredible.

"Oh my God," you panted beneath her as your grip on her grew slack and your limbs relaxed.

The room was filled with heavy breathing as you both came back to your senses and Jessie was the first to speak next. She lifted herself up onto her forearms to see you, though her softening cock remained inside of you.

"Was...that okay?" She asked, newly tentative, brows furrowing in worry. To her surprise, you laughed, kissing her shoulder in consolation.

"I'm sorry. Me moaning your name, whining and panting underneath you and cumming all over your cock isn't answer enough?"

Jessie blushed, ducking her head slightly. "Well I don't know," she muttered.

"It was way more than 'okay', Jess. You're a natural," you chuckled. Again, she blushed deeper.

"Well, I don't know to feel about that," she complained slightly. "I don't want to be a 'natural' - I just...I don't know. Want to make you feel good."

"You did. Absolutely. You fit perfectly with me. You listened. You knew exactly what I wanted and needed." You sighed contentedly, head falling into the pillow further. "Fuck. That was so good."

"You'd tell me if you didn't like something, right?" She asked.

You huffed lightly, but gave her an affectionate look nonetheless.

"I know there is a mess beneath us on these sheets. And it's mostly me. That you can't fake. I promise you."

The image in Jessie's mind made her cock pulse and she began to grow hard inside of you once more. She kissed you, pulling back with a crooked grin.

"Any interest in round three?"

[mononijikayu]

kinikilig — itadori yuji.

“Ugh, they’re driving me crazy!" Yuuji groaned, flopping dramatically onto the dorm couch. He had dragged Megumi and Nobara into his ordeal, much to their dismay. “You’re driving us crazy, Itadori.” Nobara shot back, arms crossed as she glared at him. “Do you realize how many times you’ve ranted about this today?” “But I’m serious!" Yuuji sat up, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Every time I try to ask them what they want, I get all... I don’t know, flustered. And then I just start staring at them instead of saying anything. And then they make a joke, and I laugh, and—" He buried his face in his hands. “I just really love them, okay?!”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Safe For Work (SFW), Post-Canon, Christmas, Aged Up Characters (Yuuji and Reader are 18+), Fluff, Young Love, Dating, Relationships, Romance, Pet Names (Babe, Yuu-chan, etc), Established Relationship, Teasing, Minor Drama, Feelings, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Humor, Domesticity, Slice of Life, Light-Hearted, Pining, Holding Hands, Doubt, Profanity, Nanami and His Wife Cameo, Itafushikugi Sibling Coded;

WORD COUNT: 4.6k words.

NOTE: i promised to write this because there was a huge need to yuuji content. posting this for you @rreveurdoll as much as this is for me. and since it is christmas eve (still day time) in asia, i might as well post this since i will be sleeping for a bit!!! i hope everyone is well and happy this holiday. i'll be posting a christmas art everyone is welcome to enjoy and print out as a card or sticker. happy holidays to everyone!!! i love you!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

kilig (adjective) — "exhilarated by an exciting or romantic experience"; such feeling can be something as idiomatic as saying, "hey, i'm feeling butterflies in my stomach for you!" or next best thing to that which is "i'm genuinely feeling excited!"

“SHIT!” — THOSE WERE THE WORDS HE ENDED UP SAYING, EVEN WHEN HE DIDN’T MEAN TO. But the word echoed louder than Itadori Yuuji intended, startling an elderly woman walking past him on the crowded street. He winced and muttered an apologetic “Sorry!"under his breath, clutching the shopping bags in his hands a little tighter.

Itadori Yuuji wasn’t one to curse out loud. He prided himself on his optimism and his ability to keep things light-hearted even in the most stressful situations. But this? This was different. This time, Yuuji felt the situation demanded it. Because at this rate, he was setting himself up for failure.

He groaned, running a hand through his messy pink hair as he stood frozen in the middle of the bustling holiday crowd. Glittering lights adorned the storefronts, garlands hung in perfect loops above doorways.

And the faint melody of carolers blended with the hum of city life. The festive energy was palpable, but none of it helped ease the knot tightening in Yuuji’s stomach. How could it? This situation is driving him to a cliff of endless worries he doesn't want to end up in.

It was lovely Christmas time once more. You loved it as much as he did. It was the season of cheer, joy, and giving; it had everything and more! And the Tokyo streets buzzed with life for it. People rushed by with shopping bags brimming with carefully chosen gifts, their faces alight with excitement and satisfaction. It felt like everyone had their holiday plans perfectly in order.

Everyone except Itadori Yuuji.

This year was supposed to be special. It was his first Christmas with you as his lover, and he wanted everything to be perfect. Scratch that—he needed it to be perfect. You were his whole world, his everything, and this gift needed to show you just how much you meant to him.

But the harder he tried, the more overwhelmed he became. He’d scoured countless stores, browsed endless online listings, and spent hours walking in circles around the mall. Yet no matter where he looked, nothing felt right. Everything he picked up seemed too small, too impersonal, or just not enough.

It wasn’t that Yuuji didn’t know you. He knew the little things that made you happy. The way your bright eyes lit up at the sight of something sweet, how your laugh always started with a soft giggle before it burst into pure, unrestrained joy. He knew your favorite colors, your favorite snacks, and the way you always hummed under your breath when you were lost in thought.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because knowing you so well only made him want to give you something truly extraordinary. Something that could somehow capture just how much he adored you. But every time he thought about it, his mind short-circuited, overwhelmed by a love that was too big for words—or holiday gifts.

“Ugh, what am I going to do?" Yuuji muttered, dragging himself into yet another store. The cheerful holiday music playing in the background did nothing to soothe his nerves as he wandered aimlessly past rows of glittering ornaments and festive knick-knacks.

If he didn’t figure this out soon, he’d end up empty-handed on Christmas morning. And that, to him, was simply unacceptable. The thing was, Yuuji wasn’t bad at shopping. He’d always been good at it. Grandpa Wasuke said so! In fact, the act of searching was easy. He had a good eye for thoughtful details and a knack for picking up on what people might enjoy. 

Over the past few weeks, he had ventured into dozens of stores, scrutinizing shelves of trinkets, clothes, and gadgets. He’d spent hours scrolling through endless online listings, carefully reading reviews and comparing options. He’d even braved the chaos of the mall during the holiday rush, weaving through crowds with a determination that rivaled a seasoned shopper.

He wasn’t just browsing aimlessly, either. Yuuji took his mission seriously. As serious as he would be a real sorcerer’s mission. If anything, he’d go on and on even longer than at his missions. Because you deserve nothing but the best. He knew that much. He was going to make sure you get the best and only the best from him. His love was premium. Shouldn’t his gift to you be like that too?

He’d lingered in the holiday gift section, picking up items and putting them back down, imagining how you might react to each one. Would this make you laugh? Would that make your eyes sparkle with excitement? He spent so much time in one store that an employee asked if he needed help—or if he was lost.

The problem wasn’t the act of searching; it was what happened after.

Every time he thought about what you might like, his brain short-circuited. It wasn’t that he didn’t know you well enough. Quite the opposite. Itadori Yuuji adored you. He knew the little things that brought you joy: how your hands curled around a warm mug on chilly mornings, the soft sigh of contentment that followed. 

The way your beautiful eyes just lit up, full of passion, whenever you talked about something you loved. The way you had a talent for making the most ordinary days feel extraordinary, whether it was through your humor, your kindness, or just the way you smiled at him like he was your whole world.

And that was the problem.

Because every time Yuuji tries to take the logical next step about it all, he always seems to fail. When he thinks about asking you what you might want for Christmas—he’d freeze. Completely and utterly freeze. 

His chest would tighten, his heart would hammer, and he’d lose his words altogether. He’d open his mouth to ask, only to get distracted by how cute you looked while you were busy doing something entirely unrelated.

It wasn’t just love. No, he was sure. It was more than that. Love is not enough to describe how much he loves you. It was the kind of love that left him lightheaded, giddy, and absurdly incapable of functioning like a normal person. Yuuji wasn’t just in love with you; he was ridiculously, overwhelmingly, head-over-heels in love.

And that made everything infinitely harder.

He couldn’t even concentrate when he was around you. Instead of asking what you wanted, he’d catch himself staring, marveling at the way you furrowed your brow while concentrating or how your laughter could turn his worst days into his best. When you cracked a joke (sometimes funny, sometimes not), Yuuji laughed anyway, not because of the joke but because it came from you.

Every time he thought about asking again, he found that the words got stuck in his throat, replaced by a flood of affection he didn’t know how to articulate. He would be a bumbling mess. And you would get worried and ask him if he was okay. But he would babble that he was okay. But he can’t help that either. How could he even begin to express how much you meant to him?

And so, instead of making progress, Yuuji found himself stuck in a loop of adoration and frustration. He’d groan and mutter to himself, pacing his room or staring at the ceiling late at night, wondering how something as simple as picking a Christmas gift could become so complicated. 

When did things get complicated? When did things get hard? Everything about this was ruining his ability to think straight. And that wasn’t your fault. It never will be, no. It was his inadequacies as your lover. He was sure of that. He once more groans, earning the looks of his classmates.

“Ugh, they’re driving me crazy!" Yuuji groaned, flopping dramatically onto the dorm couch. He had dragged Megumi and Nobara into his ordeal, much to their dismay.

“You’re driving us crazy, Itadori.” Nobara shot back, arms crossed as she glared at him. “Do you realize how many times you’ve ranted about this today?”

“But I’m serious!" Yuuji sat up, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Every time I try to ask them what they want, I get all... I don’t know, flustered. And then I just start staring at them instead of saying anything. And then they make a joke, and I laugh, and—" He buried his face in his hands. “I just really love them, okay?!”

Megumi, sitting with a book in hand, sighed heavily. “We know. You’ve said it a hundred times.”

“But do you understand how hard it is?!" Yuuji looked at them, his warm eyes wide and desperate. “Like, they’re so amazing. And cute. And funny. Like, even when their jokes aren’t funny! I can’t help it! I laugh anyway because I just... I love them so much! And I just, grrrr! Why can’t I do this right?”

Nobara threw a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face. “You’re ridiculous. Just ask them already!”

“I tried! But every time I think about asking, I get all red and tongue-tied. I can’t even look them in the eye without grinning like an idiot!"Yuuji groaned, sinking back into the couch to wallow in his self-perceived ineptness. “I just... I just want this to be perfect! They’re the ones, guys! I can’t ruin this. I want to... I want to do well.”

“You’re hopeless, aren’t you?” Nobara muttered, rolling her eyes as she grabbed a Christmas cookie from the table.

“Maybe write them a note.” Megumi suggested, not even looking up from his book. “Or I don’t know; stop overthinking everything. I don’t think it matters what you give them. They love you enough for everything else. They’re with you for a reason, Itadori. They like you. Not what you can provide them. It’s not that deep.”

“But it is that deep!" Yuuji exclaimed, flailing his arms. “I want it to be perfect! I want them to know how much they mean to me!”

“Just pick something from the heart, Itadori.” Nobara said, her tone softening slightly. “They’ll love it because it’s from you, dumbass. You don’t need to stress so much.”

Yuuji sighed, hugging the pillow Nobara had thrown at him. Deep down, he knew they were right. It wasn’t about finding the perfect gift. It’s never been like that with you, no. It was about showing you how much he cared. And he already knew how he felt: completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That night, he sat at his desk, the dorm room quiet, save for the faint rustle of snow falling outside his window. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as his mind drifted to you. He thought about the way your laugh always seemed to bubble up like music, filling the air with warmth. He thought about how, even on the darkest days, your presence was enough to make everything feel a little bit brighter, a little bit easier.

With a deep breath, he picked up a pen and a blank sheet of paper, staring at it as if it held all the answers he was looking for. He twirled the pen between his fingers, his heart thudding in his chest. For once, he didn’t try to overthink it. He knew he had the words. He just has to let them go. 

He takes a deep breath and looks at the page again. He can do this. He knows he can. Nothing is impossible for love. Nothing is impossible when it comes to loving you. And showing you that, well, he wants to make sure you see it! And so he let the words flow, raw and honest, straight from his heart. He doesn’t stop until he gets every bit of it out. 

He started with the small things. How he loved the way you’d hum absentmindedly when you were focused, or how you’d always check to make sure he was okay, even when you were the one who’d had a rough day. He wrote about how much he admired you—your kindness, your resilience, your ability to find joy in the simplest things.

Then, as the words poured out, he wrote about the bigger things. How meeting you had changed him in ways he couldn’t fully explain. How, before you, he hadn’t realized how much brighter life could be. How he’d never known what it felt like to be this happy, this complete, until he met you.

The more he wrote, the lighter he felt. By the time he reached the end of the letter, his hand was cramped, but his heart felt full. He folded the paper carefully, tucking it into an envelope and sealing it with a quiet smile.

The next day, Itadori Yuuji ventured out into the bustling city again. The crisp winter morning coupled with the cold winter air was sharp and frosty, each breath forming little clouds that vanished as quickly as they came. Today was the day he'll get that bonus gift. He will find the perfect one. He knows it.

He wandered from shop to shop, weaving through crowds of last-minute shoppers. He studied every display carefully, letting his instincts guide him to the perfect one. He knew it just had to be here somewhere. Yet, after hours of searching, the doubt began to creep back in.

“What if I can’t find it?”He muttered to himself, the weight of his self-imposed expectations starting to press down again. “No, no. We had this talk, Itadori Yuuji! You will find it. You have the letter; that’s the present. Your love? That’s the gift. This is just a bonus, okay? No pressure!”

Lost in thought and incoherent mumbles to himself, Itadori Yuuji wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and nearly collided with a familiar figure. He blinked for a moment. It was a good thing he wasn’t carrying anything. 

“Ah—sorry!” He blurted out, stepping back to apologize. Then he froze. “Nanamin?!”

Standing before him was none other than Nanami Kento, looking as polished as ever in a dark wool coat and a long, warm-colored scarf neatly tucked into place. Beside him was a woman with a kind smile; her arm looped casually through his. She gasped and smiled.

"Itadori-kun.” Kento greeted, raising a brow at the flustered expression on Yuuji’s face. “What are you doing out here?”

“I, uh...” Yuuji scratched the back of his head. “I’m trying to find a Christmas gift for someone. It’s... really important.”

Kento’s wife tilted her head curiously. “You look a little lost, Itadori-kun. Need some help with it?”

Yuuji hesitated, then let out a sheepish laugh. “Honestly? Yeah. I’ve been wandering for hours... Well, for a long while now. And I still don’t know what to get. I mean, I got the letter and everything and my love for them. I think that’s the most important part, but the other part of it is just...”

Kento glanced at his wife, who smiled warmly and squeezed his arm. “Well, lucky for you, I’m a bit of a pro at picking out thoughtful gifts, aren’t I, Kento?” She said to him. “Why don’t we take a look together, Itadori-kun?”

Before Yuuji could protest, she guided him into the next store, her pace brisk yet purposeful. Nanami Kento merely followed a few steps behind, his expression as composed as ever, though Yuuji could swear there was a flicker of amusement in his mentor’s caramel eyes.

“So, Itadori-kun.” Kento’s wife began, glancing at Yuuji as they entered a cozy boutique lined with handmade crafts and ornaments. "Can you tell me a little about your partner? What do they like?”

Yuuji scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling shy. “Well, they love warm drinks, like tea and hot chocolate, especially on cold days like this. They always get this little smile when they’re holding a warm mug.”

Kento’s wife smiled. “That’s a lovely detail. What else?”

“They’re really passionate about their hobbies, a lot really!" Yuuji continued, his voice softening as he thought of you. “When they talk about something they love, their eyes just... light up. It’s amazing. I could listen to them for hours.”

She chuckled, picking up a small handcrafted snow globe from a nearby shelf. “Sounds like you’re pretty smitten, Yuuji.”

Yuuji’s face turned bright red at her comment. “I mean... Yeah.” he admitted, scratching his cheek. “They’re just... really special, you know? Like, every moment with them feels like a gift.”

Nanami Kento, who had been quietly observing, cleared his throat. “Itadori-kun, while that’s touching, perhaps you could focus on specifics. What’s something they’ve mentioned recently? Something they’ve wanted or admired?”

Yuuji paused, thinking hard. Then his warm eyes lit up. “Oh! They mentioned this charm they saw once—something small but meaningful. They said it reminded them of their family. I didn’t think of it until now.”

Kento’s wife clapped her hands together. “Perfect! Let’s see if we can find something like that.”

As they moved through the store, Itadori Yuuji rambled on, describing your quirks and favorite things with so much enthusiasm that even Nanami Kento seemed amused. The kid is passionate about a lot of things; he’d observed that in the time Yuuji and him had spent time together. 

But at this level? Never. He’s not seen that at all. But perhaps Kento could find himself relating to the younger man. He too is a man in love who can't help but be frantic when it comes to his own lover. And he too is the type of man who would never shut up about the person he loves. 

“They always hum when they’re concentrating. They do that really well too!"Yuuji said, smiling fondly. “But to be honest, Nanamin, it’s the cutest thing. And they’re amazing at turning little moments into something fun, like making a random walk feel like an adventure.”

“You really adore them, don’t you?"Kento's wife asked him, her tone full of teasing.

“I do. I really do,” Yuuji replied earnestly, his expression softening. “I just want to make them as happy as they make me.”

Kento’s wife exchanged a glance with her husband, who gave her a subtle nod. “Well, Itadori-kun, with that much love behind it, whatever you choose will be perfect.”

A moment later, Yuuji’s bright-eyed gaze landed on a beautifully decorated charm tucked away on one of the displays at the corner. It was simple, delicate, and intricately designed—a perfect match for the one you’d described.

“This is it! I think this is it!" Yuuji said, picking it up carefully. His grin grew wider as he imagined your reaction. “I think they’ll love it. I just know it.”

Kento’s wife smiled approvingly. “You did great, Itadori-kun. And now you can relax knowing it’s exactly what they’d want.”

Kento gave a faint smirk at the young man. “Next time, save yourself the trouble and ask them directly, Itadori-kun." It might save you hours of pacing through stores.”

Yuuji laughed, clutching the charm in his hand. “I’ll keep that in mind, Nanamin. Thanks for the help, both of you. I appreciate it. Really.”

Kento’s wife waved off his gratitude with a smile. “It’s nothing, Itadori-kun! You already knew what you wanted, you know? You just needed a little nudge.”

As they walked out of the shop together, they parted ways soon after that. Itadori Yuuji clutched the carefully wrapped gift in his hands, his heart lighter than it had been in days. This wasn’t just a present. It was a piece of his love for you, wrapped in meaning and chosen with care. And he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you opened it.

When Christmas Day arrived, it was just too much. Itadori Yuuji was a bundle of nerves. He paced his room, the gift and letter sitting neatly on his desk. His stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. He practiced what he would say, only to stumble over his words each time.

“What if they don’t like it?” He muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. “What if it’s not enough?”

But all of Yuuji’s doubts melted away the moment you walked in. The door jingled as you stepped inside his dorms, shaking off the chill of the winter air, and the world seemed to slow. He felt like he couldn't breathe. You knocked his air away from his lungs with just your existence. You always have.

You looked effortlessly beautiful to him, even in the simple warmth of your coat and scarf. But it wasn’t just the way you looked—no, it was your presence. That radiant smile of yours, so wondrously bright and delightful. The one that always made his heart skip a beat spread across your face as soon as your eyes landed on him.

“Yuu-chan!” You exclaimed, your voice soft but bright, sending a flutter straight to his chest. You closed the distance between you in a few quick steps, your eyes lighting up with happiness. “I missed you, wah! I’m glad you’re back!”

Yuuji froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the sight of you. He had spent days thinking about this moment, stressing over the gift, over making everything just right—but now that you were standing in front of him, all of that seemed insignificant. The only thing that mattered was you.

“I, uh, got you something, baby.” Yuuji stammered, feeling the warmth flood his cheeks. His hands, which had been shaking since he first picked up the gift, now trembled even more as he extended the small package toward you. “It’s not much, but... It’s from the heart.”

You looked down at the little box in his hands, then back up at him with a soft, knowing smile. "Yuu-chan, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, trying to steady his breath. “But  you know that I just….I wanted to. You’re... really important to me, you know? And I just wanted to show you how much I care. That I... I want to express my love for you like this.”

Your heart warmed at his words. You reached forward, gently taking the package from his trembling hands. You couldn’t help but feel like you were going to combust with how much warmth radiated in you because of his tenderness. 

Everything about your lover made you feel like the world isn’t a cold place. He was everything that made life so good. You were convinced of that. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was so nervous yet so full of love. It made you feel more cherished than any grand gesture ever could.

You carefully unwrapped the gift, the anticipation in Yuuji’s bright eyes palpable as you slowly revealed what was inside. The beautiful and yet simple charm, delicately designed and elegant in its simplicity, lay nestled in the box.

You gasped softly, your fingers tracing the intricate design. It was everything Yuuji had described and more. It wasn’t flashy, but it held such deep meaning. You didn’t want it to be flashy. You just wanted it to be from him, from his heart. You felt the weight of his love in it and the thoughtfulness behind every detail.

And boy, did it deliver. He always does. Your lover boy always will. 

“There’s a letter inside for you, Read it later, okay? If you want—"

“Yuu–chan!” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

His face turned a shade of pink so deep it was almost red, and he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Really? You like it?”

You nodded, eyes glistening. “I love it. I love you.”

Yuuji’s heart skipped a beat, and he could hardly contain the goofy grin that spread across his face. It wasn’t about the gift. Though he was surely sure that he was happy you liked it anyway. But of course, this was more important.  

It was about the way you looked at him that made him feel whole and giddy all over again. The way your smile made his chest feel light, the way your love seemed to wrap around him, as real and as warm as the scarf you wore.

“I love you too.” He whispered in a relieved and yet so loving tone. “So much.”

“You’re the best, Yuu-chan!” You said, stepping forward to hug him, the gift still clutched in your hand. His arms instantly wrapped around you, and he buried his face in your hair, breathing you in. “I love it! I love you! Ah, I’m just so happy!”

“I’m just glad you like it, baby.” he mumbled, the words muffled in your hair, but you could hear the relief and joy in his voice. “I was really worried it wouldn’t be enough.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. "Yuu-chan, you don’t need to worry about that. It’s perfect because it’s from you. And that’s all that matters.”

He gazed down at you, the love in his eyes overwhelming. “I... I just want to make you happy. That’s all I ever want.”

And in that moment, as you stood there together, the soft glow of his dorm lights casting a gentle shimmer through the window, Itadori Yuuji realized something that took his breath away. He had already given you the best gift of all, his heart. 

All the shopping, all the wrapping, the hours of nervous pacing. All of that. they suddenly seemed so trivial compared to this: the simple, unspoken exchange of love that had passed between the two of you. This was more than enough for him. This was his paradise. This was his Christmas miracle. 

His chest swelled with warmth, and he looked down at you with a soft smile, his heart racing just as fast as it had the moment he first met you. No amount of material things, no matter how perfect, could ever compare to the way you made him feel. You were his everything.

Before he could say another word, you stood on your tiptoes, your hands gently cupping his face, and kissed his cheek. The touch was sweet, soft, and full of affection. Yuuji’s warm eyes widened in surprise, the blush creeping up his neck as he felt the warmth of your lips against his skin.

“You’ve done that and more, Yuu-chan! ”You whispered, your voice a little breathless with affection. “Don’t worry!”

His heart fluttered. He felt like he might melt right where he stood. His hands, which had been trembling when he gave you the gift, were now steady as they gently brushed a lock of hair from your face. The tenderness in your words, the way you made him feel so cherished and understood, filled him with a joy that no gift could capture.

“You really think so, baby?”He asked softly, a shy grin pulling at his lips.

“Of course I do,” you replied, smiling up at him with those sparkling eyes of yours. “You’re all I ever need, Yuu-chan.”

The sincerity in your voice made his heart swell, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. The world outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, quiet moment.

“I’m so lucky to have you, baby.” Yuuji whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m never letting you go.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a tight hug. “You don’t have to, Yuuji. I’m not going anywhere.”

He chuckled, his arms instinctively wrapping around you in return, pulling you even closer. “Good. Because I think I’d be lost without you.”

“Merry Christmas, Yuu-chan.” You smiled at him.

He grinned at you, taking to embracing you. “Merry Christmas, baby!"

[theereboseffect]

art vs artist 2024!

i used sooo much blue and yellow this year, maybe next year ill branch out to more colours but i cant help that blue and yellow are just the best colours for drawing.

here are my favourite works for each month of 2024!

january:

I used colour layer modes instead of colouring 'organically', but this was the first time I made a drawing in full colour and actually really liked it. this was before i started painting colours directly into my drawings but its a great effort and i learned a lot about colour layer modes here!

february:

didn't make much great art this month but this sketch scratches my brain correctly. the contrast the hatching the lighting!!!! this was where i started being obsessed with the different forms you can manage to portray with just a little rimlight

march:

possibly one of my favourites of the WHOLE YEAR. Inspired by Andrew Salgado's work, I'm a huge fan of his stuff. In this I learned that colours are literally stupid and if you don't care about logic, you can actually make something very distinctive and somewhat abstract work. Kick-started my whole journey to learning colours so this was probably one of my most important pieces i've ever made

April:

again, not much good art but this is nice I guess. drew this for the anniversary of senna's death, i like the polaroidy feel

may:

I LOVE my may era. Most of everything was done with this oil painter brush I found and it just went very painterly and kinda abstract with strokes and colours, was a month of experimentation for sure

june:

I didn't like this very much when I made it originally, but looking back I love the kinda creaminess of this piece. I haven't really been able to recreate that effect so far though, so this one stands out to me for sure

july:

Not a fantastic art month for me, but I was experimenting with textures in this piece and learned a lot of what I SHOULDN'T do. Very useful

August

I made this piece because I hadn't spotted any other lesteban enjoyers in the wild. Idk the colours in this just came out very easily which is always enjoyable

September:

GRAHHHB the colours in this have me in a CHOKEHOLD the DESATURATED BLUE SHADOWS and PINK CHEEKS!!! This definitely isn't my best of the month but it BRINGS ME A LOT OF JOY OKAY I suddenly turned into an Esteban superfan in theast fiveish months of the year. so dumb that like one of my favourite pieces ever was a shitpost

November:

the textures the eyelash shadow. PERIODD!! the first of my f1 x gladiator series, i just love this a lot even if it doesn't look like max

december:

one of the best of my whole year tbh. Like the final boss where you use all the stuff you learned throughout your journey. The jewellery okay divaaa

okay very long post but i hope you guys like it!! thank you everyone for the support i've received this year you guys are the best

[whyisthereacentaur]

update: I finally got my consultation with the specialist service

I have CFS/ME for real

~~~~~

(thanks @idrawtooslow for the reminder that I posted about this)

This is far less exciting a conclusion than promised, because now I’ve just got to… keep going, with the knowledge that I’m going to be constantly hoping for a “good” day to come, and those “good” days are likely going to continue to mean me at only about 50% of my previous functionality.

The bad days, as best I can describe in terms of my previous experiences, are like the full-body blaring fatigue that hits the day after pulling an all-nighter, combined with the “oh I’m definitely sick, huh” achy feelings of the first day a virus really takes hold.

The brain fog that descends on those days leaves me with a level of executive dysfunction that would be comedic if it wasn’t so terrifying. A mind that used to be able to bring together complex ideas and retain masses of legal and medical knowledge flails uselessly to remember how to string a sentence together. I have to take multiple attempts to verbally communicate something as simple as “put your shoes on so we can go to school”. It’s so mentally straining that it becomes physically exhausting.

Then there are the other physical challenges. Legs that used to run 10 miles, just because I had spare time to do that, burn and threaten to collapse after a short walk, even several hours later. The dizziness that comes on at unpredictable times when I stand up, bend down, or even just when standing still.

I can just about push myself through the absolute basic needs of those bad days.

Because I’m me, the basic needs referred to are usually other people’s rather than my own, and also because I’m me, I will always try to do some more beyond the actual basics of what they need, expending the last of my emergency battery reserves and really scuppering my chances of having anything left for self-care.

[daffodils-and-viscera]

can we talk about stolas and octavia and antidepressants for a second

as someone with a lot of experience taking antidepressants and dealing with family members who Do Not Understand how depression works, it really struck me how octavia deals with discovering that stolas has been taking antidepressants.

presumably, he has been taking these for a VERY long time and based on the evidence in this episode, nobody in his life knew about it- clearly not blitzø or octavia, at least.

i don't see stolas as someone who has been to therapy - this reads to me very much like someone who saw "happy pills" and decided to self-medicate because he thought they would fix him, not as someone who was prescribed a medication and a dose to take (we've seen him downing handfuls of these pills on several occasions in past episodes)

octavia is (understandably) unsettled when she finds this giant box of pills, and despite all her complicated feelings for her father she IMMEDIATELY goes to find him to bring him his pills

octavia is smart!! yes she is pissed off at her dad and this implies that she could have gone to see him at any time when he was calling her, but this discovery kind of goes beyond any argument- no matter how she feels, she ultimately doesn't want stolas to suffer

then we get the big fight scene, which ends with the devastating argument between octavia and stolas where she says "was this my fault that you needed these?"

i adore the amount of nuance in their interaction here for so many reasons, but specifically this vein of "i love you but clearly you don't love me or else you wouldn't be depressed" hits very close to home for me and i love the way it's shown as messy and neither stolas nor octavia really understand the way their words are hurting one another

so it kind of breaks my heart that she closes herself off to him but leaves him with this bottle of happy pills because he does need them. and she knows it, and she cares enough to want him to be happy.

she just doesn't think that happiness includes her, because in her mind she's nothing more than an obligation to him.

ugh the day these two reunite i will be reduced to a pile of mush i just love how complex their relationship is it's so tasty

[little-jana]

"Good Girl"

Pairing: postprison!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: steamy, 18+, fluff, no smut

Warnings: kissing, Spencer calling reader a good girl

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Spencer giving Reader a lot of compliments and one of them makes her blush a lot.

Spencer had been different since prison. Not entirely in ways the team would notice—he still rattled off statistics, quoted obscure literature, and beat everyone at chess. But when you’d known someone as deeply as I knew Spencer, even subtle shifts felt monumental. He was sharper now, his edges honed by experiences no one should have endured. But when it was just the two of us, in those quiet, stolen moments, he softened.

That’s why I stayed by his side tonight instead of joining the team for drinks. Spencer had waved off the invitation, saying he needed a quiet night, and when I hesitated to leave him alone, he’d asked me to stay. It wasn’t much—a shared meal and a chess game in his small apartment—but to me, it felt like everything.

“I can’t tell if you’re planning your next move or plotting my demise,” Spencer said, leaning back in his chair as he watched me.

“I can do both,” I said lightly, though the truth was, I’d been staring at the board for so long because I had no idea what to do.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m thinking,” I corrected.

“You’ve been ‘thinking’ for six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

“Are you timing me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I glanced at the clock when you stopped moving your hand after your last turn.”

“Of course you did,” I muttered, my eyes flicking back to the board. “Not all of us have an IQ of 187, you know.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The soft light from the lamp behind him highlighted the sharp planes of his face, and for a second, I forgot what we were talking about.

“You’re better than you think,” he said, his voice low.

“Better at chess, or better in general?” I quipped, trying to deflect the heat rising in my cheeks.

Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied me, his hazel eyes unblinking and intent.

“Both,” he said simply.

My heart skipped a beat, but I forced myself to focus. This was just Spencer being Spencer—kind and honest to a fault. It didn’t mean anything. Not really.

Finally, I made a move, sliding my bishop into place. I looked up at him triumphantly. “Your turn, genius.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to the board, and he moved his queen with a casual grace that made my stomach sink. “Checkmate,” he said softly.

“What?” I leaned forward, scanning the board. He was right. Of course he was right.

“How?” I groaned, sitting back in my chair. “I was so careful!”

“That was a good game,” he said, his tone genuine. “You lasted longer than usual.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Your defense has improved. That last move was smart.”

“Then how did I still lose?”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Because I’ve been playing chess since I was four, and you’ve only been playing for—”

“Three months,” I finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said, his smile widening. “But you’re learning fast. Good girl.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to fiddle with the edge of the table.

“Something wrong?” Spencer asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said quickly, my voice higher than usual. “I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing,” he observed, tilting his head.

“I’m not,” I lied, even though I could feel the heat spreading down my neck.

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I said weakly, avoiding his gaze.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his tone teasing now.

Desperate to change the subject, I stood and grabbed the empty takeout containers from the coffee table. “I’m going to clean this up.”

Spencer followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I tossed the containers into the trash. His presence was a tangible thing, and I could feel his eyes on me as I wiped down the counter.

“Good,” he said softly.

I turned to face him, confused. “Good what?”

“Good technique,” he said, nodding toward the counter.

My cheeks flamed again. “Are you just saying that to mess with me?”

“No,” he said, his expression softening. “I mean it. You’re good at a lot of things, but you never give yourself credit.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “I think you’re overestimating me,” I said quietly.

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “You’re smart, capable, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You’re… amazing.”

My breath caught in my throat. The sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

“Spencer…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against mine. The touch was so gentle, so careful, it made my chest ache. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

I shook my head slightly. “It’s not that… I just don’t see myself the way you do.”

His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “You should. Because I’m not wrong.”

The silence between us stretched, thick with unspoken words. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something, and for once, I wasn’t afraid to fall.

“You’re doing it again,” he said softly.

“Doing what?”

“Doubting yourself,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet kind of sadness.

I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped me.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You just don’t know it yet.”

My cheeks burned, and I looked down, unable to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” I whispered, though the words felt hollow.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to.”

Before I could overthink it, I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us. “Spencer…”

“Yes?”

I hesitated, my heart hammering in my chest. But then his eyes softened, and I knew. I knew he would catch me if I fell.

“I want to kiss you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

Spencer's lips curved into a small, surprised smile. “You do?”

I nodded, my cheeks flaming. “Is that… okay?”

His eyes softened, a mixture of surprise and something deeper—something that made my heart race. “It’s more than okay,” he said quietly.

I barely had time to process his words before his hand cupped my cheek, his fingers feather-light against my skin. He was so close now, his breath warm against my lips. For a moment, we just stood there, suspended in time.

And then he kissed me.

The world fell away.

It started soft, tentative—like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too quickly. His lips brushed against mine once, twice, each touch careful and reverent. It was everything I hadn’t dared to hope for: tender, consuming, perfect.

But then I leaned in, my fingers clutching at the front of his cardigan, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, and Spencer’s hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His other hand rested lightly on my waist, steadying me as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.

The softness gave way to something bolder, more urgent. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that left me breathless, and I couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped me. Spencer stilled for a fraction of a second, as if startled by the sound, but then his grip tightened ever so slightly, and I was lost all over again.

He tasted like peppermint tea and something uniquely Spencer, and I never wanted it to end.

When we finally pulled apart, I was dizzy, my head spinning in the best way possible. Spencer rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“That was…” He trailed off, his voice unsteady.

“Amazing,” I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and intimate in the quiet of his apartment. “Yeah. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—it was from the way he was looking at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Really?” I asked, my heart swelling at the thought.

He nodded, a small, shy smile playing at his lips. “But I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Spencer,” I said, shaking my head with a soft laugh. “How could I not? You’re… you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to puzzle out my words. “I’m not always good at recognizing when people care about me,” he said quietly.

“Well, I care,” I said firmly, my hand still clutching the front of his cardigan. “A lot.”

He smiled then, a real, unguarded smile that made my chest ache in the best way. “I care about you too,” he said softly.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken promises, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

Spencer’s hand slid from my waist to my hand, his fingers curling around mine. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I looked away, flustered. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he said, tugging me closer. “You’re smart, kind, and strong. And you’re a good girl.”

There it was again, the phrase that sent my heart into overdrive. My cheeks burned, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the shy smile threatening to break free.

“You really like saying that, don’t you?” I teased, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

“Only because it’s true,” he said, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at me—I couldn’t take it. I hid my face in his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his cardigan.

“You’re impossible,” I mumbled against him, though my tone lacked any real heat.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he replied, his voice filled with gentle amusement.

I tilted my head up to look at him, narrowing my eyes in mock indignation. “You’re lucky I like you.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”

---

After we settled onto the couch, Spencer pulled a blanket over us, his arm draped around my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest. The quiet hum of the world outside seemed so far away, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Spencer?” I asked softly, my voice breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“This is real, right?” I tilted my head to look up at him, my eyes searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

He glanced down at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Of course it’s real. Why would you think it’s not?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing. “It just feels… too good to be true.”

Spencer’s hand came up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek. “It’s real,” he said firmly. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away, focusing instead on the warmth in his gaze. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to my forehead.

And in that moment, with his arms around me and his words echoing in my heart, I believed him.

[unpopularly-opinionated]

Almost every week, for the last maybe 2-2 1/2 years or so, I (27) have been going out to different bars with the same group of people, all of whom are at least twice my age or more and I honestly couldn’t recommend it more for younger people.

I mean to get the bad aspects out of the way upfront, I did (and sometimes still do) have a minor insecurity about being the “annoying child of someone in the group that everyone has to pretend to tolerate”. My stepdad is the one who initiated the hangouts originally, and I initially was just tagging along for free food and booze. No one’s ever done anything to make me feel that way mind you, they are always SUPER accommodating, almost too much sometimes. Sometimes they’ll straight up change topics if they’ve noticed I checked out because I wasn’t interested in what they were talking about. It’s just my own irrational insecurity that crops up from time to time. I also struggle sometimes with explaining this friendship to other people, often referring to them as “my stepdad’s friends” even though we’ve been out together so many times that I could and should very reasonably consider them my friends too. Again, this is a me thing, nothing against them.

We started out doing it with a purpose, we were doing bar trivia every week and having a blast. But over time, we grew kinda bored of the trivia, the format kinda changed, and it started pretty late into the evening, and we ultimately just realized that we actually were just cool hanging out and chatting without needing to have an excuse to be there.

But being the youngest among them, I just find them very interesting to talk to. They’re always talking about their jobs, the good, the bad, and the ugly of them all. Most of them are managers of several people, and they’re the type of managers who care more about their employees than the businesses, so I always feel like I’m hearing a fair assessment of whether an employee is being completely insane, or if the company is screwing them over somehow, or what not. And just how the working world works from their perspective. Not to mention how they got to where they’re at. One went to college and has a masters, one went to college but dropped out and taught himself to code, another just worked his way up from the bottom to the top (yes, they all work in the tech industry lol).

This isn’t even mentioning the fact that my grandfather is there with us as well, and he’s retired now but he had been an electrician for 60+ years prior, and being the oldest of our group, he has like a whole extra generation’s worth of experience to add to the mix too. It’s really great because it kind of adds that extra layer that makes me feel more comfortable in the group (like yeah, I’m the clueless youth compared to most of these guys, but they’re all youths to him too).

I can’t really explain it too well, but I feel like I just absorb life experience by hanging out with this group of people. It’s not all just work talk either, they talk about their personal hobbies, trips they’ve been on or are going on, their kids, food, alcohol, sports, politics, lots of politics, social media nonsense, etc. No one ever gets worked up over things, even when talking politics.

TL;DR: I recommend befriending people much older than yourself. It’s not creepy or weird, and you could learn a lot, even if you might not think so. Just sitting there and absorbing it all I think would benefit a lot of younger people.

I need you people to realize that you can be friends with people older than you. like, much older than you. like, decades older than you. you can be friends with these people. regular friends, just like anyone your age. it is possible.

[drunkinyourbenz]

can you do a billie with reader who has her period and it feels like literal hell please?

୨ৎ whatever you need. b.e

୨ৎ billie eilish x fem!reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff

୨ৎ content: period cramps (obviously), overwhelmed reader, established relationship, this is soooo fluffy and billie's big on physical affection!!

୨ৎ note: anon baby u read my mind my period started today and ugh it’s literal hell so writing this came sooo naturally to me because this is exactly what i need rn (cried while writing this i'm so so emotional) i tried very hard not to make it super specific to my experiences so this is basically my morning minus my specific symptoms and plus billie!! i hope this brings u some much needed comfort baby, we're in this together <3

when you woke up, the sun was barely even peeking through the curtains, and your room was still bathed in darkness. you reached for your phone, groaning at the bright screen and rubbing your bleary eyes. two am, that’s what your phone read. that’s when it hit you, the sharp pain in your lower abdomen, a pain so intense you had no idea how you hadn’t noticed it straight away. you groaned, rolling over in bed and burying your head in your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut. your nails dug into your palms, anything to distract you from the constant excruciating pain you were feeling. 

after about half an hour, you dragged yourself out of bed. you trudged into the kitchen, where you ate half a mandarin before taking some pain medication. the meds didn’t tend to work, but you’d do anything to think you were making it better. you managed to force yourself to take a quick shower, just to freshen up. after the shower, you got changed into one of billie’s oversized t-shirts and some shorts, and you collapsed back into your bed. you were well aware that you should get yourself a heating pad, but you didn’t have the energy. 

after about half an hour of laying there with your legs hugged halfway to your chest, begging for the cramps to just disappear magically, you remembered something. today was a day where billie had a big surprise date planned out for you, and you really didn’t want to be a buzzkill, but… 

you grabbed your phone again, going straight to billie’s contact. you typed out a few messages, deleting them over and over again, before finally settling on one. 

hi baby, i’m so sorry i don’t think i can make our date 

it didn’t take long for billie to respond, and just over a minute later, you had a new text from her. there was no disappointment or frustration in the message, just concern.

bils: you okay angel? it’s 3am?

you stared at the text for a moment before responding simply.

eh, cramps. 

that time, her response was instant. you could picture the concerned expression on her face, and you were hit with a wave of adoration for her. she just cared so much. 

bils: aw baby, i’m coming over rn, okay??

no bils it’s 3am you don’t have to don’t wanna be a bother 

bils: please, u could never bother me bils: i’m coming over, end of story

you pouted softly, overwhelmed with love for her. 

i love you

bils: i love you more bils: anything you need me to bring?

just you and maggie’s baking if u have any

bils: ofc ofc i’m omw mama

before you knew it, billie had gotten to your place. you heard your front door open, she had a spare key that she used once in a while in situations like this or when you weren’t home. you heard her soft footsteps approaching your room, and soon enough your door opened and she walked in. she had on some sweatpants and a baggy hoodie, and a bag in her hands. 

“hi, angel.” she walked up to your bed, leaning down and kissing your forehead. her voice was soft and soothing, and you were reminded then that you could literally just listen to her talk for hours on end.

you opened your mouth to speak, but she continued talking before you could. “i brought some of mum’s cookies, you can have as many as you want. anything you need? can i get you a heating pad or some tea? what about pain meds?”

in reality, all you wanted was to curl up in bed to her and cling to her like she was your lifeline, but you knew that a heating pad would be the wise decision. so you nodded, “i’ve taken my pain meds, but a heating pad would be nice…”

billie quickly left the room and grabbed you a heating pad, passing it to you so you could put it wherever was most comfortable. she looked like she was about to ask what else you needed, so you bet her to it. you opened your arms up, holding them out for her and pouting up at her from the bed. a smile spread across her lips, and she didn’t waste time climbing under the covers with you and wrapping her arms around you. her fingers found your hair, and she let them gently brush through it. 

your head nuzzled into the crook of billie’s neck as you closed your eyes, fiddling with the edge of her hoodie to try and distract yourself from the pain. you could feel her eyes on you, and after a long moment, you lifted your head from where you’d hidden it. “i’m sorry ‘bout our date. i know you planned it all out.” your voice came out in a mumble, muffled against billie’s shoulder. 

she kept stroking your hair softly, “don’t apologise, baby. it’s totally out of your control. plus, there’ll be other days we can reschedule it to. i’d rather you be at home and comfortable.” she paused to press a kiss to the top of your head. “i love you, and i’d go wherever you asked, even at 3am. you’re not burdening me with anything, i promise.” 

you could already feel yourself getting overwhelmed with emotions at her sweet words, another thing that your period often caused. you groaned softly, burying your head back into the crook of her neck. “shut up, i’ll cry if you keep being so cute.”

billie just giggled, pressing another kiss to the top of your head, then your forehead, then your nose. “love youuu!” she said in a singsong voice, clearly trying to distract you from the fact that the date couldn’t go ahead. 

you knew that she was trying to take your mind off it, and you didn’t mind. it was reassuring that she was happy just to be there with you. the two of you spent a while just cuddled up together, when another wave of cramps hit. your cramps were constant, but some definitely worse than others. you groaned under your breath, your grip subconsciously tightening on the hem of billie’s hoodie.

she looked down at you, asking again with that ever so soothing voice. “need anything, angel?” 

you simply hummed, trying your best not to just double over in pain and not speak for the rest of the day. after a moment, you mumbled, “herbal tea? and maggie’s cookies?” 

billie leaned down and kissed your forehead, “at your service.” 

she spoke with a small playful grin on her face, and slipped out of the bed. she returned a few minutes later, a mug of lavender tea in her hands and a plate of maggie’s cookies. after placing those on your bedside table, she reached for her bag, pulling out another hoodie. it was one of the ones she wore most, and therefore also one of the ones that you wore most. you were the hoodie thief of the relationship, and billie certainly didn’t mind—if anything, she encouraged it. 

she slipped the hoodie over your head, and you let out a sigh when her smell enveloped you. it smelt like a mix of her perfume and that one moisturiser she used every single day and loved more than life itself. you hummed in satisfaction, “this one’s my favourite.”

billie chuckled, slipping your arms into the hoodie. “trust me, i’m well aware.”

she held the mug of tea up to your lips so you could take a sip, and she felt her heart warm at the small smile that spread across your lips. 

soon, billie slipped back into bed with you. the cramps were still tearing you apart from the inside and you still felt like absolute hell, but at least she was there with you—that made it a tiny bit better. 

the next half hour passed in a comfortable silence, the only movements being billie giving you a gentle kiss or stroking your hair. it didn’t take long, however, for a thought that you had pushed from your frustrated mind to return. it lingered there, clawing at your brain until you finally spoke. 

“i hate that this happened so close to christmas. i still have presents to wrap. i had so much i needed to do, and now i’m just–” 

“i can wrap your presents.” billie’s calming voice cut through the mess of thoughts in your brain, and you fell silent—only for a moment, though. 

“but–” 

“shhh, baby. no buts. i’ll wrap any presents that aren’t for me. i want to help you, yeah?” 

a pout made it’s way to your lips, “you’re too good to me. i can wrap maggie’s and—” 

“angel, i’m not going to tell my family what you got them. just let me help you, yeah?” 

after a long pause, you relented. “...yeah. thank you.” billie smiled, kissing your forehead once again and squeezing your hand. “It’s nothing. i’ll stay with you today: wrap your presents, make a nice warm dinner, run you a bath, and cuddle you to sleep.” 

at that, your heart practically melted. you weren’t sure if it was the period making you extra emotional or just the love you held in your heart for her. you were so full of adoration for this girl, you had no idea how she managed to be so completely and utterly perfect. she knew you like the back of her hand, she knew just how to make your day better, she knew just how to bring that smile to your face. sometimes you swore she knew you better than you knew yourself. 

you spoke again, your voice soft. “what did i ever do to deserve someone as perfect as you?” 

billie smiled and kissed your forehead again. “you deserve all the good things in the world, my beautiful girl. i’m just lucky to be one of them.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could we please have a batboys (and Bruce) x reader who can break the 4th wall?

This was rubbish.

Dick

Would rest his head on your shoulder and ask. ‘Who are you talking to sweetheart?’

He genuinely wants to know considering the first thing he heard was you talking back his beautiful back and perfect thighs, only to find that you were saying all this to no one in particular.

‘Oh just the lovely people reading this.’ You tell him happily and Dick would only see the walls of your shared room.

‘And what are they saying?’ Dick would then say.

‘Oh I can’t hear them, nor can I really see them exactly but I just have this feeling that we are being watched -or read in this case- by many people, I can sense them and i want them to feel included in my love life with the most beautiful man Gotham has to offer.’ You tell him as you kiss him on the cheek, making him smile.

‘Well as long as they know that I am taken by you, then we’ll be okay.’ Dick replied as he kissed your forehead sweetly. Dick at first though you were just the type to talk to yourself like some people, but seeing as how it seemed as though you were more or less addressing someone rather then just talking to yourself, Dick then assumed that you might have an ability that allows you to look past this reality and into another one entirely that might be looking into this one.

It was a scary thought to think that he was being watched ,or read as you put it, by another reality but it was intriguing nonetheless the less that there was a possibility of multiple dimensions. So he could only imagine what you were able to experience if you were able to see beyond this reality to address people who probably saw him in a different form entirely.

If anything he’s extremely curious as to how your ability worked exactly as it was something that was clearly unheard of. Somedays you would address the audience as per usual but other times you didn’t address them at all, almost as though you knew where and when they’ll pay attention to you both: all so that you could entertain them for as long as possible without it coming across as excessive or too long winded.

He would try to act like he could see them too as to not have you feeling so alone, but would get flustered when you tell him that he was looking the wrong way.

He’ll leave the fourth wall breaking to you instead and will be nosy and ask all sorts of questions about your ability, all before saying that your powers was the most coolest he’s come across, but you knew he was only saying that because you were his beloved partner but that didn’t make what he said any less true.

Jason

Would raise a brow at first but would keep this tendency to himself out of a need to protect you from those who’d gladly send you away for such tendency.

Jason isn’t phased by much but you talking to a wall as though someone was there brought a weird feeling to his chest.

‘His thighs? Perfect. His stomach and autopsy scars? Delicious. Arms, hands and back? Gorgeous but all of you at home are already aware of that and could only imagine how plush his tits are-‘

‘Who are you talking to chipmunk?’ He’d ask, cutting you off as he expected you to be on the phone to someone, so imagine to his surprise when he saw your phone on charge and you were in fact talking to thin air.

‘Just the people thirsting after you.’ You’d reply as though it was common sense.

‘Thirsting?’ Jason tried the word, not liking how it sounded coming from his mouth. ‘What’s that?’

‘Just think of it as another word for desire, but they can’t have you because in their reality you’re a fictional character who gets the short end of the stick constantly by people who don’t know what to do with you in general.’ You shrugged as you looked over at him with a smile. ‘Also you get stereotyped as someone you’re not by people who obviously lack a capacity for reading given how short their attention span is.’ The last part was muttered under your breath before bringing the conversation back to him.

‘Enough about me how about you honey?’

It wasn’t the first time you’ve done this and Jason knew it wouldn’t be the last either as he would find you passionately ranting to your invisible audience about something, and while it was cute to watch you be this passionate, he also became concerned for you in case you were going through something that you didn’t want to burden him with out of a need to protect yourself.

‘You can tell me if you’re going through something you know that right?’ He’d tell you one night as he holds your face in his hands.

‘Of course I do jaybird,’ you whispered to him before watching him as he fell asleep, only to move your head elsewhere to speak to the wall. ‘Isn’t he the cutest? Truly a man unlike any other, a dying breed if you will, but I can assure you dear readers that you too will find your Jason Todd because that’s what you all deserve in life is to be loved deeply by an non-judgmental and caring man.’ You fished before joining him in your sleep.

Tim

He thinks your maladaptive daydreaming.

What else was he meant to take away from you talking to seemingly no one so passionately as you did in that moment.

He didn’t want to say that you were insane but it wasn’t everyday where a sane person would idly make conversation with thin air or a brick wall as casually as you did.

That or you were extremely lacking in sleep and were now seeing things, if that was the case then he would be able to relate to you as he had those types of days also, more often then others that’s for sure but from what Tim could tell was far from the truth as you looked bright and too well rested for that to be the answer.

And honestly? He doesn’t want to know who exactly you were talking to as not to frighting himself shitless and would act as though you talking to a crowd of no one within your shared room was completely normal in Gotham.

God forbid you start talking to this unseen audience during the night, Tim will think he’s in some sort of horror movie that he was forced to watch with the rest of his family on Halloween. Seriously who knew fourth wall breaking could come across as though you were demonically possessed?

He wants to ask who you’re talking to, he really does but if he was running low on fumes that day, really tired and wanting nothing more then sleep he would forgo all logic and just agree with what you were saying to thin air.

‘I wish I could tell you just how mean Tim can be when he’s sleep deprived, you think you know sarcasm? Wait until Tim is on about two hours of sleep and then you’ll know true sarcasm.’ You’d say.

‘Says the one who’s talking to the wall as though it had ears to listen or a mouth to respond.’ He’d replied.

‘See what Im on about? Absolutely mean when he’s sleep deprived.’ He would hear you whisper aloud but he was on the verge of falling asleep against the table to find out the true reason to your uncanny ability to break the fourth wall.

Damian

Genuinely thought something was off with how often you would look off into the distance, as though you were addressing someone he couldn’t see, like a hidden camera that lead to an unseen audience.

‘Isn’t he the cutest when he’s acting all tough,’ he’d her you say, ‘it’s like if you give a rabid chihuahua a knife but ten times worse because he can actually back up his deeply descriptive threats.’ Damian’s brow would raise at this as he watched you silently as his mind wondered who you could possibly be entertaining with such things.

Gotham has an ability to make the most strong minded person break and needles to say Damian would keep silent watch over you while you had these kinds of episodes, even when you would proudly praise his artistic skills but never to him directly, but more so to seemingly thin air with a beaming smile.

‘He’s got a future as many things and in all honestly I’m envious of how multitalented my Dami is, but at least I get to be his hype man and cheer for him no matter what, which is something I bet half of you which you could have but here I am loving your fantasy!’ You’d finish with a cackle and it left Damian smiling to himself at your pride towards him, but also still very curious as to who it was you were talking to.

‘Who are you talking to.’ He would ask you one day.

‘The audience reading this fic.’ You’d reply as though it was the most casual thing to bring up in conversation.

Damian’s brows furrowed. ‘Audience? What audience.’ He tried looking in the same direction as you, only to see nothing but his bed.

‘Oh I don’t expect you to see them but they are there,’ you tried to reassure Damian but it only came off as ominous and albeit cryptic, ‘they are always there, watching.’ You’d add and needles to say your words only made Damian go into a defensive posture at the aspect of being spectated by beings only you could seemingly engage with.

Well done you’ve made Damian somewhat paranoid as to what this audience you speak to wanted, what they wanted with you to have you keep engaging in conversation with them and what they could be planning.

‘Always watching?’ Damian asked.

‘Yep,’ you replied, ‘but not when we’re in the bathroom, that’s just really weird but other then that we are merely entertainment for them to consume on days of boredom and to grow a parasocial relationship with us to their leisure.’ You added and when you looked over at Damian, his jade eyes were wide and you winced internally, wishing you hadn’t said anything at all because now you’d knew Damian would start reaching for his sword out of instinct now.

Try and tell him it’s a joke as much as you like but Damian would now take your ability to break the fourth wall as a sign that someone was out there, watching all of you, an invisible enemy that he couldn’t kill and it pissed him off. He’ll break you free of the curse…sooner or later.

Bruce

‘That man is finer than a mother fucker and he knows it. And I know damn well all you thirsty bitches are making edits of my sexy Bruce to the song of older by Isabel LaRosa. I just know it you absolute sluts, but I can’t blame you because I would too.’ Bruce had just finished showering and the first thing he sees is you seemingly talking to a wall as though you were talking to a group of people in a whole different plan of existence.

He’s seen a lot of things in his time as Batman but someone talking to people who aren’t there? He’d assume you’re either clairvoyant or have another ability that can allow you to talk to an audience of people whom he can’t see, for whatever it was wouldn’t change Bruce’s opinion on you, powers or not.

‘My darling.’ He’d greet you as he holds you from behind. ‘May I ask why and or who you were speaking so passionately about me to?’ He adds.

‘The people reading this fanfic.’ You’d tell him as though it was a completely normal thing to admit as it was something you had been doing for as long as you could remember. Your parents thought you were talking to an invisible friend like other kids your age, but it grew concerning when you were still talking to no one in particular well into your late teens.

Bruce just raised a brow but would assume that you had some ability that you weren’t comfortable to admit to him, and he didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk to him about such a thing, especially not if you had admitted to someone in the past before and their reactions were negative.

He would just try and look deeper into this sort of thing in hopes of finding any pre-existing information about anyone showing similar signs as you and reading it deeply and intensively so that he could be well informed to know what you were going through. Bruce loves to be educated on things that he didn’t understand with the hopes of understanding it on a deeper level, so if he did managed to find something that perfectly describes what you were doing, then he’ll be reading it until he could recite it in his sleep.

He didn’t want you to feel as though you should be ashamed of your unique ability and would often take notes and things that he’d noticed you do as you addressed the invisible audiences in vivid detail. Your ability to see into another reality or anything similar to talk to people was a powerful thing to have and Bruce was fascinated by such a unique power, a power that could prove that alternate realities exist.

But Bruce would find himself intrigued with how you talked to this invisible audiences, almost as though you were greeting an old friend, whether or not this was your way to cope with the fact that you could sense an audience watching your every move and leave no privacy to be had for yourself. It was unfortunately something Bruce wasn’t quite sure but until your ability was causing you harm he would contour to watch and observe while acting as though he was unaware/ unfazed of your tendency to talking to seemingly no one.

Basically reader: you should know this too

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 7: Lightning and Rust]

A/N: Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), babies and parenthood, blood and violence, character deaths, I really cannot summarize this chapter you just gotta experience it, I'll pray for you 🙏

Word count: 6.8k

💙 All my writing can be found HERE! ❤️

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You’re curled up in bed with a velvet pouch of hot stones that have gone cold, bloody rags bunched between your thighs, trying desperately to sleep, and outside a storm is brewing over Blackwater Bay and bringing with it dark skies and strikes of lightning that stalk ever-closer. Through the open window, the air tasting like late-summer rain, you can hear Helaena and the maids corralling the children back into the Red Keep. They are laughing because nobody is dead yet, not even the ailing and absent King Viserys, not even doomed little Luke Strong.

Aemond lets himself into your chambers and stands over your bed, staring down at you with some combination of annoyance and concern. You have failed him. You were not where he wanted you to be. “Why weren’t you at the beach?” Playing with your niece and nephews, collecting your seashells.

“Because women are cursed.”

Aemond smiles, perhaps a bit relieved; he has his answer. “And you more than any of them, because you’re so wicked.”

“Maester Orwyle says I can’t have more milk of the poppy for two hours.”

“Then we must listen to him. It is a powerful remedy, and we cannot endanger you.” He takes off his boots and climbs into bed, lying behind you, one hand following the curve of your waist to settle on your lower belly. “I can relax the muscles. It might ease your suffering.”

Right now? “Oh no, no, you don’t want to do that,” you warn him. “It’s very messy.”

“You think I’m afraid of your blood?” Aemond says, amused. “Everything we’re built of is the same.” He lifts the hem of your silk nightgown and reaches underneath the nest of rags, sliding there in the coppery wetness as you inhale sharply, startled but not unwilling. When Aemond removes his hand, the carnage he is stained with is bright crimson but dotted with clots. Then he licks the blood from his fingers and paints his tongue red. You can’t keep the shock from your face. Aemond grins, wets his hand again, draws a heart on your left cheek just beneath your eye. You laugh and pretend to try to shove him away.

“You’re deranged, you’re a monster—”

“Let me help you,” Aemond whispers, nuzzling blood from his lips into your silver hair. “Let me take your pain away like you quiet mine.”

And you surrender to him like you always do—worn down, overpowered, intoxicated, bewitched, seduced, perhaps all at once—and as Aemond’s hand works and the gory metallic ether of blood fills both of your lungs, the cramps dissolve into nothingness and then build to desire, and you’re opening your thighs for him and the rags are whisked away, unnecessary, forgotten, and now there is blood on the bedsheets and your fingers are twisting into the pillows strewn around you, and it doesn’t feel shameful at all anymore, because what is blood if not made from the same minerals as coins and blades and ocean and ash, and what is lust if not a fire that burns the constraints of the world away?

You kiss him as you come, moaning into his bloodstained mouth, biting his lower lip, and if the careless pressure of your teeth makes him bleed then that’s just more iron and copper and steel to add to the molten sea you are marooned in, more magma, more rust. “Enough,” you gasp when the last of the waves have passed and you are emptied and too sensitive, and Aemond knows to listen. Then you reach for Aemond’s trousers, where you can see he is hard. You are abruptly and ruinously exhausted—you struggle to keep your eyes open—but it feels wrong to not take care of him in return.

It shouldn’t take long, he’s already flushed, he’s already dripping sweat—

“No need,” Aemond says, gently stopping your hands. And as you burrow into the pillows and your eyes dip closed, your skin and hair still splattered with red, he slips away silently so you can sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jace says, knowing that he has to anyway. “Either of you.”

You are nursing the baby in a chair by the fireplace; you needed a change of scenery from the bed. The upholstery is pale blue velvet. The blanket the baby is swathed in is embroidered with pine trees and foxes, and far beyond your skill; Lady Caro made it. She is nearly as gifted with a needle as Helaena. On the walls of the bedchamber you share with your husband are mosaics you’ve pieced together over the past nine months here at the modest castle of Heart’s Home in a cold, remote corner of the Vale. The fractured faces look in on you like curious gazes through clear windows: Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Jaehaera, Maelor, Mother, Criston. You aren’t any closer to them now, but you feel like you are. The world seems softer, warmer, smaller.

You smile as you ghost a fingerprint over the baby’s faint dark eyebrows. He’s half-asleep as he suckles, hushed and content and entirely helpless. He has Jace’s coloring, but something about the shape of his eyes reminds you of Aegon. “We’ll be here waiting when you get back.”

“I think he looks a lot like Luke,” Jace says, admiring the baby. He’s standing with one arm draped over the back of your chair and the flickering firelight from the hearth on his face, turning his skin from snow to sunstone. “And Joffrey. His face is rounder than mine.”

“Have you been to the Eyrie to see them since the war began?” Joffrey, Rhaena, Rhaenyra’s young white-haired sons Aegon and Viserys.

Jace shakes his head. “I never wanted to be away from you for longer than necessary. I didn’t want to risk being spotted and revealing where they’ve been hidden. And I didn’t know what to say.” About us, about our marriage, about our baby.

“You should visit them, Jace. I would visit Helaena and her children if I could.” You leave out the others intentionally; Helaena is your only sibling that Jace considers blameless. You miss Aegon and Daeron just as much, but in the solitude of your own heart—in the stillness, in the silence—you aren’t sure if you want to see Aemond again. You don’t know if he will be soft with you, or vengeful or cold, or if he has filled the void of your absence with a lover, something that you cannot think about without your stomach lurching and your skull aching, and so you put him out of your mind as much as you can and stay here with the baby instead.

Jace rests a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, then strokes your cheek. He says, meaning the baby: “We’ll have to get him his own egg.”

“I hope he won’t inherit my affliction,” you murmur somberly. “I hope he’ll have a dragon someday.” Without them, we are powerless. Without them, we aren’t real Targaryens.

“Maybe there’s something you need to do first.”

You look up at Jace, not understanding.

“I’ve spent a lot of time considering what inspires a dragon to bond to someone,” he says. And you think, feeling a fleeting stab of betrayal before you stitch the wound closed with invisible thread: Because you’ve been helping the Blacks search for riders. “It seems that each creature has their own preferences. Meleys favored women who were spirited and highly intelligent. Dreamfyre has chosen two riders, both gentle, shy, and fond of animals. Seasmoke bonded to two sons of Corlys Velaryon with similar temperaments, agreeable and charismatic, Quicksilver to a father and son who were both considered weak and died young. Caraxes seems to have an affinity for warriors.” It does not escape you that Jace neglects to mention Vhagar, as if through his silence he can make the beast and her rider vanish. “And Vermithor…” Jace offers you a small, sympathetic smile, remembering that you once wanted him. “The Bronze Fury bonds to riders who are imposing in body and ambitious in spirit. And I suspect he only likes men.”

“So it was always hopeless,” you say gloomily. You recall the miniature Vermithor that Aegon once carved for you out of oak wood. You hope that Aegon is still alive somewhere, scarred but lying in wait, always underestimated, always so much deeper than he seems, an ocean that Mother and Father mistook for a puddle, messy and marginal and inconvenient.

“I believe dragons often gravitate towards riders who are mirrors of themselves. Even Vermax, he is…” Jace considers this. “He’s proud, and he’s clever, but he’s not as formidable as he imagines himself to be.”

“Like you,” you say before you can stop to consider whether Jace will be offended by it, and he gives you an amused smirk. The baby has stopped nursing and fallen asleep; you fix the bodice of your gown and cradle him against you. There are maids to take him when you’re tired, and Jace loves holding him, and Lady Caro steals him away often, but right now you don’t want your freedom. You don’t want your mind to be untethered and to wander to all the places you’re not supposed to be.

Jace continues: “What I mean is, perhaps there is some quality you must cultivate within yourself before the beast you are meant to have judges you worthy.”

“Hardly any unclaimed dragons are left now.” Then you tease: “Do you suggest I become quiet and timid so Grey Ghost will like me?”

Jace laughs. “No, I fear that’s a lost cause, princess. You could never be timid.”

You are intrigued. “Then what am I?”

“I think you’re hungry,” Jace decides. “I think you always want more.”

“I never wanted that many things.” Aemond. My family to be safe. And I wanted Vermithor.

“Every line that is drawn, every place you’re told not to go or act you’re not supposed to do, you insist upon overreaching.”

Is that why Aemond and I were so drawn to each other? you think doubtfully. Because it was forbidden? Because it horrified people who climbed high enough to live alongside Targaryens but could never understand them?

“I think Meleys would have been a good match for you,” Jace says after a while. “If she hadn’t already been claimed by Grandmother.”

“And now the Red Queen is dead.” Like Arrax, and Moondancer, and Seasmoke, and probably Sunfyre too. How many dragons will be left when this is over? How many Targaryens? You clutch the baby closer to you; he stirs in his sleep, tiny fingers grasping at nothing. “What sort of rider does Silverwing favor? What could this illiterate drunk Ulf the White possibly have in common with Good Queen Alysanne?”

Jace snickers. “That’s a good question. I’ve been ruminating on it. My theory is that since Silverwing was never ridden into battle, and has always been relatively docile and accustomed to living peacefully near humans, she was attracted to Ulf’s…how to describe it? His lack of military prowess. Or, alternatively, once Vermithor was claimed Silverwing was very, very lonely.”

You smile, and then it dies. It must be indescribably painful to be separated from one’s mate after a century together. Unsurvivable, even. “Can Silverwing fight, do you think?”

Jace heaves a sigh and shrugs. “I’m not sure if either of them can. Ulf will try, at least. Hopefully it won’t come to that, and Vermithor is enough to protect King’s Landing. Hugh Hammer is an inexperienced rider, but he’s brave and he’s committed. Each time I see him he’s better than he was before.”

Hugh Hammer is a bastard blacksmith, but he has more power in this war than I do. Ulf the White is an idiot and a drunk, but he’s a true Targaryen and I’m not. You rock your sleeping child in your arms, quieting the voices that flutter in your skull like bat wings. You kiss his wisps of dark curls and breathe in his warmth and newness and blood that is interwoven with yours.

“You could learn how to hate your own kind and claim the Cannibal,” Jace jokes.

You chuckle. “I don’t hate anyone.” Not here, not now.

Lady Caro arrives in the doorway carrying a tray of cinnamon tea. “I have come offering a trade,” she says, grinning, and shuffles excitedly across the room. She sets the tray down on the table by your chair and holds out her hands. Reluctantly, you surrender the baby. Lady Caro coos and beams at him as you and Jace sip cinnamon tea, sweet and loosing steam like morning mist into the air. “Surely by now you’ve made the logical decision to name him in my honor.”

“Carolei would be a very strange thing to call a boy,” Jace says.

“Caroson,” she jests.

You add: “Carogon. Carocaerys.”

“Awful!” Jace says, laughing.

“Have you been feeding the baby again?” Lady Caro scolds you. “We have wetnurses for that.”

“They get him all night. I want time with him too.”

“You’re barely even producing any milk. You’d make for a terrible goat.”

“Then I’ll nurse him for as long as I can.”

“You’ll end up with pitiful floppy breasts like mine.”

“Isn’t this what they’re for? Nourishing children, not being gawked at and tugged on by some man?”

Lady Caro turns to Jace, exasperated. “She has some disease. She can’t listen to anyone.”

He smiles. “She’s an untamable beast, I’m afraid. Burns up anyone who makes the attempt.”

Lord Corbray walks in, and nestled in his ancient arthritic hands is a sword in a sheath. There is a large heart-shaped ruby in the hilt. “Prince Jacaerys, I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it has been not only to host you and the princess here in our humble castle, but also to have a future king of the Seven Kingdoms born within our walls.”

Jace stands up straighter, as his mother would want him to. He’ll never look like the heir to the throne, like a Targaryen, but he can act like one. “We continue to be grateful for your hospitality.”

“To commemorate this happy occasion, I wish to gift you a cherished heirloom of my house. This is Lady Forlorn, made of Valyrian steel. She came to House Corbray over a century ago, and now I bequeath her to you. I hope she will aid you in your victory in this unjust war, and that all the realm will soon be at peace and under competent rulership.”

Jace looks at you uneasily; you pretend to be preoccupied drinking your tea. You ignore Lord Corbray’s slight against the Greens. You don’t have much choice, and you’ve had plenty of practice. Jace takes Lady Forlorn from Lord Corbray and unsheathes her, studying his reflection in the cold smoke-colored grey of the blade. His face is grave. Now he feels the weight on his shoulders of being not just a prince, an heir, a soldier, and a husband, but a father as well, something he himself never had in a way that was truthful and pure. You are alarmed to see tears gleaming in his dark eyes.

“Jace?” you say, touching his arm.

He regains his composure. “Thank you, Lord Corbray. I will treasure Lady Forlorn, and I will endeavor to always use her wisely.”

Lord Corbray smiles fondly at the slumbering baby in Lady Caro’s arms. Across the Riverlands, their sole surviving child, Jessamyn, is in hiding with her husband and children. At Lady Caro’s insistence, they fled from the Mallisters’ castle at Seagard in case Aemond and Vhagar descend upon it. He is still burning. A monster? you think. “I assume you’ve named your firstborn?”

You and Jace exchange a glance. You haven’t yet; you are afraid to discuss it with each other. There are so many possibilities—Targaryen or Velaryon or Strong—and none seem to be without some unspoken allegiance or condemnation. There are so few guiltless names left. But you think you know what Jace would choose if he dared to speak it aloud.

“We should name him after Luke,” you say. A boy, an innocent. A victim of a horrific accident that started this war.

Jace is surprised, but there is relief in his face too. “Lucerys?” he says, trying it out. Then he is solemn again. “It feels wrong to use the exact same name. Like I’m trying to replace him.”

“Lucerion,” Lady Caro suggests, still holding the baby. “It sounds like a prince’s name. It sounds like a king’s.”

Jace attaches Lady Forlorn to his belt and then takes the baby, obviously against Lady Caro’s will. “Lucerion,” Jace murmurs, smiling down at his son who is stirring awake and beginning to whimper. “Is that your name? Is that what we’ll call you?”

“Perhaps Luca for short,” you say from your chair, feeling drained and like you need to lie down. You’ll have to change your rags again soon, or you’ll bleed through them.

“Luca, the littlest dragon,” Jace proclaims, touching his fingertip to the baby’s puggish nose. Then he turns to you. “Did you have a nickname as a child? I always did and still do, of course. And Luke…” Jace trails off, thinking of his dead brother, murdered by yours.

You see your red bat traveling around the board; you feel the warmth of blood on your cheek. “They called me Red.”

“Red?” Jace is baffled. “Like the color?”

“There was a game we played when we were young, and my piece…” You close your eyes, not wanting to remember, not wanting to feel the weight of their absence. “It doesn’t matter. It was so long ago.” And you fear that Jace will hear the evasiveness in your voice and ask you more questions; but he is absorbed with the baby, and he has already forgotten.

Two days later Jace and Vermax fly south to King’s Landing, and you and Luca are left in the care of the Corbrays and the maids and the ghosts that haunt the drafty stone corridors of Heart’s Home, soldiers killed in the Riverlands and the Reach, women and children burned and starved, bones devoured by dragons, generations of names forgotten.

Sometimes you giggle with Lady Caro as you drink cinnamon tea in the Great Hall. Sometimes you stand in the castle rookery listening to the ravens caw and stare out into the cold mist of the mountains, wondering what is happening in the world outside. And sometimes you have Luca nestled in your arms and walk with him around your bedchamber, introducing him to the faces of the people you left in your old life, when you were called Red and you believed you could be someone like Visenya. But you never mention Aemond, and not just because there are no mosaics of him on the wall.

You wouldn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t know where to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

You learn Jace is back when he climbs into bed just as you are drifting off one night, silver moonlight spilling in through the glass of the window, his body folding into you, his arm skating over your waist to find your hand and weave his fingers through yours. Two months have passed since he left, moons that grow full and then vanish, milk that dries up and blood that ceases flowing and rebuilds inside you for the next child, if there will be one, when there will be one. Luca is sleeping in his own room with his maids and wetnurses. Jace’s curls tickle your throat as he nuzzles into you as if he wants to disappear.

He says: “The littlest dragon is much bigger than I remember.”

“How was Helaena?”

“Troubled, as is to be expected, but in good health. Jaehaera and Maelor are well too. King’s Landing is cold some days now. I think they’ll have snow soon. The taxes, the riots, the stockpiling of food as the Reach and the Riverlands burn…it’s a disaster. Mother is desperate. She misses Luke, I think. And Baela, and Daemon. She’s lost so much weight I barely recognized her. But she was very, very happy to hear about Luca. Hopefully she can meet him soon. Although we’ll have to be careful traveling with him while he’s so small, we’ll have to ensure he’s warm enough.”

Winter is coming, you think, remembering Cregan Stark’s army under the protection of Daemon and Caraxes. “Did you see Rhaena and the boys at the Eyrie?”

“I did,” Jace admits, as if it was a fraught experience.

“And what happened?”

“Rhaena called me a traitor.”

“For marrying and fathering a son with me?”

“No, that she understands,” Jace says. “But it is treason to love you.”

You turn around to look at him in the shadows, in the moonlight. “You told her?”

“She could tell. I cannot hide it. I am a glass jar and you and Luca are the butterflies inside.” And Jace kisses you softly, his fingers hooked beneath your chin, his flesh coming alive again after so long away: managing and conciliating, lifting Rhaenyra’s spirits, pawing through the heaps of bastards in King’s Landing for dragonriders, flying on Vermax through storms and snow.

When you kiss Jace back, when your hands go to his chest and his jaw and his face, when you open his tunic so you can feel the heat of his skin underneath, you are aware that parts of you are waking up again as well. There is a dull but definite ache of lust beginning to bloom like a blood drop soaking into white cotton.

“Are you…” Jace begins. “Do you think you’re healed enough, I mean…have you stopped bleeding?”

You hesitate. “I have.” You think of your first time with him and how painful it was, the sensation of burning, of tearing, and you can only assume it will be worse now. “But I’m rather terrified too.”

“No, no, don’t be afraid,” Jace whispers, he pleads, running his fingers through your long unbound hair. “We don’t have to do that. I won’t hurt you. I’ll wait for as long as you want.” His dark eyes travel down the white nightgown that clings to your body, your breasts, your belly, and then lower. “Can I…can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, bewildered. Then as Jace begins to push the hem of your nightgown up over your hips to your waist, you grin and kiss him again in the dim celestial light, cool night air rushing up over your bare legs, blood surging through your arteries to where he bends low to taste you once—a long, slow, tentative drag of the tongue—and then moans quietly and pushes your thighs further apart so he can bury himself there and lick, suck, swallow down your clear mineral wetness as it pools for him.

Something isn’t quite right—not enough pressure, not the ideal angle—but it’s exquisite to be reacquainted with this side of yourself, to know you can feel this way again, insatiable and desired. When you reach to touch Jace, there is a moment when you are startled to find dark curly hair in place of silk-smooth silver, and there is a ghost in the room like a voyeur watching, and you think dazedly: If Aemond knew about this, would he kill me?

“There,” you gasp, jolting as your husband stumbles upon the perfect place and rhythm. “Jace, right there…”

He listens, he is groaning with desperation for you, and you roll into a climax that is brief and sharp and a little painful, but good. Instead of being extinguished, you are a kindled flame. You turn over, straddle Jace, and unfasten his trousers. You begin kissing your way down his belly, nipping at him, your palm kneading his hardness, and you know he wants you but for some reason when you go to take him in your mouth, he pushes you away.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace says, alarmed.

“I know. I want to.”

“No, seriously. Stop.”

You look at him, wounded, rejected. “Jace, I’m not doing this out of obligation. I enjoy it.”

He is staring at the wall. “I just…for you to…I’m sorry, it just feels wrong.”

“I can do things you believe are only for whores and still be your wife.”

“Shh,” he says, and his voice is gentle but his face is pained. You think of something Criston once told you when you were collecting bones from the Godswood of the Red Keep: Red, it hurts your mother when you’re like this. Are you cursed to disappoint people, to repulse them, to be eternally misunderstood? “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

Jace gets out of bed and fetches a small wooden box he must have brought into the room with him when you were still half-asleep. He opens the box, debates whether to reach in, decides against it and passes you the whole box instead. “I asked the castle maester to procure some while I was away…”

You squeal with delight when you see what’s inside: three black and white bats the same breed as Sapphire was, large fanlike ears and wiggling noses and small black eyes that peer curiously up at you. When you offer them your open palms, they immediately scramble into them.

“I hope they’re good ones.” Jace chuckles nervously. “I don’t really know what makes a bat suitable or not.”

“They’re perfect,” you say, smiling. “I’ll build them a roost. I’ll introduce them to Luca.”

Yet you cannot stop yourself from thinking: Aemond wouldn’t have cared if I was still bleeding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are snuggled up with Luca in your chair by the fire, cool midday light—the color of steel, smoke, rainclouds, ash—streaming in through the windows. The baby’s eyes have turned dark like Jace’s, and his curls grow longer. He is only half-awake and blinking drowsily, his diminutive hands clasping your fingers. He doesn’t cry often, but he doesn’t smile either. Lady Caro believes he already has the temperament of a good king, a calmness, a graveness. She says: How improper would it be for him to be full of complaints or cheerfulness, the way the world is right now? No, he ought to be serious. He ought to be grateful he’s not starving or being roasted alive.

“I have some new friends,” you whisper to the baby like a secret or a myth. “They’re asleep right now. They sleep all day, kind of like you do. But then at night they come alive and they’re free, and they fly around like hawks or dragons.”

You speak for Luca, a soft bird-trill of a voice: “What are their names?”

“Good question,” you say, smiling. “Iris, Shark, and Flood. And you’ll meet them soon.” Your eyes go to the mosaics on the walls. Jace hasn’t asked you to take them down, but he doesn’t acknowledge them either, except for the mosaic you made of him that hangs by the headboard of the bed. He beams at that one and calls it fine work. “You’ll meet the people I grew up with too. Aegon will make you wood carvings. Helaena will sew you blankets. Daeron will take you on adventures. Jaehaera and Maelor will play games with you. And Mother and Criston will love you because you won’t be like me. You’ll be sweet-tempered and honorable, and when you’re old enough you’ll have a dragon to help protect us with.”

There is a knock on the doorframe; one of Luca’s wetnurses has arrived to feed him. You regret that you can’t anymore. Lady Caro was right; you’d be a terrible goat or cow or yak.

“Princess,” the wetnurse says, curtsying before she takes the baby from you. You watch her leave with him for his own bedchamber—Lady Caro has already filled it with toys and children’s books—and as soon as they are out of sight, the darkness of your losses creeps back in like spiders scurrying down the corridors of your veins and arteries, like rust growing over steel. Then you hear the rumbling of voices downstairs in the Great Hall.

You stand and swish in your gown—one of the Vale’s anemic colors, a faint dusky rose—through the hallway and down the spiral staircase of the tower. In the belly of the castle, the commotion is louder, and you sweep into the Great Hall to find men gathered around the table closest to the roaring hearth, Lord Corbray and his knights and the maester, and Lady Caro too looking on anxiously. Jace is holding a piece of parchment in his hands, presumably just delivered by a raven. He shakes his head as he reads it. Outside, snow is falling.

Lady Caro is saying: “Well you’ll have to tell her. Oh, the poor dear, as if everything else isn’t bad enough. And only the gods know where Aemond is, he hasn’t been spotted in the Riverlands for days…” Then she spies you and shoos Lord Corbray and his men from the room. They bow to you as they depart, swift little bobs of the head. They have to; you are now both the wife and mother of future kings.

“Jace?” you say when the Great Hall is empty except for the two of you and Lady Caro.

Jace’s face is stricken. Lady Forlorn hangs from his belt. The letter is still clutched in his left hand; the right grips the hilt of his Valyrian steel sword. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” you ask, immediately horrified. Aegon dead of his burns, Daeron killed in battle, Mother executed for treason, Aemond…? “What happened?”

“You have to believe that I had no idea about any of this, I never would have given Hugh the order if I’d been there, or let Mother do it—”

“Jace, please tell me.”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond??

Instead, Jace says absurdly: “It’s Helaena.”

You stare at him. “Helaena isn’t a warrior.”

“No,” he agrees. “But she got to Dreamfyre somehow and tried to escape the city.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

That’s impossible. She wouldn’t leave Mother and the children. “No, she couldn’t have, she—”

“She took flight,” Jace insists. “And my mother sent Hugh Hammer after her on Vermithor.”

Vermithor was supposed to be mine, you think numbly. “And Helaena, she…she was…?”

Jace is trying to keep his voice steady; his dark eyes gleam, begging you not to hate him. “Dreamfyre attacked when Vermithor flew close to her. She wasn’t an especially aggressive dragon, but she was large and formidable, and she fought to defend her own life and that of her rider. Vermithor ripped out her throat, though Hugh was burned to death in the saddle. Then Vermithor flew eastward, and no one knows where he is now. Dreamfyre crashed to the earth, and Helaena with her. Their bodies were found on the beach outside the Red Keep.”

She can’t be dead. She never hurt anyone. She just wanted to be with her creatures and her family. She embroidered my blankets with red bats, she put ladybugs into my open palms. “Why would Helaena try to run, why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

You think nonsensically, as you have no way of knowing this: Because she was trying to stop something terrible from happening. “I told you to give her more freedom. And that freedom allowed her to sneak away to the Dragonpit.”

Jace reaches for you. “This isn’t your fault—”

“All of it ismy fault!” you shout at him, and Lady Caro shrinks away and covers her mouth with her hands. “If I’d had Vermithor, the Greens would have been unstoppable! And Rhaenyra never would have tried to claim the throne, and Aemond wouldn’t have been sent to Storm’s End, and Luke and Jaehaerys and Baela wouldn’t have died, and Aegon wouldn’t have been burned, and Aemond wouldn’t be destroying the Riverlands, and Helaena would still be alive, but instead I’ve always been useless!”

“You aren’t useless,” Jace pleads.

“Not normal enough to be a good wife or daughter, not extraordinary enough to have a dragon!”

Again, Jace tries to touch you, to soothe you. “Please don’t—”

You fling his hands away. “What was our marriage for if not to stop this from happening?! To end the dying, to protect the people we have left?” You whirl away from him and flee from the Great Hall, the castle, yourself. Behind you, Lady Caro is comforting Jace with soft tenderness you’ve never been capable of.

“Let her go, my prince,” she is counselling. “Give her a moment to grieve…”

You throw open the first door you pass and trudge out into the snow, no fox fur coat, bare feet. The cold stings and then your skin goes numb and it doesn’t bother you anymore. The icy mountain wind tears at your hair, flowing in long waves like the women of the Vale wear it, delicate and feminine, pretty and powerless. Tears cascade down your face; currents of red magma scorch your throat. When you close your eyes, you see the yellow butterfly that was once Helaena’s game piece.

She never hurt anyone. She never did anything wrong.

Now you are under the shadows of the soaring pine trees, their green needles so thick you cannot see the grey of the sky.

She never met Luca.

You gaze up into the branches, covered with tufts of white snow and icicles like fangs, and you have the overwhelming, ravenous feeling that you need to go home. You don’t belong in the Vale. The Vale almost killed you when you were a child, Aemond’s hands shoving you into a rushing stream freckled with ice.

And then all at once—like you’ve been hit, like you’ve been stabbed with a blade—you are flying high above the castle and the wind is raking over your cheeks, but it is not your face but Aemond’s, half-blind and half-scarred, torrential red waves of a sea of blood in his skull.

He’s here, he’s here—

And if he’s able to see through your eyes that you are outside in the forest…

The castle!!!

You bolt through the trees back towards Heart’s Home, your bare feet leaving tracks in the fresh powdery snow that is nearly up to your knees, and you stumble out of the shadows just as Vhagar soars overhead and unleashes her flames on the castle, wood burning, stones collapsing, people inside shrieking as they incinerate. You’re screaming for Aemond to stop, but he does not hear you and he does not see you either, he is high above in a place you’ve never been and never will be, he is flying, and he is hearing only devastation and he is breathing in its dark, intoxicating smoke, and as Vhagar swoops by the stable and it bursts into an inferno—horses galloping loose and engulfed in fire, dead but not knowing it yet—you run into the crumbling castle.

“Jace?!” you shout, but the air is full of smoke and the sounds of wood cracking and stones caving in are deafening. You feel blindly for the spiral staircase that leads up to the tower where your and Luca’s bedchambers are located. From the part of the castle that was once the Great Hall, you can hear Lord Corbray and Lady Caro screaming as their skin blisters and sloughs away and their flesh is cooked and their bones are charred black, and when the flames reach their lungs the screams go quiet. You cannot think about them. You don’t have any time; you must think of Luca and Jace. “Jace!” you bellow through the smoke.

And then there is a weak reply: “Here.”

You follow it into the stairwell. Parts of the wall have been blasted away; you can see the pine forest outside, the cold barren sky, the Mountains of the Moon. Jace is halfway up the steps, slumped against the fractured wall and pinned there by stones that have rained down on his legs. His bones must be broken; his face is bloodless and his curls matted to his forehead by sweat. His right hand fumbles futilely for the hilt of Lady Forlorn. Now, dimly, you can hear Luca crying.

Jace rasps as he stares vacantly up at you: “I tried to get to him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jace, I can do it.”

“I love you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

You climb over him and chase Luca’s wails up the staircase. Vhagar is back, and the ruins of the castle tremble when she roars, and you feel the heat of her flames radiating up through the floor. You lose your footing and clamber up the last few steps on your hands and knees, then manage to stand again and careen into Luca’s room. Half the roof has collapsed; a wetnurse is sprawled on the floor and half-buried in fallen stones, blood hemorrhaging out of her mouth and ears. You grab the baby out of his cradle and quickly bundle him in his blanket patterned with blue dragonflies. His tiny hands grasp at your face and your hair as you rush back down the spiral staircase to help Jace. Smoke needles your eyes; you and Luca are both coughing as you try to clear your lungs.

You reach Jace and kneel beside him, holding Luca in your left arm and using your right to try to roll the stones off Jace’s legs, but he’s not helping you.

“Jace, please, we have to go now,” you say, but when you look at his face he’s not there. His dark eyes are glassy, his chest doesn’t rise and fall with the tide of air.

He’s gone, you think. Like Father, Luke, Jaehaerys, Baela, Rhaenys, Helaena. And you are struck by an excruciating pang of fondness for Jace more forceful than anything you ever felt for him when he was alive, and you cannot leave him here. He was your husband, he was Luca’s father. And he loved you. He must have. He said it over and over again.

“Jace?” you sob. But outside Vhagar is still flying—the gales churned up by her wings gust into the jagged holes in the castle walls—and she could be coming back, she could be returning to burn you, and Jace is dead but the baby is still alive.

You clutch Luca to you as he cries and you race down the steps, following the smoke-filled, twisted passageway. The heat is suffocating, the sounds of a dying castle engulfing, Heart’s Home turned into a graveyard, into a shattered skeleton, charred and cursed like Harrenhal. You crash through the door at the base of the stairwell and into the ground level of the castle, and you are almost out—

Something ignites, something explodes, and stones from the castle wall you are feeling your way along rip out of their centuries-old mortar and collide with you. Your ribs crack, you are thrown to the floor, but even as you scream and claw your way out of the rubble you don’t let go of the baby. You force yourself upright and stagger with Luca towards a gaping chasm where there was once a wall. There is a tremor like an earthquake. Outside, Vhagar must be landing.

Now you are in the snow again, bare feet and a gown covered with soot and wreckage. The baby isn’t crying anymore. When you glance down at the blanket he is swaddled in, the white space between the blue dots of dragonflies is turning red with blood.

Blood?

You can’t look. You can’t allow yourself to feel it; it will consume you until there is nothing left. The last vestiges of the castle are crumpling. Across the field, Vhagar is devouring Vermax’s small, broken corpse, crushing his bones in her massive, monstrous jaws.

Blood??

Aemond’s footsteps are behind you, crunching in the snow. His cloak cracks in the frigid wind like the sails of a ship. His words are full of dark, euphoric, lethal triumph, a high like nothing he’s ever known, not even when he claimed Vhagar, not even what he imagined he would feel on your wedding day when you’d be bound to each other with fire and blood in the tradition of Old Valyria. “I said I would find you, and I did.”

You hear your own voice as if from a very far distance, lightning strikes miles away but moving closer. “You killed him.”

Aemond is puzzled. You are supposed to be happy. You are saved, you are home. “Killed who?”

“He’s dead, and there will never be another. Not like this one. Jace was his father, but Jace is gone. You killed him too.”

And you turn to face him, and Aemond sees what you are holding in your arms, and only then does he understand.

[yournewfriendshouse]

they literally never forgot. cis women and assigned women have been bullied and harassed for all of these things for a fucking age. probably several ages. they’re just doing the same thing but with technology to really dig in to their fucking weird ideas of femininity.

I was called a boy and man my whole damn life by so many people because I have several of these things going on. now I’m popping the start of a beard and moustache, and I’m like ‘yeah maybe I’m not a woman, isn’t that fun’

…and it’s always like is this just me letting the haters win? can’t even have gender euphoria or whatever because I’ve been given so much trouble over not being a proper girl or woman for my entire fucking existence that I’m like what if…

this is why I find certain conversations around trans misogyny to be strange, because you can bet your arse that the same people who make womanhood hell for cis women are the ones making womanhood hell for trans women. with trans women they just feel like they have an excuse to not even try to be subtle or quiet anymore

this isn’t saying that there aren’t unique tortures people come up with to make being a trans women absolute hell, but there is a lot of crossover, which you know, is why it’s called trans misogyny and not something else.

doctors and nurses giving trans women a very dehumanising time are also making diagnosis and treatment incredibly difficult and dehumanising for cis women. they’re just using different excuses. we’re stronger together. it’s not that our experiences exactly align, it’s that we often have exactly the same enemy.

It’s wild to me to see transvestigator conspiracy theories online that could be so easily explained by natural human variation. That woman has a deep voice? Yeah, sometimes they do. A woman has broad shoulders?? Maybe she plays rugby or hits the gym a fuckton. There’s a “bulge” in her tight pants?? Maybe her vulva is just fat. All the “markers” of trans woman that transvestigators use to harass any woman aren’t even things unique to trans women.

[leonardcohenofficial]

saw a letterboxd user who gave the african desperate a one star review that gave wicked four stars and included barbie in their top four god i hate people so much lmfao

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 3

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Finally landing in LA, your boots hit the ground and you’re off in a whirlwind of getting prepared. During rehearsal, your agent shows up causing a ruckus. After you take a break, you wake up to the sound of desperate pounding on your door.

Word Count: 6,676k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW. Sorry for my absence yall. My brain got hands. And I didn't mean to scare folks away! You can absolutely ask about my fics! Asking for an update just doesn't help. But sharing your love for it motivates me a lot faster! And you can thank @onherereading for gently bullying me to post sumn! LOL, love you. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Male dancers lifted you into the air and you continued singing the hook to your most popular song, “Eat It”. It stayed on the charts, week after week, remaining strong and steady. And it was the song that most got you in trouble for the explicit lyrics. 

You sang, testing the sound as well as the choreography on stage. Coming to LA had been a non-stop shit show of rehearsals and talk shows and radio interviews. God, you were tired. And you wanted to lay down and pig out in front of the TV. But nooooo.

Plus…well….you weren’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Terry rejecting you the other night shook you up more than you cared to admit. Why would he reject you? You were beautiful, smart, and funny on a great day. And yet, nothing.

There were just lingering glances and moments where it looked like he wanted to say something but never did. You didn’t like the cold front you suddenly found yourself in so you kept yourself busy, distracted, and left no room for you to be left alone with him for longer than a minute or two. 

But the hit to your confidence bruised. You didn’t feel normal. Like none of this was real. It was a cruel illusion that could be snatched away from one viral tweet, one public meltdown, or one scandal to torpedo your career. The stalker ate away at your life until you couldn’t even get a guy to fuck you stupid. 

It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He was stupid. 

“Stop! Stop! What the fuck is that?” A booming, obnoxious voice echoed in the empty stadium. 

“Down boys,” you said. The male dancers moved safely, bringing you back down to stand on your own two feet. One of their hands lingered a fraction too long, but you didn’t know if you were being paranoid or not. 

Jake, your stupid agent, came huffing down the front area aisle, a skinny tie swinging behind him. “What the fuck is that? What are you doing?” Jake demanded. He stomped onto the stage and approached you.

“Lower your fucking tone, I’m not a child,” you said. You sneered at him and then crossed the stage, taking the three steps down to the backstage area. You refused to be chewed out in front of your team.

Jake stomped angrily behind you. Terry leaned against the wall near the exit but when he saw you approach, he straightened up. You looked away from him quickly, not wanting him to see what must be written all over your face whenever you looked at him. 

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, pulling on that bitchy persona. 

“The man making sure that fat ass stays rolling in money. You are selling a fantasy up there. Every guy needs to feel like he’s fucking you and every woman needs to feel like they want to be you,” he said.

“Really, tell me more about the job I’ve been doing for years,” you said.

“Thanks to me, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget that,” Jake spat, pointing his finger in your face. Ugh. You smacked his finger away and crossed your arms. Jake was back on that shit. His neck and face was flushed cherry red, his eyes were glossy, and he sniffed every two seconds like he smelled something bad. 

“You can’t stay sober for two fucking seconds, Jake. Is that what happened at the club?” That would explain the bullshit he pulled.

“Hey. You’re fucking welcome. That free publicity gained you a million more followers and featured on Spotify. Who takes care of you?” Jake asked, spreading his arms wide. 

You were so disgusted, you didn’t know what to do with him. Ugh. You breathed through your nostrils, centering yourself on the feeling of it rather than wanting to wring Jake’s neck. 

You leveled him with a glare and leaned in. “I take care of you, you piece of shit. And if you pull something like that again, I’ll fire you. Stay off the drugs, Jake,” you said. The last thing you needed was to end up on TMZ, because your agent was out on another embarrassing bender. 

Jake pressed his lips together and threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look at me. I ain’t on no shit, okay. I heard you the last time. Clean my act up and I can stay, right? I got a suit on and everything,” he said. He spread his arms out and smiled but you weren’t in a smiling mood.

Jake pouted and wrapped his hands around your waist. A waft of cigarette smoke burned your nose and made your eyes tear up. Terry pushed away from the wall but you held up a hand to him. “Remove your hands before I break your fingers,” you said, as calmly as you could muster. 

You didn’t have time for this fucking clown. And where the fuck was Joya or Mirage? They knew better than to let Jake near you while you were in work mode. 

Jake squeezed your hips once before he removed his hands and held them up like he was so innocent. He grinned and looked down his hooked nose at you. “Just remember what’s standing between you and popping your pussy for any producer that wants to sniff after you. Clean this shit up, we have money to make,” he said lowly for your benefit. 

You didn’t know how much Terry could hear but it stung either way. Jake loved throwing that shit in your face. Loved making you think that you were some gutter rat that no one wanted. Grammy Bean wanted you. You were somebody. And no agent was going to make you feel less than. 

“Make them think they’re fucking you while you’re up there. Jesus Christ,” Jake said, needing to have the final word. He took off, disappeared to go yell at somebody about something. 

You rubbed your head, fighting back tears. Got dammit. Once you let the dam fall, the whole thing came crashing down. You didn’t have time to cry right now. Now when everyone was expecting you to lead them. 

“You okay?” Terry asked. 

You tilted your head back and swiped at your eyelids, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. The one blessing about rehearsals was that there was no make up or restrictive clothing. You sniffled once and then straightened your shoulders, rolling your neck to get the kinks out. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Terry, thank you,” you said.

“So we’re back to Mr. Terry?” He asked softly. 

You risked a glance at him. He squinted at you, his face tilted down. You held each other’s gazes for a second longer than what was polite. You went to open your mouth when Mirage tumbled down the stairs and stopped short of where you were standing.

“Jake’s ready to see it again,” she said quietly. 

You turned away from Terry’s intense eyes, and nodded. “Let’s give him a show then,” you said.

You went back on stage and talked to your dancers, letting them know that you were going full out. You signed to the sound engineer to start from the top. 

The choreography began with the dancers standing in front of you. Once the opening lyrics started, you moved around the stage singing and rapping about men catering to women’s needs for once. That if they can’t eat it right then there was no reason to let them hit. 

The male dancers lifted you during the hook, supporting your weight while you sang and rubbed your hand along your body. You were a master at pretending. At working off the energy in the room. 

You fed off of the song and the lyrics. Embodied what you were saying. Pulled on your inner sex goddess to coo to the invisible audience. Even though you wore your favorite blue joggers and a tank top, you felt like you were scantily clad in your performance outfit. You were selling a fantasy. A fantasy that everyone wanted a ride but no one met the height requirements.

The dancers put you down and then held your hand up while you dropped it low on one of them. From this angle, you faced the side of the stage where Terry stared at you. Stared as you rapped and sang about getting ate out and having a super soaker to make him drown.

He may have turned you down the other night, but the heat of his gaze made your belly flip. Made you move harder, rap faster, and sing better like you were a siren luring men to do your bidding. 

Your eyes almost never left his as you pretended to sing to him and make him think about what he turned down. Let him think on it. Because he couldn’t have you now. You were off the menu. 

He was too far away and you were moving too fast to get a good read on his expression. He stood stiffly, feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in front of him. As the song drew to a close, you winked at him before tilting your head back and belting out the final notes.

When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from the intense static of his stormy eyes to the sound of clapping from somewhere.

“Yes! Yes! That’s what they’re coming to see. Do that! Exactly that!” Jake yelled out to you. 

“Take a thirty everyone,” you said, panting from going full out for rehearsal. You stood on stage with your hands behind your head, panting, trying to catch your breath and cool the desire low in your belly.

Fuck. Singing to Terry like that affected you way more than you realized. It maybe wasn’t the smartest move in hindsight. You just needed a good twenty minutes to get yourself off.

Joya climbed onto the stage to hand you a bottle of water and some orange slices. “I put some more fruit in your dressing room in case you wanted it,” she said. 

“I love you, seriously,” you told her with a smile. 

She clutched her calendar to her chest and beamed at you. “I love you too, miss lady. Though you’re probably going to hate me now. They need you back for another fitting. Francois changed his mind,” Joya said.

You emptied the bottle of water she handed you in one fell swoop and wiped your mouth. “This is bullshit. We made a whole schedule to make sure everyone, including me, was happy about this tour,” you said.

You hated to sound like a whiny brat but fuck. It seemed like more and more things were getting added onto your schedule, things you didn’t approve of. You weren’t a machine. Did they expect you to keep working until you collapsed on stage? 

Joya smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I’m gonna check with Mirage and see what we can do about sneaking you some off time. We have a week before the LA leg starts. Surely we can move something,” she promised.

You sighed. “I don’t want you to do all that extra work. I need to yell at Jake some more. He can’t keep adding in stuff last minute. I’m so fucking tired, bro,” you told her.

“It’s our job to make sure you’re good. Let us,” she said. She took your empty water bottle and scurried off to tend to her duties. 

The dancers were all standing around talking and laughing. Stage hands moved around the stage, talking into their microphones, and moved prop elements as they did so. As much as you wanted to join the dancers or speak to the choreographer, you also wanted two minutes of peace. 

But that meant…stepping past Terry. You rolled your shoulders. You were a big girl. You could handle rejection. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

You turned and headed off stage, taking three steps down to the main floor. There were boxes and studio equipment spread out back here, each tagged with different colored tape. Terry eyed you as you approached.

“I’m just heading to the dressing room for a few,” you told him. 

He nodded and fell in step behind you as you walked through a set of double doors, then into a plain hallway backstage. Stage hands moved around but they all moved with focus and purpose. Your sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor. Terry was so quiet behind you, you were tempted to look back to make sure he was still there. But you also got the funny sense that if you did, he’d disappear.

When you approached your dressing room, you hesitated one step from it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing in there. Terry had his team triple the security around you and you hadn’t heard from your stalker since that incident.

It’d be so much easier if you knew what they were after. Did they want to be with you? An obsessed fan you could deal with. You just ignored those wackadoodles until they made themselves known somehow. 

Did they want to kill you? Clearly he had a way to get in and out unseen. Was he someone on your team? You didn’t want to turn into a paranoid loon, looking at everyone with suspicion and further isolate yourself. But fuck.

“Would you like me to check?” Terry asked.

You stared at your navy blue door and bit your lip. Yes….no….you wanted to be brave. Wanted to handle this yourself. But you didn’t know if there would be some other disgusting rendition of your dead face staring right back at you. 

You took a deep breath and prepared to tell him no. Terry stepped forward. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You deflated with a sigh. “Can you check please?” You asked.

Terry moved around you and then unsheathed his weapon. He held it down and away from him and then opened your door. He went in first, moving around the space, holding the gun up. You stayed outside of the door, watching him flit through the crack of the door jam. 

The air turned colder now that he wasn’t beside you. The hallway seemed to close in on you, getting smaller and smaller. Your breathing turned choppy, looking down one way and then the other. 

When you simply couldn’t take another second, Terry emerged from your dressing room and holstered his gun. “All clear,” he said.

You nodded and refused to look at him. “Thank you. I just need some alone time,” you said.

You shuffled past him and he held onto your wrist to stop you. You didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to face him. 

“You don’t have to be formal around me. If I crossed the line the other day, I can transfer…”

“No!” You practically screeched and turned to him finally. You licked your lips and smiled. “I mean, no, no. If anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it uncomfortable –”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m the boss, you’re in my employ. Please, don’t think nothing else about it. Okay?” You asked.

Terry’s jaw flexed but he nodded. You snatched your wrist away and entered your dressing room, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. It was as if he seared you with his light grip and the burn lingered.

You damn near slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you. You just needed a second. A moment to breathe and not have to be “on” for people. 

You crossed the small room to the black leather couch and sat down. The coolness of the leather did precious little to calm you down. You weren’t in danger. You weren’t immediately in danger. 

Terry checked the room, he came highly recommended by the firm, and so far, he had been nothing but the consummate professional, taking your safety seriously. 

As you sat there, however, it just drudged up all the horrible shit from your past. Breaking away from your user family. On your knees begging producers to give you a chance, only for them to use their position and power to solicit sex. One talk with Jake shook you up so bad that it reminded you that every day you breathed was a gift, thanks to what you had to do to survive. 

But it had been a long, long time since you had to be this on edge. This hyper aware of your safety and mortality. Someone out there wanted to cause you harm. They wanted you mentally, emotionally, and physically cowering.

Even as you knew that, even as the logic of it settled in your bones, the only thing you could think was that someone wanted you dead. Someone deemed your life less than theirs. Someone felt angry enough about your existence to make your life a living hell and ultimately, remove you from this plane of existence. 

It chilled you to the bone. To your absolute core. One wrong move and then this would have all been for nothing. All of the struggles, all of the navigating, all of the ways you had to scrimp and scrape to be somebody. 

In the end, you were the same, lonely teenager who didn’t want to be invisible anymore. 

The sweet scent of fruit reminded you of Joya’s thoughtfulness but you were too sick to eat anymore. Maybe you just needed to lay down. You scooted along the couch until you could recline. 

You shoved a throw pillow behind your head and closed your eyes. You just needed to breathe. Just needed to focus on that and nothing else. Nothing else. Just that.

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth. You felt your body sink further into the couch and before long, you were out like a light.

Loud banging disturbed you from your sleep. You woke up in a pool of cold sweat running down your neck and into your tank top. You groaned and blinked into the harsh overhead lighting. 

Your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep and eye crusties, as your eyes swept through the room. There was a director’s chair in front of the vanity, lit up by giant light bulbs all around the mirror. The countertop was littered with makeup, tissues, and hair products. 

Dressing room. “Fuck,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. 

The banging continued, sounding louder than normal. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry!” You groaned. Fuck, you felt like you had been drugged.

Your rapid heart beats only sped up as you thought about what you had earlier in the day. Had you been drugged? Was it Joya?

The banging increased and the door shook with the force. It disrupted your thoughts enough to know that Joya would never, ever do something like that to you. Besides, she’s had years to take you out. 

You still made a mental note to give her a pay bump. Mirage too. You keep them happy and they’d keep you happy. 

Three succinct booms hit the door and you jumped up. “Okay, I said I was sorry! Damn! It couldn't have been more than…” You stood up and crossed the room, unlocking the door to discover no one on the other side. “Ten minutes.” 

You stepped out of the room and looked both ways down the empty hallway. Terry was nowhere to be found. 

“Terry?” You stepped further into the hallway but it was as quiet as a tomb. The space felt empty and that freaked you out more than anything else. 

How long had you been sleep? Why did no one wake you? Where was everyone? 

A tremor made your hands shake and your fingers turned numb. Did…no one care? If they couldn’t find you, did they all just pack up and leave? 

“This isn’t funny,” you called out but there was no answer. Not even an echo. Your throat turned dry as you made your way back to the stage. Maybe everyone was having a team meeting. Maybe Joya and Mirage found a way to give you some breathing room.

You pushed open the door to the stage and walked up onto it, only to discover no one in sight. The main stage lights were off, leaving the stage bathed in a swirl of blues, purples, and reds. 

You shielded your eyes. “Hello? What the hell!” You yelled. This was beyond fucking uncool. And your phone was either in your room or with Joya, so you had no clue what time it was.

Panic clawed its way from your belly to your chest, scratching your insides with thick, angry nails. Did everyone just…forget about you? 

You brought your hand to your chest as if that would do anything. All it did was call attention to your thumping heart, beating incessantly. Everyone forgot you. No one needed you. 

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s okay,” you murmured to yourself as you paced around the stage. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. 

If everyone left, that was okay. You were paying them to care, but it didn’t mean that their lives ended just to serve your overinflated ego. You would just…go find your purse in your room. You would grab your phone. Order a car to take you home. Easy. Simple. You had this. 

You told yourself that as you left the empty stage, back down the stairs, and away from backstage. You headed down the hallway, rubbing your sweaty hands on your joggers. You were just stressed, that was it.

You approached your dressing room, it had been left open from when you left it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there. But…still.

You approached cautiously, wondering what the fuck was going on. How did everyone just leave like that? No matter their personal lives, this was unprofessional as fuck. If they called it early, they should have had the decency to let you know. And why would Terry abandon his post? It was quite literally his job to guard your body.

Highly recommended, yeah right. 

You made it to your dressing room and peered inside, stepping inward to check behind the door. Good. No one there. You stepped further into the room before it dawned on you that if no one was there, if no one was around…who the fuck banged on the door? 

You turned slowly just as a bat came swinging towards your head. You leapt out of the way with a scream, throwing yourself against the vanity. 

A figure dressed head to toe in black lifted the baseball bat to his shoulders. The figure was on the small side, but broad. Had to be a man. 

“What do you want from me?” You yelled. You moved the director’s chair in front of you, to deter the figure. He only kept advancing, holding the bat like you were the game winning ball and he needed a home run. 

You lifted the chair and threw it at him, running from the room. Facing three possible directions, you forgot where the exit was. You also forgot how to read, because there were signs but it didn’t make any sense at the moment.

The figure groaned and it spurned you to run, to flee, to find the exit however you were able to. Thundering footsteps boomed behind you as you ran away. Your lungs felt like they were going to go flying out of your mouth. They burned and ached as you ran and ran.

All of the exercise and training you kept up with did fuck all when faced with an actual attacker. Your brain was mush, operating on some basic instinct to survive. You were supposed to be smarter than this, right? 

You risked a glance behind you just in time to see the bat swinging for your head. You fell to the floor to miss it, landing hard on your thigh, and then scrambled across the floor to avoid another swing for your head.

You pulled nearby crates towards you, dollies, and anything else you could pull. One of the crates managed to trip up your attacker. You rushed to your feet, running through the nearest door.

The door banged open against the wall, echoing in the larger chamber. You made it back to the stage and those same lights blinded you as you ran across the stage. Your body felt stiff, achy, as it wanted nothing more than to stop and evaluate.

Stopping meant death. Stopping meant that your attacker had another chance to get you. 

Stopping meant – you were pushed forward and you fell, sliding across the stage. Your chin bounced against the hard floor and you groaned as your teeth clacked painfully. Pain shot through your jaw and you groaned.

A strong hand gripped you by your ponytail and yanked. You screamed as your head was pulled backwards. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be what took you out. This couldn’t, this couldn’t–

You kicked and flailed until your shoe connected with something. There was a harsh, low growl as the grip around your hair lessened enough for you to break free. 

You got to your feet, thigh screaming in pain as you limped back to your dressing room. If nothing else, you could lock the door and call for help. It was your final hope. You weren’t going out like this. You didn’t need anyone.

You limped past the door to the hallway, stopping long enough to bar it momentarily with a cart. It wouldn’t hold the attacker for long, but it’d buy you some time. Fuck. Everything fucking hurt. 

Liquid dripped down your chin. You swiped at it and it came away red. You groaned as you stared at your own blood. Literally at your life leaking from your body. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huffed as you limped to your dressing room. 

Metal double doors slammed up against the crate you pushed against the door. You looked back to see an arm flailing through trying to push the crate. Fuck, fuck. Your vision turned blurry as you limped.

It seemed like every step you took only made the dressing room seem further and further back. It looked so far away, like you were never going to find salvation. 

“Someone! Please,” you called out.

You tripped over your shoes and went tumbling forward, landing awkwardly on the same thigh that already cried out with pain. You sniffled as tears ran down your face. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to fucking do.

The crate crashed against the wall as it finally rolled free. “No!” You yelled out, finding enough strength to get back to your feet. So close, so close, so close, so close –

Your name echoed down the hallway as a thunder of boots ran closer to you. You turned around, expecting to see your attacker and that damn bat, but there was no one behind you. Nothing.

You shook violently and swayed to your right, nearly colliding with the wall. You held out your hand to stop your entire body from crashing against it and then used the wall to hold yourself up. 

The storm of boots turned the corner. Terry lead the charge and checked your room first and then swiveled. He called your name. Fuck, you’d never been more happy to see someone. 

“Terry!” You yelled. 

His head snapped in your direction and he crossed the hallway in long, determined strides. You swiped at your tears and leaned on your good leg, trying to make yourself look less pathetic.

Terry slowed as he approached you, holding up his hands. He stopped short when he got a good look at you. 

“Who the fuck did this?” He asked, his chest heaving with harsh breaths. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” you said, your voice pitching higher and higher. You began to slide down the wall, all fight leaving you completely. He was here. He was here. He didn’t forget about you.

Terry caught you around your middle, shouldering most of your weight. He reached out and gently cupped your face, moving it from one side to the next. His jaw flexed as his eyes scanned over you, taking in all of your injuries. 

He was joined a second later by members of his team and the studio security. Questions were lobbed at you in rapid succession but your brain had turned cloudy. 

“You’re in shock. She’s in shock, back up!” Terry yelled. The mass of bodies dispersed as Terry half-carried, half-walked with you to your dressing room. 

“I woke up and there was no one–”

“Shh, shh, not yet,” he said. 

Just this once…this one brief moment, you let yourself lean on someone else. Terry handled everyone with all the command of a general, parting the sea of looky-loo’s, likely taking photos of you at your most vulnerable. 

Fuck, this was going to end up on TMZ. You groaned at the thought. Terry helped you into your dressing room and then sat you down on the couch. He produced a jacket from somewhere and draped it across your shoulders.

You shook so badly. You were freezing, sore, and achy. You wanted to crawl up like a little baby and never see the light of day again. 

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason? Who the fuck went through the trouble of all of this? What the living fuck? 

All you ever wanted to do was sing and now…you didn’t even have that. The last thing you wanted to do was quit. The very last thing. Singing was your passion, your very being. It was the reason you woke up day in and day out. Because for three hours or so on stage, for hours in the studio, for every interview and fan interaction, you never felt more alive than when you were singing. 

And someone hated you enough to take it away from you. Your mind spun with crazy scenarios. This had to be a deranged fan. This had to be one of those crazy moms who blamed you for corrupting their youth. This had to be someone.  

Someone tangible. This was the work of one person. A smart, deranged person, but just a person. Someone who bled. Someone you managed to fight off. 

Distantly, Terry’s deep timbre barked orders but you weren’t paying attention. You wanted to sleep. 

“Let them through!” Terry’s voice boomed. You jumped from the sudden explosion, before Mirage and Joya squeezed past Terry.

He stood as a stop gap to the onslaught of activity outside the dressing room. No one was getting through him if he had anything to say about it. But then why did he abandon you earlier? 

Mirage and Joya hugged you gently, careful of your injuries. They treated you with kid gloves and that pissed you off more than anything else. You weren’t a fragile flower. You fucking survived. 

Joya cried, swiping at her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We were told to leave and then we couldn’t find you and then I remembered that I had your phone and we couldn’t even call you–”

You hummed. Even if you made it to your dressing room, there was no phone in here to help you. If Terry hadn’t come when he did, would you be dead right now? 

You hated that you had to rely on others for your safety. You hated that you were a second away from being permanently removed from this earth and it was only by a stroke of dumb luck that the idiot was scared off. 

Joya and Mirage filled you in on their side of things. They were waiting for you to return when one of the guards told everyone to clear out. There was a bomb threat that had been called in and they needed to sweep the building to get everyone out. 

But why didn’t Terry take you with him? 

Your eyes kept glancing over to him as he coordinated with the police and with his team to secure everything back down. His menacing scowl intimidated those around him as he barked orders and commanded everyone. 

Terry glanced at you from time to time. He would give one nod of his head and you returned it. But his whereabouts were more concerning to you. Over the past year, he had been your constant shadow. Nothing fazed him. Nothing tore him up. So where the fuck did he go? 

Terry re-entered the room and stopped short of you. He dropped down into a squat so that he could look you in the eye. “Feel up to talking?” 

You took a deep breath. “Not really. But I know I need to,” you said. The question you most wanted to ask stuck in your throat. You were to afraid of the answer. 

“You don’t have to. We can tell them to meet you somewhere else,” he said. 

You shook your head. “I’m a big girl. I want to get it over with,” you said.

His chin dipped once as his eyes roamed over you. You must look absolutely horrendous. To his credit, he didn’t say anything as he stood and went to the door. He waved to someone and then two men followed behind Terry into your dressing room.

The room grew stuffier, filled with too many bodies. Crowding your space. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself. You were safe. You survived. 

One of the men introduced himself as Henry Bell, a detective with LAPD who was coordinating with the detective in charge of your stalker case. Because you were hopping through multiple cities, it was hard for any one detective to handle it. 

The other man was Patrick Rollins, head of security for the venue. The men asked you to run through what you remembered and what happened. 

You pulled the coat around your shoulders and Mirage and Joya scooted closer to you but you still felt alone. Abandoned. Cold. Like the heat of their bodies couldn’t penetrate the dense fog around you.

You pushed that from your mind as you told them what happened, starting from when you woke up to when Terry found you. You glanced at him as you spoke, wanting to see his reaction yet still afraid of what his excuse was.

He didn’t owe you a damn thing. But you still needed to know why you weren’t important enough to take with. 

They asked more questions, pushed to see if you recognized anything about your attacker. You kept telling them no, getting more agitated the more they asked. How many other ways could you say that you didn’t recognize the loser? 

“Alright, you should have enough,” Terry said. 

“We still have questions–” Rollins started.

“You have enough for now,” Terry reiterated. Rollins sized up Terry but Terry didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He merely kept his open stance and faced the detective and head of security. 

Rollins pushed boyish blond hair out of his face and then nodded. Detective Bill rocked back on his heels and then shoved his notebook into his coat and clicked a pen. “If you think of anything else, let us know, please,” he said. “And I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

You nodded to them and mumbled your thanks. They left with lingering, heated glances with Terry. He saw them out and then he half closed the door. 

“There’s a few things I need to handle and then we can get out of here.” 

You nodded, staring towards your shoes. Everything fucking hurt. You just wanted to turn into a giant baby. But people like you didn’t get to be coddled. You didn’t get to be human. It shattered the illusion and the fantasy.

You picked at the dry blood on your chin. Angie was going to kill you for messing up your face. You sighed and leaned forward.

“Do you have a headache, babe?” Mirage asked. 

You nodded. “I’ll check with a paramedic. They should be here by now.” Mirage stood up and grabbed Joya by the elbow. She protested for half a minute but you didn’t see what Mirage did to make Joya grow quiet. They left the room, leaving you and Terry alone. The last time you had been left alone together didn’t exactly go as planned. 

“Hey,” Terry said. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and then reluctantly looked at him. “How are you really doing?” 

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you said. 

He crossed the room and then dropped into a squat. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but you smirked, refusing to smile at his words. “Everything hurts. But I’ll be okay,” you said. 

He nodded. You held each other’s gazes for a moment, just taking him in. His eyes scanned over you, jaw flexing. You didn’t know what he saw. Probably a terrified mess.

“I should apologize–” he started.

“Where were–” you said at the same time. 

He shook his head. “The bomb threat smelled like bullshit so I left a guard to watch you while I checked it out. I was locked in a closet and by the time I burst free, everyone was gone. I went looking, but the guard left his post. Fresh out the military, the bomb was triggering,” he said. His jaw flexed after he said that. 

“You couldn’t know it was triggering,” you said. Well, that explained that. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. An undying apology while he was on his knees? For him to acknowledge that he never would’ve left you voluntarily? He didn’t owe you anything. No one did. 

“He left his post. He’s fired,” Terry said with venom behind his words. 

You smiled ruefully. “That’s a bit harsh,” you said.

Terry blinked at you and you decided to drop it. Apparently, it was important to him and you didn’t know enough about the nuances about this stuff to comment. 

“We’re going to find this motherfucker,” Terry promised.

“Thank you. For coming when you did,” you said quietly. 

“I’m not leaving your side again,” he said. 

Your teeth clicked shut, drawing attention to your bruised chin. You didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t supposed to leave your side earlier. But he did. You settled on a nod. 

Terry lifted from his squat and then returned to his duties, ordering people around, coordinating with others. 

Everything else moved along in a blur. First, you were checked out by a paramedic while Terry watched him like a hawk. You were treated for the scrape on your chin and your thigh was merely bruised. No sprains, no injuries. The paramedic called you lucky. Yeah, right. 

Terry managed to escort you to a truck that had been brought round back and off to the hotel room. The city nightlife went on without you. Though you did pass by a restaurant in downtown LA that played your latest song with Lord A.K. That sort of made you smile. 

You didn’t remember much about the ride to your hotel room besides one minute you were at the venue and the next you stood inside your hotel doorway while Terry checked around. 

“We’ll switch hotels tomorrow. For now, you can rest.” 

You nodded and went to your room without a word. Though you did stop just outside your bedroom. 

“Terry?” You asked.

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You huffed with a smirk and then turned to him. “I want to learn how to defend myself. Will you teach me?” You asked. 

It wasn’t enough to survive anymore. It no longer suited you to just wait around for this lunatic to kill you. Clearly, your security wasn’t up to snuff. Clearly, this person could get to you at any point and at any time. The only person who could save you was you.

“If that’s what you want,” Terry said.

“That’s what I want.” 

Thank you, my loves. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

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[theunsinkableship1]

DENIAL IS NOT A RIVER IN LUKOLALAND

⚠️DISCLAIMER: This is Lukolaland only. Skip if you don't believe.

Denial is a river in LUKOLALAND?

This has to be a joke, right? Some responses that I have received on my latest posts on TT and Tumblr leave me perplexed. Let me make something clear: I’m not here to convince anyone of anything. You have the right to believe whatever you want, that’s your prerogative. However, this is a Lukola space. It’s a space that exists to celebrate their connection, to nurture it from afar, because it shines brightly and is uniquely beautiful.

I don’t know them personally. I can only judge from what I’ve seen and heard, and I fully acknowledge that my perception is biased. My interpretations come from the way I read into their actions, their words, and their patterns. What I share here isn’t fact, it’s speculation based on observation. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know what’s really going on.

First and foremost, they are colleagues and FRIENDS. They’ve said that multiple times, and I believe them. For those who doubt their friendship, I don’t know what to tell you. That’s the foundation here. If you don’t even believe in their bond as friends, this probably isn’t the space for you.

But here’s where it gets complicated: they’re not just platonic friends. You may have missed it, but the signs are there, publicly available. You just need to pay attention. I’m not talking about outlandish theories; I’m talking about what’s right there if you’re willing to see it.

I believe they’re in love with each other. As for their current situation? I’m not certain. But the level of plausible deniability in their story doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe it does to you, but for someone who thinks in layers, patterns, double entendres, and undertones, someone who loves words and has studied communication and PR, this whole narrative is anything but straightforward.

Leaving this much space for misinterpretation is a choice. If they wanted to shut this down entirely, they could’ve done so with clarity and finality. It’s not that they can’t make themselves understood without being misconstrued, they absolutely can. But they haven’t.

It’s wise to keep a level of doubt, it maintains objectivity and prevents overreach. However, when coincidences stack up and patterns emerge, it becomes increasingly unlikely that they’re all mere misunderstandings or products of plausible deniability.

The more coincidences there are, the less likely they are to be unrelated.

On their own, one or two could easily be explained away, “just friends,” “PR,” or “fans reading too much into it.”

When similar themes arise repeatedly over months or years (e.g., their timing, shared themes, subtle nods to one another), the likelihood of them being mere coincidence diminishes.

The concept of plausible deniability hinges on actions that could be explained in multiple ways. However, the more layers of ambiguity and deniability built into their interactions, the more intentional it feels.

The subtleties of their public dynamic suggest a shared awareness of fan interpretations. They know how their actions are perceived. To repeatedly engage in behaviors that could be "misunderstood" suggests either: a) Intentional messaging within safe boundaries. b) A significant lack of care, which doesn’t align with how thoughtful and calculated they seem to be.

Take Nicola’s recent Times interview as an example. She could have ended all speculation right there,

“A lot of people really want me to marry Luke,” she says with a laugh. “We have this gorgeous friendship. We have such a love for one another and this experience that I’ll never have with someone else again. Isn’t it gorgeous that a man and woman can have that sort of relationship with one another?”

but she didn’t. Why? There must be a reason. And no, it’s not just PR. PR campaigns don’t operate on layers of plausible deniability that stretch across years, interweave with personal moments, and rely on such specific timing.

Isn’t it strange that for two people who have been so close, their social interactions have significantly decreased compared to before? Over the past two years, especially after the world tour, they appeared to have solidified a deep friendship. If the intent is to disengage fans from the idea that they might be secretly in love, wouldn’t it be wiser to interact more naturally and perhaps even acknowledge each other’s perceived partners?

From a strategic perspective, a like, a follow, or a simple interaction on social media could have gone a long way in dismantling the Lukola narrative. Such actions would feel natural for close friends, especially ones under public scrutiny. Their reluctance to adopt this approach only adds to the curiosity. Why not lean into a strategy that would be less detrimental and more effective at quelling speculation?

Perhaps they are more active on private social media accounts, but publicly, the absence of these gestures stands out. If the goal truly is to clarify their relationship and put fan theories to rest, this perceived distance feels counterproductive. The choice to refrain from such actions, at least for now, is, at the very least, curious. Could it be that there’s a reason they haven’t done so yet?

Both Luke and Nicola have had ample opportunities to firmly address and deny the Lukola narrative. While they’ve made passing comments about being friends, these have lacked the clarity and directness that would fully quash the speculation. Why leave the door ajar if they truly wanted to shut it?

Their reduced interactions seem to have coincided with the conclusion of the promotional period for Bridgerton. During promotions, they were actively engaging with each other and the fandom, fostering the image of a close bond. The sudden change afterward could indicate a deliberate decision to recalibrate public perceptions of their relationship.

The decrease in public interactions after the “papgate” could be their way of managing fallout from the incident, yet it raises questions: Why would two close friends need to distance themselves so noticeably? It suggests a calculated retreat to reduce speculation. However, this strategy seems counterproductive, as the abruptness of the change has drawn more attention. A gradual shift, paired with natural acknowledgments of their respective supposed personal lives, might have been more effective.

It’s possible they’re still VERY close privately but have chosen to limit their public interactions to avoid misinterpretation, or for privacy reasons. If so, this deliberate choice to create distance publicly could point to a deeper connection they’re trying to shield.

This brings us back to patterns. If you observe their public interactions, their timing, their word choices, the double meanings, they’re not random. These coincidences pile up to the point where it’s hard to believe they’re all meaningless. Their bond transcends the boundaries of PR, platonic friendship, or even ordinary relationships.

If you reason in layers, you’ll see it too. The amount of room they leave for interpretation is extraordinary. It’s not just about what they say, it’s about what they don’t say. It’s about the undertones, the pauses, the way they navigate questions, and even the things they choose to share (or not share) on social media. All of this seems to be deliberate. The picture is larger and more intricate than it seems on the surface.

For example: Am I truly supposed to believe that Nicola, who has a higher degree in English and a major grasp of language, would post a Scrabble board with so many elements that could be interpreted through a Lukola lens purely by coincidence? Yes, she’s an avid player of word games, but let’s examine the board itself. It reflects competent but not advanced gameplay, logical and adhering to Scrabble rules, yes, but lacking the level of complexity, strategy, and nuanced word choice you’d expect from someone of her linguistic caliber or from a player displaying their skill.

For me, this was never just about showing off her love of Scrabble. It felt intentional, like an intended message rather than a casual post. If the goal was simply to share her hobbies or an aesthetic moment, she could’ve easily posted a picture of herself playing Scrabble, perhaps with a pint of Guinness in hand. Or she could’ve showcased a more advanced board to reflect her skills or creativity. Instead, she chose this specific board with these specific words, words that align so conveniently with a narrative many of us have come to associate with Lukola.

And let’s not forget her self-awareness. Why would someone who knows how deeply her posts are analyzed by fans continue to share things that are repeatedly misconstrued? If she didn’t want the association, why add layers of ambiguity, such as the now infamous “the very demure, very mindful” quote? What was the reason?

Just two days ago, she posted a photo in her best of 2024 the phrase "if you know, you know." Let’s be honest, how many Lukola edits have we seen that riff of "when you know, you know"? If this wasn’t related to that, what exactly was the point of the “random” quote?  Is it public knowledge or is it something only some know? Nicola is anything but random on social media. She’s chronically online, she’s clever, and she’s incredibly aware of the narratives circulating around her.

These patterns, Scrabble boards, cryptic quotes, wordplay, and selective ambiguity, don’t feel accidental. They feel curated. For someone so skilled with words and communication, there’s intention behind these choices. If it were just for fun, she could have chosen countless other ways to express herself that wouldn’t leave so much room for interpretation. But she didn’t. And for me, that’s speaks volumes.

I’m mainly talking about Nicola here because there’s simply more material to analyze, her posts, interviews, and public interactions offer more clues and layers to unpack. However, Luke’s activity, or rather, his noticeable lack of activity, is equally intriguing and worth examining.

Luke has always been more reserved on social media compared to Nicola, but his recent silence or carefully curated posts stand out. He’s not just absent; he’s selectively absent. There’s a difference between being inactive and deliberately staying under the radar. For someone who previously shared glimpses of his personal life and participated more openly in fandom engagement, his current approach feels intentional.

When he does post, the content often seems neutral, leaning into professional promotion or generic life updates. Yet, the timing or lack of acknowledgment of certain things, whether related to Nicola or even his supposed personal relationships, leaves room for speculation. It’s almost as if he’s consciously avoiding feeding into narratives while simultaneously not shutting them down.

For instance, why hasn’t he addressed certain rumors head-on, as he has done in the past with other relationships? Luke has historically been upfront about his. It’s a choice.

Considering that Luke has been involved in other projects and worked with other co-stars since the end of the Bridgerton world tour, the ratio of content related to Nicola remains strikingly high. Among the limited glimpses he does share, Nicola accounts for the largest percentage of reposts and interactions. What’s even more telling is that the majority of this content is Lukola-focused, centered on his dynamic with Nicola as individuals, rather than strictly Polin-related, which would be tied to their characters and professional pairing. Yes, she is his MAIN co-star within the Bridgerton universe, but this level of engagement is noteworthy.

This isn’t to say he doesn’t appreciate or acknowledge his other co-stars; it’s just that the weight of attention, however subtle, consistently gravitates toward Nicola. Whether it’s the choice of what he reposts or the absence of comparable attention toward other colleagues, the pattern emerges loud and clear.

If we analyze this through a lens of probability and statistics, the numbers paint an even more intriguing picture. Let’s say Luke has worked with five to seven notable co-stars in other projects and in Bridgerton, if he has been tagged in or had the opportunity to engage with 100 pieces of social media content since the world tour. If Nicola accounts for, say, 60% of the interactions and reposts, despite being one of many co-stars, it defies the expectation of a more even distribution.

For context, if he were equally invested in all professional relationships, the engagement with Nicola might hover closer to 15-20%, proportional to the size of his broader network. The fact that this number is so much higher, let’s conservatively estimate at least three to four times greater raises questions. Is this simply because of their shared Bridgerton fame? Perhaps. But then why focus on individual Lukola moments, bypassing more neutral or inclusive Polin or broader cast content?

From a mathematical standpoint, the odds of this being purely coincidental diminish significantly when you layer in the context:

Nicola has the highest percentage of reposts across Luke's social media activity.

The type of content intimate, personal, or Lukola-specific reflects a curated choice, not random selection.

Even in a professional context, where Polin content would be the obvious promotional focus, the Lukola-centric moments shine through.

Given the numbers and probabilities, it seems less likely that this pattern is accidental or merely reflective of professional obligations. Instead, it suggests an intentionality that aligns with the depth and uniqueness of their connection.

Promotion for Bridgerton Season 3 has come to a halt, creating a quiet period where we can observe and compare how Luke approaches the promotion of his other projects.it could highlight how unique his dynamic with Nicola truly is.

The nature of the content he shares for other projects will be equally telling

By comparing these promotional efforts both in terms of frequency and tone to the patterns established during the Bridgerton promotional cycle, we could gain insight into whether his approach to Nicola was truly unique or simply part of his broader professional routine.

When coincidences pile up, their probability of being just coincidences shrinks dramatically. A single instance might be random, but repeated instances with similar themes, timing, and emotional undertones suggest a deeper meaning. While maintaining doubt is reasonable, the sheer volume of these moments suggests that there’s more at play than mere misunderstanding. It’s not about overreaching, it’s about acknowledging that where there’s consistent smoke, there’s likely some fire. What type of fire is there currently? I’m not sure. Are you? Probably an Eternal flame.