#i really hope this made sense and helps!!

[achilles-rage]

Close To You

summary: buck takes you out to a nice restaurant, then you spend the night at his place; as close to each other as possible.

word count: 5.0k

request: @dreams-encapsulated-in-glamour - So I have a request, if possible! So it’s basically romantic!buck but he’s obsessed with making both you and him cum, like finishing together multiple times throughout the session if that makes sense, with aftercare too!

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write. also i definitely got a bit carried away, my bad lol. i really like how this turned out, so i hope you enjoy<33

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only!

You smile widely at Buck when you open your front door, your eyes trailing down his suit-clad figure before you lean in to give him a quick kiss.

“This is last minute. What have you got planned tonight, Buckley?” you tease with a raised brow as he takes one of your hands in his and guides you to do a spin for him. He uses this time to let his eyes roam your body, taking in your pretty blue dress and the way it allows him to see every dip and curve of your body. His pretty girl.

“Just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that a crime?” he says when you’re turned to face him again, teasing you right back and then pulling you both together. He guides your hand up to his shoulder, and then both of his hands grab your hips as he steps into your apartment, and he gives you another, deeper kiss. 

Honestly, he had a close call at work today, and it made him want to see you more than anything. And what better way to spend time with you than by treating you to a nice dinner?

“I guess not. Unless we don’t get dessert, then it’s most definitely a crime.” you reply when you pull away from the kiss, biting your lip as you look up at him with wide eyes. He chuckles, eyes studying your pretty face for a moment before he replies. God, he’d give you anything you asked for.

“Come on, I’m not a monster.” he teases, giving you a wink. You laugh softly, then begrudgingly part from him to grab your purse on your kitchen counter. Buck waits in the entryway, holding the door open as he watches you, and then you’re out the door and on your way down Buck’s jeep. 

You feel giddy as he drives to the restaurant, and he can feel the way your leg is bouncing as he keeps his hand firmly on your thigh. The movement makes your dress ride up your thigh ever so slightly, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Buck, but he tries to ignore it for now. He’s taking you for dinner first. 

You’ve been wanting to go to this new restaurant for months, but reservations are almost impossible to get; you’re not even sure how Buck managed to swing a last-minute reservation.

He acts like a perfect gentleman the whole night; not like you’re not completely used to that treatment from him, but the amount of effort he’s putting into this impromptu date night is making your whole body feel hot. You’re sure that if you weren’t surrounded by strangers right now, you’d be on top of him. 

It started with him opening your car door and helping you into the jeep, then telling you how gorgeous you looked at least four times on the way to the restaurant, then it was pulling out your chair for you, and then it was him insisting on paying for the entire meal. You tried to tell him that you should at least pay for dessert – even though all you have in your purse is your lip gloss and your phone, but it’s the thought that counts – but he shoots you down immediately. 

“I’m paying. It’s not your job to worry about paying for dates.” is all he says as he grabs the cheque, and you’re now completely sure that you’d be on top of him if it weren’t for being in public.

“What’s got you like this tonight?” you ask once you’re back in the jeep, the street lights illuminating Buck’s face every few seconds as you look over at him.

He squeezes your thigh twice as he glances over at you, an innocent smile on his face. He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you all night, and it feels like torture to have to stare at the road until he gets you back to his place.

“Like what?” he asks, and you tilt your head to the side, your eyes narrowing even though there’s still a small smile on your face.

“I don’t know; nice dinner, getting all dressed up. I mean, you’re usually like this, but not this much.” you say and he sighs, shrugging. He doesn’t want to worry you, but he knows he’ll have to tell you eventually; he’s never been able to keep much from you. 

“Just wanna spend time with my girl.” he tries first, and when your eyes narrow more, he tries again. “I just had a bit of a close call at work today. Nothing major, but I just wanted to do something with you, I don’t know.”

Your eyes soften at his words, and although you’re worried about how close this call really was, you know that it’s part of the job, and that he’s made it home safe today either way.

You grab his hand off of your thigh and squeeze it, then bring it up to your lips to kiss the back of his hand. He smiles over at you, and he feels the blush on his cheeks at the tender moment. 

“I love you.” is all you say when you meet his gaze for a split second. He hums softly as he looks back at the road, finally pulling onto his street.

“I love you. So much.” he replies.

When you get to his building, it’s like a switch flips. The second the elevator doors close, your lips meet each other’s, and he’s pulling you in by the hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

Both of your hands start to wander as the elevator brings you to his floor; both of your breathing growing laboured and soft whines escaping your lips as you both fight the urge to rip the other’s clothes off.  When you hear the faint dinging, you part begrudgingly, both panting as Buck takes your hand again and leads you to his door.

As he unlocks his door, you wrap your arms around his torso from behind, running your nails up and down the thin fabric of his dress shirt. You can’t help the soft giggle that tumbles from your lips when he drops his keys and lets out a rough “fuck;” his hands shaking so much in anticipation for what he’s planning on doing to you that he can hardly focus. 

As soon as the door is unlocked, you both stumble inside, and he kicks the door closed with his foot as he cups your cheeks in his hands, bringing your lips together once again. Your purse drops to the floor as he kicks off his shoes, barely parting from your hot kiss as he backs you up towards the kitchen.

When you feel your back hit the kitchen counter, Buck’s hands slide down your ass to the back of your thick thighs and lift you onto the counter, making your dress ride up your thighs even more.

“God, you’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?” he whispers against your lips as his fingers trial up under your dress and along the outside of your thighs. You pull back with a dazed grin, eyes darting down to his puffy lips for a moment before you reply.

“I think I could ask you the same thing.” you tease, and he grins too. He admires you for a moment as you sit on his counter, your plush belly and thighs on full display for his eyes, and he has to fight back a groan. He’s so in love with you. 

He kneels in front of you for a moment, and you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, but then he grabs one of your ankles and begins to unbuckle your heel. You watch with a soft smile as he takes both your shoes off, and when he takes each one off, he finishes with pressing a soft kiss to your shin, just below the knee. 

When he stands back up, you both just stare at each other for a moment, looking into each other's eyes and both silently wondering how you got so lucky to find each other.

He brings your lips back to his for one more kiss, placing one hand on the side of your neck, before he trails kisses down your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head back immediately, and your hands eagerly go to his chest, trying blindly to push his suit jacket off of his shoulders. 

His lips don’t leave your neck as he shrugs off his jacket, and when his arms are free again, he wastes no more time in pushing your dress up to expose your lower half, the skirt now bunched around your waist.

Neither of you care that you’re both still fully clothed as you work to unbuckle Buck’s belt and he pushes your panties to the side, two fingers gliding through your slick folds. 

You bite your lips as you work to get his cock free, and when you’re finally able to pull him out of his pants, you waste no time in wrapping your hand around him. His two fingers have already plunged into your cunt as you stroke his cock, both of you moaning softly and bringing your lips together in a sloppy kiss as you try to focus on the other’s pleasure.

You try to keep a steady pace, running your thumb over the head of his cock every so often, but you’re finding it increasingly difficult as he uses two fingers to fuck you and his thumb to rub circles over your clit. 

To make matters worse, every few strokes, he sways forward; closer to you, and his tip presses against your dripping cunt so teasingly that you want to scream. If it weren’t for his desperate moans and grunts, you’d be sure that he’s doing it on purpose. His kisses to your neck feel white hot, and you can’t help but close your eyes as you keep your head tilted back.

When you feel him start to get closer to the edge, you slow your pace, moving achingly slow as he picks up the pace of his fingers. He curls them up to hit that spot inside you, and you mewl loudly, tilting your head back as you feel yourself getting close to the edge now, as well. He smirks as he sees your expression, and he coos softly, tilting your head back down with his other hand and bringing your lips back to his. 

In a few more strokes, he’s right on the edge, and he leans back from your lips again, urging you to take your hand off his cock and replacing it with his own. You lean back on your hands as you watch him, eyes glued to his hands as he continues to rub your clit roughly and fuck his fist, and in a few seconds, you’re both falling over the edge with loud moans.

He keeps his eyes on your cunt as you both cum, watching you clench around nothing as he paints your pussy with his cum. You bite your lips as your chest heaves, and you finally look back up to Buck’s face, meeting his eyes as you both try to catch your breaths. 

He finally removes his fingers and brings them up to his mouth, licking them clean with a soft groan. You watch him intently, your mouth going dry as you become unable to think about anything other than how fucking good your boyfriend looks right now. Sure, he’s attractive all the time, but right now, with his slightly wrinkled dress shirt and his blown pupils, you’re not sure how you’re ever able to leave the house.

“I’m nowhere near done with you.” Buck says, after he’s finished cleaning his fingers, then brings you in for another passionate kiss. He yanks you closer by your hips, and you put your hands on his chest, shaky hands working to unbutton the shirt so you can see his beautiful torso.

When you finally get the last button undone, your hands move back up to his chest, then to his shoulders, and you push the shirt down his arms and off his body. 

You part from his lips to look at his bare chest, your fingers ghosting across the scars and freckles on his skin. He chuckles softly as he watches your eyes move down his torso, seemingly in a daze, and he lets you look at him for a moment, then uses one hand to lift your chin back up to face him with a smile.

“It hardly seems fair that I’m practically naked and you’re still fully clothed, baby. I think I’m gonna have to even the playing field.” he teases, gesturing to his bare chest and his pants now sitting low on his thighs. 

You laugh softly, but it turns into a quiet yelp as he pulls you off the counter to stand in front of him and then turns you around and pushes your upper half onto the cold countertop. You hum softly, biting your lips as he grabs the hem of your dress and pushes it up to bunch around your waist again, admiring your pretty panties that have moved back into place from your movements and the dark wet spot now covering your cunt. 

In one swift motion he yanks your panties down, and you shiver as the cool air hits you.

“Almost there.” he whispers in your ear as he leans over you, pressing your back to his front. His arms loop around your torso, one hand landing on your plush tummy, and the other just above your chest, and then he pulls you back up to stand up straight.

 He works quickly to pull your dress off your body and throw it to the side, and then he works to get your bra unclasped, sliding the straps down your shoulders painfully slowly once it’s undone.

“You’re so pretty, baby. My pretty girl.” he rasps as he gently pushes you back down onto the countertop, and you whine softly, desperate to feel him. You push your hips back against his, and he groans as he grips your hips, stopping your actions.

“I’m getting there, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” he purrs, and you whimper in anticipation. As much as he normally likes to hear you beg, he doesn’t think he has it in him right now. So, without any warning, he grabs his cock and glides it through your folds, coating himself with your arousal, and then he buries himself to the hilt with a loud moan.

You lurch forward as you feel him stretch you out, feeling his tight grip on your hips as he slowly slides out almost completely, only to bury himself into your sopping cunt in one swift motion. As he starts to fuck you, all you can do is moan, and your cheek resting against the cold counter is a harsh contrast to the way your skin is burning. 

While he keeps one hand on your hip, his other moves up to your back, ghosting over your rolls and your stretch marks as he tries to touch as much of your skin as he can. You’re always so pretty for him, and right now is no exception.

His lips press hot kisses to the back of your neck and your back between low moans in your ear as he leans over you, and you can’t help the whimpers and pleas tumbling from your lips as he fucks into you like he hasn’t seen you in weeks.

As he keeps the steady pace of his thrusts, he leans down again, pressing his chest to your back. He’s desperate to feel you as much as he can; desperate to touch you and love on you, as if letting up on his hold will make you disappear right before his eyes.

He trails one of his hands from your hip to your arm, forcing you to hold your wrist up above your head on the counter as he intertwines your fingers, his palm pressed against the back of your hand; desperate to convey how much he loves you.

He fucks you slowly, moaning into your ear as he whispers soft praises into your ear. How good you feel around him. How well you take his cock. How pretty your moans are. He’s pressed so firmly against you as his hips move that it feels like he’s trying to mold you two together, not that you mind. Him being so close feels so good, the movements of his hips aside. 

He can feel you clenching around him, and he can hear the way your moans become more high pitched and breathy, and he knows you’re close. He picks up the pace just slightly, although it’s far more slow and sensual than usual, and you moan loudly, grip tightening on his fingers.

“You gonna cum with me, baby?” he murmurs in your ear, and you nod quickly, trying to move your hips back against him.

“Please, wanna feel you.” you whimper in response, and he smirks. He moves his other hand from your hip and wraps it around you, fingers moving to circle your clit sloppily as he tries to hold off on cumming too soon. He loves the feeling of both of you letting go together, and he’s desperate to bring you to the edge before he fucking explodes. 

“I’m gonna- I’m-” you moan breathlessly a few moments later, and with a few more thrusts, you’re both reaching your highs. You feel his cum painting your insides, and you let out a content sigh, smiling when you feel Buck bury his head in the crook of your neck. He rests there for a minute or two, still buried inside of you as you come down from your highs, and you can’t help your eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his body on top of you consumes you.

“You’re always so good for me.” he whispers against your skin, his breath tickling you and making you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Can we do that again?” you tease, barely able to keep your eyes open as you focus on his voice. He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the middle of your back; right between your shoulder blades, then stands up straight. 

He finally slides out of you, groaning at the mess between your thighs as he spreads you open with his hands on your ass, then pulls you to stand up straight and turns you to face him.

“Patience, baby. We’ve got all night.” he murmurs as he moves one hand up to grip your throat gently, stopping you from rising onto your toes and kissing him again. 

His eyes soften as you pout, and he chuckles; he can’t say no to you. He leans down and gives you a featherlight kiss that leaves your head spinning. He’s usually gentle with you, unless you ask otherwise, but tonight, you can feel his love for you pouring out of him.

“You wanna go upstairs?” he asks when he pulls away, and you nod. Your knees feel weak at all the attention – and the orgasms he just pulled from you – so lying down sounds perfect right now. 

He pulls his pants back up, just until he can get to his room and take them off completely, then guides you up the stairs to his room, trying desperately to keep his eyes off your ass as you walk ahead of him. 

When you get to his room, you collapse onto his bed while he pulls his pants off, and when he’s finally lying beside you on his back and your cheek is pressed against his chest, you barely even think to care about the mess between your thighs. You’re sure you won’t be going to sleep soon either way.

“How bad was your close call today?” you ask after a few moments of silence, fingers trailing along his chest in front of your face.

“I mean, it wasn’t good, but it wasn’t being struck by lightning or anything.” he tries to joke, a sheepish look on his face. You lift your head off his chest and look up at him with a raised brow and he sighs. “Alright. I was trying to save someone who had fallen off their balcony, and was hanging on the side of their building. When I got lowered down, the winch malfunctioned, and I almost fell. I saved the person, though. Everyone’s alright.” 

You sigh, biting your lip. Of course his attention is focused on the person he saved.

“But are you okay?” you ask, and he nods quickly, giving you a look that shows you he’s not lying.

“Baby, I’m fine. Promise. You just saw all of me, I don’t have any bruises or anything.” he tries to joke, and this time you do laugh a little. He’s right; you hadn’t seen anything to convince you that he isn’t okay.

“You’re a good man.” you tell him after a second, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. He blushes, a smile fighting its way onto his face as he raises a brow. Your smile widens when you see his confused expression and hear the small “thank you” that falls from his lips before you explain.

“You just told me that you almost fell off a building today, and the first thing you said after that is that the person you were meant to save is alright.” His brows furrow, and he shrugs, a little confused as to why you’re praising him right now. Not that he minds, of course. “Well, yeah. That’s why I was there.” he says a bit hesitantly.

“Baby, if anyone else was in your situation, they’d probably only be worried about themself. I’m sure that as you were struggling to keep yourself from falling, you were still thinking about the person you were trying to save.” He can feel his cheeks getting hot at your praise, finally understanding. Although he doesn’t feel like he deserves the praise, he relishes in it, staring into your eyes with so much love.

“I’m so happy you’re all mine.” you whisper before you press your lips to his. He lets out a content sigh as his arm wraps around your waist, helping you sit up and straddle his hips.

Once you’re on his lap, legs on either side of his body, his hands move to your thick thighs, digging into the flesh as he melts into the kiss. He lets you kiss him for a minute or two, but it’s when you start moving your hips against his that he flips you over, trapping you under his weight.

You laugh softly as you stare up at him, wrapping your legs around his hips as he settles between your legs, and you can feel his cock against your heat, growing hard at the small bit of friction.

“You want more, huh, baby?” he teases you softly, although he knows that he wants you just as bad.

“Please?” you ask as you look up at him with big, wide eyes. He groans at the pleading look on your face, and he glides one hand down the side of your face as the other holds himself up.

“You’re gonna get what you want, pretty girl.” he murmurs before his lips are on yours. You moan against his lips as his tongue slides into your mouth, and you loosen your legs around his hips to allow him to grind against you slowly.

He’s painfully hard again as he moves against you, and he can’t hold himself back from grabbing his cock and sliding into you slowly after a few seconds, desperate to feel you again.

Your face scrunches up as he bottoms out, and you keep your eyes on him as he begins to move, soft moans tumbling from your parted lips.

He can’t get over how pretty you look under him; sprawled out on his bed, your soft belly and tits moving with each thrust, and your big eyes locked on his as he splits you open on his cock. He can feel your skin against his as he moves his hips, one hand still holding himself up while the other moves down your neck to your chest, squeezing one of your breasts.

You arch your back into him, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as the pleasure envelopes you. He takes the time to admire you again, and relishes in how you feel pressed against him, so eager to take all that he’s willing to give you.

He looks back up at your face after a moment, then gently taps your cheek with two fingers, urging you to open your eyes again. When your eyes flutter open again, he moans, feeling your fingers digging into his shoulders as he stares deeply into your eyes. 

You’re both feeling sensitive from your previous orgasms, so it doesn’t take long for both of you to get close to the edge yet again. Buck keeps his eyes locked with yours the entire time, however, loving every expression that crosses your face and how you look spread open for him on his bed. 

As you both get closer and closer, he moves his hand to your throat, gripping it gently, as if to force you to keep your eyes open, he can tell that you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. 

“Can you give me one more, baby?” he asks and you nod, whimpering as you keep your eyes locked on his. You can see the thin layer of sweat across his skin, and you bite your lip, feeling yourself getting dangerously close to the edge.

He pulls you in for a kiss, his hand still firmly on your throat, and his thrusts grow sloppy as his balls tighten.

With a few more thrusts, you’re both falling over the edge, and Buck leans away from your lips just in time for you to watch each other cum. As his hips still, you take the time to close your eyes, breathing heavily as you feel his release fill you up. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to that feeling.

“God, I love you.” he whispers as he nuzzles into your neck. He presses soft kisses to your skin as you both come down from your highs, letting you relax as he keeps your fronts pressed together. 

“I love you.” you whisper back, your eyes still closed as you bask in the feeling of him still pressed against you.

After a minute or two, he pulls out, and you whimper softly, suddenly feeling extremely empty. You frown when you see him stand up from the bed, but when he holds out a hand to you, you smile.

“Shower?” is all he says. You nod, grabbing his hand and letting him help you off the bed. 

He leads you to the bathroom, then wraps his arms around you and holds you close while you wait for the shower to heat up. He presses kisses to the top of your head as you rest against his chest, both of you wanting to stay as close to each other as possible; not wanting to be apart for even a second.

When you’re showered; each of you taking turns to help wash the other, you dry off and get back into bed. You relax into each other’s embrace, warm skin to skin as you try not to let the quick approaching sleep envelope you too soon.

“Do you want some water?” Buck is the first to break the silence, and you shake your head, too consumed with the feeling of his chest pressed to your back to even think about one of you getting out of bed.

“I just wanna lay with you.” you tell him in a quiet voice, sighing. He smiles, then presses a kiss to the back of your neck. Who is he to deny you such a sweet request?

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” he asks, his arms tightening instinctively around your waist. You smile, nodding quickly. “Of course I do. And I love you, too. More than anything.” you reply, and he’s sure that if you both weren’t so tired, he’d have you on your back again.

“Good. Because I let you order two desserts and split them even though I only wanted one of them.” he teases with a quiet chuckle. You laugh along with him, rolling your eyes.

“And I’m pretty sure you ended up liking the other one better, anyway.” you tease back, an exhausted smile plastered onto your face. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. You’re always right, aren’t you?” he says, and you can tell from his voice that he’s smiling. You nod, giggling softly.

“It’s about time you admitted it.” you counter. You feel goosebumps on your skin when you feel his lips press to your bare shoulder, and you sigh, your eyes closing once again.

“Go to sleep, I can feel how tired you are.” he whispers in your ear. You hum softly, sighing heavily. You can feel your thoughts become cloudy, and it feels like everything is moving slower as you sink further into his arms.

“Can we do this again next weekend?” you ask in a quiet voice, and although you meant for it to come out in a teasing tone, you’re so tired that it comes out as more of a gentle plea.

“Of course, pretty girl, I promise. Now, go to sleep.” You nod slowly, and not a minute later, you’re asleep. He presses one last featherlight kiss to your bare skin before he closes his own eyes. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep either, it never does after he has you, but this time he’s out in record time, and his arm stays firmly draped over your waist the entire night.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 ᯓ stupid crush — ᡣ𐭩

she didn't understand why she felt like this, why she felt so... warm. especially when you were around. any time you even came within a 5 feet radius of her, she'd feel like she was going to explode. her cheeks would heat up, and she wouldn't know how to act, what to say—she didn't even know how to breathe when you were around her. which reminded her... you were lying right on her chest, and that only made the struggle to breathe worse. she hopes you didn't notice, but with the way your hand ran across her stomach so often, she was sure you might've caught on earlier than she expected. billie had been the one to invite you over after you got off your shift, and you happily accepted her invitation because she was never really the one to ask.

so, here you were, your bodies laying on her bed as a song from your shared playlist plays at a low volume from the speaker on her nightstand. the rain from outside hit her window, the quiet pitter-patter noises making the whole scene complete. it was something straight out of some classic friends-to-lovers film. her bedside lamp was on, lighting the room up just enough so that you could see her face and she could see yours. she was counting each of the little freckles on your face as you shut your eyes, relaxing into her. she ran a hand through your hair, her fingers scratching your scalp so softly, so carefully as she lulled you even further into a sleepy state of mind. she was praying you didn't hear the fast beating of her heart as she held you, not moving too much because she was scared that she'd do something wrong and you'd leave.

she grabbed her phone from her pocket, careful not to make too much noise as she unlocked her phone and went into her voice notes. she was sure you were asleep by now, your gentle breathing and quiet demeanor, a crystal clear sign. but, as she played the most recent one, titled 'stupid crush,' she regretted not making sure that you were actually asleep. her voice erupted from the speaker on her nightstand, and the first words that were heard were, "this is fucking stupid. i... love y/n. there was that—?" until billie finally came to her senses and paused it, the music resuming almost immediately. if her heart wasn't racing, it sure as hell was now. you stirred in your... sleep?—daze?—she didn't know, but now you were looking directly into her eyes with the... softest expression on your face. your eyes spoke for you, but billie was sure she was misreading the smile that began to creep onto your face. you were going to laugh. make fun of her—

"what's so 'fucking stupid' about that?" you giggle softly, voice slightly raspy and eyes glossed over with multiple emotions. all of which were for billie to decipher because she knew damn well she wasn't gonna get any answers from between your pretty pink lips until she finally admitted her feelings. but she didn't know what to say, and not even the music playing softly in the background calmed her anymore. she shut off her phone, tossing it to the empty side of the bed as she gulped quietly, "tell me, i'm quite interested." you sat up, sitting on her lap as you always did because you could never not be at least somewhat in her personal space. maybe that's part of what helped develop her crush on you. her stupid crush. on you. her best friend, of all people. she cleared her throat of the suffocating feeling as she sat up straighter, body tensing as she hopelessly murmured, "because you're my best friend. we're—y/n, we can't be—"

"who says we can't be together?" you scoff, a half-amused, half-annoyed look on your face. when she blinked, it was like you were a million miles closer to her, your lips inches apart, breath fanning over her face. she gulped again, eyes scurrying over to the empty side of the bed, biting on her lip nervously as she tried to think about what to say. it wasn't like she didn't want you to be her girlfriend, she was just... scared of messing it all up. when you cupped her cheek and turned her head back towards you, her eyes widened, "gimme one reason." you whisper, eyes darting down to her plump lips as you scoot closer to her body, shorts riding up your thighs. she doesn't respond, feeling frozen in the same song that just ended began to play again through the speaker, "billie," you murmur, lips only inches away from hers, almost brushing against each other as your hand travels down and wraps around the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. when your other hand comes up to her shoulder, she only then decides to speak, "because it'll be ten times harder to let you go."

"then you better hold me tight so that won't happen." you whisper before your lips crash softly against hers, pulling her closer by her neck. she doesn't pull away, your words slowly processing in her head as her own hands cautiously grab a hold of your waist, almost pulling you onto her lower abdomen in an attempt to get you closer. she wanted you two to be whole, even after all the doubt she spat out before. your words sunk deep into her heart, and now she didn't have a worry in the world. as long as you were with her, everything would be fine. she'd just have to hold you. close. tight. secure. as long as possible... and maybe even forever. she smirks against your mouth as she feels your tongue run across her lower lip, pulling away only a few inches as she opens her eyes, staring deeply into yours and never looking away, "so... i guess i should rename the voice note 'stupid girlfriend,' now?" she giggles as you roll your eyes, pushing her shoulder softly, "i think you're the stupid one."

𐙚 amiyaps : guys the landing of my flight scared the absolute SHIT out of me... cus tell me why we were dropping so fast bro 🙁

𐙚 tags : @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie

[eddiazx]

benefit part 2 - evan buckley x reader

part 1 here!

Buck wakes up with his nose pressed against your hair. You’ve slept at Buck’s multiple times, even shared beds once or twice, but he never realized just how clingy you are in your sleep. Half your body is on top of his: your head is tucked underneath his chin, your arm is splayed out over his bare torso, and your right leg is hooked over his left thigh, knee brushing up against his morning wood.

Buck likes this. The domesticity, the smell of you, your warmth; Buck could get used to waking up this way all the time.

Except, he thinks soberly, that’s not what the two of you had agreed on. This was supposed to be just sex. But Buck has come to the belated realization that it could never be just anything with you.

“Buck? You awake yet?”, Eddie’s voice comes ringing through the loft from his front door. Buck’s eyes widen; he had completely forgotten that he made plans to get breakfast with him that morning. He looks at you, who had woken up to the sound. With an impressive quickness, you roll off and drop down soundlessly to hide under the bed in all your naked glory. Buck would have busted out laughing if he wasn’t so scared that Eddie was going to catch the two of you together. Neither of you would hear the end of it if the rest of the team found out about your little arrangement.

Eddie makes his way up the loft stairs and gives Buck an unimpressed look over at his sleepy, shirtless form. Buck had had the sense to throw the covers over his legs to avoid flashing Eddie.

“Hey Eds”, Buck smiles weakly.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. You able to get ready in 5, at least? I’m craving that breakfast burrito from Joe’s.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Just…go watch TV and I’ll be ready in a bit.” Buck says, desperately hoping Eddie doesn’t look too closely at the fact that your bra was on the floor in the corner of the room.

Eddie nods, before saying, “Maybe we can text Y/N if she wants to join us too.”

Buck lets out a startled cough at your name, but Eddie already has his back to him, walking down the stairs. A few moments pass until Buck hears the sounds of Brooklyn 99 playing downstairs.

Buck leans over and peers down at you. You have an amused smile on your face, but Buck can’t help but mouth, “you okay?”

You nod, and give him a thumbs up. You gesture at your phone, which Buck hands over to you. He watches as you open up your notes app and type out 'go grab breakfast, I’ll let myself out and lock the door' before showing him the text.

Buck nods and walks to the bathroom, all the while wondering what the heck he got himself into.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Eddie is talking about a project Chris has for his history class while chewing on his burrito. Buck is trying really hard to pay attention, but his brain keeps providing him with unhelpful flashes of last night. He thinks he might be hallucinating, because he can even picture you sitting down in front of him.

Wait, that’s not a hallucination, you were actually here.

“Hi guys”, you smile, swiping a potato off of Eddie’s plate and popping it into your mouth, eyes sparkly and beautiful as usual. Buck is again met with a memory of last night, when you put something of his in your mouth.

Buck shakes his head, as if he can physically clear his mind from the memory. “Uh, what’re you doing here?”

“I knew you would forget so I sent her a text to join us while you were getting ready.” Eddie responds for you.

"Right, yeah." Buck nods quickly.

Eddie and you exchange glances. Buck was acting weird, weirder than normal.

While you order and promptly delve into a conversation with Eddie, Buck considers moving to another firehouse, one where he didn't have to see and work with his best friend that he was hopelessly in love with.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"Hen, can I talk to you?", Buck stammers, when they're the only two seated at the firehouse dinner table one evening.

"Sure, what's up?" Hen asks, closing the textbook she was reading.

"I... I think I have feelings for Y/N." Buck admits.

Hen continues to stare at Buck expectantly, not a single difference showing in her face after Buck's admission. "Wait, that's it? That's not news to anybody, Buck."

Buck blinks at Hen. "What?"

"Buck, you've been gone for her since she started at the 118. You've had permanent heart eyes for that girl."

"No... we're friends! Best friends!"

Hen shoots Buck a patient look. "Chim and I are best friends, Buck. You and Y/N are in a different category entirely."

"Okay, fine, whatever. It's bad, Hen. We started sleeping with each other last week and -"

"What?!"

"She's so smart and beautiful Hen, and she makes the hottest sounds when-"

"Okay, ew."

"But she doesn't want to be in a relationship and I don't know how to act around her now that I know I have feelings for her and-"

"Alright Buck, breathe." Hen motions for Buck to inhale and exhale with her hands. Hen seems thoughtful for a second, before she asks, "how do you know she doesn't want to be in a relationship?"

"I don't think a relationship was what she had in mind. She suggested we have sex casually; that it wouldn't be weird 'cause we're friends."

"That... was a horrible idea."

Buck groans and puts his head in his hands. "Well, I know that now!"

Hen smiles softly, prying Buck's hands away to hold onto them. "Buck, we all knew that you were in love with her, but she looks at you the same way. I think you guys should talk to each other. You guys might be on the same page."

Buck looks at Hen's earnest, honest face. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he knows that he couldn't keep avoiding you or clamming up the way he did at breakfast. He needed to come clean.

And then promptly move.

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 6

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 6: | I NEED YOU |

You lay on your bed, the soft light of late afternoon filtering through your curtains. The events of the party the night before were still fresh in your mind, and you felt restless, needing to talk to someone. So, you reached for your phone and called Sarah. It took a few rings before she answered, her voice a little breathless, as if she’d been rushing around.

“Hey, did you leave the party earlier yesterday?” you asked, your voice tentative. You’d been wondering why she seemed to disappear without a word, and your curiosity was gnawing at you.

“Yeah, I did,” Sarah replied, her tone calm, but you could sense an underlying tension there. “I went to see John B.”

You paused, the name hanging in the air between you. “Did you break up with Topper?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could think twice about it. You knew things had been complicated for her lately, and part of you hoped she’d finally made a decision.

“No, but he was so annoying at the party,” Sarah said, a note of exasperation in her voice. You could almost see her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line, the frustration clear. “He kept hovering, acting like I was going to run off with someone any second.”

“So he’s suspicious,” you stated, already piecing together the situation in your mind.

“Yeah, and then he followed me and saw me with John B.” There was a pause, and then she added, her voice laced with anger and disbelief, “He called me a whore.”

“What?!” The word shot out of you, disbelief and fury mixing in your tone. Topper had always been possessive, but this was a new low. You sat up, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and concern for your best friend.

“Yeah, first I’m a prude and now I’m a whore,” Sarah said bitterly. You could hear the pain she was trying to hide behind the anger, the way her voice wavered just a little. “And then he pushed John B off the railing. He could’ve died.”

“Seriously?” The shock was clear in your voice. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Topper had always been a bit intense, but this? This was dangerous.

“But John B is living at my house now,” Sarah continued, her voice softening slightly. “My dad is his guardian now.”

“That’s nice,” you said, your voice gentle, though your mind was still racing. You knew how complicated things were for Sarah, how torn she was between what was expected of her and what she really wanted. “I’m sure Rafe doesn’t like it.”

There was a sudden silence on the other end, and you felt a prickle of anxiety run down your spine. You hadn’t meant to bring Rafe up, not after everything that had happened, but the words had slipped out before you could stop them.

“Who cares what he feels like,” Sarah said sharply, her voice tight with irritation. You winced, regretting mentioning him. There was so much tension between the siblings, and you knew better than to add fuel to that fire.

“Uh—I was just saying...” you mumbled, stumbling over your words, feeling foolish. Why had you brought him up? Why had you even thought it was okay to mention him? It was a stupid mistake, one you couldn’t take back.

“I have to go now,” Sarah said abruptly, her tone clipped, cutting through the awkward silence. “I’ll talk to you later.” And before you could respond, she hung up.

You stared at your phone, the screen dark and empty, the weight of the conversation settling over you. You weren’t sure if she’d cut the call short because of your mention of Rafe or if she really did have somewhere to be. Either way, it left a bitter taste in your mouth, an uncomfortable knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

You sighed, dropping your phone onto the bed beside you. It had been a stupid mistake, bringing him up like that. You knew how sensitive things were between Sarah and Rafe, how volatile their relationship could be. And here you were, complicating things further.

But you couldn’t help it. He was always there, lingering at the edge of your thoughts, and it scared you how much he was starting to matter. How much he was starting to mean. You closed your eyes, trying to push it all away, but it was useless. The worry, the guilt, the confusion—they all churned inside you, making it impossible to find any peace.

•°•°•°•°•°•

It was nighttime, and you were winding down after a long day, going through your skincare routine in the bathroom. The warmth of the shower still lingered on your skin, and the rhythmic motions of applying your creams and serums were almost meditative. As you gently massaged your face, you tried to let go of the thoughts swirling in your mind, but they seemed determined to stay.

Your phone buzzed, breaking the silence. You glanced down and saw Rafe’s name light up on the screen. Instantly, your heart skipped a beat. You quickly picked up your phone and opened the message.

Rafe: Can you come over to Gilson's house? I really need you right now.

You frowned in confusion. What was he doing at the Gilsons' place? You knew they weren’t even in the Outer Banks. Anxiety fluttered in your stomach as you typed your response.

You: Why are you at Gilsons?

His reply came almost instantly like he was waiting on edge for you to respond.

Rafe: I’ll tell you when you come over.

You sighed deeply, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You were practically ready for bed, your hair still damp and your face freshly cleansed. You felt torn, caught between the comfort of your warm bed and the urgency in Rafe’s message. Should you go? Was it really that serious?

Before you could overthink it, you typed back:

You: I’ll be there in a few minutes.

With a mix of nerves and determination, you hurriedly put on some clothes, the adrenaline making your hands shake as you slipped into your dress. You sneaked out of the house quietly, not wanting to explain to anyone where you were going or why. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you made your way to the Gilsons' house, your mind racing with possibilities.

As you approached, you noticed the front doors were unlocked. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you’d find a party inside, but there was only silence. A strange, unsettling quiet. You stepped inside, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. The house felt almost eerie, empty, and vast, like a space that should be full of life but wasn’t.

“Rafe?” you whispered, the sound barely more than a breath, hoping he was the only one here.

Suddenly, his voice came from behind you, making you jump. “Y/N.” You turned around to find him standing close, too close, his expression hard to read in the dim light.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, the concern in your voice evident.

“My dad kicked me out,” Rafe confessed, his voice raw and edged with something dark and heavy.

Worry tightened your chest immediately. “What? Why?”

“I owed Barry a lot of money for coke, and my dad caught me trying to steal a watch,” he explained, his words falling heavily between you. “I had nowhere else to go, so I came here.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so lost and vulnerable. You knew he was in deep with Barry, but you hadn’t realized just how bad things had gotten. The weight of his words settled over you, pressing down on your chest.

You took a step closer, your voice softening. “Why did you want me to come over?”

Rafe’s gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his eyes making your breath catch. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the quiet, dark room. “Because I need you. I have nothing and no one except for you.”

Your heart swelled, a rush of emotions flooding through you. You wanted to be there for him, to help him, to somehow make everything better. His hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His touch was warm, but there was something off, something that made you look more closely at him.

“Rafe, are you high?” you asked, leaning into his touch despite the worry creeping into your voice.

“A little bit,” he admitted, his eyes, wide and glassy, staring back at you.

“You know I don’t like when you do drugs,” you reminded him, your voice gentle but firm.

“I know. I know,” Rafe said, his hand slipping away from your face, and you felt the loss of contact acutely. “I’m sorry.”

You quickly reached out and grabbed his hand again, squeezing it softly. “But I get it. You’re going through a lot.”

Rafe smiled at you, a small, almost boyish smile that made your heart ache. “Wanna make me forget about things?” he asked, his voice dipping low, filled with a mix of need and desperation.

You felt your stomach flip. You suspected what he was hinting at, but you needed to be sure. “How?”

He moved even closer, his hand finding your waist and pulling you gently against him. “You know how... We’re all alone now, and I can’t wait any longer.”

“Rafe...” you breathed, his proximity making your thoughts blur. You knew he was high, and part of you hesitated, unsure if anything should happen right now, in this state.

He could sense your hesitation, but he didn’t back down. “You know you can’t just come into my bed... Let me finger you at the party... Let me feel how wet you get for me.. and then pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“I’m not pretending—” you began, but Rafe cut you off.

“But you’re avoiding it going any further...”

“It’s not that I don’t want it, it’s just—” You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. This was a moment you had always been cautious about, and here it was, raw and real and terrifying.

Rafe tilted his head, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. “It’s just what?”

“I’ve never done it, Rafe.” The words spilled out, your voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it would shatter something fragile between you.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. You weren’t sure how he would react, how he would feel about you still being a virgin.

Then, to your surprise, Rafe chuckled softly. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve heard you and Sarah talking about it countless times.”

Your eyes widened, the revelation hitting you like a slap. He had been listening, absorbing those intimate conversations between you and your best friend. It felt like a strange invasion of privacy, but also strangely comforting, knowing that he had paid attention, that he cared enough to listen.

“So... uh... you have nothing against it?” you asked, your voice uncertain.

“Of course not.” Rafe’s voice was low and filled with a husky, raw desire. “If anything, it just turns me on even more that no one touched you but me.”

There was something almost possessive in the way he said it, a dark, thrilling edge that sent a shiver down your spine. He took your hand and guided it toward the bulge in his pants. Your breath hitched when you felt him, hard and straining against the fabric. He hadn’t even touched you yet, and he was already this aroused. Your eyes widened, a mix of curiosity and nerves.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smirk at your reaction. “I want to be the one to teach you everything. Can I?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him. He leaned closer, his voice a soft, insistent murmur. “Baby, I’m gonna need your words.”

“Yes, I want you to teach me.” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper, but filled with the longing and anticipation that had been building between you for so long.

Rafe leaned down, his mouth capturing yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. It was rough, needy, and so full of unspoken feelings that it took your breath away. His fingers traced the hem of your dress, and before you knew it, he had pulled it over your head, leaving you standing there in only your underwear.

In a surge of bravery, you reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head. His skin was warm under your touch, his muscles taut and defined. His lips found yours again, hot and urgent, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You fumbled with his belt, your fingers trembling with nerves and excitement. Rafe’s hands joined yours, helping you, and soon you were both stripped down to your underwear, the air between you electric with anticipation.

In one swift movement, Rafe lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. Your core tingled, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spot, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

He laid you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down for another kiss, this one softer, sweeter.

His lips trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, his hands exploring every inch of your body. When his mouth found your breasts, you gasped, the sensation so new, so intense. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as his kisses grew more heated, more urgent.

His fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, and you lifted your hips, letting him pull them down. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed core, making you shiver. Rafe’s gaze was intense, almost reverent, as he looked at you.

He placed a finger on your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your breath hitch, your body arching toward him. The sensation built slowly, each gentle stroke sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You gasped, your chest arching as Rafe's finger moved in those maddening, teasing circles. Every touch, every flick of his finger made you shudder, your nerves lighting up like fireworks.

He watched your reactions closely, his eyes dark with desire and something else—something deeper. He wanted you, yes, but he also wanted to make this perfect for you, to be the one to show you how good it could feel. The intensity of his gaze sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

When he slipped a finger inside you, your breath caught. He moved slowly, cautiously, giving you time to adjust. You felt a slight stretch, a dull ache that quickly melted into something more as he began to move, his finger sliding in and out in a rhythm that made your toes curl. Your hands clutched at the sheets, trying to ground yourself as the pleasure began to build, a tight coil of sensation low in your belly.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, his name a desperate plea on your lips as you fought to keep your eyes open, to watch the way he looked at you, his focus entirely on the way your body responded to him.

“Does it feel good, Y/N?” he asked his voice barely a whisper, rough and breathless next to your ear. The sound of his voice, the way it trembled with restraint, made you shiver.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as his finger continued its relentless, perfect rhythm. He added another finger, and the sensation intensified, stretching you, filling you. The tightness in your stomach grew, winding tighter and tighter with each movement, each soft, sinful whisper of his voice.

Rafe leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a heated kiss. You could taste the longing, the need in the way he kissed you, his lips hot and urgent against yours. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing gentle, maddening circles that made your whole body tremble.

“I want you to cum for me, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. His fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing harder against that sensitive spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. “Rafe, I—” The words caught in your throat, lost in a moan as your body tensed, the coil of sensation inside you snapping as you fell over the edge.

Your climax hit you hard, your body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, overwhelming and all-consuming. You cried out, your hands grasping at Rafe’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you held on, riding out the intense, blissful high.

Rafe watched you with a mix of awe and satisfaction, his fingers still moving, drawing out every last tremor of your orgasm until you were trembling beneath him, utterly spent.

“God..you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear as he gently pulled his fingers from your body. You whimpered at the loss, your body still sensitive, still buzzing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Rafe leaned down, kissing you softly, his lips tender against yours. You could feel his desire, the way his body strained with the effort to hold back, to be gentle, to let you come down from your high.

But then his lips left yours, and you felt his hands on the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down. You looked down, your eyes widening as you saw him, hard and ready, his length jutting out, intimidating and yet so incredibly enticing.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice soft, careful, as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Wait!” Panic flared in your chest as you realized, your eyes widening. “You didn’t put a condom on.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot.” Rafe’s voice was rushed, apologetic as he reached over to where his duffle bag was, rummaging through it until he pulled out a condom. You watched as he tore open the wrapper, your breath catching as he slid the condom over his length, his movements quick and efficient.

He returned to you, positioning himself above you once more, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire. “Can I continue now?”

You nodded, biting your lip as anticipation thrummed through you. You wanted this, more than anything. You wanted to feel him, to be as close to him as possible, to share this moment with him.

Slowly, carefully, Rafe pushed into you, his eyes never leaving your face. You scrunched your eyes shut for a second, the stretch intense, the dull ache making you wince. He paused, his hand gently brushing your cheek, waiting, watching, giving you time to adjust.

“You okay?” His voice was a soft, worried murmur.

You nodded, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He smiled, a small, relieved smile, and then he began to move, his hips rocking gently against yours. The first few thrusts were slow, almost tentative, as he let your body adjust, as you both found your rhythm.

The pain subsided, replaced by a slow-building pleasure that made your breath hitch, your body arching toward him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hips rising to meet his, the two of you moving together, finding a rhythm that made you feel like you were floating.

“That’s it, baby,” Rafe murmured, his voice rough and strained as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. You kissed him back, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him close as your bodies moved in perfect sync.

The pleasure built, growing stronger with each thrust, each kiss, each soft, desperate moan that escaped your lips. You could feel Rafe’s body tensing, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate.

“Rafe, I think I’m—” Your words were cut off as his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing gentle, teasing circles that made your whole body shudder.

The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building to a peak so intense you could barely breathe. Your body tensed, your breath catching as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, so close, so impossibly close.

“I want to feel you come around me,” Rafe whispered his voice a rough, desperate plea as he thrust into you, his pace quickening. His words sent you over the edge, your body tightening around him as your orgasm crashed over you, so powerful it left you trembling, crying out his name.

You felt him follow, his body tensing, his breath catching as he shuddered, his release spilling into the condom. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in perfect sync.

He pulled out gently, his movements careful, and you felt a dull ache settling over your lower region, a reminder of the intensity of what had just happened. But you didn’t mind. It was worth it, every moment, every touch, every kiss.

“You did so good,” Rafe whispered, his voice filled with awe and pride as he looked down at you, his eyes soft and filled with something that made your heart swell.

You blushed, a small smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at him. “Thank you.”

Rafe pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around you as you both lay there, tangled in each other, your bodies still buzzing with the afterglow. You felt safe in his arms, warm and content, the reality of what had just happened settling over you like a dream.

After a few minutes, you sat up, your mind already drifting back to the world outside, to the consequences, to what came next. “I should probably go,” you said softly, your voice hesitant, the thought of leaving him making your heart ache.

Rafe’s expression shifted, confusion flickering across his face as he sat up as well, his hand reaching out to grab your arm before you could slide out of bed. “No. Stay.”

You hesitated, looking down at where his fingers gently held your arm. “I didn’t tell anyone I left,” you murmured, your voice laced with uncertainty.

“Just tell them in the morning you slept at Sarah’s,” Rafe suggested, his voice earnest, his eyes searching yours. “Come on. I want you to stay with me.”

You looked at him, his expression so open, so sincere, and after a few seconds of weighing the consequences, you nodded. “Okay.” You knew the plan would work. You often stayed over at Sarah’s; no one would think twice about it.

You lay back down, your head resting against Rafe’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. A smile crept over your lips as the reality of what had just happened sank in. You had dreamed of Rafe being your first, and now it was real. It felt even better than you’d ever imagined.

Rafe’s arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. You felt safe, cherished, wrapped up in his warmth, the world outside fading away.

Soon, exhaustion washed over you both, your eyes growing heavy as you drifted off to sleep, still tangled in each other’s arms. You fell asleep with the comforting weight of Rafe’s presence beside you, knowing that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @thepopcultureaddict @deeznuggetsbebussin

[felassan]

Article from Bloomberg by Jason Schreier, under a cut due to length.

"New ‘Dragon Age’ Game Faced Turbulent Development The studio head of EA’s BioWare says ‘Dragon Age: The Veilguard’ received nothing but support from EA throughout its lengthy production cycle EA’s BioWare label hopes to find redemption with the release of Dragon Age: The Veilguard Today we’re getting in-depth on the new Dragon Age game A new age for dragons In late 2020, when Gary McKay took over as studio head of BioWare, the Electronic Arts Inc. subsidiary best known for making big roleplaying games, the climate was dire. BioWare, which is headquartered in Edmonton, Alberta, had released two critically panned games and was facing turbulent development on a new one — while trying to cope with a worldwide pandemic. “We needed to shift how we were thinking about building our games,” McKay told me in a recent interview. BioWare, founded in 1995 and purchased by EA in 2007, had won over millions of fans with hit single-player RPG franchises such as Dragon Age and Mass Effect. But a 2017 entry called Mass Effect: Andromeda was widely panned, and the studio’s next game, the 2019 multiplayer shooter Anthem, flopped both critically and commercially. Both games had also gone through brutal development cycles that drove many BioWare veterans to exit the studio. At the end of 2020, studio boss Casey Hudson was planning to step down and called McKay to ask if he would take over. “We had a few conversations over the course of the next month around the people and the culture,” McKay said. BioWare’s next big project would be a new game in the popular fantasy Dragon Age franchise. But the game, which had been in development for years, was facing turmoil and had been rebooted from a single-player game into a live-service game with a heavy multiplayer component, which EA had been pushing across many of its subsidiaries in the late 2010s. Hudson, too, was interested in multiplayer games and had been the lead visionary on Anthem. Some employees jeeringly referred to the next Dragon Age as “Anthem with dragons,” which worried fans after I reported on the game at Kotaku. Enthusiasts of the series wanted another single-player game, not a repeat of BioWare’s biggest mistake. When he took over, McKay began to feel similarly. “We were thinking, ‘Does this make sense, does this play into our strengths, or is this going to be another challenge we have to face?’” McKay said. “No, we need to get back to what we’re really great at.” In the months that followed, McKay met with leadership across BioWare and EA and ultimately decided to reboot the next Dragon Age a second time, pivoting back to single-player."

The choice was obvious in many ways. Anthem had flopped while EA’s Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order, a single-player action-adventure game, had sold more than 10 million copies, helping prove to the publisher that not all of its games needed to be online. BioWare games were popular because of their focus on character dialogue and player-driven narrative decisions, which did not mesh with multiplayer gaming. “Once we made that decision, a lot of things started to fall into place,” McKay said. In the years that followed, he would go on to consolidate more of the studio’s projects, shutting down an attempt to reboot Anthem and selling off the rights to the online game Star Wars: The Old Republic to a separate studio. The goal, McKay said, was ��focus.” BioWare then spent the next three-and-a-half years developing what would become Dragon Age: The Veilguard, the fourth game in the franchise. Out this week, the game has received mostly positive reviews and so far topped charts, although EA has not yet revealed sales numbers. Some things went right during development. McKay said they “had the game end-to-end playable” earlier than any previous BioWare product, allowing them to spend extra time iterating. A reorganization at EA, which split the company into divisions called EA Games and EA Sports, allowed Dragon Age: The Veilguard to receive more support from internal teams that might otherwise be stretched thin, such as research and data insights groups. “That gave us an extra boost in terms of the support and focus from the company,” McKay said. But the development of Dragon Age: The Veilguard still faced plenty of obstacles. The pandemic led BioWare to shift to hiring remotely, which McKay said made for cultural challenges. The game slipped past its original target date, although McKay wouldn’t say how much extra time it needed. “I’m never going to call it a slip,” he said. And it went through significant scope changes over the course of development. Then, last summer, BioWare laid off 50 people, including veterans with decades of experience. McKay told me the reduction, which arrived during a period of widespread layoffs across the video-game industry, “was all about focus at that time.” “When you have a really large team, you’re always compelled to keep everybody busy all the time,” he said. “When you have a smaller team, you have the right people in the right roles at the right time, some incredible momentum is gained at that point.” The stakes are high for the release of Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Fans and pundits have worried that a third failure in a row might have devastating results for BioWare. McKay wouldn’t comment on the specifics of what would make the game a hit in their eyes. But said he has felt supported by EA Entertainment & Technology President Laura Miele. The game is so important to BioWare’s future that the company brought in its second team, which has been incubating a new Mass Effect, to help out during the final stretch of development. The Mass Effect team played a major role in finishing and polishing Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Other companies across EA, such as its Motive studio in Montreal, also supported the game. Now, the company will look to see how players react to the next Dragon Age — and, McKay hopes, “bring BioWare back into the conversation as a top game studio.”

[source]

[tkomptgoedluv]

icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming to struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.

[dreamer1084]

Natsuyuu Anime S7EP6 VS Manga Vol22 SP.19 & Vol19 Ch.77

Sensei's "tsk" was changed to "hum" Matoba's "おや" was deleted.

Matoba's laughter was deleted.

Matoba's dialogue when explaining the content of the commission was greatly simplified, retaining only the most basic knowledge without details.

Deleted the scene where Natsume was suspicious of "Why did he keep me here?"

Natsume's description of things that the audience can directly see has been deleted as usual. By the way, we cannot see the youkai in anime as clear as in manga.

Anime deleted a lot of monologues and dialogues here explaining why he went to Hakozaki's house.

When they saw the Youkai, they were still outdoors in manga, but they had already entered the house in anime. That's why the dialogue where Beniko thanked them for coming was also deleted.

Anime changed Natsume's straightforward statement about investigating his grandfather here to be more tactful. First, anime moved the dialogue forward, saying that although he didn't know if he had the ability to help, he would look around the house. Then he use "speaking of" to bring in his grandfather's matters.

In terms of dialogue, manga Natsume seemed to be talking to himself, so he later apologized for being rude. In anime Natsume used more questions, thus a more sense of communication.

Youkai hided behind this tower in amine. It is different from the manga in which Beniko answered the phone and left so Natsume could discuss the situation with Sensei.

Anime deleted Natsume thought Matoba sneaked into the house, and Matoba smiled and said he had permission LOL

Deleted scene where he said "かじん(家人) will not be harmed" (The "家人" here in Japanese does not necessarily refer to the family, but may also mean something like a servant. It may be an attempt to ridicule the identity of Sensei. But it may also mean people in this house. )

Manga's Natsume chose not to speak when faced with Matoba's request, and than delivered a monologue to the readers. In anime, he said, "I am (helping you) only for Beniko-san and Sensei."

Deleted Motoba's line "Do you want to hear it? Okay" and Natsume was again speechless.

His dialogue explaining the Youkai was again slightly simplified.

Deleted Motoba's "そうですね" (more like a modal particle for thinking than recognition) Matoba in manga just stared at Natsume, and Natsume asked him unhappily what was going on. Anime included a strong wind that made Natsume close his eyes. At this time, Matoba looked at him thoughtfully.

Anime simplified Matoba's instructions to Natsume into simply telling him to look to the east.

Deleted Nanase said "We meet in a strange place"

Deleted Nanase said, "It's so convenient that Youkai will come close to you when you are here."

The dialogue here was split into Natsume first asking if there was a mirror, Nanase responded that it was part of the spell, and Natsume said that the mirror was broken.

Animation added Natsume says "わかりました"(Got it) And Nanase also said "頼んだぞ"(I am counting on you)

Sensei in anime did not have the arrogant tone from manga, but he clearly complained that "forbidden techniques are really troublesome." Anime Natsume asked "Even Sensei can't exorcise it?"

Deleted the dialogue where Matoba asked Natsume not to tell others and hoped to have a good conversation with him (Because the content was similar to the summary part of the abandoned station later.)

Anime also deleted the sence where Beniko said that she only let them in because Matoba-clan agreed not to charge. She also promised Natsume again that if she discovered anything related to his grandfather, she would inform him.

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 1 - The Doll That Came To Life

Chapter Summary - Y/N performs her first show as the lead ballerina, little does she know she caught the eye of an admirer.

Series Masterlist

It was no secret that the Grand Ballet Society was the best. Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of being a part of it all, dreamed of performing in front of men and women who admired the art as much as I did. I couldn't believe it when I was offered a position at 17.

My parents hated the idea and forbade me to go. How could their eldest daughter take over the estate if she was too busy galavanting around on stage in a tutu and leotards? I didn't care though, I had a chance to have my dream and I took it.

I just wished they could see me now.

I'd been a part of the society for almost 5 years now, and not once in that time had anyone in my family come to watch me perform. At least not to my knowledge. It often left a bitter taste in my mouth when I'd think about the first few months after, how quickly my parents were to drop me the second I defied their orders. I was really just an heir.

Tonight was the opening night of the play Coppélia. It's about a doll that comes to life and captures the heart of a young man and was first created in 1870. It was one of my favorites of all time, and I got to play the lead.

I stood in my dressing room, fixing my hair to make sure it was neat and out of my face. I let out a soft exhale, opening night was always the worst. Mistakes could be made at every twist and turn and the expectations were high from the audience.

A firm knock on my door made me jump. "Y/N We're starting." The director's voice calls from the other side before his footsteps hastily retreat. I take another deep breath before rushing out to get to my position.

I brush past the male lead, Miles, who offers me a comforting smile. "Hey." He says, stopping me for a moment. "You're gonna do great, okay?"

"You too," I say, giving his arm a soft squeeze before pulling away and rushing to my starting position.

Go time.

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

I stumbled into my dressing room with a beaming smile. That couldn't have gone any better. I let out an excited squeal as I sat on the plush couch. Not to sound self-absorbed, but I did amazing. My excitement was short-lived as I was temporarily distracted by the bouquet of flowers sitting atop my dresser. Gifts already?

I stand and look at the pretty pure white Gardenia bunched up and placed neatly in a glass vase. I notice a note placed beside it on the counter, the words 'Pretty Ballerina' written out in neat cursive.

I pick it up with a small smile and unfold the card.

'To the pretty ballerina,

I couldn't imagine a more fitting beauty to play such a role. Please do not be deterred from the early gift, I could not help myself. You amazed me and others with your performance, even though it is opening night!

I've always been a fan of Ballet, however, this is the first time in a long time that I have been completely captivated by one of the dancers. I hope to see you continue on stage, and one day I may even show you my face. Enjoy the Gardenias, known for their purity and sweetness. I'll send you many more gifts in the future.

From, Seonghwa'

I stare at the name at the bottom of the page. Seonghwa, huh? I smile as I put the card down, my fingers lightly touching the Gardenias petals as I let the smell engulf my senses. A part of me hoped this secret admirer would come and visit, another part of me hoped he wouldn't. Either way, I assumed this wouldn't be the last I'd hear from him.

And I was right.

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

Over the next few weeks my apartment and dressing room slowly turned into a florist from the amount of flowers and gifts Seonghwa had sent me. They letters of admiration slowly turned into love letters, causing my heart to race with excitement after every show.

I needed to see him, needed to know who he was, and I felt like I would slowly eat myself alive. I got butterflies just from the words he wrote on paper. Would I feel the same if I saw him?

I hatched a plan to catch him. I left him a note tapped to my mirror to wait so I could see him. I didn't have high hopes at all. He'd written in his letters how he had no time to stay, how he longed to hear my voice and see my smile up close. I needed to meet him desperately, and I prayed as I danced that tonight would be the night where my wishes would be granted.

As I walked into my dressing room after yet another amazing show, I let out a soft gasp. A tall man dressed in a black suit stood by my dresser. He was handsomely pretty, his features sharp but his eyes soft. His hair was long and styled back, making him look like he walked straight out of Dorian Gray.

"Seonghwa?" I ask softly, stepping forward. I could feel the heat on my cheeks, glancing in the mirror to see a light pink hue. He smiles as he hears my voice, clearly liking his name on my lips.

"Hello, Y/N, is it?" He asks, god even his voice is pretty. Was this really the same man who sent me those letters? I smile softly and nod, moving to stand in front of him properly. "You truly are the prettiest thing I have ever laid eyes on." He murmurs softly, his eyes scanning my body. My cheeks were surely red by now as I lowered my head to hide away from his intense gaze.

I've been flirted with before, it's no surprise, especially in such a big city. However, no flirting attempt had ever come from a man whose beauty could compare to a Greek god. None of them actually worked either.

"You're the one who has been sending me gifts?" I ask, looking back up at him to see him beaming down at me.

"I hope you don't mind. I understand it could seem weird that I've come to every show." He says sheepishly.

"No, not at all! I've started to look forward to your letters." I say with a soft laugh. If a smile could get any brighter, his did. I couldn't help myself but to return it.

"Are you free tomorrow? For brunch?" He asks, holding out a card between his middle and index finger for me to take.

"Is this you asking me out on a date?" I ask, taking the card from his hand, making sure to brush my fingers against his. He purses his lips at the contact, trying to suppress his growing smile.

"It can be a date if you want it to." He says, his voice like honey as his hand lingers for a moment.

"I'll give you a call." I say, holding his card tightly as he nods.

"I wish I could stay longer. However, work calls." He apologizes, tilting his head as he moves away, taking his warmth with him. I wondered what he did. He had to make a lot of money to come to every single one of these shows because they sure as hell weren't cheap.

"I'll see you around then?" My words came out as a question rather then a statement.

"Definitely." He says, bowing like a gentleman before he turns to leave. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked down at his card. His phone number was written in neat font with his name 'Park Seonghwa' written above it. Below his number was a company name; ATZ Corp.

I recognized the name; ATZ Corp was a company started by an old money family, the Kims. I knew their son, Hongjoong, had taken over the company a few years ago and had hired a few of his close friends from college to help run it. They worked with real estate mostly, however, I had heard rumors that they also did work in the underground. After finally meeting Seonghwa, I didn't really believe it. He looked far too neat in his appearance to work for a gang, let alone the mafia.

I turn back to my mirror and laugh softly at the fresh bouquet of Gardenias waiting for me. He never bought fake flowers and never anything other than the same pure white Gardenias. They must be his favourite, or he assumed they were mine.

The sound of the director calling us for a briefing snapped me out of my haze. Quickly tucking the card into my purse, I rushed out of my dressing room to meet with the cast.

I tried my best to pay attention. However, my brain kept sweeping me back to Seonghwa. His smile, his warm aura, the excitement that bubbled up inside me as our hands touched even if it was brief. I couldn't help but let my mind wonder into what could be.

[millenianthemums]

chapter 5 of the fic is here! it took me a while to finish the art this time. i know i said i’d put less effort into the pieces to avoid burnout, but they’re just so fun… rendering things like this is so relaxing fsr.

PREVIOUS

FIRST

————

Bill trudged out onto the mud soaked lawn, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and this godforsaken house. Even the woods, still soaked in darkness as the first rays of sunlight failed to reach them, appealed to him more than the Mystery Shack. Knowing he’d been dragged in there while he couldn’t fight back, he’d slept in there, under the Pines family’s floor… just the thought made his skin crawl. Seemed like even killing him wasn’t enough for them. They just had to keep humiliating him every chance they got. Offering to “help” him after everything they did was just sadistic, even for him. He’d have to remember it for the next time he had an enemy at his mercy.

He had to get out of here. Just being here was infuriating. Plus, if the kid was right about Ford being up, he might get spotted. And chances were, Ford wouldn’t be satisfied with destroying his life just once.

At the thought of Ford, Bill clenched his fists so tight that his claws pierced into his palms. This was all Ford’s fault. He’d ruined everything. He’d drawn Bill in with that sweet, innocent nerd routine, acting all impressed and grateful, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes, making all those stupid promises about eternal fealty and partnership, and then the instant he sensed a single drawback to their deal, suddenly Bill was nothing to him. One little misstep and suddenly nothing they’d done together meant anything, because it never had, not really. All he’d ever cared about was the perks, the knowledge, the secrets of the universe, blah blah blah, he’d never cared about Bill. Not even a little. Why had Bill ever fallen for it?! If only he’d gotten anyone else to build the portal…

He stopped in his tracks. The portal. This stupid flesh brain was going to be the death of him. How had he almost forgotten about the portal?! Sure, it was deactivated, but it had to still be there! Even if it was in pieces, he knew better than anyone how to put it back together. He just had to get it running again, just for a second, and then all his problems would be over! He could get back to the Nightmare Realm, grab his power source, and be back in business!

He hadn’t crossed over the stupid Bill-proof barrier around the shack yet, on the off-chance it might still affect him. Just to be sure, he stuck close to the outer wall as he crossed around to the back door of the gift shop. It was locked, of course, but Bill hadn’t forgotten everything. The birch trees near the house had given him plenty of angles to see where Stan and that dopey employee of his looked for the spare key when they locked themselves out. Sure enough, it was still tucked under the same fake rock nestled against the stairs. As quietly as possible, he eased the door open and stepped inside.

The place was as dark and empty as he’d hoped. Hokey glass-eyed chimeras, stitched together from whatever random taxidermy scraps the thrift store or dump had to offer, leered down at him from every angle as he crept across the room, hiding in the blind spots of the security cameras. This place hadn’t gotten any less embarrassing in the months since he’d seen it; if anything, it looked kitschier and dumber than ever. The random garbage being passed off as “magical objects” and the taxidermy crimes against nature weren’t even trying to look convincing, but perhaps because of that, they were weirder and more eye-catching than ever. As much as he hated to give Stanley Pines any kind of credit, Bill had to admit the sheer level of silliness and brazen, gleeful fraud on display was pretty admirable.

The vibe of the Mystery Shack might have changed a little, but thankfully, the layout hadn’t. The vending machine marking the secret basement door was still right where he’d expected it to be. Those chumps hadn’t even bothered to change the passcode. As he scurried down the stairs, the first genuine laugh since his resurrection began to bubble up from his throat. This was almost too easy.

The laugh died a sudden, violent death the instant he rounded the corner and looked out into the basement.

The portal still seemed to be technically there. Most of it, at least. But the massive, triangular frame had been knocked over and shattered into pieces across the stone floor. The metal was twisted, charred, every visible surface bearing scars and dents as if someone had spent months on end viciously attacking it with every available weapon. Not a single remaining component was unscathed; anything salvageable must have been scavenged for parts. The monolithic structure, this thing that represented millenia of planning and years upon years of hard work and partnership, now resembled nothing more than a heap of scrap metal. Torn apart. He literally tore the damn thing apart.

Bill felt his knees buckle beneath him. He caught himself just before toppling over, slamming a hand against a countertop and leaning against it. This couldn’t be real. Someone had to be playing a sick prank on him. They shattered it. They literally shattered his only lifeline, again. This was a torment he’d pass up for being too on the nose. He was laughing again, but there was no joy in it this time. He just couldn’t help it. This was all just too funny.

Still doubled over with laughter, he started grasping across the counter for something to break. Something to throw as hard as he could, or crush in his hands, or something. Anything. He didn’t care if he made noise, didn’t care if he got caught. He just wanted to destroy something. But of course, just his luck, the countertop was totally clear…

Wait. It was not like Ford to keep a clean countertop.

Bill pushed himself up and took his first clear look at the lab he was standing in. As his eye swept across the cavernous basement, a glimmer of hope started building inside him. Aside from the wreckage of the portal, the place was completely empty. Stripped right down to the floorboards. Squinting, he made out the vague impressions left behind where he’d disturbed the layers of dust coating everything. He was the first living thing to set foot down here in months.

Ford had moved his lab upstairs. Bill put a hand to his face, reeling from the shock of delight. Oh, that poor idiot. He’d ventured up out of his sad little cave to be closer to his precious family. And he’d left the remnants of the portal unguarded.

And why not? The big bad triangle was dead. There was no reason to think he’d ever come back for it. After all, with all that damage, even with Bill’s intricate knowledge of the device’s construction, it would take him months of nonstop work to get it even close to operable again. And there was no way he’d be able to sneak in and out of the shack that many times without being seen by anybody.

Unless he was in the shack the whole time.

Another laugh burst out of him, and this one was pure, utter glee. His old pal Shooting Star had come through for him again. She’d handed him the answer to all his problems on a silver platter, and he’d almost missed it! He’d thought it was too easy, that nobody would ever be that generous to somebody they knew would turn on them, who already tricked them the same way once… but he definitely wasn’t complaining. If Shooting Star really thought helping him was a good idea, he was more than happy to let her keep thinking that.

He’d need to make this convincing, he told himself as he snuck back out the way he came. He’d need to really sell the sob story. Make it seem like he had no chance at surviving even one day without her help. He’d have to swallow his pride a little– maybe even a lot. But it would all be worth it in the end. Shooting Star thought he was a helpless sad sack she could win over with pity, so he would play that part. Just for a little while. Just long enough to get the portal up and running. And then he’d never have to answer to anyone else again.

And he’d show her and her whole family just how far pity would get them.

-

After Mabel had watched Bill scramble out the window with all the poise and grace of a drunk raccoon, she’d trudged upstairs, face planted onto her bed, and passed out within seconds. She didn’t move again until after 1 PM, when Dipper helped Waddles clamber up onto her bed and she was forced to wake up or be crushed to death.

As the enormous pig did his best to climb up and settle on Mabel’s back, she wheezed in protest and flailed out from under him, slumping face-first onto the floor. She aimed a beleaguered stare up at Dipper, who looked entirely too pleased with himself, and said “Et tu, Brute?”

“Definitely not how to pronounce that,” Dipper said with a snort. “Waddles missed you. He wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you guys,” Mabel said with a giggle. Dipper grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, and she cupped Waddles’ face and rubbed his big cheeks. “You’re not a lap pig anymore, Mr. Sir! You’re the size of a fridge!”

Waddles stretched out contentedly until his widdle back hooves dangled off the mattress, shoving his face into Mabel’s hands. Turns out farm hogs don’t stay adorably travel-sized for long; in less than nine months, he’d gone from fitting snugly in a backpack to almost being big enough to ride. She hadn’t convinced him to stand up with her on his back yet, but she suspected it was less about strength and more about motivation. He always just stared at her like “I know you have legs, bestie.”

In any case, his adorability had only increased as he grew. Mabel gave him a tiny kiss on his flat pink nose, and he oinked softly in response.

“I still can’t believe he even fit on the bus,” Dipper said, patting Waddles on the tummy. “It’s a miracle the bus driver let us bring him.”

“I think he was scared of us,” Mabel laughed. “Probably thought Waddles’d eat him.”

Dipper scoffed. “This guy won’t eat carrots if they’re too crunchy. He’s not gnawing through human bones.”

“I dunno, that bus driver looked kinda calcium deficient.”

Dipper laughed and nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, goofball, go get changed. We’re hitting the lake today, remember?”

—

That lake day was the best day of the summer thus far. Every day they’d been back here– except maybe yesterday– had been the best day of the summer thus far. They hadn’t taken a boat out; Stan and Ford both agreed they’d spent more than enough time on a boat recently, thank you very much. They just found a good spot on the beach and swam, and skipped rocks, and attempted a game of volleyball (none of them were any good at spiking the ball, and it devolved into dodgeball pretty quick), and just goofed around together like a normal family. After all the drama last year, it was just so unbelievably awesome that she and her three favorite people could finally just be a normal, happy family.

Eventually, the sun made its way to the other end of the sky. Mabel had brought her bike along in the car trunk, planning to ride it home just for fun. Once the sunlight turned orange and the shadows started to stretch, Stan pointed out that she’d need to head back soon to catch the last of the daylight. She agreed she’d rather not have to bike home in the dark twice in two days, so she waved goodbye to everybody, joked that now somebody else would finally have a turn to win at dodgeball, and set off for home.

If she had a choice, Mabel seldom preferred to do anything alone. Maybe it was just because she was a twin, and had spent her whole life with a teammate, a best friend who was always there to watch her back while she watched his. Maybe growing up that way meant she never learned how to be alone without feeling like a turtle without its shell. But whatever the reason, if she spent too long by herself, it started to feel like drowning.

But sometime last fall, she’d realized just how fast she could go on a bike. And suddenly she just couldn’t get enough of it, and Dipper, bless him, he’d tried his best to keep up with her, but his poor nerd legs just couldn’t pedal that fast. So she’d told him she preferred solo biking now, and he’d gratefully accepted the excuse not to accompany her on her daily rides.

She really did love the speed. Watching the trees zip by until they blurred into a solid wall of green, feeling the wind lift her hair so it flowed behind her like a tail, keeping pace with crows gliding through the sky above. It was worth a little solitude. And if Dipper knew she’d rather he go with her, he’d bust a lung or fall over and break his arm, or at the very least be uncomfortable and embarrassed the whole time. So it wasn’t a big deal. Really, she was fine with it. Right now, as she traced the twisting road up into the rolling, forested hills and toward the Mystery Shack, she felt almost completely content. Watching the clouds roll gently overhead, catching glints of orange and pink from the setting sun, the songs of birds and crickets washing away any pesky thoughts as she let herself be absorbed into this moment–

“AAAAAUGH!”

Mabel slammed the handlebars sideways and sent her bike careening off the pavement as a flash of gold raced past, just barely fast enough to not collide with her. She couldn’t look at it and save her bike from crashing down the steep hill beside the road at the same time, so by the time she’d managed to wrangle it to a stop, it was gone from sight. But that shrill scream she’d heard, the one she’d mistaken for a fox earlier, hadn’t gone away. And the road wasn’t empty. More small shapes were racing across it, chasing the thing, and these ones were all too recognizable. Her hunch was confirmed when one of them lost its footing and didn’t quite clear the brush at the edge of the forest. An antler snagged against a branch, and a tiny thing covered in sandy brown fur started screeching and thrashing around so violently that Mabel grabbed her grappling hook on impulse. Finally it broke free and joined the pack chasing after the screaming gold thing. Jackalopes. Dozens of the mean little things. And she had a pretty good idea who they were after.

She swung her bike around, and against her better judgment she biked after the throng of bunnies. Sure enough, she was proven right yet again. Just a few dozen feet past the tree line, Bill Cipher, the antagonist of most of her worst recent nightmares, was trying to balance on the top branch of a pine sapling just barely large enough to support his weight, as the jackalopes gathered at its base and leapt up at him, jabbing with their sharp antlers, almost but not quite able to jump as high as he’d climbed. Bill hadn’t stopped screaming since she’d first heard him.

This was certainly one way to cure a phobia.

Mabel jumped off her bike and threw the back trunk open. Frantically, she rifled around through her emergency supplies; multitool, slingshot, glowsticks, sack of ball bearings, fake gold jewelry for tricking fey… maybe Dipper was right about traveling light…

“ARE YOU PLANNING ON HELPING?!” Bill had spotted her, and most of his fear had turned into indignance.

“One second!” Mabel yelled, tossing snacks and weapons aside.

“OH, NO RUSH! TAKE YOUR TIME, NOT LIKE THERE’S ANYTHING URGENT GOING ON– OW!!!” He screeched; Mabel whipped her head around to see that one of those antler jabs had caught him in the ankle. Shiny silver blood poured from the gash.

Mabel wrenched the basket off the bike and dumped it out onto the ground. Finally, her target was revealed: an air horn. She raced toward the frenzy of rabbits and held it aloft. “Hey!” she roared, and just as the jackalopes turned their attention to her, she slammed down on the button as hard as she could.

A shrill, deafening honk crashed against every tree in the forest, filling the air with sound. The jackalopes, as one, all screeched in agony, recoiling from the horn and flattening their ears against the noise. A bold one bared its fangs at her, but she pointed the horn closer and kept the button held down, and soon every jackalope had retreated into the woods. Once they were out of sight, she released the button, and the world was just dull ringing for a few seconds, until her hearing returned with the sound of a sapling breaking in half.

She turned to see Bill lying prone on the ground again, painfully picking himself up. She considered offering her hand, then figured that would just embarrass him further, then figured she didn’t really care and reached toward him anyway. He glared up at her. For a second, he seemed to consider accepting it, but then he stood up on his own with a pained grunt, grabbing the top half of the broken tree and steadying himself on it like a cane to keep the weight off his injured leg. Mabel winced as she realized it was the same one Scout had gotten ahold of the other day. At least he had one leg that maybe didn’t hurt?

“...You okay?” Mabel asked, after a long silence.

His eye turned to stare at her disdainfully. “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE.”

She stared back at him for a second, assessing. Then she looked away again, examining the trees. She could see that he could see that she could see he looked terrible. He was all scraped up again, his old wounds not quite healed yet and joined by lots of new ones. His legs were caked to the knees with dried mud, probably from a long day of wading through the river and falling down ledges and stepping in gopher holes. He was teetering in place, visibly exhausted. His hat looked almost spotless, like he’d been shielding it at all costs, but his bow tie was in dire need of a spin cycle. And his arms and legs were more bug bites than skin at this point.

She figured she should say something. Fidgeting nervously with her sweater sleeve, she said “It looks like you forgot bug spray.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It was a short, loud bark of a laugh, but it was a laugh. She looked back at him to see he was sitting on the ground, leaning his face against his hands. He looked up at her. “YOU GUYS REALLY JUST LIVE WITH MOSQUITOS, HUH. THEY’RE JUST… AROUND. ALL THE TIME.”

“Well, not in winter,” Mabel offered.

Bill laughed again. It was a little bit more like a real laugh this time; still definitely not happy, more numb bemusement, but it felt like an improvement. “GREAT!” he said. “JUST SIX MORE MONTHS.” He covered his face again.

Mabel looked down at him, watching cautiously. Her hand was tight around the handle of her grappling hook, ready for trouble, just in case this was somehow all a trap. Heck, maybe this was all part of his plan. Maybe he lured out those jackalopes and got himself into a second near-death experience just so she could find him and completely let her guard down. Maybe this was just a big, elaborate, 4D chess evil mastermind long con.

Suddenly he looked up and shouted “WHAT?!?” Mabel jumped back, and by pure muscle memory, her hand shot up to brandish the grappling hook. Unfortunately, her hands had gotten sweaty from all the excitement, and as the hook reached the peak of its arc, she lost her grip on it completely. It sailed out of her grasp, whipped through the air and hit Bill in the side of the face with a loud, solid CLONK.

Bill clutched his head where she’d hit him, too shocked to even yell in pain. Mabel was quicker to react. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean– hang on…” She sifted through her pockets and grabbed her bag of band-aids, and before even thinking about what she was doing, she was already kneeling beside him and pressing a starry band-aid over the bleeding welt between his scales.

Bill recoiled from her touch again, pupil dilated in terror as he scrambled backwards. Mabel pulled back quickly, raising her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat clenched tight from panic at the thought that he might strike back.

They both noticed the grappling hook at the same time. It had landed in the grass right next to Bill, easily within reach. Slowly, to her terror, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her last line of defense. Like Grunkle Stan had taught her: when all else fails, there’s always punching.

But he didn’t shoot her. Instead, he turned the grappling hook over again and extended an arm, holding it out to her handle-first.

Mabel looked at him appraisingly for a second, then slowly reached out and took the grappling hook from him. She returned it to its holster, and then hesitantly held out the bag of band-aids. “Your leg’s still bleeding,” she said softly. “You can pick.”

Bill sighed and accepted the band-aids. Sifting through, he muttered, “YOU GOT A LOT OF THESE STAR ONES, HUH.”

Mabel gave an apologetic laugh. “I like stars,” she said.

Bill let out a soft chuckle in return. After a bit more searching, he chose another star-patterned band-aid and handed the bag back.

“Well, uh… I’ll get out of your hair,” Mabel said awkwardly, starting to scoop all her supplies into the basket and shove it back into place on her bike. “I know you said you didn’t want my help–”

“WAIT,” Bill said. She turned back to look at him; he looked like he was about to say something he really didn’t want to say.

“LOOK,” he said. “I… I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING. I DON’T HAVE A PLAN, OR ANYWHERE TO STAY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN I’M GONNA HAVE FOOD AGAIN. I THINK AT THIS POINT…” he took a deep breath and forced the last words out with the air, “...I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET. IF YOUR OFFER STILL STANDS, I’LL TAKE IT.”

Mabel didn’t know what to say. She was stunned, full deer-in-the-headlights paralyzed. She twisted the edge of her sweater tight in her hands, trying to ground herself. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew she’d regret it. But in some strange way, she knew there was only one way this could go. She’d made the offer already. There was no going back.

“You’ll have to stay hidden for a while,” she said. “At least until I figure out how to tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And you’ll have to stay close by, so I know you’re not sneaking out to do evil world domination stuff. I’ll help you out with food and stuff, but you have to play by my rules as long as you’re staying with us, or you’re on your own.” She stared straight into his eye. “And you have to swear, on pain of death, that you won’t hurt anybody.”

He stared back evenly. “I SWEAR.”

She held his gaze. This seemed way too easy. “You’re really not gonna stab me in the back?”

“KID,” he said wearily. “I WOULDN’T DO THIS IF I HAD ANY OTHER OPTION. IF I STABBED YOU NOW, I’D GO DOWN WITH YOU.”

Mabel took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Just for a little while. As long as you promise not to make me regret this.”

“YOU GOT YOURSELF A DEAL.” Bill extended a hand for her to shake, seemingly as a reflex. Just as reflexively, Mabel flinched back, expecting it to erupt in blue fire like it did last summer. But it didn’t take long for them both to realize, with embarrassment, that things didn’t work like that anymore.

“We’re not shaking on it,” Mabel said. Bill put his hand back down, looking glad for the excuse.

Mabel finished packing up and climbed back onto her bike. “We should hurry if we wanna beat the others to the shack,” she said. “C’mon, get in the basket.”

Bill looked affronted. “SORRY. WHAT?!”

Mabel pointed to the front basket, in case that was where the confusion lay.

“WHAT AM I, A BUSHEL OF TURNIPS?! I’M NOT RIDING IN THE BASKET!”

“I mean, this isn’t a two-seater, so the other option is walking all the way there on that leg,” Mabel said with a shrug. “Which is fine if you really want. I won’t stop you. I’d just much rather ride on the bike if it were up to me. I’d be worried about being stuck out here after dark, and if the jackalopes come back–”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I GET IT!” Bill clambered up into the basket. Just like last time, he fit perfectly. He looked furious about it.

As they cycled along the trail, gliding between slowly deepening shadows and bright patches of golden sunlight, Mabel could tell Bill was nodding off. “You can sleep if you want,” she said. “I’m a smooth driver. I carried you all the way to the shack in that basket last night, and you didn’t wake up once.”

“DON’T TELL ME THAT,” Bill groaned, straining to stay awake. “HASN’T MY DIGNITY SUFFERED ENOUGH?”

“Not even close,” Mabel said.

—

Mabel suspected Bill had drifted off by the time they reached the shack. But when she stopped the bike in the driveway, he jolted to awareness and lurched out of the basket as fast as he could. He stumbled and brushed himself off, looking like he’d faced the worst indignity of his life. “LET’S GET INSIDE QUICK,” he said, striding purposefully ahead of Mabel. “I DON’T WANT TO GET SPOTTED, I’VE HAD ENOUGH STRESS FOR ONE DAY–”

Then he seemed to smack his head on thin air. With a yelp, he staggered back away from the invisible obstacle, holding his face like he’d been zapped by something. Mabel trotted up to him, just in time to see a shimmer of light flash across an invisible membrane in the air, highlighting the shapes of strange runes and symbols as it slid up across a massive dome that seemed to encase the entire Mystery Shack.

“Oh yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “That.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” Bill shrieked. “I DON’T HAVE ANY OF MY POWERS, BUT THAT STUPID DOME STILL WORKS?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! I HAVE TO BE STUCK AS A MISERABLE PATHETIC MEATSACK AND STILL DEAL WITH ALL THE STUPID CURSES AND SHIT FROM BEFORE?!? WHAT NEXT, AM I ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS TOO?!? WHAT KIND OF ABSOLUTE x7*&^@^%%$--” he cut himself off and glanced back at Mabel, wincing. “DON’T REPEAT THAT,” he said to her.

“I don’t even know what it was,” Mabel said honestly. She thought maybe a bug had buzzed past her ear while he was talking, because she’d totally missed that last word somehow. Also her vision was a little fuzzy for a second, but then she blinked and it was normal again.

“You passed through the barrier just fine when you were asleep in the basket,” she pointed out.

Bill sighed heavily. “CAN YOU STOP MENTIONING THAT?”

“I’m just saying… hmm.” Mabel walked her bike up to where the membrane had been, and crossed it halfway. Then she held out a hand to Bill.

He looked at her, confused and annoyed. She’d tried this twice before and it hadn’t worked, but maybe the third time was the charm. “C’mon, humor me,” she said.

Bill kept staring at her, looking like he wanted to just turn around and walk back into the woods. But then, slowly, he squeezed his eye shut and reached out his hand toward hers. She grabbed it, and he winced like he’d gotten a static shock. His skin was cold, rough and pebbly, like really old leather. She pulled him forward, almost without meaning to– he really did weigh basically nothing– and walked him through the barrier. It was effortless, no indication that anything had been in the way at all. She couldn’t even really tell when exactly they’d passed through it. But regardless, they’d gotten through.

“Knew it!” Mabel released Bill’s hand so she could flap her hands excitedly. “It’s like a vampire thing! You can only enter the shack if one of us invites you in.”

“GREAT,” Bill muttered. He was holding up the hand she’d just let go of, just staring at it, like it had changed in some way he couldn’t quite define. Like holding hands was the most harrowing experience he’d had today.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the best vampire power to have…” Mabel began, trying to lighten the mood. “But at least the sun doesn’t kill you. And you can eat food, and cross running water…”

“YEP,” he cut in, scowling into the distance. “LEARNED THAT FROM EXPERIENCE.”

“...and hold crosses, probably, if you want… and eat garlic! Unless you’re like a cat and it’ll make you sick… and…” Mabel trailed off. “Is it just me or are vampires a downgrade in, like, every way.”

Bill snorted. “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A CURSE, KID. DID YOU MISS THAT PART?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard boring people call it a curse lots of times, but in those books and movies and shows and stuff it seems like everybody wants to be a vampire!” she protested. “They act like it’s so cool. I mean, I guess you can live forever or something, but, like, you can’t go outside! Or into any building where you don’t know the owner. And Italian food? Forget it! After hundreds of years, that would get sooo old. What’s the point of living forever if it’s no fun?”

Bill shrugged.

“But people always call it a curse for such boring reasons. Like ‘ooh, they’re evil creatures of the night’ or whatever. So I just wrote them off.”

“THAT’S FAIR, ACTUALLY,” Bill chuckled.

“Anyway, the point is,” Mabel concluded, opening the front door and waving Bill in like a fancy bellhop, “Maybe things aren’t great right now, but at least you’re not a vampire. Count your blessings.”

“YEAH, YEAH,” Bill said, rolling his eye as he entered the shack. “I GUESS THINGS COULD BE WO-OOOH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Mabel spun to see what he’d screamed at, hand on her grappling hook again, but was greeted by Waddles lumbering up from the living room to greet her. She squealed with delight and held out her arms to catch his big pudgy head as he shoved it into her sweater, snuffling happily. “I missed you too, baby boy!” she cooed, squishing his chubby pink cheeks as he nuzzled against her.

After a bit, she happened to glance up at Bill, and couldn’t suppress a laugh. He was staring up at Waddles with by far the most baffled expression she’d ever seen in a single eye. “HOW LONG WAS I GONE?” he finally asked, stepping forward and then quickly backing up as Waddles, who was a full head taller than him now, started to snuffle curiously toward him.

“Oh, yeah. It’s June 2013.” Mabel diverted Waddles’ attention with more face rubs, and he went back to cuddling her. “Turns out farm pigs get really big, really fast! My dad was less than pleased!”

Bill just kept staring as Waddles flopped over onto the floor with a heavy thunk, his energy spent. “...NOTED,” he said. He gave the pig a wide berth as he followed Mabel further into the house. As affronted as she was at the notion of anyone finding Waddles “scary”, Mabel couldn’t really blame him for being cautious. There was a non-zero chance that Waddles might mistake him for a piece of cheese at some point.

“That’s why I’m such a good cyclist now, by the way,” Mabel said, leading Bill downstairs toward Gay Baby Jail. “Dad was like, ‘okay, we can keep the pig, but only if you raise enough money to buy all the stuff we need and build a shed for him and stuff!’ So I did a morning paper route every single day for like six months. And Dipper did a bunch of odd jobs to help raise enough money, and in the end we paid for everything Waddles needed and Mom called Dad out like “You signed a CONTRACT, Robert!” So Waddles got to stay.”

“YOU DID HARD LABOR FOR A PIG?” Bill laughed derisively. “YOU COULD’VE JUST BLACKMAILED HIM, KID! I SAW YOUR DREAMS LAST SUMMER, YOU’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS DIRT ON ROB PINES–”

“Anyway,” Mabel said loudly. “My legs are super strong now. Put me on one of those big hamster wheels, I could power California for like a week.” With that, she threw open the door.

Light spilled from the hallway into Gay Baby Jail, and Mabel couldn’t help but wince a bit. She ducked inside and scooped up some of the snack wrappers still lying on the floor. “We can spruce it up a little,” she said. “Add some fun posters, some gamer lights, maybe a lava lamp… more furniture too, ideally… I mean, hey, it’s a blank slate, right? Infinite possibilities! That’s exciting!”

Bill looked around with a half-lidded eye. “MYTHOLOGICAL SCHOLAR, ELECTRICIAN, REALTOR… REGULAR JACK OF ALL TRADES, AIN’T YA?”

“You bet!” Mabel chirped. She knew he was trying to be rude, and she didn’t care. “I can make this work. I’m great at everything. Heck, I bet I can even make it fun!”

Bill laughed. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought it sounded more amused than contemptuous. “I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT. SOME CASH COULDN’T HURT RIGHT NOW.”

Through the window above, Mabel heard an engine approaching. “We’ll figure that out later,” she said. “I better go meet them. I’ll be back with food later, the bathroom and stuff’s back there… just stay here until I get back, okay?”

“WAIT, HOLD ON,” he blurted out, and she stopped mid-door-slam. “YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL THEM I’M HERE. RIGHT?”

“...Yeah. Not yet.” Mabel shifted uncomfortably. “Not until I can think of how to break it to them…”

“KID, LISTEN.” Bill’s voice was grave. “YOUR UNCLES CANNOT FIND OUT ABOUT ME. PINETREE, MAYBE. MAYBE THAT’D BE FINE. BUT STAN AND FORD? NO CHANCE. THEY CAN’T FIND OUT.”

Mabel frowned, clenching the hem of her sweater in her fists. “I mean… I could get them to listen–”

“NO. ” His voice ricocheted around the tiny room. “FORD SPENT HALF HIS LIFE TRYING TO KILL ME AT ALL COSTS. STAN DID KILL ME, AND EVEN IF IT WAS JUST DUMB LUCK, HE MIGHT HIT THAT JACKPOT AGAIN! IF THEY FIND ME HERE, THEY WILL KILL ME, AND I HAVE NO WAY TO STOP THEM. AND I CAN’T GO BACK, OKAY? I’M NOT GOING BACK!!”

Mabel had been backing away on instinct; she realized it when her back hit the wall of the hallway. But the shock snapped her out of her fear, and she stomped back in and yelled “HEY!”

Bill went quiet. He stared at her in shock.

“I don’t want to send you back, Bill,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little, residual fear clinging to her throat, but her tone was firm. “That’s the whole point of all this. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.”

Bill just blinked. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“I’m not going to tell them yet,” she said. “And when I do, I’ll warn you first. And I’ll have a plan. I’ll make sure they don’t kill you, okay?” Unless they have to, she added in her head. She figured it went without saying.

“...OKAY. GOOD.” Bill looked off-balance, like he hadn’t expected to get this far.

“And you’ll make sure I don’t regret helping you. Right?”

“RIGHT. PROMISE.” Then, reluctantly, right before the door closed: “...THANK YOU.”

Mabel didn’t buy that for a second. He was definitely up to something. But Stan’s car was pulling up outside, and again, it was too late to backpedal. She gave a short wave and then slammed and locked the door behind her, scurrying upstairs to sit on the couch with Waddles in the living room, like she’d been there all along, just in time to look totally natural when the front door opened.

“Of course there are still a few small issues with the auto-scaling.” Ford’s voice rang through the house. “But really, the problems it causes are negligible.”

“How ‘bout the time that kraken almost sunk the boat because you tried to set it to 1.5 and forgot the decimal?”

“That was human error, Stanley, that had nothing to do with the prototype–”

“Welcome back, guys!” Mabel rushed up to them, Waddles lumbering behind her to shove his face into Dipper’s shirt.

“Hey pumpkin!” Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair. “You really did beat us home!”

“Told you she was fast on that bike!” Dipper said, petting Waddles and trying to stop him from chewing on his hat. “You see now why I couldn’t keep up with her?”

“Yeah, I’m a superhero, basically,” Mabel preened. “Watch, I’ll go carry all the beach stuff inside by myself. It won’t even be hard.”

“No need!” Ford piped up excitedly. With a flourish, he produced a tiny box and what looked like a laser pointer from his coat pocket. Stan started to say something, but before he could get a word out, Ford tossed the box into the air and zapped it with the laser pointer. In a sudden flash of purple light, the box and its contents grew into full-sized beach chairs, pool floaties, picnic supplies and everything else they’d brought to the lake. It all hit the floor with a crash.

“It’s a more efficient take on the shape-changing flashlight you two invented,” Ford explained. “It auto-scans an object’s default dimensions and can rescale them by any multiple you want with the push of a button! Turns out it makes packing a breeze–”

“Sixer!” Stan yelled with a frustrated laugh. “The whole point of using that thing was to not have to carry that stuff to the garage! Now it’s all piled up in front of the door!”

Ford winced. “Oh. Right.”

“I got it!” Mabel leapt into action. Heroically, she grabbed up all the heaviest things in the pile, started to run for the garage, tripped on a chair leg, and fell on her face. She was laughing before she even hit the ground, and soon they all were.

Dipper reached a hand down to help her up. “Hold on, doofus. I got your back.”

—

Luckily for Bill, the walls of his temporary room were insulated enough to drown out almost any sound before it reached the rest of the shack. It would be hard to make enough noise to give himself away.

Unluckily for Bill, Gay Baby Jail was not particularly good at keeping out noise from the rest of the shack. The ceiling, in particular, was like a steel drum with how every step and jump and fumble of the Pines upstairs echoed through it with painful clarity. It sounded like they were playing a rousing game of “Who Can Throw The Heaviest Thing on the Floor”. And the familiar sound of Ford’s obnoxious hiking boots tromping across the floor, like heavy cloven hooves, echoed loudest of all. And Bill was supposed to be the demon here.

He curled up on the beanbag chair and tried to block out the sound with a blanket. Not that he had ears that he knew of, but he had to try something. It wasn’t just the stomping and the crashing. It was the laughing. They were laughing up there, shrill and careless, like a hoard of jackals. This family of traitors and murderers. They put him in the ground, and they were laughing.

He tried to reroute his train of thought. Things weren’t all bad. In fact, they were a lot better now than they were yesterday. He had a roof over his head– thin and noisy as it was– and he had a plan. He just had to wait until they all fell asleep. Then he’d sneak out and assess things. Scope out the area, find out what he needed for the portal and what was here to work with. He knew there were a lot of useful tools and parts hidden in the shack’s various storage rooms, and he knew where to find the things that weren’t here. He had plenty of time to figure it all out.

And best of all, he had an ally. A mole in the enemy camp. His eye crinkled with amusement at the thought. Ford’s own precious little niece working against him in secret. He couldn’t let him find out, of course. But by god, if he ever did, Bill hoped he’d get to see the look on his face.

It was a really lucky break that Shooting Star was the one to find him. The universe owed him a little luck at this point, he supposed. She was the least intolerable of all the Pines by far; that wasn’t a high bar to clear, but it was something. She was compulsively helpful and much too nice for her own good. She was even kind of fun to talk to; her goofy, weird non-sequiturs were hard not to smile at. And she was perhaps the only person in Gravity Falls who was dumb enough to help him.

No. Not dumb. That was the wrong word. She wasn’t dumb, not really. He knew she was clever from how things went last year, and he could tell from their conversations that she wasn’t naive enough to really trust him. She wasn’t dumb. She was something even better. She was optimistic. That meant that even if she saw red flags, even if she started to notice something fishy, chances were good that she’d still look past them, still hold out hope that she was making the right choice. She’d have hope. And that would be her downfall.

His eye drifted shut. Everything would be fine. All the pieces were in place. He just had to play the game until the portal was ready, and then he’d be home free.

The trick would be staying sane until then.

[comflexxed]

june’s phone buzzed, and he couldn’t help but smile at hans’s messages lighting up the screen. the words were simple, but they stirred something in him, a happiness that reached deeper than he’d let himself feel in a while. just the thought of hans taking a few extra minutes to think about tomorrow, to share that small part of his night with june, felt like a rare glimpse into a place that maybe june was beginning to belong.

but as he reread the messages, that little flutter of joy gave way to something more complicated. beneath the comfort there lay a sense of fragility he couldn’t ignore, a gentle reminder of this connection between them. it made june pause, made him acutely aware of how new, how tentative everything still was. he found himself wondering if he was too hopeful, if maybe he was seeing something more than what hans intended.

he didn’t want to push, didn’t want to ask too much of them. sunny was hans’s world, after all. he’d seen it in every moment of their evening — the way hans watched over her, answered every question, made sure she felt safe and loved. june respected that, admired it, and knew he needed to tread lightly. there was a part of him that feared bringing anything could shift the balance of what they had built.

as he typed his response, june chose his words carefully, keeping them light and easy — something that would show his excitement without saying too much.

mr. june: thank you for checking everything! i have a good feeling about tomorrow. i’ll get some rest too, don’t worry.

mr. june: goodnight, hans. dream about catching a really big fish. :)

yet, after sending it, he laid awake a little longer than usual, letting the quietness surround him. for june, this moment felt like stepping into something that was both familiar and completely new, a feeling that stayed with him even as he eventually drifted off to sleep.

this was probably one of the least fussy times hans had put sunny to bed, the idea of waking up tomorrow to go fishing working in his favor.  save for a few repeat questions about what time they were going or confirmed they were really going tomorrow, sunny had behaved for the rest of the night, leaving hans to stay up and prepare their belongings for a bit. 

he could still remember how the goodbyes went, how june looked as he watched them get into their home, how hans had looked back to watch him walking to his apartment, and how it tugged on his heart to watch him walk away. he sighed with a mixture of emotions he did not dare name, but the fact that he could feel them made him feel… scared. 

as he folded a change of clothes for sunny and made sure all their snacks were in order, he couldn’t help but allow his mind to play out the worst possible outcomes. if… this turned into something more than a friendly relationship with sunny’s preschool teacher, and something went wrong, he would have broken sunny’s heart and his. if… june decided it was time to move on to somewhere else, that sunny was not enough reason for him to stay and plant his roots here, it would be soul crushing. 

hans had dealt with a heartache far too great to describe, but he doubted it held a candle to how hard it would be to watch his daughter go through it. for sunny’s sake, he pulled himself together and reminded himself to not forget where the lines were drawn. 

and as he picked up his phone to send a message, he had the same flimsy reminder running through his head. still, his messages read:

hans: i just double-checked all the stuff for tomorrow. we are officially good to go! hans: i hope you sleep well. i’ll sleep soon too. hans: good night, june. 

[lie-lacdreams]

Thermodynamics and Turmoil (Curly x Reader pt.2)

Hi friends -- I'm putting out the second installment to this quickly to gain some more momentum! Thank you for all of the support so far - I wasn't sure how well this was going to do but I hope you've been enjoying it. If you have any questions about the story so far, pls ask! I love interacting :)

engineer! reader x Curly TW: vulgar language, mention of thermo transfer theories (EWWWW), and catching feelings (ew pt.2), oh, and the existential dread of unsatisfaction that ambition can bring to your life, leaving you hungry and wanting more Word count ~ 2.0k

“Daisuke, come back here! I’m going to kill you right now!!” A flash of pink passed Curly before halting to a quick stop to hide right behind him.

“Captain, please save me! Aaaah!” Daisuke screamed as he caught sight of (Y/N), who just came around the bend of the hallway hunting him down. 

“What’s going on here?” Curly asked, observing (Y/N’s) disheveled appearance. Her jumpsuit was zipped halfway up to her torso and her hair still looked disheveled from sleep. 

She slowed down to a stop, now embarrassed that she had been caught in such a state by the captain before replying, “This… one over here had the genius idea to turn off my alarm and I slept in three extra hours. Could you please hand him over so I could maim him?” She peered to the side of Curly to narrow her eyes at Daisuke, who let out a shriek and made himself smaller behind the man in front of him. 

“Oh? I had asked him to do that, actually,” he mused. 

“Pardon me?” she straightened.

“You looked so exhausted yesterday, you deserve a few extra hours of rest after giving yourself no breaks. He was just following Captain’s orders.”

“Oh… I see. Uhm, thank you. I guess you’re off the hook then, Dai. Has Swansea got you working on anything right now or do you want to come shadow me? I have to take a look at the pressure in the steam pipes.” she asked the intern. 

“Yes! Let’s go. I wanna hear about what you were up to all of yesterday. Swansea and I like, didn’t see you at all. Will you let me help out today?” He came out from behind Curly and started walking ahead of (Y/N), eager to please and for something to do. 

“Heh, sure. See you around, Captain.” she said a bit sheepishly, trailing behind Daisuke. After a good night’s rest and the initial panic of waking up late, the interaction with Curly finally sunk in for (Y/N). She typically kept her emotions so detached from the crew and her work and it almost horrified her how easily it was for her to open up to him last night in a moment of vulnerability. As much as it made her uncomfortable to realize that she had run her mouth and ranted to him, she woke up with a feeling of relief. Sure, her job was still going to be hard, but knowing that her captain believed in her and was willing to help in any way he could gave her a sense of peace. 

She stopped by some pipes in the corner of the hallway and turned to Daisuke. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

After a few hours of working and (Y/N) explaining Nusselt theory with Daisuke half listening, she finally called for a break. 

“Nerd,” he teased as he stuck his tongue out at her. “How did you even come to like any of this stuff anyway?” They leaned on the wall, sitting on the floor together.

“I don’t know. To be honest, I never really knew what I wanted to do in my undergrad. I just picked chemical engineering because it was kinda interesting but hard and so rewarding when I understood it. Getting my PhD in it after working for a few years just seemed like a natural next step.” She turned to Daisuke. “I know you’re in college now, and everyone is probably asking you the same thing and you’re sick of hearing it but what do you want to do?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he started. “I think everyone around me has these expectations that I’ll do something great, and I’m so scared of disappointing them. They say the sky’s the limit and that’s what scares me. I could do anything with my life, so how do I know that whatever I choose won’t be the wrong path?”

“I don’t believe in such a thing as a wrong path,” she responded. “Whatever you choose, you make the best of it and try your hardest. Everything happens for a reason.”

Under his breath, Daisuke laughed. “Man, maybe Anya should hand over the wellbeing check-ins to you. You’re like, so philosophical.”

“Oh God, no. I could never be held responsible for people like that. I’d go mad.” She stood up, dusting off her pants and held a hand to him. “I think we’re pretty much done for the day, believe it or not. Wanna go play some Uno?”

Spending the rest of the day relaxing after the past few days of struggling was refreshing and just what she needed. That night she finally joined the rest of the crew for supper, laughing with Anya about something too far away for Curly to hear. Their little family was complete tonight and it was moments like these that Curly savored. He wished that every moment on the Tulpar could be like this. 

A few days later, Curly was exiting the cockpit and was startled to nearly trip over (Y/N). “I’m so sorry, Captain. I had no idea you were in there.” She looked up from her mess of manuals, a notebook, and trusty abacus, a pencil tucked behind her ear. 

“It’s alright. Are you alright?” He asked.

“Yes, just looking at our fuel today and trying to make the Tulpar cooperate with me.” She furrowed her brows. 

“Need a hand with anything?” He offered, crouching down to look at the paper in her hands. 

“O-Oh, only if you aren’t busy, then yes, I would love some help, actually. But I don’t want to be a burden.”

He shook his head. “Nonsense. The ship’s on autopilot right now and Jimmy will take over for me in fifteen minutes anyway so I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” she flushed. “Thank you, come with me please.” She led him a few paces away. “See this? If you could read me some of the values over here that would be great. This here is the manometer, it measures pressure and over here is the oxidizer. There are a few things I need you to read aloud to me.”

After getting all the information she needed, she bid Curly goodbye and looked around for a place for her to do her calculations. Settling for the couch in the lounge, she got to work when Daisuke plopped down right next to her. 

“Hey, (Y/N),” he started.

“ ‘Sup?” She asked, distracted.

“Fuck, marry, kill: anyone on this ship.” His lips spread into a shit-eating grin. 

“Fuck Curly, marry Anya, kill Jim– wait a minute, what??” She looked up from her notebook. 

Daisuke’s eyes lit up before his face twisted into an expression of evil delight. “Ohohohoo yooo (Y/N) you wanna fuck the captain?”

“No!! Stop that!! You asked me that while I was distracted and not really paying attention. That’s not true.” She swatted at him.

“Sure, but that doesn’t change your answer now, does it? Damn, you answered that shit with no hesitation too!” He shrugged his eyebrows. “Since when did you have the hots for the captain?” 

“Sure, I find him really attractive, okay? I admit it. It’s not that big of a deal. Okay then, what about you?” She crossed her arms, face flushed and flustered. 

Daisuke’s face contorted to one of disgust. “Eww nah I can’t do this! Swansea and Jimmy are just-” he made dry heaving sounds. “You and Anya are like my older sisters, so that’s absolutely not happening. And Curly – okay I agree with you on that one but like, he’s so much older.” he shrugged. 

She let out a ‘harrumph’ before going back to her work. “Doesn’t Swansea have something for you to do, huh?” 

Daisuke shook his head. “I’m just waiting ‘til dinner.” He kept her company on the couch as she worked, playing on his gameboy and trying his best to stay quiet so she could concentrate. Supper was a quiet affair today, with not everyone showing up to eat at the same time. People came and went, in and out of the lounge, eventually going to bed. (Y/N) was still up, now in loose pajama pants and a sweatshirt, criss-crossed on the couch and reading a book in the light of the night time screen. Anya had already gone to bed and so she sat in the lounge so as to not disturb her sleep.

“Hey,” said the captain. “Mind if I join you there?” She smiled up at him before patting a spot next to her on the sofa, inviting him to sit with her. She noticed that he was still in uniform as he sat down, draping an arm over the couch and facing her. 

“You weren’t there at dinner today, did you have a chance to eat?” She asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Anya brought Jimmy and me dinner. We’re heading straight for a belt of asteroids so we had to do a bit of charting and manual steering to make sure we don’t crash. We should be fine and taken care of now,” he massaged his temples with a hand.

“You look pretty tired, Captain. If you were busy today, you know you didn’t need to help me out, right? Take care of your obligations first.” She looked up at him and the blue glow of the large screen somehow seemed to soften the look in his blue eyes. Dammit, Daisuke, she thought. Admitting the captain was handsome out loud only made her more aware of it. Even with bags under his eyes and the rugged state of his beard, she couldn’t help but blush under his gaze, so she turned to look at the fake moon on the screen. 

“No, I enjoyed helping out today. Ever since you opened up to me, I want to make sure that you have the support that you need. It’s my responsibility, after all.” He followed her gaze to look at the display screen as well.

“Don’t you ever get burnt out juggling all of this? It’s a lot to pile onto just one person, and the company makes it even worse by making things accessible only through you. And in the end, you’re the one who’s responsible for our performance on this trip.” She turned back to him now, concerned. 

“Sometimes, I guess. I started here on a pretty low rung of the ladder, but I always dreamed of doing something greater. The higher and higher I climbed, the more complicated things got, more liabilities were piled on, but I couldn’t help but keep climbing. There’s still something missing from my life, and even if I get to the top, I’m not quite sure if I’ll ever be satisfied.”

(Y/N) paused for a moment to think. “Would you ever leave this line of work to pursue something completely new, even if it meant having to start over from the beginning?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’ve done it once before, so it isn’t that intimidating to have to do it again.”

She nodded. “That’s very admirable. In a sense, it seems like you know what direction you know you want to go in, even if what you want isn’t clear. I respect you a lot for that, Captain.”

Curly shook his head. “Please, I think we all in one way or another are trying our best out here. We all have responsibilities we have to take care of by being on this ship.” He glanced at her again. “And honestly, you know you can call me Curly, right? Jimmy does it, my friends back on Earth called me that too. At this point we’ve gotten pretty vulnerable with each other over the past few days.”

“Okay, C-urly. Maybe not on duty, but right now it doesn’t sound too bad.” (Y/N) was praying that the glow from the screen concealed her hot and flushed face. After these past few days of getting to know the captain a bit better, it was so easy for feelings to snowball. Brushing the fluttery feeling she had aside, she stood up. “I think I’m going to head to bed now. I hope you’ll do the same, Curly. Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

After he heard the door shut quietly, he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, giving the display screen one last look before getting up and going to bed himself.

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

Thanks for reading! Give me a few days and I'll be back. Cheers!

[betweenstorms]

Chapter 3/1 of Skin Of Thunder To Be Known (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader

"I’ve longed for you to tear me apart, not in cruelty, but in yearning. Sink your teeth into my truths, let the taste of me linger. If knowing means pain, then I’ll bear the bleeding for you."

The early morning air hung crisp and quiet, pressing against Ghost’s skin as he leaned against the cold metal railing by the designated smoking area—a modest patch of concrete, barely more than a slab, with ashtrays and rusting benches scattered like afterthoughts.

The sun just barely breached the horizon, casting long shadows on the concrete. Hardly a retreat, but here, away from the maddening sterility of his office, it felt like a reprieve. He rolled his balaclava up, just enough to free his mouth, taking a long, welcome drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke crawl through his lungs and chase the tension from his jaw. The stillness of dawn hung heavy, blanketing his restless thoughts, urging them into submission.

Just then, the sharp creak of the door jolted him back, a small irritation prickling through him.

Likely just some officer, off to grab a smoke or call it a morning. But when he looked over, his eyes snagged on a familiar, almost absurd splash of colour amid the grey.

You.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, too low for you to hear as he clocked the delicate pearls on the collar of your oversized navy blue shirt.

He turned away, taking another drag, hoping to hide the way his shoulders tensed under your approach.

Fuck.

He’d been craving a smoke, not company.

He couldn’t quite grasp the pull you had on him, the strange and soft ache that made him long to be in your presence, though he refused to bend to such foolish desires. So he kept his gaze fixed elsewhere, resisting the urge to let his eyes find your face, lovely and haunting, a temptation he was determined to deny.

But God, how he wanted to look at you—more than anything, he wanted to drink the light of your eyes, to study every soft curve of your face and carry it with him in the dark corners of his mind. There was nothing he craved more than that simple indulgence, yet it was the very thing he denied himself. So he exhaled another plume of smoke, letting it rise like a prayer, an offering to the distance he had forced between you.

Discipline, he reminded himself.

A soldier’s creed built for sacrifice.

You waved, a shy, endearing gesture, and though he didn’t return it, the sight lingered, casting a magnetic warmth he couldn’t quite shake.

The thrilling sweetness of your perfume drifted over, a delicate contrast to the smoke curling around him, and he found himself absorbing it in through skin and flesh, letting it settle over him like a gentle rain easing his frayed edges.

He glanced back, catching you falling into step right beside him—a respectful distance, careful yet inviting, close enough to let him feel your presence but far enough that he could imagine, if he chose, that he was still alone.

Ghost felt grateful for it, for the silent understanding woven between you, the way you stayed without imposing.

It was a kindness he hadn’t realised he craved.

“Good morning, sir,” you offered quietly, voice bright but tentative. “Captain Price said you requested some help with the paperwork, and, well… here I am.”

An irritated grunt was all he gave at first, still focused on the end of his cigarette, the cherry glinting as he took another drag.

“That was an hour ago,” he said, voice rough and steady. He didn’t look at you, but he could sense the nervous shift in your posture.

“Yeah, well, about that—” you faltered, an embarrassed little smile flickering across your lips as a soft blush crept over your cheeks, delicate as the first light of dawn. “I’m so sorry, Lieutenant, I might have accidentally slept in, but I’m here now. Ready to help with whatever you need. Really.”

With whatever you needed, the words echoed bitterly in his mind.

Bold words. Quietly spoken, but not without weight. 

He scoffed, letting out a slow breath, watching the smoke coil lazily into the space between you—a ghostly wall, thin and unyielding, that whispered the distance he couldn't close. It was a tension he both cherished and despised, a bittersweet ache that twisted in his chest. A cruel kind of ambivalence that he wasn’t accustomed to, a raging storm of contradictions swirling where his pragmatism used to reign. He was a man of precision, of order. There was no room for chaos, no tolerance for hesitation. His life was a series of clean lines and clear directives, a moral code etched in iron.

And then there was you.

He hated it—this loss of control.

But God help him, he loved it too.

“Lieutenant Riley?” you asked gently, breaking the silence. There was something hesitant in your tone, as if you were unsure whether he’d answer or simply walk away.

“Gimme a minute.”

The cigarette burned low, the ash crumbling like the remnants of his resolve as Ghost tipped it into the rusted tray beside him.

The morning air lingered cool against his exposed skin, the stillness between you both stretching thin, delicate as spider silk in the rain. Your hesitant words hung unanswered, their soft cadence brushing against him like the flutter of wings. For a short moment, the only sounds were the distant screech of tyres, the rhythmic cadence of soldiers on duty, and the faint hum of the wind curling through the base.

He let the silence stand, pretending not to notice the way your gaze lingered too long, tracing the curve of his jaw, the faint scar carved near his lips, the line of his neck disappearing beneath his raised collar. He knew you were staring.

Of course, he did.

And yet, there was something disarming about being seen, not the fleeting glances of soldiers or the wary stares of strangers, but this. Your gaze wasn’t too heavy with judgement or fear. It was shy, but it was also unassuming, almost tender, and it did something to him he couldn’t quite explain, like a warm hand pressed to his bare skin. Vulnerability wasn’t a feeling he entertained often, but here, under your watchful eyes, it didn’t make him want to pull away.

Ghost shifted as he exhaled a final curl of smoke, watching it spiral into the crisp morning air before dissipating. His thoughts had grown as hazy as the cloud he’d just released, and the stillness between you hung heavy, each second stretching taut with unsaid words. He should leave it there—should stub out the ember of whatever this was before it grew into something unmanageable, something dangerous.

But then, the words tumbled from his mouth, unbidden and unpolished.

“I like your perfume.”

The second they left him, he felt a rush of something that burned hot and fast, searing through his chest. Fucking sod. What the hell had possessed him to say that? Compliments weren’t in his arsenal, not ones like this, not here, not anywhere and definitely not for you—not when he was supposed to be keeping you at bloody arm’s length. And yet, there they were, laid bare between you, vulnerable and exposed like an open wound.

Your reaction was immediate.

A soft, startled inhale as your cheeks flushed, the colour rising high and fierce, blooming like dawn breaking over the horizon in front of them. But then, there it was. The sweetest fucking smile he’d ever seen. A simple smile that made something stir in him—something warm and reckless, something that shouldn’t belong to a man like him. Somehow the regret he expected never came, only the faint satisfaction of seeing that smile, of knowing his words had drawn it out. He felt like he’d stepped over an invisible line, into territory he didn’t belong in, but for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not when you were looking at him like that.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice carrying an edge of disbelief, as though the admission had caught you as off guard as it had him. “Thank you. It’s, uhm—” You faltered, biting your lip for a moment before murmuring the name of the brand.

He didn’t catch it. Couldn’t, really.

He was way too focused on the way your lips moved, the way your beautiful eyes flicked up to meet his, shy and luminous beneath your lashes. That look—it undid him. Made his heart pick up its pace, a steady thrum that he felt low and deep in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him like that. He felt it deep within, an ache older than reason, a pulse in his marrow where instincts drowned out logic. 

Ghost knew the effect he had on women but he wasn’t a womaniser, not by disposition nor by choice.

Relationships, fleeting or deep, were uncharted waters he’d chosen to avoid. Hostile territories he refused to traverse, landscapes where desire turned men into ruins. It was a trap of his own making. He had learned, long ago, the cost of being known, the unbearable weight of letting someone too close. Most women recoiled from him, as they should. His profession, his mannerisms, his unflinching detachment—they cast a shadow too long and too sharp for most to cross. The sharp edges of him were designed to cut.

But then there was that look—it was undeniable, a silent confession offered in the flicker of a woman’s eyes, something soft and terrifying in equal measure. It wasn’t the look itself that unnerved him, it was the way it came from you. Because that look meant the promise of trust. That look meant potential desire. Moreover, that look meant the possibility of being known, of being understood, and in his world, that was the gravest vulnerability of all.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His hands flexed at his sides, itching for the cigarette he’d already put out. “Shouldn’t’ve said that,” he huffed, the words rough and self-directed. He didn’t mean to be cruel, but his voice held an edge that might have been mistaken for anger. “Not my fuckin’ place.”

“No, it’s—” You trailed off, your fingers fidgeting nervously with your tablet. “It’s nice. I mean, it’s nice that you said something. I don’t get compliments like that often.”

He wasn’t prepared for that.

His head turned, almost reflexively, just enough to catch the flicker of your expression in the dim light.

You weren’t searching for validation, there was no grasping plea in your eyes, no desperate bid for comfort. Instead, you looked a bit startled, as though your own words had betrayed you. Just like his betrayed him a moment ago.

“Shame. You should.”

Simple, direct, and raw words that left him exposed.

Your lips parted, surprise flickering across your lovely face like a flame caught in the wind.

For a seemingly endless moment, neither of you spoke. The cold autumn air between you felt fragile, precarious, as if the wrong word could shatter whatever tentative bridge had formed. The blush on your cheeks deepened, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you held his gaze, steady despite the uncertainty, as though searching for something unspoken in the depths of his hazel eyes. And in that moment, Ghost knew—

—you were the braver one.

While he stood tethered to the weight of his scars, his silence, his bloody self-inflicted exile, you had leapt. You had chosen to meet him halfway, to reach out despite the walls he’d spent years fortifying. And God, how he wanted to catch you. To let himself fall with you into the unknown, into the warmth of whatever this was.

But Simon Riley wasn’t a man who fell.

He was a man who endured.

His gaze flickered away, his sharp jaw tightening beneath the fabric of his mask as he turned his head toward the door.

“C’mon,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, laced with a detached finality. “Still got a shit ton of paperwork to get through.”

"Strip me bare, wound me if you must, so long as you reach the marrow of my soul. If it takes bloodshed for you to understand me, then let it flow. I’d rather be your scar than your mystery." Skin of Thunder Chapters

[homesick4la]

complicated — hamzahthefantastic

3. brown eyes at the entrance

contains: goofy drunk hamzah, quick mention of sex but no actual nsfw content in this one

summary: what do you do when your ex shows up at your front doorstep?

a/n: short but i just wanted to post hi

last part: with you all night

you left hamzah’s apartment that morning feeling more confused than ever. you two ate breakfast together and then you were out the door. he hadn’t even asked to hangout again or talked about breaking the whole “no contact” thing. he simply said he enjoyed the night with you and told you to have a good day.

how could he spend such an intimate night with you and not ask to see you again?

as hard as it was, you tried to be nonchalant about the situation. you could hook up with your ex in a casual way, right?

you call mandy, practically begging her to meet you for coffee.

now you were at your local cafe, anxiously walking up to the table you spotted mandy at.

“y/n! hey!” she said excitedly. you can almost see her eyes analyzing your facial expressions as you walk up to her. “so what’s up? you look like you’ve got something to tell me.”

“oh, it’s definitely..something.” you laugh nervously, “i uh, ended up talking to hamzah last night…”

“oh that’s great!” she interrupts, “did you get any sort of closure?”

“yeah, about that…i actually ended up going back to his place..”

she sighs at your confession.

“and we had sex but listen! i know that it was probably a bad idea but being around him again- it like made my brain go all fuzzy and all common sense went out the window.” you ramble, trying to defend yourself.

“y/n, i told you to go out on the balcony to get closure, not to hookup with him!”, she shakes her head at you. “but i get it. you guys have history, you’re comfortable with him. it’s easy to go back in that situation.”

“exactly! it was so comfortable! it felt like how things used to be. so now, i’m all confused because i thought i had finally gotten over him. and there’s matthew…”

“the guy you said was boring?” she questions.

“he is a bit boring but he’s nice- stable.”

“but what are you gonna do now? keep seeing him?”

“ugh, i don’t know. i guess i should end things with him- because clearly i have not moved on from hamzah yet.”

she nods slowly, deep in thought. “you think you’ll get back with hamzah again?”

“i don’t know,” you let out a harsh breath. “sometimes i think that maybe if we tried again, things would be different. like we’d be able to figure it out this time.”

she smiles softly.

“but today, he didn’t ask to meet again or ask how he could contact me or anything so i don’t even know if he wants to try again.” you shrug your shoulders.

“honestly, y/n, you might want to figure that out before cutting things off with matthew.”

she was right. you didn’t want to ruin a good thing simply for the possibility of getting back with your ex.

after another thirty minutes of catching up over coffee, she reminds you to keep her updated before the two of you part ways.

as you start driving home, your phone rings.

*incoming call: matthew*

“hey babe, you never texted me when you got home?” he questioned, his voice concerned.

you let out a soft sigh, “yeah, sorry- i went to sleep right when i got home.”

“you feeling better today?”

“yeah, yeah i think i just had a migraine or something.”

“good! i was actually wondering if you wanted to get dinner tonight?” his voice is hopeful.

he was kind and cute and he knew what he wanted. how could you say no?

“sure! were you gonna pick me up on the way or should i meet you somewhere?” you ask, a soft smile creeping on your face.

“i’ll pick you up at six. oh- and wear something fancy! i wanna take you to a nice place.”

you agree and say your goodbyes. you were excited to get dressed up and be taken out. you hoped that this dinner would change things- show you how interesting and exciting matthew really is, helping you move on from the chaos of hamzah.

…

the restaurant matthew had chosen was beautiful. the warm candlelight and low jazz music playing in the background creating such a romantic atmosphere.

he sat across from you, retelling a story about a hike he had went on.

you could tell he was making an effort. telling you this story with you in an attempt to share something meaningful with you. feel closer to you.

but as he kept talking, your mind kept slipping into memories with hamzah. you thought of how beautiful his face looked when illuminated by candlelight. the way his smile had always been on the edge of a smirk.

hamzah knew exactly how to pull you into each of his stories. he entertained you effortlessly. just one of his jokes could leave you clutching your stomach in laughter.

“and then i was there, completely lost.” he chuckles slightly as he ends his story.

“oh my god, that must’ve been so scary.” you reply, doing your best to give him energy.

he smiled softly as he looked into your eyes. “that’s what i’ve always loved about hiking though- you never know what adventure’s around the corner.”

“yeah.” you respond, smiling sweetly while all you can think about is how hamzah would’ve made fun of that corny line.

“you okay? you seem distracted.” matthew said, watching you as he took a bite of his steak.

“oh! yeah i’m fine, i just had a long day.” you explain, telling yet another lie.

“i get it.” he smiles, “no worries.”

god, did he have to be so kind and patient? it’d make you feel much less guilty if he was a complete asshole.

no, he was everything you should want. he was sweet, understanding, and so open with you.

but there was no allure. no mystery. no edge. all of the surface-level conversation you two were having was driving you absolutely insane.

“well, i actually had something to ask you.” he broke the silence.

you look up at him, nervously waiting for him to continue.

“i’m going on a trip to seattle next week. it’s completely covered by my job and i have a plus one. i know it’s a bit last minute but i wanted to know if you’d like to join me?”

traveling together would change this “casual dating thing”, into something more serious. something you were definitely not ready for. not yet.

you clear your throat to speak, “can i uh- think about it? it sounds super fun, i just have a lot of school work and stuff…”

he nods. “yeah, just let me know whenever you decide.”

“thank you.” you smile.

after finishing dinner, he drives you back home. he thanks you for the night, explaining what a great time he had with you.

he walks you to the front of your apartment complex and presses a gentle peck to your lips before telling you goodnight.

as you ride the elevator up to your apartment, you decide that you have to end things with matthew. you couldn’t go on that trip with him and lead him on any more than you already have. it was unfair of you to be constantly comparing him to hamzah. the truth was that there nothing wrong with him at all- you were the only person to blame in this situation.

you look up as you start walking toward your apartment to see hamzah leaned up against the wall next to your front door. his head tilted back, eyes closed- simply waiting.

“hamzah? what are you doing here?” you say, your voice coated in shock.

his eyes are low. a goofy smile plastered on his face. he was either drunk or high, or both.

“you look pretty.” you can practically hear his smirk.

you stand directly in front of him. “are you drunk?” you ask as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“a little bit”, he laughs. “and maybe a little bit high but listen- i just wanted to see you.”

“oh and this couldn’t wait until you were, i don’t know, less…drunk?”

he shrugged, “but you were out with ‘new guy’, what’s his name?”

“matthew.” you roll your eyes at him. “how’d you know i was out with him anyway?”

“mandy might’ve mentioned that you texted her about it.” he grins, “i think watching paint dry might be more exciting than going on a date with that guy. i couldn’t let you go home and just be with that kind of…energy.”

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “hamzah, you can’t just show up at my door every time you think i should be around better “energy.”

“oh i can”, he shoots back at you. “it’s actually one of my best skills- showing up uninvited and reminding you of how fun i am.”

“you’re unbelievable.” you laugh, already feeling defeated by his charm.

“and yet”, he pauses. “here you are, laughing. i’ve still got it.” a cocky grin creeps on his face. you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re so full of yourself.” you shake you head, smiling.

“i just feel confident around you, that’s all.”

“oh really?” you tilt your head to the side.

“c’mon, y/n. tell me the truth- was he as funny as me?”

“no.” you admit, rolling your eyes.

“as charming?” he pushes.

“also, no.” you answer.

“then what are we doing here?” he lifts his hands up dramatically. “why are you spending your night with boring ol’ matthew when you could’ve had all this?” he gestures to himself, that goofy smile of his still lingering on his face.

“hamzah. you are being ridiculous.” you reiterate.

“did you mean ridiculous-ly hot and sexy or?” he can’t help but laugh at his own joke.

you shake your head and roll your eyes once again, still unable to contain the smile that seemed stuck on your face.

“you are impossible to argue with.” you tell him.

“is that a yes to me coming in?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eyes. “please? i’ll just sleep on the couch or even, the floor. whatever you want me to do.”

“you came here to sleep on my couch?”

“i just want to be around you.” he whined.

how could you say no to those brown puppy-dog eyes of his? and you couldn’t send him home drunk- that wasn’t safe. you just had to let him in.

“fine. get inside before i change my mind.” you tease as you unlock your front door.

the second you two get inside, he walks over to the couch, flopping onto it and stretching out with a smug look on his face. “see? look how harmless i am?”

“mhm, very harmless.” you say as you grab a blanket.

you start tucking him in with the fluffy blanket until he grabs your hand, looking into your eyes. “thank you for letting me in.”

“yeah, well you’re just lucky i’m too tired to kick you out.” you joke.

“yeah, lucky.” he repeats, his voice soft as his thumb rubs your hand softly.

just from the way his gentle touch and low voice had such an effect on you, you knew you were in trouble all over again.

a/n: next part soon. promise. also i did not proofread bc it’s 2 am and im tiredddd also writing this kinda reminded me of the song memories by conan gray so that is where the title for this part is from yay here’s the song if u wanna listen

[clockwork-carstairs]

“You made yourself a different person than the one I loved” – on Kit’s letter, his projections & idea of Ty

aka where i try to make sense of kit’s letter in the context of who ty was to him. basically i think that understanding that kit may not have had an accurate image of ty in his head helps to contextualise why kit believes the things he does, regardless of whether they’re fair to ty or not. it makes more sense reading lines like:

“in all the world, kit had never met anyone he believed to be so incapable of evil”

“all his energy had gone into ty, all his devotion and hopes for the future”

because you can see so clearly how much kit was projecting onto ty. ty, more than a friend—or whatever you might call it—was also the personification of this new world and all it meant for kit. kit saw him as this overwhelming force of good, beautiful as an angel, someone who not only wouldn’t do evil but was “incapable” of it.

so you can kind of see why everything was lost for kit once ty went through with the necromancy: because by doing so he was breaking the image kit had of him. of ty as a saviour of sorts from kit’s previous life, the person who convinced him to stay, who made kit feel like he was really a part of something, something magical and exclusive that not everyone got to be.

further evidenced by other lines:

“he had been too fixated on losing ty to tell him what he needed to hear” -> kit knows he should have told ty much sooner how he really felt about the situation. kit knows he deflected and in various ways lied to ty about trying to bring livvy back. but kit had wanted to stay by ty’s side, stay included in ty’s plans, more than his desire to tell ty the truth that he hated the idea.

“you made yourself a different person than the one i loved” -> ty as a person being shaped by kit’s projections of all his hopes and dreams, the face of this new world kit was drawn into, the first person he really got close to after he was pulled from one world to another, the person who convinced him to stay.

was the “person [kit] loved” an accurate reflection of who ty really was, flaws and all? unlikely. and the image of ty in kit’s head didn’t allow room for the real ty’s complicated, overwhelming grief, either, and the ways he would try to cope with it: and i believe this is part of why kit was so shocked by what happened and why he’s still so angry at ty. because ty proved to him that he wasn’t what kit believed him to be, and so all of kit’s hopes for his new life came crumbling down.

do i think it’s fair to ty? no, i don’t. but i think both can be true: that kit is upset and had gone through a traumatic situation, and has valid feelings about it while also understanding that he had a very skewed perception of ty that wasn’t fair to him.

mostly i think we need more room for understanding ty’s feelings*. how it must have felt to lose his twin sister in a horrifying way, devised a plan that (to him) seemed completely reasonable** only to have his best friend switch up on him last minute, tell ty he loved him mid-ritual, later say he wished he’d never met ty and basically tell ty that he was selfish and then on top of that leave without saying goodbye.

i also stand by my belief that “how long do you think it will take you to forgive me” is something both ty and kit could/should be asking each other, not just one way around. i honestly don’t understand why both kit and ty would think only kit needs to forgive ty and not both ways. mostly i just don’t think the narrative that ty’s the only one who needs forgiving is very fair, or makes much sense with their characterisation + the context + what actually happened.

in sum, when kit says “you made yourself a different person than the one i loved”, the person he’s referring to is an idealised version of ty whom he had projected all his hopes and dreams for the future onto, and by going through with the necromancy ty completely shattered kit’s understanding of him. this is consistent with other lines in his letter: “you wanted that more than you wanted me”, “when you brought livvy back, you changed yourself” (did ty really change? or did he just prove to be different from kit’s idea of him? genuine question), and perhaps most strongly evidenced by this line: “i don’t know the person you are now. you took yourself away from me. i can’t forgive that.” i don’t understand why he can’t forgive ty for not being the person kit thought he was, nor how on earth ty was supposed to know this, but i digress.

* i hope this is addressed in TWP because between TDA and now, we’ve had FAR more insight into kit’s thought processes than ty’s and as such we’re only really seeing one side of the situation.

** i also think part of the glaring misunderstanding between kit and ty can be understood from their respective backgrounds. obviously for kit, growing up away from the shadowhunter world, something like necromancy is completely out of the question. the way it would be for you or me. but ty grew up in a world where bringing people back to life was something that could and had actually happened. so it’s a far crazier, more impossible idea to kit than it would’ve been to ty.

[faraway-sunshine]

We Interrupt This Blog To Show You Something Awesome

Omori has a Lego Ideas set! This awesomeness is brought to you by designer FoodIsScarce.

Under the cut, I'll be showing more images, explaining my thoughts, and give clarifications on how Lego Ideas works for this set. But if you want to skip that, link is here.

Lego Ideas Neighbor's Room and White Space Set Breakdown

To start off, this set has a whopping three components, all of which stand alone.

First, we have Neighbor's room!

The colors are honestly so nice in this mock-up. Lego has a fairly limited palette, but being bright and poppy works really well here.

Compared to the in-game room, it's pretty compact, but that makes sense so it doesn't dominate your shelves. Everything important is there, to outstanding detail. The leaves may ride up higher above the doorframe, but it doesn't break the immersion for me. It all feels like a piece of really nice fanart or even concept art.

The yellow cat is the centerpiece and I am very impressed with it. It isn't as stretched out as the original, though that's affected by the build size, but the shape of the paws, ears and head are spot-on and the face sticker really sells it.

Also, building the set sideways so it's smooth? Genius in my books. Sure, the minifigs won't stick, but all the smooth edges in this make the set stand out from Lego's lineup without seeming like a jarring oddity. Kind of like Omori's world compared to a bunch of other RPGs, really, so it's fitting.

I guess if I have a nitpick it'd be that the leaves are entirely different in vibe due to being all fluffy and rounded instead of the big sharp shapes in the original, but I don't think that's even really a bad thing. Just part of the Lego-ifying process. Also I groan at how I know I will place the cat's eyes wrong. Stickers are the bane of my existence. For Yellow Cat though, I would in theory persist.

Next, we have Mari's picnic blanket!

Gotta be honest, this caught me off guard, even as someone who was keeping track of this project for a while, but this is AWESOME. Colors are nailed, the existing basket and fruit pieces translate so well, and I just want to place all my fave figs on it immediately. I do hope that Mari's square could be subbed out with something with studs to keep her in place, as nothing else seems to be (maybe the basket has a 1 by 2 piece keeping it locked?).

I think it's an excellent choice even if it doesn't appear in either main room because you can plonk it by any other set or the huge pile of loose bricks you haven't gotten around to sorting yet and boom. You've just made a new corner of Headspace!

Last but certainly not least, White Space!

The computer and tissue box I think were really well done. Smooth place also tickles my fancy. I'm not as sold by the suspended light bulb; some white walls that maybe has a claw on the side would have helped sell the room more to me, I think. But it's solid.

And then you get to my favorite part in the room:

Original creator, you have my vote.

What about the minifigs?

This set still has you covered!

In this current iteration it includes six minifigs for your main characters as well as the cat and snake seen in earlier pictures. Everyone except Hero and Mari seem to be those shorter models, which always used to annoy me as a kid cause I couldn't bend the legs, but gets a pass here because remembering that height difference is nice.

The hair is a hot point of contest with the comments and Reddit posts. I'll explain more below, but Lego Ideas has rules about custom molds for new figures, so these were the closest the creator could get. And hey, I think Hero is spot on!

All the outfits and faces are custom prints, which are far easier than custom molds, and I think were done really well! Basil's top might be a bit bright, but otherwise the colors are perfect, and so is all the printing.

I also saw that Mari, Basil and Aubrey all had one extra face, which is rad. Not sure yet if Hero and Kel do too or if it's just the girls (I should assume Omori is just slate-faced as ever).

Just one more note: I love how spoiler-free this set is. You know everything in the first few moments of play. Our community is really bad with spoilers, I admit, so this is perfect for a shelf.

Here's some pics of them in action:

How does Lego Ideas even work? Is my vote worth it?

Short answer: Heck yeah!

Long answer:

Lego Ideas is a really popular program with a lot of new builds all the time, and people put a lot of work into both the models and promoting them just for the off-chance of it becoming a product.

I compiled some questions you might have based on this set specifically, but there's plenty of info yourself if you want to learn more.

How does a set get selected?

Lego Ideas has three intake periods a year for products that get over 10k signatures between the last period and that date. Each intake only has a select few that actually get to that mark; the record number in 2021 according to Wikipedia is 57 in one 2021 intake. It sounds like a lot, but in the site's 10-year run it's had over 135,000 ideas shared, not including a bunch that would have been struck down prior to going live due to breaking rules.

Each set gets 60 days to meet that goal on first launch, then an additional 365 once 100 people have signed on. Getting 1,000 supporters gives you an extra 6 months on top of that, and 5,000 (the halfway mark) another 6 months.

Meeting that 10k mark is non-negotiable for that specific set to receive the expert review through Ideas, though successful ideas that are lower may spark inspiration from their own teams.

Do I need to pledge money?

No! Lego Ideas is not a Kickstarter or crowdfund campaign. Those ask for money as they need a way to produce and distribute the product. Lego handles this on the creator's behalf.

All you need is to make a free Lego account and click the support button. You don't even have to enable email notifications on signup.

Where will I find the set then if it's made?

Anywhere else you find Lego! Even toyshops I go to have a small shelf for Ideas sets. If none of your local retailers have it, it'd be on online storefronts worldwide.

But Omori is a licensed product!

So are most of Lego Ideas' concepts that make it to becoming a set! Out of the 65 sets announced and confirmed for production (or who have already had their run!) just 29 are not tied to an IP.

So Omocat will be involved?

Yes. If the idea gets far enough, Lego would reach out to Omocat and any other copyright holders of Omori to discuss how to proceed. They will also get a say in any tweaks, and likely make a licensing fee off of Lego.

However, due to the Ideas streamline, the set likely won't be sold on Omocat's storefront (and if they are, it'd be because Omocat got a few sets to sell from them; they'll never be exclusive to Omocat's store).

Will the creator get paid?

If it makes it, yes! Lego Ideas people get a 1% cut. It's not much, but for all the work it gets to 10k I think it's earned.

But Omori isn't for kids!

Guess what: Neither are most Ideas! They're packed in black boxes and kept near the architecture and more advanced Technic sets targeted towards adults. Each set also has an age recommendation based both on set difficulty and the IP.

Is Omori even appropriate for Lego as a brand?

Omori is on the list of approved IP for Lego Ideas. This may be reviewed, but I think it will remain appropriate both because the set does not portray any of the concerning content in the game and because of the nature.

Lego says they won't make sets for franchises built around graphic violence, alcohol, or sex. Omori lacks all that. I doubt it would be yanked down based on that.

I don't care about Omori. Why should I support this?

First, why did you make it down here?

And second, look. I get it even as a fan. But if we can get an Omori set even to the review stage, that opens up the door for people to try with all other kinds of indie franchises. Undertale, Oneshot, Stardew Valley, Hollow Knight, whatever you think of!

Lego Ideas is a portal to Lego working with IP that isn't just owned by a mega corporation, and I think that is awesome.

I signed! What else can I do?

Spread the word! Reblog this post, tell your friends about it, repost (with links and credit) to other social media. Every little bit helps on the road to 10k, to catch Lego's attention, or even just to inspire someone else with a set idea they worry is too niche to share.

Cause this isn't just about Omori. It's about supporting the creativity of a dedicated fan who spent a long time working on something clearly inspired by a game held closely. And I am always going to support that.

Thank you for reading this far! If you're a regular, sorry for the break, lol. I will get back to regular posts soon. I just had an exam so am still a bit drained.

LINK IS HERE FOR A SECOND TIME: https://ideas.lego.com/projects/a73aaefc-9bc2-44f8-b106-63d66817fd1a/official_comments#content_nav_tabs

[procyonloser]

(serial killer au pt 2. Warning for serial killer things and dubcon)

Adam rolled over on the floor he'd found himself on, still drugged and tired from the last few days. He wasn't actually certain how long he'd been... wherever he was. He was just in pain, tired, and unable to think clearly anymore; in part, likely do to the IV coming out of his arm. The room itself was large, tiled floors with a few drains in the floor - to Adam, it reminded him of locker room showers, and he wondered if it was in some sort of broken down school. No one had come to help him that first night after he screamed and screamed, until his throat was bloody.

After the first night, Lucifer had decided on keeping him around, at least temporarily. But, Adam was a flight risk, according to him, and his size meant he could likely fight off Lucifer if he were to somehow get free.

So Lucifer had cut his Achilles tendons, after doping him up on something. He'd had a set of medical supplies, scrubs, and his ability to put in the IV made Adam wonder if he was in the medical field. Or, at least, he wondered it briefly, before screaming in agony as Lucifer sliced through flesh.

He tried to push up on an arm, still cuffed to a bolt coming out of the wall, except the connection found itself around his throat, a collar on him to keep him from fleeing. Not like he could go far in this state anyway, he could only crawl on his knees, ankles wrapped in bandages but only enough to keep them clean, not to keep him upright.

Adam was met with a shock of blood across the room, and a distorted mess of human remains that made his stomach begin to turn. The only thing that kept him from vomiting was the fact he could barely tell what was what, it looked fake enough that his eyes lied to his other senses that could smell the metallic tang of blood and cleaners.

A hand ran through his hair, and Adam jolted, some part of him hoping against hope he'd see someone there to save him, but it was only Lucifer. He was perfectly clean, somehow.

"You don't really know anything about me, do you?" Lucifer asked, fingers catching under Adam's chin, caressing his lip with his thumb. Adam almost bit it, wanting to take something from Lucifer, like Lucifer had taken from him. "You don't seem like the type that watches the news...or reads."

Adam's eyes moved back to the mess of red and white and flesh. His body began to shake, against his will.

"I've actually been killing for a long time now, across the country, but I've wanted to... test my craft, I wanted to tell a story, to put on a performance. I used to be well regarded, you know. But, I had a... fall from grace, people called it." Lucifer explained, using pressure to open Adam's mouth up, and he did so willingly. Fingers pushing into his mouth, rubbing against his tongue. "So, I wanted to tell that story. I wanted to punish them, to make them hurt too."

Lucifer paused, looking down at him with a half smile. "You're supposed to be sucking, Adam."

Adam panicked, trying to push up more so he would be able to suck on his fingers easier. He ran his tongue over and around them, bobbing his head, trying to copy any of the girls that had given him head, but it felt sloppy even to him, and it was weird to do on fingers.

"Good boy," Lucifer hummed, before continuing. "I take them apart, my models. I move them around, until I can make something new. My first creation was a fallen angel, and I hung her in a park, it was the holidays and there was a beautiful old wooden cross there. She looked amazing there, but no one understood I'd given her more purpose than she'd had. They didn't understand that she was art."

Adam realized he had heard mentions of this, some grim murders that had people paranoid, but he'd always been a big guy. He'd get into bar fights, he'd passed out drunk in the street before and nothing had ever happened to him. He was supposed to be safe.

"But, that's how I got the name Lucifer. The fallen angel. I am fond of it, truth be told."

Adam said nothing, trying not to cry as he licked the pads of his fingers, until they were pulled from his mouth, and saliva felt wet dripping down his chin. Lucifer just smiled at him, before reaching down to unzip his pants, pulling himself free in front of Adam. He was stupidly huge, and half hard.

"You don't have to, of course. I'm not a monster." Lucifer said in such a sweet voice that Adam nearly forgot the bloodied remains of a victim not but ten feet away,.

"I want to," Adam said, voice hoarse.

He wanted to live.