#i know I sound pretentious but really this people don’t get it

[wheelercurse]

mmmm here I read takes which I disagree with, but sometimes make me reconsider my own opinion and think maybe you’re right. But with twitter, many many takes I roll my eyes at it because they’re so dumb and they really don’t understand the characters or their arcs at all.

[turtleblogatlast]

Thinking about how Leo says he uses his jokes to cope and y’know, thinking harder on it I think it may very well be because of what else uses one-liners and puns and that type of humor.

Specifically, 80’s action movies and campy sci-fi. Even more specifically, the protagonists of these.

So I can imagine why, exactly, Leo leans toward this brand of humor. It’s directly linked to things he loves! But even more than that is why I think it’s used as a coping mechanism.

In these genres, these quips tend to be said by the winner - or, if not a winner, then someone who will stay alive. So there’s a confidence behind them, an assurance, almost, that even if things go wrong, things aren’t ever too serious. There’s no bad endings here! It’s all good fun, even if the stakes seem high.

Leo canonically has been known to steer his brothers away from the more brutal villains and toward more fun, lighthearted activities and not-so-dangerous criminals. So for Leo, these jokes definitely make things less heavy, make the situations they find themselves in less intense.

It’s kinda not just coping, but also can be seen as a form of escapism. A safety blanket. A way for Leo to defuse the tension of knowing just how dangerous their lives are and replace that with a levity which implies that things will be okay.

Unfortunately, levity alone does not alter reality.

[deadsetobsessions]

Tim had forgotten, in his one man (and the admittedly liberal usage of hired guns) crusade at everything that had hurt his family, that he was technically a child. A time traveling 21 year old Tim Drake in his younger body, sure, but he’s still a nine year old child.

Tim was violently, unpleasantly reminded of this as he opened his front door to… Gotham Primary’s truancy officer.

Oh shit. He still had to go to school. Tim scrambled for an excuse.

“Hello, Timothy. Are your parents home?”

“Uh- no, sir. Only my nanny. I’ve been really,” think, Timothy, think! Are you Red Robin for nothing? “really sick. She went out for some medicine.”

Tim knew what the officer saw as he looked down at him, a pale, drawn little boy who looked like a sickly Victorian child. He has no idea that Tim had the beginnings of lean muscles and strong grip strength underneath his baggy clothes.

“I see. I’ll have to talk to your nanny, then. We need to be informed of when you’re ill, Timothy.”

“Oh. She-” shit, shit, shit! “Doesn’t speak English.” Was that racist? That felt racist. Gods, he probably sounds like a snobby classist elite. “I’ll let my mom know to email you, sir?”

The truancy officer sighed. By Tim’s lucky stars, he agreed. The man pulled out a singular paper from his plastic folder, clearly used to this kind of thing, especially from the elites of Gotham, and said, “Email the school. And have her sign this note, please.”

Tim nodded seriously. Like hell he would.

When the officer was gone, Tim closed the gate immediately. He had forgotten to close it after getting back home from stalking the Bats last night. Well, Bat, singular, because Jason was still benched.

Tim sighed, grabbing a pen to fluidly forge Janet Drake’s signature on his paper about truancy and proper procedures and what not. Then, he moved to the computer, easily stealing his mother’s credentials, emailing the school about his sick leave, and their decision to have him home schooled.

He’d miss Ives, but honestly, Tim needed the free time. Plus, maybe this way, he’ll graduate high school this time around. He drafted another email to the counselor, asking them what kind of curriculum and tests he needed to pass to obtain future degrees and what not.

He gets an email back, with all of the testing required and the steps “Young Timothy” should take in order to succeed in the rest of his academic career. Tim would like to point out he’s nine, and that this was pretentious. Helpful, sure, but pretentious all the same.

“That’s what people don’t mention about time traveling. It’s all fun and games until you get hit with the mundane and tedious things.” Tim muttered, setting up his appointments for testing. He’ll have to find someone to drive him to the tests…

His mind turned to his neighbors… hm. That’s a possibility.

Tim wiped all traces of his activities from his mother’s email, doing a quick and hidden bit of rerouting to get any educational emails regarding him sent to his own inbox.

Tim swigged a mouthful of coffee and continued on his merry way.

His new goal?

Find Cassandra Cain.

[harmonictechnicality]

Robin drags Steve to a local art exhibit on a goddamn weeknight. This is not his scene at all.

Pretentious douchebags in scarves discussing if that splatter of paint represents socioeconomic downfall? Nah, this shit is not for him.

Robin ditches him halfway through the exhibit to talk to some sculptor that she’s got a thing for. Honestly, Steve would’ve done the same thing if it were him. But still, Steve is five minutes away from leaving her ass and taking a cab home.

He’s sitting on metal bench, centered a few feet away from the oversized canvas of scattered colors.

It looks like such a mess. Scribbled strokes of paint and lines that bump into curves. Everything intersecting. Someone would probably try to convince him that it represents the artist’s troubled past or fucked up childhood.

To Steve, it’s just a mess.

“What do you think?” A voice asks, joining Steve on the bench.

He looks to be about Steve’s age. Bold features, bolder hairstyle. All black clothes with chunky red combat boots. Elaborate tattoos creeping over the collar of his shirt.

Steve shrugs. “Truthfully? I don’t get it.”

“It’s art. What don’t you get about it?” The guy looks stunned.

Is Steve really about to argue with a complete stranger over lines and colors?

“There’s nothing but lost movements.”

Guess he is.

Steve observes the nameplate next to the canvas and goes off.

“Like this Eddie Munson guy held up a paintbrush and went, ‘fuck it, they’ll never know this is bullshit.’ Honestly, this whole place is a facade for people to masquerade around, pretending to be in tune to artistic expression, but they’re not.”

“They’re not?”

“No.” Steve answers immediately, a little defensive. “Nobody here gives a shit about what the artist is trying to convey, and this artist…”

Steve points at the artwork.

“This Munson guy knew that. Knew he could fool every rich asshole in this place.”

The guy looks at the painting and laughs. He’s got a nice smile, Steve thinks. Wide and genuine. Not too perfect. Not overly rehearsed. Like he doesn’t give out smiles to just anyone.

“Eddie Munson couldn’t fool you though, could he?” He finally says, looking directly at Steve.

The intense eye contact makes Steve a bit fidgety. Nervous. “I guess not, no.”

“I like that.”

“Like what?”

“That you refuse to see what everyone else sees.” The guy turns away, releasing Steve from the gaze. “Even if that would be easier.”

It almost sounded like he was trying to say he likes Steve. Not that Steve would complain if that were true. This guy is not his type, but that doesn’t mean he’s unwilling to expand his definition of type for someone that’s interested in him.

“What do you think about it?” Steve tilts his head towards the canvas.

The guy twists the ring on his thumb, processing an answer. He crosses his legs, then un-crosses them. Twists the ring counterclockwise now.

“I think the painter abandoned their originality to meet their growing audience’s expectations of them as an artist.” He finally says.

Steve scoffs. “How did you draw up a conclusion like that?”

The guy hums and abruptly changes the topic. “What did you say your name was?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Right.” He gets up and gestures toward a ‘staff only’ door. “Up for a little field trip, Steve Harrington?”

This is dumb. Breaking laws is something Steve left behind in his angst-filled teen years.

But this guy is bad-boy hot and Steve is painfully bored, so he follows the stranger despite his better judgement.

They enter the door and are instantly greeted by a trail of empty paint buckets. There’s dirty tarps covering the floors and countless canvases laid out across the wide room.

Right away, Steve can tell this is what art is all about. The chaos. The urgency to create as soon inspiration strikes.

And these paintings look nothing like the one hanging in the gallery. These paintings are full narratives told through shapes and pigments.

These paintings could be an autobiography on the topic of someone who experiences life deeply. Passionately.

These are the untold masterpieces.

“Wow.” Is all Steve finally comes up with.

“To answer your question,” the stranger gestures grandly to the entirety of the room. “This is how I drew up that conclusion.”

“This was the originality. It’s stuck behind these four walls, but it’s where everything started. It’s where everything should have stayed.”

Steve carefully watches the man explore all the different works of art. Bending down to touch some. Smiling playfully at others. Steve is stupidly captivated by his ability to shine amongst literal art.

“What did you say your name was?”

The guy chuckles and walks back over to Steve. “I didn’t.”

“Right. Are you gonna tell me?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on if you’ll still kiss me after I tell you.”

They’re standing close, Steve hadn’t realized it until now. Maybe it was him closing the distance. Maybe it was the stranger. Maybe it was gravity growing tired of their mediocre foreplay.

But they’re close now. So close that Steve can see the lightening bolt tattoo below the stranger’s left ear. A thought runs rampant in Steve’s slutty mind that he could see every single neck tattoo if he were to start unbuttoning this guy’s shirt.

He’s close enough to do it.

“I’ll still kiss you afterwards,” Steve agrees dreamily. Getting high off of paint fumes and close proximity.

The stranger lets his hand wander up the back of Steve’s neck, breaths getting caught in Steve’s throat at the contact.

“I’m that Eddie Munson guy.” He says in a low whisper. “The same one who held up a paintbrush and went, ‘fuck it, they’ll never know this is bullshit.’”

Every word he utters is cautious now. Like Steve might change his mind about kissing him.

Steve doesn’t change his mind.

He pulls hard at Eddie’s collar, lets their lips collide dizzily fast. Eddie’s mouth pushes against his to lead the kiss, Steve is more than happy to let him do so.

It’s a noisy kiss. Sounds escaping out of the corners of their mouths. Airy gasps and rustling clothes filling the open space.

Steve breaks the kiss to speak, inhaling as much oxygen as he can get. “I’m guessing you bring lots of guys back here and woo them with your secretly amazing art.”

Eddie had transitioned to kissing Steve’s neck while he was talking, but stops as soon as Steve says that.

“You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart.” Eddie cradles Steve’s flushed cheeks with both hands. “I only bring pretty boys who refuse to see what everyone else sees back here.”

Steve moves Eddie’s hands and wraps them around his own neck. “Even if that would be easier.”

Eddie smiles. “Exactly.”

He goes back to sucking on Steve’s neck, like he was rudely interrupted before, and Steve starts to feel as chaotic as the art surrounding them. Eddie marks him with a fresh bruise, just below his right ear. Mirroring the exact spot where Eddie’s lightening tattoo is located.

Eddie licks over it. Swirling his tongue in sweltering circles, making Steve pant wow as he finishes the creation he was designing solely with his mouth.

He exhales a single laugh into their kiss.

“Why are you laughing?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head.

“I really like doing things that make you say wow like that, Steve Harrington.”

Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “I really like that too.”

Eddie kisses him thoroughly slow once more, then nibbles over Steve’s ear as he whispers:

“Kinda curious to find out what else I can make you say.”

[juqtier]

☆◞: IM ALWAYS JUST A DOOR AWAY ✧ SPENCER REID

SPENCER REID X FEM READER

SUMMARY: when you moved in to your new apartment, you never imagined your neighbor, spencer reid, would be such a nightmare. he wasn’t your favorite guy. in fact, you hated him. unfortunately for you, you can never seem to escape him. the universe clearly has other plans for you two.

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption in some chapters, angsty, arguing, spencer is kind of (definitely) an asshole, kissing, cursing, somewhat darker plot points as story progresses (this is my first ever full story fanfic! so it might be bad…) this will also be 10 parts so yayyy

GENRE: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst

⋆·˚ ༘ *

chapter 1 : a nightmare..

✎Was it even possible to hate someone so much that even the thought of them made your blood boil?

You never thought that was even possible. You were always trying to see the best in people, even if they were rude to you. That all changed when you moved next door to Spencer Reid.

Spencer Reid

The bane of your existence.

You had moved into your first apartment alone, with the help of your parents loaning some money and your waitressing job, when you had the unpleasant experience of meeting him.

God, he was so stuck up and pretentious. Getting to know him might have been your biggest regret.

The first day you met him, he immediately gave you an attitude.

You weren’t all that familiar with this area, so you took it upon yourself to try and make friends with the neighbors.

As you walk up to the door and knock, you become excited at the potential of a new friendship.

Behind the door, you can hear a quiet, muffled voice and some shuffling before it’s opened to reveal a rather tall man looking down at you.

“Yes?” He sounded a bit annoyed, yet you continued your introduction.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor! My name is-“

“Cool, I’m really busy, and if it isn’t important, don’t bother me.” The man quickly shuts the door.

You were so puzzled and quite upset.

Who just shuts the door on someone’s face like that?

-‘๑’-

However, after some time, you forgave it. Everyone has bad days; everyone is very busy at some point. Maybe he was just overwhelmed, right?

That was until you saw him again, in the parking lot of the apartments.

You found out his name was Spencer Reid from some other neighbors. This only made you more interested in getting to know him, or at least being civil with each other.

You were getting out of your car after returning home from work when you saw him coming down the stairs to the parking lot. Trying to be friendly, you waved and smiled.

“Hello!” Your expression was bright and kind, as always. Something Spencer never seemed to return. He visibly rolled his eyes at you, rushing to his car.

Did I do something wrong? Did I say something to offend him? Do I have something stuck in my teeth

Your thoughts ran wild, doubting every interaction you have had with anyone before. Were you just annoying? You barely had a conversation with the man; how could he find you annoying?

Maybe he just sucked?

-‘๑’-

For months, your interactions were the same. You’d attempt to be friendly, and he’d quickly (and quite rudely) shut you down. You had convinced yourself he was just a busy man until you were proven right. He just sucked.

Friday, 10:49 pm

Music played throughout your living room as you unwinded on your couch. The weekend had just begun, so you decided to finally relax. Work had been extra shitty today, and you felt you deserved a break. You sat on your couch, reading a book, as your favorite songs played when you heard a knock at the door.

Who could be knocking so late?

Placing your book down and quickly turning the music off, you rush to answer the door.

As it opened, you'd never been more confused to see Spencer Reid standing in front of you.

“Uh, hi? Is something wro-”

“Can you turn the music down?” He seemingly snaps, not even letting you finish your sentence.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to have it so lo-”

“If you’re going to blare your music, you shouldn’t have such terrible taste.”

You were taken aback. You were used to the interruptions, the eye rolling, even being completely ignored. But now, he was just being plain rude.

“What? I said I’m sorry.. What’s your problem?”

You were almost about to snap at him. It took all of your power to not rip into him, calling him every name you could think of.

“My problem? My problem is that ever since you moved here, I can’t get even a moment of peace. Some people have jobs and commitments.”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Spencer. I’ve done nothing to you, but all you’ve done is be an asshole to me!”

Your anger and frustration seemed to boil over in that exact moment, not caring if you hurt his feelings anymore.

“Actu-”

“No, let me talk for once. I don’t know where you work or what you do to make you think you are so morally superior to me, but fuck. You are so fucking mean.“

He seemed shocked at the sudden outburst, as you only ever showed him your bright and bubbly side. His eyes widened slightly, not expecting the blow-up.

“You don’t get to talk down to me because you’re in a pissy mood. So leave me the fuck alone.”

With that, you slam your door in his face and quickly turn around. Your fists clench as you storm to your room and flop onto your bed, letting out a groan of frustration.

God, he was a nightmare.

-‘๑’-

PT 2

a.n : sorry if this sucks or is boring! i’ve never wrote a story like this before but i hope it’s okay!

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 13: First Impressions

Woo! DRDT! It is time! Time for despair! Let’s go! My excitement has not faded in the slightest from last week; if anything, it’s stronger than before. Here are my first impressions of this week’s episode!!!

Spoilers for CH2 EP13

CW Suicide, violent murder, mafia mention, suicide, hanging, self-harm.

It’s starting! Levi’s got some explaining to do. Will someone (say, Eden) have an interesting reaction?

Alright, J’s not the one I expected to have first reaction, but cool.

“You…” Is Ace okay? 

“Ah. I didn’t expect that.” Rose’s legendary reaction.

YOU CANNOT “THAT’S WACK” THIS SITUATION WHIT

Oh, so people know, but the court struck it. Interesting.

Ah, there’s the Ace reaction. Also, “no way Hope’s Peak scouted a murderer” but you have a poisoner on another secret and an art forger, at least. Not the same level maybe, but still. 

“Don’t make the mistake of switching cause and effect.” Of course Hope’s Peak is responsible, that was my first gut instinct. God, it’s so shady in this universe.

Woo, Levi backstory! Three “old enemies?”

… Bro??? I don’t think any of us actually expected more than one murder, but I might be wrong on that. Self-defense, then two first degrees, huh?

“Were you in the mafia or something?” Thanks J.

“I don’t think I need to elaborate” No, you do. You really should elaborate. Please? For me?

“Who did you even kill?” And… Levi!Accomplice is looking rougher by the second. Then again, maybe she didn’t know.

Levi tracked two of them down, but doesn’t know who they were? How?

“That car I blew up once?” HUH???

“That’s… kind of a lot to admit all of the sudden.” True, Rose. I’m trying to see what he’s cooking, but I can’t tell.

How do you forget this? Jeez.

“How could you forget?” You know, Arturo, I was kinda irrationally worried Charles was about to throw in his secret phrase, but it’s cool that you avoided that. Thanks.

[For the uninformed; it’s theorized the characters will, at some point in the series, say the quotes hidden in the source code of their dedicated pages out loud, since Min and Arei both said theirs, and Xander’s could be in a flashback. That means that if a character says their secret quotes, their chances of dying go up drastically.]

“If you don’t care about murder, you could be the murderer.” (Paraphrased) Yes thanks Veronika not the point. 

“Almost as if you don’t care…” Great. I didn’t know where Levi was going with this, now I don’t know where Veronika is going with her schtick.

I’m surprised Ace is taking it relatively well [as in, not outwardly terrified]. I guess near death does that to someone.

Woo! Time frame! Junior high school! 

Interesting, so he didn’t start fashion because of the murder. That’s kinda what I was thinking, but I was wrong.

We’re getting our first crumbs of Hope’s Peak being ultra shady in main series! After Rose’s backstory ig. Unfortunately the “pretentious revolutionaries” aren’t here to “hand out tickets of lead” ← LGI brainrot

“It could also refer to the time I murdered my father.”

… 

???????????????????????????

You didn’t lead with that?! Also, what?! I laughed out loud at the fucking absurdity of the statement, but what?!

“It’s a bit of a bother.” The bothersome part is that they’re phrased vaguely and not that they reveal you’re a murderer, got it.

“Go back!” Thank you J.

What do you mean I think. Bro how many people have you killed? What in the name of Kirisaki Shidou [/ref]?

“Not even the police cared about a man like him.” ??? Also, wasn’t your dad a bad influence? You’ve mentioned him before, it didn’t sound that bad- Wait, is he lying? No way he’s lying. Hold on, let me watch more.

[In retrospect, I doubt he’s lying, but his story is certainly weird]

“I see no reason to remain hung up-” Then why are you bringing it up. I still can’t fucking tell what you’re trying to accomplish here.

Eden’s reaction is… neutral, I guess? Makes sense either way?

Eden!Culprit has always been hard to maintain during the trial, huh… Still took the tape though. And I guess it’s potentially interesting she’s getting this much dialogue about Levi’s thing. Teruko’s yet to speak this episode.

“I wonder if I should really tell the truth…” Bro what do you mean there’s more truth to tell?

Oh, hey, speaking of Teruko. And it seems she and I share a mind.

“I don’t care about people at all.” Ooooh, I like this. Some kind of condition?

I feel a little bit like Veronika, interested in hearing his experience with this. Feeling like Veronika is probably a bad thing.

“You’re still a stranger to me.” Levi’s quickly climbing the ranks of fave characters, btw. This is super interesting.

“But you’re a good person-” DO NOT “good person” right now, Eden! That’s a point to Levi!Accomplice, maybe? Maybe not? I don’t know what’s happening. And I still don’t get what Levi is trying to do here.

Double “good person?” Bro what is happening.

“I don’t personally care what happens to Ace.” Mood (that’s a joke I like Ace).

PFT- Ace’s reaction lol.

“But it is “good” to make sure someone else doesn’t die-” Goodbye Levi!Accomplice! I liked you, but I’m probably gonna go try to find other theories after this episode :p (This is a joke, btw; if I didn’t discount theories like Hu!Culprit when the new alibis came up, I’m not going to completely abandon Levi!Accomplice over this. But, just saying, there might be a few revisions to be made)

“Haha. You…” Ace breakdown! Breakdown! (I'm absolutely acting like Veronika now).

“I was right all along.” Yeah, Ace ‘can tell a hawk from a handsaw’ Markey, nice one. (Does anyone even know/remember why I’m referencing that line or is LGI too far in the past for that?)

New Ace sprite! Cool one too. Clutching his heart, Acevi shippers eating ig. 

“Good thing I didn’t fall for it. Not one bit.” Oh they’re eating GOOD good!

“There’s only one person in my whole life who I’ve ever been able to call my friend-” IS THAT A FUCKING TAYLOR REFERENCE?!?!?! Holy shit, I don’t know how many people are even gonna remember we have a canon name for that dude. I hope someone still has the screenshot of the deleted answer from the CH2 Part 1 Q&A. 

“I really hope you fucking die.” We are active in Trial 2 Part 2, huh? Between Arturo telling him to “shut his whore mouth” and this, Levi’s getting verbally jumped!

“You’re quite the interesting person, Levi” Please Veronika, give me the psychoanalysis.

Dude, that’s three “good person” drops all on Levi. Chat the importance of this phrase may have been slightly overexaggerated by me (then again, the list of “good person” people has yet to grow from last chapter).

“You act like a big pushover because-” This is the psychoanalysis I came to see!

I don’t know if I’d call it “intuitive understanding” but I guess Levi’s not fully wrong about Veronika.

Four “good person.” And that’s not counting Veronika’s “good people.”

Five. Also, this continues to be interesting. Why did Levi bring this up again?

“After looking at David, I thought being honest-” Okay that’s hilarious.

“Try looking in a mirror…” First David line of the episode, right? And it’s a nice one of course.

That’s six cases of “good person” in this chapter alone holy shit. At least it’s David, who still had counts.

“I apologize for this tangent” Then can you please explain why the tangent exists in the first place? Or is it really just because being honest is "good"?

[Spoilers. It really was because of that. What]

“I can’t believe there was a time I liked you.” Yeah Acevi is still eating good. I doubt the hostility is gonna drive the shippers away; that’s what they’re here for, right?

And of course Whit’s first line makes him look suspicious. Bro you have an alibi for the time of disappearance of fish and you didn’t take the tape from the gym, stop pretending to be the killer.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Thank you Hu, but let me jump to a conclusion. Is Levi not gonna explain why he revealed his secret beyond the honesty thing?

Okay J’s response is good too.

“No, [Arei] didn’t [talk to Levi about the secret]” Bro what the fuck are we even talking about anymore.

“I don’t have a defense” (Paraphrased) No but seriously what. I’m this close to ripping out my hair. What is he doing.

“We don’t have evidence [Levi is the murderer]” Thank you Teruko Tawaki for being one of three competent people in the building. This is affectionate, one of my favorite parts of the DRDT cast is that they all suck at class trials lol :p

Bro Whit is trying REALLY HARD to look like the murderer rn. I’m still not letting him convince me. Yet.

“I realized that motives alone are not concrete evidence.” Yayyyy! Progress!

“I feel a sneeze coming on…” Dude David and Teruko need to get into comedy, they’re fucking hilarious.

“One second please.” Hu I trusted you. Why. You’re revealing your secret, right?

“...I didn’t want you all to think less of me.” Aww, poor Hu. No one’s gonna think less of you, you’re doing awesome (I am assuming she has hopeless child btw).

“I wanted to believe the past never happened” Butterfly motif and “water as rebirth” symbolism go brrr. 

“I’ve always been a selfish person, haven’t I?” Hu please, you’re really nice, even if you go overboard at times.

“I will share my secret if you promise to immediately move on.” (Paraphrased) Good idea. It would probably be good to talk about it if she wants, but this is kinda not the time.

“I have Veronika’s secret, and she has mine.” Okay I did NOT expect her to reveal she had Veronika’s, but alright! That’s two more on the board, and two more most of us got right! At least the theorists are doing well on the secrets.

[Veronika agreeing to the pact] Bro what pact, how did you communicate that? Also, “I have such little interest in both of our secrets” is wild, but it makes sense given her personality. Recap foils go brr, I’ll sit down and think about this later.

“My own so-called secret isn’t even the worst thing I’ve done.” Uh…??? It’s just bombshell after bombshell, these episodes!

Oh, we are questioning the pact. I kinda thought they’d managed to do that in the trial, now I’m really curious. Please tell me we aren’t gonna have to ignore that question because of what Hu asked of them.

Shit.

“We’re not gonna talk about me?” Oh, Vero, I would love for them to talk about you, but I don’t think it’s gonna happen.

“Arei– Achoo!” WHEN I TELL YOU I CACKLED LIKE A MADPERSON HOLY SHIT

“Bless me! Also, excuse me! Wow, thank you for your support everyone!” WAIT IT GOT FUNNIER.

“I have another interruption–” Either it just got even funnier or he’s about to reveal Teruko’s secret and shit got serious, let’s see.

Oh, right. But, dude, I’m relatively sure the last two unclaimed secrets can’t be hers. Maybe the survivor’s guilt one, even though that felt like Xander’s? Are you absolutely certain you don’t have her secret?

“My family.” Figured she’d try that one. [She probably feels it's true to some extent].

Oh, now THAT’S a David sprite alright. Pretty sure that settles it, the most common theories for secrets during hiatus were all correct.

I’m guessing David’s still not gonna reveal it. We still need to see a Teruko teacher CG, and I don’t think we’re gonna have time for that if he brings it up.

“We did it!” Yeah he ain’t revealing shit. 

“Sir Light Pollution” is actually crazy. Do his eyes really emit light like a flashlight? That’d be really fucking funny actually.

Oh, it was actually funny because Whit is a boyfailure. Alright, joke understood. I smiled.

“I am truly impressed… by how bad that was.” And there I laughed!

“I’ve started to detect this trial isn’t about me.” Iconic of you, Sir Attention Whore /affectionate

Thank you J.

Eden bro can we please let Teruko speak. Also you are not helping the culprit allegations miss Tobisa.

“What happened between you and Arei?” Jesus, we really cannot get to the fucking murder, huh? Fair, though, I’m really curious about this too, though I feel we’re gonna skip past it without an answer or David’s just not gonna respond seriously.

“I know that she’s dead and that she’s never coming back.” We’re getting worryingly close to your secret quote wording here, Eden. You sure you wanna go this route?

What are we, on seven “good person”s now?

Oh shit are we actually getting an answer?

YES! YES! YES! LET’S GO! I wasn’t expecting this!

Eight. Though I think this one’s repeated, though I might be wrong.

Yeah, this is old dialogue.

Man, Arei’s and Eden’s VAs did amazing work this episode!

“That makes me feel really relieved.” Lie. She didn’t say that. That’s my gut reaction, anyways, I could be wrong.

“I was pissed at you for a bit.” Oh shit chat David’s not getting cut off. This might actually be true. What the fuck?

Oh, also. Nine. David again.

“There’s not even anything positive…” Okay this hurts a fucking ton. If David’s lying, I want him dead. If this is true, holy shit this is sad.

“A metamorphosis like that…” Jeez this is actually getting sad sad. Auch.

“I’ll never be a good person.” Ten, and the tenth hurts a LOT. I don’t think David’s lying, members of the jury. Holy shit this is sad. 

“It turns out that you might be a total piece of shit…” Holy shit I miss Arei already.

Eleven.

“Like Santa Claus…” Didn’t Charles bring up something like that talking with Teruko in the computer room? Interesting connection. I guess not “all that glitters,” yeah.

“It’s okay that I’ll never be a good person, because no one else can be either.” Okay, first; twelve. Second, ouch.

[I know my commentary's not exactly thrilling. Forgive me, I'm suffering]

“Even Eden.” And what does that mean?

[Eden with blood on her hands CG]

…

HUH????????????????????????????????????????

I can’t- Words- Not working. Hold on, I gotta see what the fuck is happening here.

[Pan to fork]

I’M EVEN MORE CONFUSED THAN BEFORE! WHAT THE FUCK?!

It has four prongs, which matches the Xander one. Did Eden take out Xander’s eye? How in the actual fuck? No chance, right? I’m just going insane?

“I’m sure even Eden has hurt someone” (Paraphrased). Brain is still not working. Sorry.

“Even someone like her must have made a mistake she couldn’t take back” WE ARE GETTING DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO SECRET QUOTE WORDING!

We’re just moving on? That shit didn’t happen? I’m fucking sorry?

I can’t even- Does this imply fucking MM!Eden? I don’t think so, she doesn’t look like she wanted to- WAS it Xander she stabbed? Again, how? What? I’m so confused. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO US DEV! I NEED ANSWERS!!!

“Second ever friend…” Ouch ouch ouch-

Another “good people” btw.

[Arei CG] That’s the fucking- THAT LOOKS LIKE THE FUCKING GIRL FROM LGI?!?!?!

Like, obviously they look different, but that’s the same pose, with the hand and everything- WHAT?!

Is Arei/David a ship? It’ll probably be one after this. 

“Nothing-” You absolute piece of shit. Holy shit David, when I get my hands on you David…

“Nothing else happened between us, I promise.” Wow. Who would’ve thunk this is how I come to fucking despise a man so much while he simultaneously rises in my fave characters ranking, huh? Holy hell.

“One hundred percent promise-” I get more mad every line. That’s good character writing, folks. Jesus.

I can’t read Eden this episode. Still think she’s the culprit lol.

“Finally.” Yeah, Teruko. Same.

[By the way, the next section has a lot of me rambling about my own theories, so if you don't know them, here's a link to the latest, now likely outdated version]

“From that low of height…” I like where we’re going.

“I’m starting to realize how long it's taken to get here.” (Paraphrased) Yeah, Whit. Yeah.

“Some people had to wait one year and five months-” PFFFT- Also Whit’s reaction means he’s not fully fourth wall aware, which is cool.

NON-STOP DEBATE! LET’S DO IT! 

[Sees truth bullet] Yes! The jugs were used as weights! Tell me I’m right about this!

YEAH! I GOT IT RIGHT! Also Veronika’s “consent” animation is… uuh… very ‘Ronika if you catch my drift. I love it!

“Those jugs ended up breaking…” You know it! I wonder if maybe they didn’t have time to clean the fish? But they could have gotten water literally elsewhere, so they clearly did use them for alibi.

“The jugs alone aren’t enough…” (Paraphrased). Yeah, we gotta go higher. Like, the girders at the top…?

“... rafters on the ceiling.” Yeah!!! Wrong name but I also got this right!

“It must have been one long rope…” Or two, because you need the stopper.

“Oh, wait, you’re agreeing with me. Yes.” Funny, laughed.

“The rafters were way too high…” Ball of clothes, come on.

“...something like a pulley…” Yeah, Whit knows what I’m talking about! The fact he’s being helpful makes him less suspicious. Finally, he managed to open his mouth without incriminating himself of something!

“High location…” Are we actually doing stopper rope? My guess is that that’s when we’ll get teacher Teruko.

“In drop hanging…” Okay, first, love the monologue. Second, is there a reason you know so much about drop hanging? Did your mother…? I guess it’s not necessary. I also came to the same conclusions and I don’t have any history with the stuff. 

“We also know she didn’t hit the ground-” Does anyone have a counter of tasteless Whit jokes? Just checking.

“Aren’t I so smart…” And we’re back to kinda incriminating ourselves, because you're denying pulley method. Fantastic.

WOO! ANOTHER NON-STOP! Let me guess, “spinny thing” is the truth bullet?

“Tape on carousel.” Close enough. Although, hold on, are we actually gonna go “stopped with hands?” No chance, right?

Also am I stupid or does Arturo’s VA sound different in the debates?

Yeah btw Levi!Accomplice is dead and buried, I need to find other ways for Eden to have done this.

I like that Teruko still calls it a spinny thing :p

Wow, everyone’s correcting her, huh? I guess I’m the only one that appreciates her smh.

“...when I need to correct the killer’s grammar.” Funny comeback, but you know, the letter does actually have quite a few spelling errors.

Yay! Teacher Teruko! She looks so cute with glasses!

Also I cannot believe it. These Microsoft-Paint ass diagrams remind me of when I did them too lol.

Oh, shit, under the seesaw! That’s a good one, Teruko! I didn’t catch that. (Then again, I always thought the seesaw was in a different place, but oh well).

Is that dog ears Whit? My guy, you know Charles dislikes dogs, right? Then again, you do canonically have negative rizz, so :p

Oh, tying the rope! Not quite a stopper rope, but same concept. Yeah, would work. Good one Teruko!

“The carousel is made of smooth metal.” THAT’S WHAT THE TAPE WAS FOR! Clutch.

Oh shit, is the cliffhanger going to be the tape’s origin?

“I’ve seen this murder method before.” Okay, wait. One, no origin of tape. That’s big for Eden!Culprit: My current guess is that someone (ie Veronika) will want to discuss the Ace-Nico thing, which will lead to them discovering Eden took the tape. Two, what the fuck do you mean you’ve seen this before?!

“You have?” Looking kinda worried there, Eden…

“And so have you.” Okay am I forgetting something? Min’s execution wasn’t like this, what the hell…

“Me?” Eden, honey, the allegations…

“We’re going to talk about a different case…” Oh shit Teruko’s got the Ace method figured out? I would really love to hear that because I have no idea what the hell was happening with that one. Also, I called it! Didn’t expect it to be Teruko who brought us back to the Ace case, but still. 

“Explain yourself, Nico.” YEAH!!!! I’m actually really excited. I’m gonna look into revising my theory on that case before the next episode, see if I can figure it out, since I think the old methods I’ve discussed with others don’t quite line up with what Teru’s describing. 

What an episode!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Thoughts:

Holy shit. Just. So much happened. It’s too much peak.

The Eden CG is the first thing on my mind; that’s crazy. Did she really take out Xander’s eye? I have zero idea what else I would be looking at. Certainly not MM!Eden, too obvious, but I don’t know what’s happening there. No fucking idea. I might make a more detailed post when I get my thoughts in order, but all I’m saying; the possibility the girl she kissed was Mai? That Mai told her about Teruko, and Eden attacked Xander in the pre-prologue killing game to protect Teruko? Hmm…

The secrets are huge, too. Nothing wild, given like 75% of the fandom had assumed these secrets anyways, but still nice to get them all. The Levi explanation was fascinating, but I don’t know what the fuck it has to do with the trial. Was it really a pointless aside? I don’t know…

The Arei scene was fucking insane even outside the Eden CG. Stabbed through the heart, haven’t felt that sad since Min’s death, and, yeah…

Not to mention, the fucking “Ideal Country Woman from LGI” looking ass frame. At least I finally got my answer; it was a wrist bend, not a glove. 

And David. David. Why are you like this. I genuinely can’t tell why he does anything anymore.

Finally, I love the Taylor mention, that’s insane. And Veronika has a darker secret? She really wants those MM allegations, huh? Jokes aside, I’m really curious about both those things. I kinda wonder if somehow the students will see the motive videos from Trial 1, since we’re hearing about Taylor and I’m hoping Alyssa later.

Just… Holy shit this episode was awesome. Cannot wait for next week.

First Impression Murder Theory Updates

It’s looking like Levi!Accomplice will end up being a nice AU and nothing more, although I’m not 100% ruling it out. That said, I’m still pretty confident in Eden!Culprit, especially with how we mentioned the tape on the spinny thing was easy to grip, but no one’s made the connection to the gym yet. 

The big thing to solve in the Arei case, then, is how Eden got the fish. There’s a few other accomplices she could have, but those are looking rough unless she somehow got Arei to do it. That said, I’m considering the possibility that she took the minnows ultra early, before Nico started feeding them. That would explain how they didn’t notice there were a few missing the night before; they just never counted the ones in the jugs in the first place. That has issues too, but I’ll see about it. 

That said, I’m pretty happy with myself! I got a lot of the major points of the pulley system right. The only thing is the “stopper rope vs tie a knot” thing, but the principle is similar enough. We’ll see about things like the ball of clothes to put the rope over the rafters. There’s still plenty of murder to discuss. 

As for the Ace case… It’ll need a full review later. If it’s supposed to be similar to Arei’s case, I really have no clue what the hell was happening there. Though I guess the ridiculous wire circuit I made might actually have some merit, given we're doing some kind of pulley?

... Maybe not :p

I have no further insight; I just need to look at it again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Watching this episode took me like two hours and a half while writing this… this almost 4k word post… so… yeah. Gods save me if there actually is an hour long episode left. See ya’!

[blackbullet99]

Kataang is Objectively NOT One-Sided

Get Ready For A Long One!

Contrary to what some people might believe Kataang (the relationship between Katara and Aang) is NOT one-sided, and not to sound a pretentious egomaniac, but this is a literally indisputable fact.

For starters, Aang and Katara, always had a strong connection and were literally each others best friends. It’s not exactly like they immediately started fawning over each other, but, to quote @thethiefandtheairbender

“In the first two days she knows him, aang is cheerful and receptive katara's friendship, is the first other bender she's ever met and volunteers to personally fly her to the north pole, partakes in customs of her people (penguin sledding is clearly common), is respectful to her elders and is fantastic with the younger kids, isn't deterred by sokka's surliness, takes the blame for going on the ship, refuses to come between katara and her family and leaves of his own accord, comes back to save her village and faces the fire nation head on, then gives himself up to keep her people safe, all while also literally sweeping her off her feet at one point, and some people think the tiniest hint of a crush didn't start that day?”

It was made abundantly clear that Aang had a crush on Katara, starting explicitly from “The Fortuneteller”. Aang constantly tries to get her attention, after hearing she’ll marry a powerful bender, but to no avail. However Aang ultimately realizes that desperately seeking attention through aloofness and other crazy schemes is meaningless, and without full realizing, it’s through the simple yet heroic act of saving a village that Katara comes to realize, maybe Aang could be that powerful bender she marries.

I like how in later episodes, even though Aang still has a crush on Katara it’s rarely the central focus, and whenever their feelings are the focus, it’s more tailored to the primary conflict of the ongoing war. Additionally (to quote @katarathinker on Twitter) “Aang's crush on Katara was never a hindrance to their friendship.

They cared about each other, they communicated with one another, they cheered each other on, they helped each other with their shared element, they protected & defended one another”. Even if you don’t ship Kataang, you cannot deny that the two have deep bond unlike any other.

Anyhow, we all know about Aang’s feelings for Katara, I’m not gonna discuss how Aang would literally support Katara all the way, how he not only loves her, but truly respects her as a waterbender, a hero and a friend, or how his love for Katara is as strong as the love for the nation he lost. Let’s look at Katara’s feelings for Aang.

Some say we never see Katara’s POV, and while it isn’t as obvious or blatantly said out loud exactly like Aang’s POV, it’s undeniably that Katara truly loves Aang deeply if you actually seen the show.

Katara clearly has strong feelings about Aang and doesn’t want to lose him, not for the sake of the world, but because of herself.

We see Katara, had feelings for Jet because he was a strong, kind-hearted, heroic leader who fought for what was right. In Jet’s debut Katara believes Aang emobies at least some of these traits as she vouches he be the leader of their group, and Aang does have and grow to embody many of the traits. Not to mention when  both Jet and Aang are accused (Aang in “The Storm”) Katara immediately steps in to defend them, Katara has no problem making fun of others, but she will not let you badmouth anyone she has feelings for, those two guys in “The Blind Bandit” learned that the hard way. Not to mention, Aang is literally wearing the hat Katara made for Jet. 

Katara is overjoyed when Aang finds her necklace, seeing as it belonged to her mother, it clearly meant a lot and Aang knew this. She also kisses him.

Katara outright says in “The Avatar State”, “for the people who love you, watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary”. She basically was taking about herself and her feelings for Aang.

“The Cave of Two Lovers”, need I say more, Katara clearly wanted an excuse to kiss Aang, she was extremely indignant when Aang suggested otherwise, and she was blushing thinking about it, even when they were out of the cave.

When Aang enters The Avatar State in “The Desert”, she without any hesitation goes towards Aang to comfort him, with no fear, she spends the next episode deeply concerned for his wellbeing, and literally cries tears of joy and embraces Aang after he opens up to her saying “Seeing this family together, so full of happiness and love, it's reminded me how I feel about Appa ... and how I feel about you”.

She literally looks ecstatic when Aang calls her beautiful in “City of Walls and Secrets”.

When she’s in tears over Jet’s death, the simple act of Aang comforting her, is enough to make her smile.

She completely dismisses Sokka’s idea of finding The Earth King and only agrees to the idea once Aang vouches for Sokka’s idea.

When Aang was about to confess his feelings to Katara, she’s annoyed when Sokka interrupts and kisses Aang before he departs.

When Aang saves her in “The Crossroads of Destiny” she runs into his arms, completely having faith in him. When Aang dies she’s completely heartbroken and when she revives him she smiles like she’s seen The Sun for the first time.

All throughout “The Awakening” she’s concerned about Aang. She’s overjoyed when he wakes up, in tears when he departs, and runs straight to him and embraces him when she finds him.

“The Headband”, again do I need to say it. The Dance! Everything about it. 

Not to mention Katara was mad jealous when Aang was dancing with another girl, and again she kisses him.

Katara appreciates Aang calling her a secret hero in “The Painted Lady” and then they commit eco-terrorism like the power-couple they are.

In “The Invasion” both are struggling to find the right things to say. Katara mentions how she’s proud of how much Aang has matured. When Aang kisses her she fully leans in, she’s obviously concerned given how Aang is leaving to face The Fire Lord, but looks on even after Aang glides away.

When Zuko wants to join the team, Aang ask Katara if she’s okay with it, she don’t want Zuko there, but trusts Aang’s judgement, but straight up threatens Zuko’s life should he harm him.

Aang empathizes with Katara’s situation in “The Southern Raiders”, even though Katara is dead-set on finding the man who killed her mother, Aang accepts this and Katara even thanks Aang for understanding before she leaves.

Everyone brings up “The Ember Island Players” as “proof” that Kataang is either toxic or one-sided. But let’s go over what happens, Aang at this point believes he and Katara have mutual feelings, he has some pretty valid reason to believe that, he asks Katara how she feels, he doesn’t demand she returns his feelings he just wants to know. Katara makes it clear she doesn’t view him as a brother like the play suggests, but doesn’t want to pursue a relationship with Aang at the moment because of the war, it’s a heavy situation, Katara’s concerned she might lose Aang like she did before, Aang wants to let everything out in the open before the final battle, should something happen. He kisses Katara on a whim, it was wrong, it was stupid, but Katara knows this and rightly leave the situation and Aang clearly reprimands himself for this, admittedly it would’ve been nice to see Aang apologize to Katara, but he never does anything like this again.

While Aang and Katara don’t interact a lot in the finale, when the war is over and peace is restored, Katara goes to Aang wanting to be by his side, the two mutually embrace as the lifelong friends they’ve always been, Katara is the one to initiate the kiss, the two are both ready to enter a mutual romantic relationship now the the fighting’s over. Harmony’s restored and life goes on. 

This was a lot longer than I expected. But the point is both Aang and Katara started as strong friends and they grew to develop deep romantic bonds with each other. It was never one-sided, and if anyone watches the show, they would see the strong bond these two share.

[piedinthepiper]

Disease ˖ ⊹

Doctor!Jimin x fem!reader

Summary: You’ve had a sore throat for months now, good thing Doctor Jimin has a cure.

Warnings: dark content, dubcon ish, corruption, smut, mention of bullying, yandere?

Wc: 2.3 k

A/n: wrote a little something based on this request! Reader is innocent in the beginning, but throughout you will discover that she’s not innocent at all, but not in a sexual way… This is a great concept, but this is just so unserious. But I had to! It was right in front of me and I had to!

Another A/n: This is also written based on my firm belief that all doctors were pretentious nerds in high school. Because no one gets grades like that from actually having a life.

This can be read as both a pt. 1 or a pt. 2 to before: disease. They can also be read separately, you decide!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Another disclaimer: I’m not a doctor, everything is off Google! Some technical terms might me wrong, don’t sue me! Also it’s a really stupid story, it’s pure fiction! If any doctor or medical personnel ever does this to you it’s not ok! Ok?

“Y/n y/l/n.”

Your name was heard throughout the waiting room. You smiled at the woman in scrubs, getting up from your seat to follow her. You clutched your bag to your side. Anxiously walking down the hallway.

“Dr. Park will be with you in a minute.”

She smiled as she stopped, holding the door open for you. You walked into the empty doctor’s office. She closed the door behind you, leaving you alone. You sat down in the chair, placing your purse carefully in your lap. You let out a deep breath. Being in a doctor’s office was just scary. You knew it was safe and all that. It was just something about giving a random person information about yourself that made you nervous. The sterile room that so many people had received bad news in. You were dreading the thought of you also receiving such news in that room. The possibility of not knowing if you’re terminally ill or if you just have a flu. Well, that was why you were there in the first place. The door opened, and your face turned in its direction.

“Good morning, ms. y/l/n, right?”

A sweet calming voice erupted from the man. You nodded and stood up to shake his hand. He sat down opposite of you, starting to click and type on his computer. You nervously looked down at your hands, waiting for him to talk again.

“I see you’ve had a sore throat for quite some time now. Is that the reason you’re here today?”

You looked back up at him again. He was leaning forwards on the desk on his elbows. His hands neatly put together.

“Yes, it’s like I’ve had a cold for months now. It just won’t go away.”

He nodded and typed something on his computer.

“Have you noticed any swelling in your lymph nodes?”

He asked still focused on the computer screen. You thought for a second.

“I don’t know, I haven’t checked.”

He nodded at your answer.

“Any peculiar or ugly coughs? Like slime coughs or even blood?”

“There was this one time where there were a little blood.”

He looked back at you, clearly concerned about what you told him.

“How much?”

You shook your head.

“Very little, it was more the taste of blood. Nothing visible.”

He went back to typing.

“And it was only once.”

You added, trying to make the whole situation sound a little better. It wasn’t even that bad, it was probably just because you had been coughing so much that day, your throat was so sore that a little cut appeared. But it was the reason you decided to go to the doctor in the first place.

“Ok, are you ok with me examining you a little?”

He asked calmly, his full attention back to you. You sighed but nodded. He got up from his chair and pointed to the bed looking thing with a long sheet of paper on it. You got up as well and followed him, jumping slightly to get up on it. You wiped your clammy hands on your jeans, trying your best to calm down. He put on white latex gloves and came over to you, positioning himself between your legs. You straightened your back a little.

“Look up for me.”

You did as asked and looked up at the ceiling. His gloved hands immediately went to your neck. Slightly pushing on the sides of it.

“Does this hurt?”

He asked and you nodded slightly.

“Your lymph nodes are quite swollen actually. It’s weird that you haven’t noticed.”

He said as he quickly moved to your stomach. Your back quickly straightened even more at the sudden contact.

“Just relax for me, I don’t bite.”

He jokingly said. You let out a small laugh and tried your best to relax. He put pressure on your waist.

“Does this hurt?”

He asked and looked you directly in your eyes while his hands roamed your waist. You shook your head, not trusting your voice. He stopped.

“Do you mind taking your sweater off?”

He asked calmly, looking down at where his hands were seconds ago. You panicked for a second, not knowing what to answer.

“Your sweater is quite thick, it’s purely so I can examine you correctly, ms. y/l/n.”

You nodded and started taking off your sweater.

“Of course.”

You mumbled as you pulled it over your head, leaving you in just a black bra. Goosebumps littered your skin at the sudden contact with the cold air. For a second you saw him looking at you, mouth slightly open. It made you uncomfortable, the look was not a professional one.

“Amazing.”

He said and licked his lip slightly before finding your waist again. You tried your best not to freak out at how close he was now. You felt so much more vulnerable now that you were half naked.

“Does it hurt now?”

He asked and did the same motion he did earlier. You shook your head again.

“Can you turn to the side for me?”

He almost whispered. You turned to the side, placing one leg at the floor for stability. You felt his hands slide up your back, pushing at some spots and asking if they hurt. You suddenly felt the cold touch of a stethoscope on your back.

“Breathe slowly in for me.”

You took a deep breath.

“Keep going, keep going for me, y/n.”

You breathed out once those words escaped his mouth. He didn’t say it like a doctor would. There was something behind it you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Try again.”

He uttered and you did. You managed to hold your breath.

“Good girl.”

He said as you breathed out again, making you cough.

“That cough doesn’t sound very good.”

He said as he stepped back into your view. You positioned yourself fully back on the bed.

“I’ll examine your mouth now, ok? Tell me if anything feels too uncomfortable.”

You nodded.

“Open up.”

You did as he commanded. He put two of his gloved fingers flat on your tongue.

“Wider, please.”

You opened your mouth as far as you could. He pointed a flashlight down your throat. Tears started forming in your eyes as his fingers almost choked you.

“Looks like you got some tonsils down there.”

His fingers slowly slid out of your mouth and you closed it and swallowed whatever spit had occurred during the examination. He started removing his gloves, throwing them in the nearest bin. He came back to you and placed himself close to you again. So close that it would be awkward to reach for your sweater that had fell to the floor.

“They’re not big enough to remove just yet. They might shrink if you do the right things.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to get a little bit of modesty.

“What do you recommend?”

You asked him.

“Take cough syrup and cough drops, drink as much warm beverages as possible.”

You sighed.

“But I’ve been doing that for months now, and it hasn’t helped as far as I’m concerned.”

You said and looked down, finding it hard to maintain eye contact with him that close. He hummed in understanding, stepping slightly away. You took the chance to reach for your sweater again. But his arm stopped you. You sat back up, looking at him confused.

“There is another solution. It’s a bit- well. Unorthodox.”

“What?”

You asked, willing to do whatever he told you. You didn’t want to walk around with a constant sore throat for the rest of your life.

“Do you have a partner?”

He asked. You shook your head, still confused about where he was going with this.

“That’s a shame. You see, recent research has found out that fresh and warm semen can do wonders for a sore throat.”

You swallowed feeling the saliva sting your sore throat. You knew what he was aiming at, you weren’t dumb. Or at least you didn’t think so.

“Really?”

You asked, not convinced that he was actually asking you to blow him.

“Yeah, I’m a doctor, you can trust me.”

You nodded and stepped off the bed, hearing the thin sheet of paper slightly rip. You looked him in the eyes as you sunk down to the floor. Letting your hands drag down his body.

“Woah ok. Didn’t know you were that desperate.”

His hand went to your face as you positioned yourself on you knees.

“I’m just doing this to get better, alright?”

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll help you.”

He was quick to answer, almost eager. You started working on his belt, trying to get it done as quick as possible. Maybe you were dumb, maybe he tricked you to give him a blow job. The thought definitely crossed your mind. But like he said, he was a doctor, he knew this better than you. And after months of trying everything to cure your throat, you were willing to try just one more thing.

You pulled his half hard dick out, giving it a few pumps. It was a good size, even at its half hard stage. You were about to put your lips to it, but his hand reaches your forehead.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?”

He asked with a sly grin. You looked confused at him. He clicked his tongue, hissing slightly.

“Well, I don’t offer this to every patient that comes in with a sore throat. Maybe a thank you, a little begging for my help would work?”

You mentally cursed yourself, but you were too far in to back out now. You let one of your bra straps fall down your shoulder as you looked up at him with doe like eyes. Your hand started jerking him slowly.

“Please, Dr. Park. Please let me suck your cock. You’re the only one that can help my sore throat.”

His eyes changed from slyness to horniness at your words.

“Good girl, you deserve a cure for that throat.”

You kissed his tip.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Park.”

You said before your mouth covered his tip. You started sucking on it watching his face twist in pleasure.

“That’s it.”

He whispered as you swallowed his cock. His head turned to the ceiling, as a moan escaped his lips. You started bobbing your head up and down, not wasting any time and keeping a steady rhythm. His hands reached your hair, grabbing a fistful. He didn’t force you to go deeper, he just held your hair as some sort of stability for himself.

“I always knew you were a little slut. Sucking me dry in my office with other patients waiting outside.”

He started talking dirty once the initial pleasure wave was over. Swearing in between his words.

“I’ve waited for this for so long. Fuck- Ever since I first saw you I’ve wondered what those lips looked like around my cock.”

You choked at his sudden comment, his hand in your hair stopping you from removing yourself of said cock. You started going faster instead, wanting this to stop so you didn’t have to listen to his creepy speech.

“You remember me from high school right?”

You now realised you were very very dumb, as your mind raced through your memories from high school. Park Jimin, the nerdy weirdo in science class. You would always catch him stare at you, but you couldn’t remember ever speaking to him. Well, except for when you and your friends would call him names and break his glasses. He pushed his hips forward, making you choke again.

“Of course you don’t. You were too popular. But- shit. Look at me now.”

You looked up at him with teary eyes. His hand went from your hair to your cheek, and caressed it carefully.

“I made a shit load of money to have you sucking my dick today. Shit- I have the most gorgeous girl from high school blowing me right now. Finally.”

He started moving his hips, you knew he was close.

“Fuck- you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

He moaned as you felt the warmth of his seed fill your mouth. You waited for it all, not wanting to have any of it actually hit your skin. You swallowed, before you got up again. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, giving him a deadly look.

“I remember you, you little freak. You were disgusting back then and you still are to this day.”

You erupted adjusting your bra strap back over your shoulder.

“There you are, that’s the y/n I remember. Always something mean to say.”

He said as he tucked himself back, that sly look creeping back onto his face.

“Who’s the bully now, y/n?”

You snarled at him and turned around to get your sweater from the floor. You were ready to leave and change doctors immediately. But before you could get up again you felt his body crash into yours, pushing you up against that bed thing. He bent you over it, whispering in your ear.

“You were always the meanest. And I loved it. I loved you so much. I practically worshipped you.”

His groin was pushed up against your butt. You felt his bulge growing by the second as he took a deep sniff of your hair.

“Please, let me go. I’m sorry, I’m sorry ok?!”

You practically screamed, now afraid of the boy you never thought would be able to overpower you. But that was in high school. He was a man now.

“I will let you go, y/n. I’m not like you.”

But before he did as promised he got a good grip of your tits. Letting out a satisfied moan.

“Even better than I thought they would feel.”

He whispered before stepping away from you slowly. You immediately got away from him, quickly throwing the sweater back on your body.

“Remember that I had the power today, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and walked towards the door. You stopped, and didn’t speak before your hand was placed firmly on the handle.

“Whatever you fucking weirdo.”

You said and opened the door, not looking back. You regretted being this fucking dumb. Falling for his trick, thinking that he had good intentions. The worst part was that it didn’t even get any better.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

[emlovessid]

@jegulus-microfic january 23, perform, 486 words part one, part three

After he gets over the shock enough to sweep up the shards of his mug from the floor, Regulus sits down on his couch and pulls out his phone, googling James Potter. While there was still a tiny sliver of him that wasn’t completely convinced, there’s no doubt left in him now as he looks through the search results.

Because pictured under the headline Global superstar, James Potter, set to headline summer tour across the US is the very same James who was here in his flat only last week; in his kitchen, in his shower, in his bed.

Pulling up his contacts, he clicks on James’ number and brings his phone to his ear.

After ringing a couple of times, James answers, “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

James isn’t wrong. While they text back and forth, and literally can’t stay away from each other whenever James is in town, they haven’t really progressed to just chatting on the phone; until now.

“How’s Edinburgh?”

“Oh, you know. Raining.”

Regulus looks out his own window at the rain that has been steadily falling for days; it comforts him, like he can almost pretend that James is just across town, instead of in another country.

“So, this is a little embarrassing, but I’ve just come across a bit of information that makes me think I might be the least observant person on the planet,” Regulus begins, the sound of James’ laughter filling his ear.

“Okay, go on.”

“I heard your new song.”

“Oh, they’re playing it already? I sent you a vinyl with a very nice thank you card that you were supposed to get before it was released,” James groans. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not. It’s a beautiful song. It’s just,” Regulus pauses, a little nervous as he says, “You’re James Potter.”

“Yes?” His confusion is obvious in his voice, and Regulus can imagine the exact look he’s sure he has on his face right now.

“You’re James Potter. And I had no fucking idea.”

A pause. “Wait, really? Holy shit, I definitely thought you knew.”

“Here I was, imagining that you perform in pubs in front of like, fifty people. When you’re actually out there performing in front of fifty thousand. I’m such an idiot.”

He can hear laughter in James’ voice, laughter he’s definitely trying to hold back as he says, “I’m sorry. I really thought – it’d be a bit pretentious of me to introduce myself and be like, I’m James Potter, you might have heard of me, you know?”

“Oh this is definitely on me, not on you,” Regulus says. “Anyway, just wanted to fill you in on that revelation. Now I’m going to go off and listen to your entire discography. And read every article ever written about you. Bye.”

The last thing he hears before hanging up is James’ booming laugh.

[mr-writerman]

Danganronpa Boys and a Reserve Course Reader ✰

category: short read, friends to lovers, lighthearted, fluff, genderneutral reader, pre-relationship a/n: FIRST HEADCANON POST <3 wanted to start off small, so take this short lil thing while I work on my bigger projects :D characters: Byakuya Togami, Gundham Tanaka, Gonta Gokuhara, Korekiyo Shinguji

Byakuya doesn’t see you any differently than his other peers, even though you’re a Reserve Course student. He sees himself as better than all of those around him, due to his family’s status, so you’re already down there, with everyone else—in his eyes.

Byakuya is always very intrigued with your Reserve Course gossip because it’s always a lot messier than what happens between the Main Course students. It’s a bit elitist, but at least he listens to you talk, I guess?

Sometimes, he’ll go to the Reserve Course Building and pick you up for lunch. Every time he does, all of your peers are always shocked and crowd around him. Whenever he’s in the building, he always has a very revolted look on his face. Jesus Christ—he’s a pretentious prick. He’s lucky he’s cute.

Gundham sees you no differently from everyone else. He sees himself as a god, and everyone else is nothing but a weak moral. While you’d expect someone with his personality to be rude to someone like you, he’s actually really nice.

He hangs out with you a lot and claims he’s trying to “mold you into a perfect underling, for Tanaka, the Forbidden One,” because you’re impressionable since you don’t have a talent. He says this, but you’re pretty sure he just enjoys hanging out with you.

You’re one of the few people he allows to accompany his Four Dark Devas. He claims it’s because you aren’t “a high enough power level” to bring any harm to them, but you know it’s a sign of how much he trusts you.

• Gonta loves having friends and doesn’t care that you aren’t an Ultimate. He’s never understood why some people consider Reserve Course students less than Ultimates. It’s a gentlemanly thing to treat everyone equally, after all! Doesn’t everyone want to be a gentleman?

• He loves sitting with you during lunch. He always makes it a point to sit on the grass, with you, so he can talk about the bugs that pass you guys. He’s so passionate and knowledgeable about insects, it’s adorable.

• This man was NOT lying when he said he wanted to be a gentleman. Gonta will walk you to school, into the Reserve Course building, and to your class. He even makes you wait for him to get to your classroom, for lunch, so he can walk with you. He’s so kind and gentle to you, it’s adorable.

Korekiyo really enjoys being around you, because he enjoys observing people, and he never gets a chance to observe people who aren’t Ultimates. Whenever you talk to him, you can feel his eyes burning holes into you, absorbing your every move. If he wasn’t hot, it’d be weird.

You enjoy hearing him talk about his many travels and anthropological field research trips because you never really get to travel. He loves seeing how impressed you are by his job, so he’ll sometimes drop small parts of stories to pique your interest. He doesn’t even realize that he’s trying to impress you.

He enjoys hearing you talk about your day, even though it always sounds a bit boring, compared to his. No matter how small the events of your day were, or how mundane your classes were, he loves hearing you speak about it.

[justporo]

Scenes from a bathtub

A Night of Fake Smiles and Hidden Lies: Part 1

Author's Note: Here we are, I'm so excited to share the first chapter for this story. The part in which Tav and Astarion start getting ready, enjoying a nice soak in the tub - and some other stuff. Let me know what you think!

Song: Royals - Lorde

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav Rating: Explicit Warnings: Some light smut at the very end of the chapter

CHAPTER LIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

~~~

A few weeks had passed. The night of the ball had finally arrived.

Astarion had actually been excited ever since the invitation had been delivered. He really seemed eager to make it a night to remember for the both of you: so you had actually spent some more evenings waltzing around your space (also trying other dances) and Astarion had very cryptically promised you he’d take care of ‘wardrobe and grooming’. You dearly hoped he’d remember his promise about corsets and wouldn’t turn you into someone you wouldn’t recognise if you passed by a mirror.

It was still hours from then until the event started but Astarion had insisted on starting to get ready. You had looked at the clock and back to the vampire and back at the clock. Had it been only you, you’d probably only have run a bath half an hour before, then quickly dressed and done some basic makeup before arriving a little late. But as you told Astarion that he’d cocked an eyebrow and looked you up and down in such a judgmental way you’d first felt like a young girl getting scolded. And when he hadn’t stopped you’d gotten pissed at his pretentious behaviour. “My sweet sweet love, if you can’t even stand passive-aggressive stares for more than a few moments it’s going to be a very short evening. These people live off judging others and elevating their pitiful selves over you. And the trick is to just always be twice the bastard they are.” “Great, sounds like such a fun evening, Astarion.”

You had crossed your arms over your chest and had felt anxiety creeping up inside you. Already you had worried that you’d be awfully out of place at this event. But Astarion had grabbed your hands that you had firmly tugged away under your arms and placed them on your cheeks, covering yours with his own long fingers. “Don’t worry, my love, you’re fortunate enough to have a master of the art at your side to show you how it’s done”, he had said with a big smirk and given you a quick kiss. “And if that still doesn’t help just step on someone’s skirts or elbow them so they splash their drinks on somebody around and watch the chaos unfold. You wouldn’t believe how quickly these elitist people get physical if they feel their ‘honour’” – he dramatically air-quoted and rolled his eyes – “is at stake”, he had continued with an even bigger almost feral smirk when he’d noticed you were still tense. This – a good old brawl? You had seen and partaken in a fair share of those in your time as a Baldur’s Gate lowlife. You slowly had grinned back at your soulmate then: “No promises, I won’t do that anyway if these rich fuckers annoy me too much.” Astarion had thrown his head back and laughed: “Oh my lovely little anarchist.”

So now you were sitting in your big tub that was lowered in the stone floor of your bathroom.

The two of you loved spending almost whole nights just enjoying the warmth and comfort of a hot bath – talking, drinking wine, taking in the scents of exotic oils Astarion picked up from specialty stores, caressing and massaging each other; often times resulting in more passionate actions. This time the vampire had brought some ‘special’ stuff to really doll yourselves up for this big ball.

Currently, Astarion was sitting in between your legs, leaning back against your naked chest while you washed and detangled his curls and just enjoyed your care while breathing softly. Before, he had put some mud all over his face he claimed would “make his complexion glow even more”. The stuff indeed smelled nicely as it drifted into your nose while you massaged Astarion’s scalp carefully, but he still looked kind of ridiculous. Also you weren’t entirely convinced that this was how it worked for vampires.

Seldomly was the pale elf this relaxed. And this fact alone filled your heart with joy. You let your fingers move through his hair and softly massaged his neck and his ears as well which resulted in a soft, relaxed moan from him from time to time.

Astarion’s chest lifted in a particular deep breath, causing droplets of bathwater to run down his toned chest and the light from the candles you’d lit all over the room danced over his smooth skin. He really almost caused you to forget to breathe sometimes just by existing.

“This is heaven, my love. If this is what the afterlife is like I’ll happily perish right on the spot”, he sighed and let out a long breath. You smiled happily and really buried your fingertips in his curls once more causing the vampire to groan in pleasure and making his head loll from side to side.

With his eyes still closed he reached one arm slowly behind himself – obviously with the intention to reach your face. “Only thing missing now is a kiss from you, my sweet honey pie.”

“Sweet honey pie? What’s gotten into you?”

“Hmhm, can you blame me? Your fingers caressed me into oblivion, cherry muffin.” You scrunched up your nose and pinched the back of his neck. It seemed you really had worked common sense out of the man; he was talking mad.

“You know the implication it makes when you call me food related pet names, don’t you?”, you asked him, leaning close to one of his pointy ears. “Oh, very much so, even though I must inform you, that you taste neither off honey pie nor cherry muffins.”

Astarion started to stretch while speaking, tensing his muscles, reaching his arms even beyond you and yawning. The comparison to a cat was more than imminent. On their way back his hands found your head and stroked your hair despite the awkward angle.

“Aha, so what do I taste like to you, hm? Indulge me”, you requested and wrapped your arms around Astarion’s chest as he sidled up against you again. Your hands rested on each other on his stomach now, you leaned your chin on his shoulder. His arms were still stretched around his back to let his fingers wander through your hair.

“Well, when I first compared it to a good wine that was a very accurate description. But now, with some more, shall I say, expertise in your bouquet, I’d describe it like this: sometimes it’s like a wonderful red wine, full-bodied but with soft floral notes. But sometimes it’s more like delicious fruit covered in dark chocolate. It just… varies slightly: depending on what you eat, how you’ve been feeling, what time of month it is…” The last part surprised you: “You can taste… my cycle?” “Oh, not only that, but I can also smell it as well – I mean besides the obvious. You’d be surprised at what I can find out about you from taking a single nose full of your exquisite scent alone, my love.” You felt dumbfounded, he’d never mentioned that before. And you also didn’t need to see the smirk when he said that to know that it was there.

“Like?”, you simply asked, a bit embarrassed but also very much intrigued about this particular skill of his. Astarion didn’t like talking about the specifics of his condition very much so whenever he opened up about it you grasped the opportunity to learn more about it and him.

“Oh, for example, I can definitely always tell when you want me. And, if I dare say so, the intensity and frequency surprised even me, my wicked little siren”, Astarion explained, his tone deep and full of seduction. Your cheeks were burning, your whole neck and face actually. You softly slid down Astarion’s back and into the bathwater, desperately hoping for a sudden hole at the bottom of the tub that would hopefully swallow you whole.

The vampire had to grip the rim of the tub and straighten himself when you slithered down into the depths of the bathwater. You heard him laugh: “I can also most certainly tell whenever you get one of those full body blushes, my sweet.” He slowly moved to turn around to you, while you had sunk into the water, only your eyes and the top of your head still showing above the water level. Bubbles rose up while the last of your air left your nose and you looked at the vampire in embarrassment who simply looked back at you with a smile – face still covered in mud and only his red eyes contrasting with it; what a ridiculous scene.

Astarion softly grabbed you by the shoulders to prevent you from your attempt to drown yourself. You could see his signature smirk on his face. “Now, now, no need to feel ashamed, my lecherous little nymph. I couldn’t blame you, could I?” His grin split his face and his teeth glinted at you – most prominently his fangs. “Also, I can assure you that the feeling is very much mutual, beautiful. Now give me a kiss!”, he demanded while he had dragged you up from the water successfully.

With his hands still on your shoulders he pulled you towards him, lips already pursed in expectation.

“Not while you have dirt on your face”, you replied in disgust and placed your flat hand against his face to hold him off.

“It’s not dirt!”, Astarion exclaimed, voice rising in annoyance and grabbed your hand from his face. You still looked at him in disgust. “Ugh, fine!” He rolled his eyes and splashed water on his face and rubbed himself clean with his hands.

“Better?”, he asked after a few moments, tone still a bit annoyed. “No wait, there’s still a little bit”, you said and leaned close to him as if wanting to clean a speckle off his perfect face, brows furrowed in concentration. But with a lightning quick move you pinched his nose, making him growl back at you. He grabbed you by the shoulders once more and pulled you close until you were nose to nose while he stared angrily at you. “No poking the vampire!”, he said sombrely. “Or I’ll eat you!”

You giggled and closed the last bit of space to finally kiss him. And that seemed to calm down the beast. Letting go of your shoulders, one of his hands wandered to the front of your neck, softly resting on your collarbone. The other cupped your cheek while his tongue entered your mouth – tasting you, tangling with yours, exploring. Then he broke the kiss, leaving you to gasp, and trailing little pecks from the corner of your mouth over your cheek up to your ear.

You softly arched yourself to him, offering up your neck. “If you want to find out if today’s more of a wine or chocolate day.” The vampire laughed. Promise rang in it. “Deeply appreciated, my sweet, but maybe later. Can’t have you running around tonight with two fresh puncture wounds on your neck, can we?”, he whispered and let his lips wander lightly over your quickening pulse. His hand on your neck applying just the tiniest bit of pressure on your throat.

You could only gulp. “Also, I fear that if I would get lost in your neck now, we are never making it to this event”, Astarion added while lifting his face from your neck. Ah yes, you’d almost forgotten.

The pale elf smirked again at you: “And we still have some work to do on you, my sweet.” “Excuse you?” Whatever had heated your blood was immediately gone – this prick.

“You heard me, now turn around and let me take care of you in return, my love”, he insisted. You sighed and complied because you knew there was no point in denying him. And also, you wouldn’t say no to getting pampered by your vampire.

You let yourself be seated in the same position Astarion had been in at first: between his legs, your back to his chest. He put some of the goo on your face despite your protest (“It’s only going to bring out your beauty some more, my love.” “This face is as good as it gets as is, Astarion, no need to try.” “Hush and shut your nasty mouth or I can’t promise to keep the dirt out of it!”). Then he softly scrubbed you all clean and massaged your whole body, pouring some heavenly smelling oils in his hands from time to time.

The night before he had gone out to run some errands – and returned with bags and bags of stuff. It had been clothes and apparently lots of toiletry. One of the things had been large and very heavy. But about that and some other stuff he’d brought he had wiggled his finger at you to not take a peek.

Everything for your bath time he had neatly lined up next to the tub. You barely had a clue what all the small jars, flasks and crucibles were for but if it made him happy to indulge in it you were the last person to stop him from it.

Then he’d carefully run the bath you were now sitting in. And you couldn’t complain: the bath water smelled heavenly of lavender and cedar. Whatever he was massaging you with smelled of oranges and other delicious fruits and he himself deliciously of bergamot.

You sighed deeply and were aware that you must’ve been the perfect mirror image of what Astarion had looked like some minutes ago.

“Enjoying yourself, my love?”, Astarion asked gently while his hands worked your neck. You only hummed in response. “We should do this more often, darling. You’re allowed to indulge in luxury sometimes, you know?”, he said softly while starting to work on your hair.

“Speaking of – mind telling me how much exactly everything was you brought home yesterday?”, you asked while letting your head fall back into his touch, eyes closed. “Yes, I do mind. Part of indulgence is not looking at the price tag, my sweet”, Astarion scolded you sweetly. “And you deserve to take better care of yourself”, he continued while trying to get out a serious knot from your braids.

You felt your body tense a little and sighed: “You know I’m not good with either of those things, Astarion.” “I know”, he replied simply and shortly lifted one of your hands out of the water to press a kiss to it. “That’s why I’m going to teach you. I’ll have you be a high-maintenance lady ready to splurge at every opportunity in no time, dearest.” You laughed and readjusted your sitting position to lean back against the elf’s chest more. “I don’t think that would be a good look on me.” Astarion sighed dramatically: “Oh well, a shame. I guess I’m going to have to fill this role then.” You softly chuckled at that and thought to yourself that he was already well en route for that.

“I guess I could take up some of your suggestions though – I’m tired of feeling like a gutter rat standing next to you in all your luscious, white-curly glory.” Astarion snickered: “I’ll have you remember you chose the description ‘gutter rat’ for yourself. Also, I think you’re the most beautiful creature the Gods have ever created but to each their own I guess.” You blushed again and sank down a little further between his legs while he grabbed another one of the flasks.

Sometimes he just made you so casually swoon you couldn’t believe it – and never did you know how to reply to his genuine and sweet flattery.

“So, lesson one: you have really beautiful hair, my love, and I know you love your braids, but it all turns into a tangled mess easily. But fortunately,” – he poured something from the flask onto your prepared and detangled hair; it smelled deliciously flowery – “some clever soul came up with conditioner. You use it after you’ve washed your hair. Use only a little and work it into your hair like this.” He worked the thick liquid specifically into the lengths of your hair, combing through them with his fingers and then softly scrunching the strands in his hands. “Then you let it sit a little and only then rinse it out. It helps with tangles and also will make your hair deliciously soft.” Astarion basically purred the last words. Oh, good thing to know this was something he delighted in.

He did as he had instructed you while you patiently sat there and let him work his magic. Afterwards he proceeded to comb your hair through.

You both sat in silence. You enjoyed being taken care of and thought of the evening to come. You couldn’t help but feel some anxiety again creep into you at the thought of having to deal with the society of the Upper City. You’d probably take a good old-fashioned tavern brawl or a heist every day over having to make small talk with people who’d probably also choose the description “gutter rat” for you.

“Now”, Astarion said after a while “for tonight’s event I would like to propose to you to put your hair in some waves. Nothing major, just pinning them, letting them dry and then putting some strands up later.”

You were still way inside your head to fully understand what he was getting up: “Oh uhm, go ahead. Just don’t make me look like a coiffed poodle please.” Astarion scoffed at that and started to pin your hair up carefully.

“What’s troubling you, my love?”, he asked casually because of course he had noticed how you were absent-minded and your body had tensed. By what he had earlier revealed he’d probably smelled it too.

For a second you wondered if you ever could hide something from this man. But then again – why would you have to?

You sighed deeply while you grabbed your one hand with the other and started to press your thumb into the palm of the other – a nervous habit. “I guess, I’m still a bit scared of how the evening will play out”, you confessed and let your head fall down. Astarion wasn’t having it: “Ah ah, my sweet, head up or I can’t work. But also, head up because you don’t need to be worried. If push comes to shove, we can always leave.” You sighed again and relaxed a little. You shortly lifted your hand to grab one of his to squeeze it in thanks.

“Aren’t you scared at all? I mean, like of meeting someone… from before… or from before before?”, you asked silently and looked down at your hands still kneading each other in the water.

The vampire didn’t respond immediately. “You don’t have to answer-“, you started but then Astarion replied. “Not really. Cazador sometimes had us spawn ‘entertain’ his guests during his events but seeing as he either altered their memory or killed them off in the end… No one will recognise me albeit I may know some of the attending guests”, he explained pretty matter-of-fact while his hands kept working on putting up strand for strand of your hair.

Another silence followed.

“As from before that…” Astarion’s words trailed off. You grabbed his hand once more and almost already wanted to say again that he didn’t have to tell you but you kind of felt he wanted to let it out. “I haven’t seen or heard a shred from anyone I knew or was related to since I’ve been turned. Never. And my surname is pretty common among elves – there probably are at least five other Lord Ancuníns running about the city. I guess we might meet our lovely elder neighbour and that’s about it.”

His hands had stopped their task. Your hand was still grabbing one of his and you squeezed it again to try and provide some comfort. “I’m sorry, Astarion”, you whispered quietly and leaned your head back. It connected with his forehead as he leaned forward a little.

“Don’t be”, he whispered back while his fingers started to move again. “You’re my family now”, he said and at that your heart swelled with warmth and love.

“I love you, Astarion.” “Love you too, my little gutter rat.”

You tried to splash him with water.

How could he go from genuine, sincere and melancholy to unbelievable bastard in point two seconds. He was a handful at the best of times.

The vampire just laughed at your petty attempt of getting back at him. Shortly after he proclaimed being done with his work.

“There you go, now wash off your face, my dear”, he instructed. You did as told, then turned around to him: “Are we done now? I feel like I might’ve already grown some fins!”

Astarion smirked at you. “Oh no, there’s one more thing we need to take care of, my sweet”, he said slowly and threw you a glance that immediately made your blood boil. “And what might that be?”, you asked, already barely trusting your mouth to form words with the way he kept staring at you with his crimson gaze.

“Well, I can’t let you go to this event all tense and anxious, can I?”, he asked and moved closer to you, his gaze almost predatory. You gulped and moved back until your back hit the rim of the tub and there was no more space to escape from the prowling vampire. You felt heat form inside of you.

He moved in even closer, putting his arms around you as he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Luckily, I know just the right treatment for this kind of ailment”, he whispered and let his lips wander to your neck where your pulse had started hammering. He grabbed you then and lifted you up, so you sat on the floor just in front of the tub that was lowered into the ground. “That’s lesson two my love: always grasp onto the pleasures life offers you”, he whispered sinfully as he moved your legs, so your thighs were placed on his shoulders. You were already shuddering in expectation. You let one of your hands enter his soft curls as he made you lean back.

Astarion lowered his mouth to the space between your legs, letting his devilish silver tongue work its magic and devoured you as if you were a feast and he a starved man.

When lightning had struck the first time with your back arched impossibly at the way he had made you feel and your hand buried in his curls, he rose out of the tub. You watched him as trails of water ran down his perfect body, already yearning for more. To feel him, to love him.

You looked at him expectantly, seeing the love and the desire you felt mirrored in his ruby eyes. He lowered himself onto you on the edge of the tub, moving you back a little and made sure the second lightning struck both of you.

Tags: @aurasyn @margoteve @usuallyunlikelyfox @hollowmasque

[probably-writing-x]

Armour - Chapter Three

Summary: Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

Warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship, cursing, i think that’s everything?

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long to come out !! I went away for a few days and had the busiest week ever but I’m back y’all and I love you <3. Also, I love this storyyyyy !!

———

Rafe’s plan had only been to stay for a few days. And those ‘few’ days were rapidly coming to an end. You’d noticed it first when you’d made your way downstairs and his bag was now packed beside the couch, a duffle only half full. There was a pair of shoes sat next to it and his jacket slung over the top - likely for when he got back to New York. He hadn’t mentioned to you about him leaving, hadn’t even really spoken about New York at all - when you asked him how life was in the city, he rolled his eyes and said ‘you make me sound so pretentious’. You hadn’t asked again and it hadn’t ever come up in conversation, and so you’d just assumed he didn’t want to talk about it yet. But with his bag seemingly waiting for him to go, the realisation dawned on you that you now might not get the chance.

“Good morning!” Rafe looks up as you walk through to the kitchen, “Sleep well?”

You smile, his face is more tanned now than when he arrived, the sun working to return to him, “Yeah, all good. Did you?”

He nods, “Yeah, I just had to get up early to see a couple of people.”

Yesterday night had felt so normal. You’d swam until the sun had fully disappeared, and Rafe spent the next half an hour pretending he knew the stars in the sky, though you were certain he only named one of the constellations right - one of the ones that everyone knows. The pair of you had decided to leave when you were both shivering and you’d lost all feeling in your feet. You’d wrapped towels around you and he’d chased you when you stole his. You showered and changed into the warmest clothes you could find, sat on the couch with Rafe and a mug of tea as the night passed, both of you eventually giving in to sleep when your eyes felt too heavy to beat.

“Do you fancy pancakes?” He suggests, “I want pancakes.”

“As long as you’re better at making them by now,” You point out, walking around the side of the kitchen island.

“Hey! Cut me some slack okay? I was like eighteen!”

“Still old enough to know how to make pancakes,” You shake your head, opening a couple of the cupboards to look for ingredients.

The last time the two of you made pancakes together was when you were both in high school - your options were either revising for finals or finding something else to distract yourselves. You’d opted for the latter. You’d walked the long way to the shop and bought ingredients, whisked up a batch of pancake batter and spilt flour all over the counter. Rafe had been in charge of cooking them, but he’d left the heat too high on the pan and used way too much oil, and the first attempt at a pancake resulted in batter spattering up from the pan and flying into the air. He’d yelled at you jokingly to take cover and had pulled you under the shelter of his arms, your head crushed against his chest as the two of you laughed. You hadn’t thought about it too much then - you’d been dating James by that point anyway. But, now, the thought of Rafe’s arms around you like that made your heart swell just a little.

“Okay what do we need?” Rafe asks, rummaging in one of the cupboards to pull out a big bowl and a whisk.

You lay out the few ingredients on the countertop and start to pour rough measurements of them into the bowl, waiting as Rafe whisks them around, some flour splashing over the lip of the bowl.

“Rafe! Careful!” You laugh, hitting at his arm.

“See? Don’t hit me, you made it worse,” He shakes his head, “So messy (Y/N).”

You roll your eyes and take out a pan, pouring a tiny bit of oil onto the surface and swirling it around.

“Okay so, from experience, we need to be ready to run,” Rafe comments, pouring a circle of batter into the pan.

“So, this is going better than last time,” You smile, “It’s good to see we’ve both got better at doing this.”

“Alright, flip it!” He encourages, watching you patiently.

“Oh, god, no, I’m terrible at flipping them,” You shake your head, “Can you do it?”

Rafe laughs and steps around so that he is stood behind you, his arms wrapping around either side. His hands fold themselves over yours on the handle of the pan, his chest flush against your back.

“We’ll both do it,” He mumbles, his chin above your head to watch the sight in front of the two of you, “Ready?”

He tightens his grip around your hands and lifts the pan up, both of you watching as the pancake flips. It lands on its other side but one of the sides folds upwards on itself.

“Okay so we’re still not the best at making pancakes but we’re definitely getting better.”

You manage to make up enough pancakes for three each and a small pile of mini ones because Rafe always says it’s the best bit when you share them between you. You put maple syrup on yours and he puts whipped cream on his and the two of you sit beside each other on the kitchen island, your elbows bumping as you cut into the fluffy pancakes.

“So, what are your plans for today?” You ask him, wiping your mouth on a napkin.

“Well, I should pro-“

“Hey!” Sarah interrupts, coming through to the kitchen.

You’re sure her bump has grown even in the days you’d been here, and every time you saw her you got a new ounce of excitement for seeing her become a Mom - a day you’d spoken about since the two of you were in pigtails.

“So, John B’s got work to do today,” Sarah explains, “But I need help picking out a crib for the nursery. What do you say we leave in like thirty minutes?”

You nod, “Yeah, of course, I’ll come with you. I’ll go and get ready now.”

Your eyes catch Rafe’s for a brief second and you can see something in them that you hadn’t noticed before, like an odd uncertainty or something close to a guilt. But you offer him a smile and he smiles back before his eyes flick away from you, back down to the fork in his hands.

~~~

Within the hour, you and Sarah are already at the only store on the islands that could actually sell cribs - though the options were limited and you were sure it would be a better choice to accept JJ’s offer of making one for her. You pick up a few other supplies whilst you’re there though - a wooden decoration for the nursery wall, a book shelve with clouds on either end, a few story books with no more than five words per page. Eventually, you give up on the rest, and go to the coffee shop together, taking a seat at a different table from the one you’d been at with James.

“So, did the talk with James make you feel better about things?” Sarah asks, stirring a spoon around her decaff coffee.

You take a deep breath, “I think so… I don’t know.”

She smiles a little, “I figured.”

“I just-“ You shake your head, “I still don’t get it, you know? The reasons he’s giving me, the way he’s acting - I still don’t know how he thinks he’s made the right decision by throwing away a nine year relationship,” You spill, words seeming to tumble into the space between you.

“Well, when you saw him did you want to go back to him?”

You stop then, letting the question sit.

“If he’d have told you then that he wanted to get back together with you, would you have gone?”

The words settle and you still have no response. There’s not a single thought in your mind that could string a sentence together. When you’d seen James yesterday, he wasn’t a boy who knew you. His hands weren’t outstretched to hold your heart, his eyes not flooded with an admiration he would only have for you, his brain not ticking over to remember every detail you’d told him. And you hadn’t reached for him either. You hadn’t felt that pull to return, the kind that made you fight back tears, made your heart feel like it broke a little more in your chest, your hopes sink a little further down into your stomach. It was like there was a wall - one you hadn’t much noticed before. And you realise it all then. You didn’t want to go back to him. And when your mind tried to really consider it, there was only one face you could imagine wanting to go back to…

“(Y/N)?”

You hadn’t realised your eyes filling with tears, the kind that you could place bets on falling or disappearing. You hadn’t noticed your hands gripping too tightly onto the cup on the table in front of you. Or the way Sarah looked at you like she’d just watched a piece of your facade crumble away right in front of her.

“I’m sorry, what wa-“ You shake your head and the tears choose to disappear this time, “Is it okay if we head home?”

She frowns a little as is in worry but nods, “Of course, yeah, of course we can.”

Your drink wasn’t gone, the bill not printed, your stomach rumbled in the absence of food - but there was only one thing on your mind. And you’re in the car to go home before you have the chance to think again.

Sarah chooses not to talk on the drive, the light hum of music between you filling the air enough until she pulls into the driveway. But it’s weird. There’s an odd gut feeling when you get out of the car - like an inevitability you hadn’t considered. You suppress it for enough time that the key turns in the lock and Sarah steps into the house, you following behind.

Your eyes flick to it immediately. The space beside the couch, on the floor just below the armrest. Where a half-full duffle bag and a jacket and a pair of shoes should sit. But nothing is there. Your eyes then move to the end table beside the couch - where a phone and a tangled charging cable and a glass of untouched water should sit. But nothing is there. And the couch - sheets folded atop a single pillow in the middle. All traces of him seemingly wiped away.

Sarah looks back at you, setting the shopping bag down onto the counter, and she realises it instantly, “He didn’t tell you?”

“He-“ You clear your throat, shaking your head, “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I’m so sorry (Y/N), I thought you’d know,” She comes back over to you, eyes seeking to find your gaze, “He told me he wasn’t leaving until tonight, so I figured we’d be back before he left. I don’t know wh-“

“He’s just gone?” You half-cough to get the block out of your throat, “He can’t just-“

“Look, he can’t be leaving yet, maybe you could catch him before he goes?” Sarah pushes the car keys into your hands, “Take the truck.”

Your heart sinks and for a moment you rethink it all. Maybe you should let him go. It would be easier. He’d leave now, maybe come back when the baby is born, maybe you’d see him again at Christmas, and again at the baby’s first birthday party, and again and again on these little pocketed trips where you made no attempt to catch up, and instead accepted every inevitability of falling back into each other’s comfort. You’d sneak out and swim at sunset with him again, laugh about the little things that he remembered, and let him leave without a prolonged goodbye. He’d go back to his life and you’d stay in yours.

No.

Not this time, at least.

~~~

You’re not sure where you’re driving to when you first get in the truck, feeling out of place behind the wheel, your head pounding with the focus of getting to a place you had no idea about.

You drive around the road leading from the side of Sarah and John B’s house, winding down until it trails alongside the docks. It forces another snippet back into your memory - one of the hottest days on the island when a killer heatwave had swept over. Rafe had stolen the keys to his father’s speedboat and the two of you had gone out together. You’d gone as far out into the water that half of the fuel would take you and stayed out there all day. It was too hot and you’d overheated almost instantly on the dock of the boat, diminishing your food and drink supply too soon, diving off into the water and staying there until you could come up with a thousand reasons to go back. It was the last time you’d seen Rafe before you moved to college. You’d got back to the dock and an endless string of missed calls from James - telling you that you should’ve been home an hour ago. Rafe had smiled and told you to leave, saying goodbyes weren’t necessary.

That’s when you stop the car. And you get out without overthinking once again, shutting the door behind you. The sound awakens something in the seemingly empty space. And within seconds your eyes divert themselves directly to the barely visible along one of the old docks now half-covered with the overgrowing of reeds. He’s wearing a t-shirt, slightly stretched over the muscles of his back, hanging a little looser around his stomach. Without seeing his face, it could be the old version of himself - younger, less of a shadow of stubble around his jaw, less of that serious adult look about him. But it doesn’t take him long to turn around, as if he can practically feel you from even metres away from him.

“Let me guess, you want me to steal my father’s boat again?” He calls over to you, his words catching a little on the breeze before they reach you.

You don’t have it in you to humour him now - all you could think about was the empty space next to the couch, where his bag should have been. The bag that was now at his feet.

“You thought you were just going to leave?” You return, squinting against the sun to focus on him as you start to walk the length of the dock.

Rafe smiles a little and looks down at his feet, “Goodbyes have never been necessary.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” You jab back, stopping on the dock still further from him.

Your eyes focus on the wood beneath you - 18 planks between the two of you, feeling like it was now impossible to be any closer.

“Why were you going to go?” You swallow the lump in your throat, “Wh- why weren’t you going to tell me?”

He scratches a hand at the back of his head, his eyes not meeting yours, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Say goodbye.”

“(Y/N),” Rafe winces, his eyes finally lifting to they meet yours.

“Look Rafe I-“

“I’m going back to New York,” He interjects, “My flight is today, I’m going back. You’ll be here and I’ll be there. Same as always.”

You swallow every word you’d thought of saying to him on the drive over, every thought that had cycled through your brain of how he would respond. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

“We’ll be five hundred miles away from each other again. It’s great being back here but my life isn’t in the Outer Banks anymore. I know you’re here again, but this place isn’t for me, there’s nothing for me here, I don’t want to stay here,” He clenches his jaw, “I-“

“You’re going,” You state coldly, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I get it. I just wanted you to say goodbye.”

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat, watching the way your face shifts away from him, how you practically recoil away. He’d never seen you respond like that to him, and it boils a sickening feeling in his stomach. He wants to reach out to you, to wrap his arms around you, to tell you to come with him, to tell him he’d stay here - to say anything that would remove every ounce of the hurt he’d just caused.

You keep your eyes on the planks between you, the eighteen spaces feeling further apart than ever now. This place isn’t for me. There’s nothing for me here. Is that really what he thought? Did he think of himself as the big shot city guy and you as the girl that had just come home to nothing? Was that all he could ever really think of you? Was that what he’d been thinking this entire week; that he’d outgrown you?

“You better get going if you want to make it to your flight in time,” You point out, “Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

You can feel his eyes on you and you glance up to find them glassy as he watches you, his hair falling down just slightly and casting shadows over his forehead. He swallows and it bobs his adam’s apple in his throat.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I guess I should,” He glances around his space and picks up the bag beside his ankles, shifting his grip around the handle, “(Y/N)…”

You keep your eyes on him and the focused gaze makes both of you silent. It’s like a thousand unspoken words float in the air between you, catching on the hot air and whisking away as soon as the breeze returns to cool them down. Rafe had been there when you needed him, like he always was. And when you’d first left for college, with James and a new future planned, you hadn’t thought about needing Rafe. When you’d come home, it was like a tiny battery charge if you got to see him - pieces of your youth returning. But you were living separate lives. And, now, as Rafe was leaving again, you felt like you still needed him.

That couldn’t be how things were. He couldn’t only exist in your space when you needed him. And that would be something you’d have to figure out on your own.

“Have a safe flight,” You smile, wrapping your arms around yourself and turning around.

You walk and you don’t look back, as much as each step tries to convince you to. You don’t. You can’t.

Part of you wants to hear his steps on the planks behind you, the sound of the bag thudding against the wood, the sound of him breathless, turning you around.

But he doesn’t.

You get further away and the air seems to get cooler, less dense. There’s a weight on your chest that doesn’t let up, but you force yourself to breathe in and breathe out once, twice, three times. If you could breathe without him, you’d be fine. If you could walk without him, you’d be fine. And, piece by piece, those things would all become possible, all without him.

~~~

It had been two weeks since Rafe had left. He hadn’t texted, though you’d overheard from Sarah that he’d landed safely and that he’d be back again in a few months.

The past two weeks had been full of doing things on your own, for yourself. And it had been flooded with realisation, decisions you wouldn’t have made before.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

Sarah’s sat across from you next to John B, both of them dumbfounded at your announcement. He was sat back in his chair with his arms folded, her leaning forward with her hands on the kitchen counter in front of her, as if steadying herself.

“I’m moving to London,” You repeat, more sure of yourself than you’d been in a long time.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” She shakes her head, “You’re just going?”

“What about the logistics of everything?” John B frowns, “Isn’t there stuff you have to think about with this?”

“Well, it’s only short term for now, so I could get all the visa stuff sorted just on short term, I’m moving into an Air BnB for the time being, and then I’ll decide if I want to move somewhere more permanent. But, right now, I just know I need to go,” You nod assertively, “And, you know, what’s wrong with London?”

“How long will you be gone for?” Sarah frowns, “It’s going to be so weird not having you here.”

“I know, but it’s only a flight away, right?” You encourage, “I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Why do you want to leave?” John B asks, looking at you as if it were a stranger in front of him.

“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was like seventeen. I fell in love with James, I moved away with him, I graduated with him, I moved back here with him, everything in my life has been so determined. And he took that from me. And ever since then I’d been using the excuse of Rafe being here to stop me from actually admitting to anything that had happened,” You swallow the lump in your throat, “Rafe is important to me, and he always will be. But I can’t rely on him to piece me back together. And I can’t rely on you guys either. So, I need just a few months. Just to reset.”

Sarah takes a deep breath like she is finally accepting what you’ve said, “Okay, so you’re going to London. And you’re going to come back?”

“I’ll come back,” You encourage, “I just can’t be here.”

———

Taglist: @viianey @baby19sthings @tsokaro @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @starkeylover

[brisquad-unit-4402]

technical guide and example scenario to kissing with a tongue piercing

this started as a shitpost style warmup/hc and then spiraled into a fic which spiraled into a style experiment. p much everything is deliberate except for the lowercase because i don’t believe in capitalization on my phone. now here’s a pretentious makeout scene where neither reader nor claude get the big 4k 120fps big picture at all

tags: gender neutral reader, pre-relationship, requited unrequited pining, oral fixation, making out, implied sexual/suggestive content, yeah i guess claude comes across as a sub here idk i didn’t really consider those dynamics much for this fic but if that means something to you then power to you

⚠ claude and reader jokingly call each other whores

⚠ implied piercing kink, hand/mouth play

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

reader: what’s it like to make out with a tongue piercing

claude: huh

good?? question??? he isn’t a prude but he doesn’t kiss and tell either. that shit stays locked up. he’s a private person no matter how much he likes the one asking questions. unfortunately

claude: why do you ask?

but he does like the person asking the questions. regret courses through him the second he says it aloud.

reader: just curious

reader: it’s just a stud so sometimes i forget you have one but when you’re kissing it’s hard to not notice isn’t it

claude: it could be

reader: can you stick your tongue out?

claude: [he does so]

regret! regret! regret! it’s turned to a flood washing over his thoughts. he chides himself. why are you so obedient, claude, why are you so eager to please, and for the love of god quit thinking like that before you get any ideas!

great. now there’s a nasty little thing called hope twisting through his brain and making it feel emptier than usual.

reader: i guess you’d have to be pretty into it to feel it

claude: [closes his mouth.] i guess

reader: so what’s it like?

reader: kissing, i mean

claude: that’s just your lips so it’s whatever

reader: no, dummy, i mean with tongue

claude: it’s just making out

claude: even i forget it’s there

reader: there’s no difference at all?

claude: woah woah woah woah i didn’t say that

reader: so you do notice it?

claude: well i don't but other people do

reader: is it good?

claude: i hope

claude: i mean

claude: well i don't think it's bad and no one's told me it's bad and i'm not bad [he thinks]

claude: so it's probably good. but i wouldn't know

reader: i should have guessed

claude: [a little.] yeah

claude: i mean

claude: yeah

he feels like he went outside in only boxers and got roped into an all-day affair. admitting things is already too much exposure. there’s so much he wants to say but it’ll take up all the space, ruin the mood. true feelings tend to come out clumsy according to claude.

the shred of hope lingers.

claude: i guess

claude: it’s smooth?

claude: because it’s so small?

claude: and the metal is just like that?

reader: [understanding, theorization]

claude: if it was a hoop it would be different

claude: but it’s not

claude: [unelegantly.] so it’s not

reader: i’m going to ask something stupid

claude: [gets a grip.] hey, i’m stupid

reader: no you aren’t

reader: i wonder what it feels like

claude: is this the question

reader: now it is

reader: can i try?

claude: getting a tongue piercing?

reader: no, kissing you

claude: [a brief sound]

claude: me?

reader: yeah

reader: i want to know how it feels

reader: i won’t be weird i promise

reader: and if not that’s cool

reader: i shouldn’t have brought it up i don’t want to make you feel weird or anything

reader: but i’m

reader: really curious

this is a bad time for his mouth to go dry. claude presses his lips together, only to pry them apart after remembering your request. he needs a swift bonk to the head. cold shower. 50,000 years of solitude. fuck he needs to stop thinking about this.

or keep thinking about this. it’s the best chance he’s got. it hurts his heart thinking about it. it’s indulgence. he can’t let himself pretend but he can’t let go of it either

claude: how are we doing this

reader: i guess we could try kissing first

claude: like frenching or

reader: lips first?

claude: oh right right

aaaaaaaaaa.

he feels giddy and heartbroken. and anxious. and it’s over before he really figured it out

claude: wait

why are lips so malleable? why do the tiniest presses make him feel so? so? giddy-heartbroken-anxious-dirty. this is out of order. friends don’t kiss friends with tension like this. but they are now.

reader: we forgot about the piercing

claude: right

reader: i guess that was a warmup. ha-ha

claude: yeah

claude: here goes nothing

reader: you’re such a dork—

he knows. he could always use the reminder. not now though. instead he refamiliarizes himself with lip on lip, slightly ajar, then rising. a gap between for hot breath to escape. the air grazes the slope of his cheek.

reader: mmh—

anxiety and dirtiness outweigh the other two, and the latter more than the former. he’s kissed before. reader has too. it doesn’t have to mean anything. it doesn’t have to mean anything. he repeats the thought but the message gets lost along the way.

claude: —.

reader nips so claude opens more. predictably so. and traitorously fervent. doesn’t mean nothing. his heart begs for some honesty but he can’t speak, mouth’s a little busy at the moment, not a great time to talk about feelings and whatever. he’d like to but, you know, clumsy words

clumsy tongues

the one over the bite, he means; warmth follows the lick at the tip of your tongue and down his throat and straight to his belly

claude:

you make yourself right at home. the breath is interrupted before it grazes his cheek because your hands rest there instead. claude follows your movements, shadowing as you explore, marking the depths before lulling at the entrance

reader: stay still

claude:

reader:

dammit, obedience, like a subservient dog. trembling like one while reader reenters. he nearly forgot the whole reason they were doing this until it prodded at the soft tip of his tongue.

claude: []

he’d nearly ignored the instruction. he tries not to think of it as a command, not while you trail up his tongue. little swirls that set him at ease and on fire. down onto the central. the answer at the top of the stud.

do NOT hit teeth, claude clawmark. do not hit teeth. he knows how it’s done but it’s so over if he messes up with you. fuck, this is wrong. you can’t be this hot and claude is so going to hell after this.

the metal preserves body heat but it tends to feel cooler to unfamiliar tongues. it’s important to be gentle with this. he licks low and languid, beginning a rhythm. simple circles. shouldn’t be difficult for you to predict the bead. god. what is his life

his laps are simple enough to pick up on. you lay your tongue on his in different positions to feel the stud. at this point claude’s done trying to analyze. his notes are minimal: sometimes you’re flat on his and that’s a strange feeling. the tip seems to have no effect on you, but it hits the space usually glossed over because of the metal so that’s exciting. when you press the sensitive side to the stud, you twitch back, and claude’s urge to chase rears its head.

reader: .

the challenge is taken. and now that the rhythm’s established claude speeds up. the sensation helps filter out the thought that this is an error. not on your part, of course, you’re just curious. that’s exactly why he should have denied: this is never going to happen again and he’s never going to admit how tragic that is.

but you nudge the piercing more, and the pressure makes his heart lurch.

he tilts your chin to his in a moment of surrender.

you play him like a damn instrument. his throat is full of lava boiling over with your touch, each hungrier than the last. the shivers just give you more openings to eat him up

claude: [needs to breathe.] hold on

reader: nngh?

claude: gotta

claude: gotta breathe

claude: christ,

claude: you’re shameless

reader: [between kisses at the corner of claude’s mouth.] yeah, i’m the whore here,

reader: said the guy with a tongue piercing

claude: hey since when are tongue piercings a whore thing

reader: since you kissed me like one

he’d been extremely polite, what the hell. at least, polite compared to what he really wants. still. you’re the one kissing me even when we aren’t using tongue, he thinks. the emotion behind it is unrecognizable.

yet you hum with muffled laughter as you kiss him. for not the first time it registers that he likes making you smile, even at his expense

he likes you but that’s never been a revelation.

and he quite likes how this feels when he tells his conscience to shut the hell up already. he takes your hand

reader: [with curiosity. you'd call it unrecognizable too]

thoughtlessly he holds it to his lips

claude: this is what it feels like when you touch it

the piercing, indeed, feels smooth on your fingertips as it rolls by the pads. his tongue lingers not far behind. those fingers twitch at the blend of tongue and lip; one of them sweetly curls at the stud. it’s always been easy to forget that the piercing is there but especially now as the plush of his lips closes. open-mouthed kisses become closed, leaving the true motions of his tongue—and the piercing, and the finger coiled beside it—they're obscured.

reader: [does it matter?]

reader: [Do the stage directions matter?]

claude: [looks up]

he quite likes the sight too

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[lotties-ashwagandha]

Hi! Could you write a jealous Lottie x reader one shot where a customer flirts with reader at the farmers market and Lottie tells them to back off?

COLOR OF JEALOUSY

pairing: lottie matthews x reader

word count: 1030

notes and warnings: only this woman would get jealous at a farmers market and i love her so much for it

Ten minutes into the farmer’s market and you were already wanting to go home.

You almost never tended the farmer’s market. It was usually up to Lisa to sell the honey you made at the compound, but she’d come down with a cold, and you had been pressured into the obligation.

Seeing it as a potential date, you’d dragged Lottie with you, which, apart from her continuous compulsive applying and reapplying of bug spray, hadn’t turned out to be too much of a bad idea. She had put up most of the booth decorations, and kept inventory close at hand. You were in charge of handling the cash register, and trying as much as you could to make jars of honey sound appealing to customers.

It didn’t take long for you to tire of those present at the farmer’s market. The crowd was full of pretentious hippie wannabes, who didn’t know a single thing about sustainable living. And they were demeaning. One woman had asked you if you were absolutely sure that your jars of honey didn’t have botulism. You’d almost reached over the counter and strangled her on impulse.

You were tending the cash register, bagging up someone’s items when a woman approached your booth, clad in a burgundy shawl and jeans, her light hair pulled into a braid down her back. In a way, her energy reminded you of Lottie, the way she flowed so casually through the chaos of the market, a constant state of mindfulness hanging in the air about her.

She approached the cash register with two jars of honey. Meeting your gaze, and offered you a smile, and though it seemed genuine it rang with a sort of wryness.

“Is that all?” You asked, a bit irritably, but you were well past caring how others perceived your tone. You’d be lucky if at the end of the transaction you didn’t find yourself trying to drown this woman in the honey she bought.

The woman nodded, letting you ring up her items as she leafed through one of the pamphlets Lottie put out to advertise the wellness center. “You’re one of the purple people, then?” She said, chuckling.

“We are an intentional community,” you corrected almost mechanically.

“I’m not really into that sort of thing,” she sighed, putting the pamphlet down. Again, she met your eyes. “But if they ever let you out of that place, I’d love to take you out sometime. You know, somewhere you don’t have to rip your own vegetables out of the ground for every meal.”

You were a bit taken aback. You shook your head, gathering yourself, planning your response when you felt a hand at the dip of your back, Lottie’s hand. She stood at your side, examining the woman on the other side of the counter, and you could see the shift in her expression from nonchalance to aggravation.

“Will you go make sure there’s still change in the back?” Lottie asked you.

“Of course there’s still change, didn’t you just-”

“Yes, but please, just go make sure. I want to keep up with the afternoon rush.”

Unsure of whether to leave her alone with the woman, you hesitated, but after a moment you relented. You’d had enough of the market for a little while. Grabbing a bottle of water from under the table you retreated to one of the folding chairs a few feet behind the vending counter. You didn’t bother with the change. It was clear enough that Lottie wanted to handle the woman herself, and you were fine with it, if not a bit relieved to have been finally given a break from running the sales.

You watched as Lottie took the woman’s money and bagged her items. Before she handed them to her, however, she took a moment to speak with the woman, and after a few seconds the customer looked to where you sat in the back with an expression close to terror. She scurried away, and you stood, approaching Lottie and leaning against the sales table.

“Whatever you said to that woman scared the shit out of her,” you said, resisting a laugh.

Lottie smirked ever so slightly, glancing in the direction the woman had gone, and you could see she was proud of herself. “She deserved it. She was being a bitch.”

“Oh, so that’s why you scared her away?” You asked doubtfully, sending her a knowing look. “It wasn’t that she asked me out on a date?”

She didn’t respond, only began to rearrange the honey, and you couldn’t resist laughing quietly at the pettiness.

“Lottie,” you pressed, teasing, “are you jealous?”

You were about to tease her further when she stepped towards you, hand snaking around to the back of your neck, and immediately her lips slammed into yours. You could feel the desire in her kiss, the affirmation that you were hers and the fury invoked by anyone who suggested otherwise. You leaned into it, let the brief moment explain with love, with longing, what words couldn’t.

“You’re mine,” she said, and it wasn’t a question, it wasn't a request. It was a demand.

You nodded, breath catching ever so slightly as you met her gaze. “Yours,” you confirmed, and desperately you wished that you were at home with her, away from any possible prying eyes. You pressed a quick kiss to her jaw, and her hands moved down to your waist. “I’m tired of this place,” you admitted quietly, moving your gaze to survey the farmer’s market. “I want to go home.”

She nodded. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was just as sick of all of it as you were. “I’ll call Lisa and have her send someone to cover for us.”

You nodded, relieved, and reluctantly pulled away from her.

You paused, a smirk pulling at your lips. “Hey, Lottie, that woman’s back.”

She bolted to the edge of the vendor’s table, looking around the market. “Where?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m kidding… but I kind of want to know what would happen if she was. I’m starting to think purple is the color of jealousy instead of green, by the way.”

[reluctantjoe]

‘Baddies are my new type’: Mathew Baynton on Ghosts, Wonka and wicked villains

He is about to say goodbye to his role in beloved spectral sitcom Ghosts. But dastardly turns in Wonka and the a festive Agatha Christie drama suggest the actor’s future is bright – if somewhat nefarious

“I feel like I’m moving into really wanky territory now,” says Mathew Baynton, looking a little anxious. We are talking about Ghosts, the much-loved comedy about a gaggle of spirits consigned to spend the afterlife in a crumbling country mansion, which Baynton co-writes and in which he plays a deceased Regency poet. After a triumphant five seasons, Ghosts officially breathed its last in October – except there’s now a Christmas episode on its way. (Last year’s Christmas special drew 5.9 million viewers, making it the BBC’s biggest comedy of 2022.)

When I ask Baynton what it is about Ghosts that struck a chord with viewers, he worries he might sound pretentious. “But here goes,” he says. “I have learned that, as a writer, you don’t always know what you’re writing. There are the quite boring times where you have an idea and it comes out as you imagined, and there’s no mystery in that process. But when it’s exciting, you have an idea and it leads you to places you don’t expect.”

With Ghosts, he and his co-writers initially imagined hundreds of spirits haunting Button House, which would have allowed them to tell different stories with a new set of characters each week. “But when we looked at the taster tape we made, we all went: ‘Hang on, there’s something much richer here,’” Baynton continues. “We realised it was a show about people being stuck together, potentially in eternity, and how they find ways to get along. All of which is to say that I’m enamoured with Ghosts too because, right from the get-go, we had absolutely no idea what it would become.”

Baynton, who is 43, is talking from his study at home in north London where he lives with his partner, the film historian and film-maker Kelly Robinson, and their two children. He is self-effacing and thoughtful, choosing his words carefully and, at intervals, wondering if he could be expressing himself better. “I think it’s partly the writer in me,” he says, “but I do come away from conversations thinking how I’d like to rewrite things I’ve said.”

As an actor, Baynton has cornered the market in ultra-sensitive men who walk a fine line between pathos and silliness. Along with his lovelorn poet in Ghosts, there was his turn as a Victorian psychiatrist in 2017’s Quacks, who masterminds a new treatment for patients called “talking”; his lute-playing bard in the 2015 film Bill, about the early life of Shakespeare (“London is not going to know what hit it!”); and good Samaritan Sam in The Wrong Mans (2013-14), which he co-wrote and starred in alongside James Corden.

But this winter heralds a new set of projects that Baynton has dubbed “my Christmas of villainy”. In Murder Is Easy, based on the Agatha Christie novel about a spate of killings in a sleepy English village, he plays a doctor who, he says, “is an awful person with some very awful views”. Next year brings A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, based on Holly Jackson’s bestselling YA novel, in which a young true-crime enthusiast investigates a five-year-old murder case; Baynton can’t reveal too much, although he confirms his character is a far cry from the puppy-eyed romantics for which he is known. And in the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory prequel, Wonka, released in cinemas earlier this month, he plays the devious Fickelgruber, Wonka’s Brylcreemed rival in the confectionery business.

Baynton can’t account for this sudden pivot into treachery beyond the fact that “a few [casting directors] had the same idea at the same time … Acting is strange like that. You do one notable thing early on and you are put on a track that for 10 years that can be hard to get off. Perhaps baddies are my new type.”

Wonka was co-written by his friend and Ghosts compadre Simon Farnaby (who also co-wrote Paddington 2) and was filmed at Warner Bros Studios in Hertfordshire. For Baynton, it “felt like you were with the same kids but in a plush playground … Even though you’re working with this huge Hollywood star [Timothée Chalamet, who plays Wonka] and you’re on a set that probably cost the same as an entire series of Ghosts, it’s still a comedy with a big heart, so for me it felt like home.”

Baynton and Farnaby first came together on the set of Horrible Histories, the anarchic children’s sketch show that recreated history’s most ludicrous and bloodthirsty moments, alongside Martha Howe-Douglas, Jim Howick, Laurence Rickard and Ben Willbond. Shortly after it finished its decade-long run, the six of them wrote the madcap puppet comedy Yonderland, largely because “we couldn’t bear that we weren’t going to get together for more mucking about in front of the camera”. This was followed by Bill, and, four years later, Ghosts. They have even given themselves the collective name Them There, mostly for production credits, though “no one actually calls us that”. Aren’t they more Britcom’s answer to the Brat Pack? “I don’t know about that,” Baynton says, bashfully, “though it depends on which of them you think I am.”

The youngest of three children, Baynton grew up in Southend on a diet of sea air and his dad’s Monty Python cassettes. He reckons being lowest in the pecking order at home contributed to his desire to perform and be noticed. In his teens, he went through a morose period during which he was overtaken by self-consciousness, but then he discovered theatre via a production of Bruno Schulz’s The Street of Crocodiles by Theatre de Complicité “which moved me to tears in ways I couldn’t understand and ignited something in me. I knew I wanted to be in that world in some way.”

Baynton went on to drama school, where he studied directing, but when he got there he realised acting was his calling. He spent a summer as assistant to Cal McCrystal, then director of the physical theatre group Peepolykus, who pushed him to join in with improv games. Later he went to Paris to study under the renowned clown Philippe Gaulier, which cemented his love of slapstick. Upon returning home, McCrystal gave him his first break on the stage in a production of Joe Orton’s Loot.

But it was Horrible Histories that really opened doors for Baynton, both as an actor and writer. On being offered the job, he nearly turned it down, fearing that he might get stuck doing nothing but children’s TV, but his agent persuaded him to take the job by telling him: “No one will see it.” In a talk last year at the Oxford Union, Baynton remarked how, were they making it today, they would do certain things differently, such as not using white actors in tanning makeup to portray Egyptians.

“I think it’s important that we examine where the line is [around portrayals of other cultures],” he says now. “It’s a murky area where intention sometimes doesn’t match reception. Certainly, no one had bad intentions making Horrible Histories and none of us at that time, in the culture as it was, hesitated and thought: ‘Hang on, maybe I shouldn’t play an Egyptian.’ But times have changed and I would hesitate now.”

If the odd Horrible Histories sketch hasn’t aged well, it is worth observing the sensitivity and inclusivity that runs through Ghosts. Baynton notes how throwing together characters from different historical periods allowed them to “highlight wrongful attitudes and interrogate how they had arrived at them. At one point, there’s a gay wedding at Button House and [the ghost of] Lady Button is appalled and goes on this journey in which she faces her own homophobia. When we were writing that story, it felt like I was having a conversation with my homophobic nan.”

Baynton is content moving between acting and writing, not least because “if I’m between acting jobs, it means I get to dream up new projects for myself and my friends”. Keen to avoid any signs of egotism as his career soars, Baynton keeps his feet on the ground by recalling the “pure dystopian hell” of his time as a school leaver working in a call centre. There, every second of the day was monitored and he was once upbraided by a manager for taking too many toilet breaks. “So when I’m on set in a scratchy costume or I’m feeling a bit tired and thinking what a terrible time I’m having,” he says, “I remember that time, and what a privilege it is do what I do.”

[insomniac4000]

Harry Lewis was never one to frequent coffee shops, preferring a tea especially if it was made with Guernsey milk but on this particular Wednesday morning, the cosy little café around the corner from his flat in London had called to him. Maybe it was the smell of freshly ground coffee before a shoot, or perhaps the allure of a quiet moment away from the endless hustle and bustle that defined his life as part of the Sidemen. He wasn’t sure. But as he stepped into the café, shaking the last remnants of sleep from his mind, he certainly hadn’t expected to be thrust into a whirlwind of nostalgia.

The place was nearly empty, save for a couple of people scattered around. Harry ordered his usual a chai latte and stood off to the side waiting to collect. As he waited he pulled out his phone, intending to catch up on messages or maybe scroll through Instagram, but before he could even unlock the screen, a voice from the past broke through the low hum of background chatter.

“Harry?”

He looked up, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes fell on a face he hadn’t seen in years. There, standing just a few feet away, was Violet, the girl he’d dated well, sort of dated back when he was 17 and still living in Guernsey. Time had softened her features in a way that made her even more beautiful than he remembered, with her warm brown eyes and that same infectious smile that had once brightened his days.

“Violet?” he stammered, his surprise evident.

She laughed, and it was a sound that immediately transported him back to those carefree island days. “What are the chances?” she said, stepping closer.

“Small world, huh?” he managed to say, standing up awkwardly, unsure whether to go in for a hug or just keep his distance.

They settled for a brief hug, the kind you give an old friend you haven’t seen in far too long. When they pulled apart, Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“What brings you to London?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I moved here a couple of weeks ago for work,” she explained. “Needed a change of scenery. Guernsey started to feel too small after a while, you know?”

Harry nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. “Yeah, I get that. London’s a different beast though. How are you finding it?”

“It’s overwhelming, but in a good way,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “And it’s been a bit lonely, to be honest. I don’t really know anyone here.”

“Well, you know me,” Harry said, the words tumbling out before he could second guess them. “We should catch up properly sometime.”

Violet's smile widened. “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers, promising to set up a time to hang out soon. As Harry picked up his drink and left the café, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had just happened. He sipped his coffee, his thoughts lingering on the past, but now also considering the possibilities of what might lie ahead.

True to their word, Harry and Violet arranged to meet for dinner that weekend. Harry had picked out a small Italian restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the East London, a place that was cosy enough to talk but not too fancy to feel pretentious. As he waited for Emma to arrive, he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves, a sensation he hadn’t experienced in years. It was ridiculous, he told himself they were just old friends catching up. But a small part of him wondered if this dinner was something more.

When Violet walked in, all doubts were momentarily pushed aside. She looked effortlessly chic in a simple black dress, her hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Harry stood to greet her, feeling that same rush of familiarity and attraction he’d felt in the café.

They talked and laughed over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, reminiscing about their teenage years in Guernsey. They recounted old memories skipping stones on the beach, late night chats on the cliffs, the awkwardness of their teenage romance. But as the evening progressed, the conversation naturally shifted to the present.

“So, what’s it like being in the Sidemen?” Violet asked, swirling the last of her wine in her glass.

Harry chuckled. “It’s mad, to be honest. I never imagined things would blow up like this. We’re always busy, always filming or planning something. But it’s fun, you know? The guys are like family at this point.”

“That’s amazing,” she said, genuinely impressed. “I’ve watched some of your videos—my little brother’s a huge fan.”

Harry grinned remembering the then six year old. “I’ll send him a shoutout in the next one.”

Violet laughed, shaking her head. “He’d love that.”

They continued to talk late into the evening, long after their plates had been cleared and the restaurant had started to empty out. There was a comfort between them that made the hours slip by unnoticed, a feeling of rightness that neither of them had expected but both felt.

As they left the restaurant, stepping into the cool London night, Harry walked Violet to her flat. They stood outside the building for a moment, the conversation lulling to a comfortable silence.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Violet said, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“Me too,” Harry replied, and for a second, he thought about leaning in to kiss her. But something held him back a mix of uncertainty and the remnants of his own insistence that this was just a friendly reunion. So instead, he simply smiled back. “We should do this again sometime.”

“I’d like that,” she echoed her words from before.

With a final smile, she turned and disappeared into her building, leaving Harry standing alone on the pavement. He walked back to his flat, his thoughts swirling. What had started as a casual dinner with an old friend had left him with more questions than answers. He liked Violet—more than he’d anticipated. But was he ready to explore that, especially with how complicated his life had become?

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Violet began hanging out more regularly. They went to museums, explored different neighbourhoods, and even attended a couple of small gigs together. It was easy and fun, and Harry found himself looking forward to their time together more than he wanted to admit.

Of course, the rest of the Sidemen began to notice.

One afternoon, Harry was at the studio ready to record a Sidecast, when Simon walked in, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Hey Bog”

Harry glanced up from his phone. “What’s up?”

Simon plopped down on the couch next to him. “How's your new girlfriend?”

Harry felt his face heat up slightly. “We’re just friends catching up.”

“Sure, mate,” Simon said, drawing out the words with a teasing lilt. “But you’re not fooling anyone. We’ve all seen how much you’ve been smiling recently. And the fact she's a woman and you're actually talking to her”

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not like that. We’re just having fun, that’s all, and I already know her which helps with the awkwardness.

Simon raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And how long do you think that’ll last before one of you catches feelings?”

“We dated ages ago, man,” Harry protested. “We’re past all that. We’re different people now.”

“Yeah, well, just be careful,” Simon said, more seriously this time. “You know how these things can get complicated. But if you like her, don’t be a muppet about it.”

Harry didn’t respond immediately, instead pretending to focus on his laptop screen. But Simon’s words echoed in his mind long after their conversation ended.

Weeks passed, and as summer turned into autumn, Harry found himself increasingly conflicted. Despite his insistence that his relationship with Violet was purely platonic, he couldn’t ignore the way his heart beat a little faster whenever she was around, or the way his thoughts drifted to her whenever they were apart. Still, he pushed those feelings aside, determined not to ruin what they had by overcomplicating things.

Then came the night that changed everything.

It was a Friday, and the Sidemen had decided to hit the town for a rare night out. They invited Violet to join them, and she agreed, much to Harry’s excitement and slight anxiety. The group met at a trendy bar in Soho, and as the drinks flowed, so did the laughter.

Violet fit in effortlessly with the group, charming everyone with her wit and easy going nature. Even JJ, who could be notoriously hard to impress, seemed taken with her. Harry watched as she bantered with his friends, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. For the first time in a long while, he felt content, like everything was exactly where it was meant to be.

As the night wore on, the group decided to move to a club nearby. The music was loud, the lights flashing in time with the bass that reverberated through the floor. The alcohol had loosened Harry’s usual reservations, and he found himself dancing with Violet, their bodies moving in sync with the rhythm.

At some point, they drifted away from the rest of the group, finding a quieter corner of the club. The mood shifted subtly what had been light and fun all night suddenly felt charged with an undercurrent of something deeper.

Violet looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the colourful lights of the club. “I’m glad we bumped into each other that day,” she said, her voice barely audible over the music, leaning into Harry's body more.

“Me too,” Harry replied, his voice low.

They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading into the background. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Harry closed the distance between them and kissed her.

It wasn’t a planned or carefully considered move just a moment of clarity in the middle of a chaotic night. And as soon as their lips met, Harry knew it was the right thing. Violet responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck as they deepened the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Well, that changes things, doesn’t it?”

Violet laughed softly, her forehead resting against his. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

The next morning, Harry woke up with a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He and Violet had left the club together, talking and laughing all the way back to his flat.

Now, in the early light of day, the reality of what had happened began to sink in. But instead of the panic or confusion he might have expected, all Harry felt was a quiet certainty. He liked Violet a lot. And maybe it was time to stop pretending otherwise.

He turned to see Violet still asleep beside him, her face peaceful and content. Harry watched her for a moment, feeling a swell of affection that took him by surprise.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He picked it up, seeing a string of messages from the Sidemen group chat.

Simon: “So, Harry, you and Violet, huh? Called it. 😏”

JJ: “Don’t mess this up.”

Ethan: “About time, lad! Proud of you. 😂”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head at his friends’ teasing. But instead of feeling embarrassed or defensive, he found that he didn’t care what they thought. This was his life, and for the first time in a while, he felt like he was making the right choice.

He set his phone down and turned back to Violet, who was beginning to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and when she saw him, she smiled.

“Morning,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning,” Harry replied, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence. Eventually, Violet shifted, propping herself up on one elbow.

“So, what happens now?” she asked, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing that this was the moment to be honest, not just with Violet, but with himself. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I do know that I don’t want to pretend anymore. I like you, Violet. I’ve liked you for a while now, and I want to see where this goes if you do too. Ever since I saw you in that coffee shop I just keep thinking back to us. We never really gave it a serious go when we were kids and then I moved, I think I want to take this more seriously.”

Violet's smile widened, and she reached out to take his hand. “I’d like that.”