#i'm honestly surprised how well it worked

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the teeth, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the T.V.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

[mandy-asimp]

Cards and Clay

Lilia Calderu x Potter! Reader

Summary: you move into town and start a new pottery place, you bring in much business and are pleased with your tiny living. Or so you think that's what's happening.

Warnings: language, smut (leaving this simple so you get the surprise), teasing, pet names, lemme know if I missed anything?

A/n ~ bye chat this is lengthy. I mean it. I was being honest when I said I love plot procrastination to the smut. But shiii I got it done🙂‍↕️

You just finished your first full week of your own pottery shop. It was honestly becoming a dream come true. You rented one of the newer apartments about ten minutes down the road, which was when you could tell the whole area was in need of renovations. Yet, with enough media promotion and the help of your friends, you managed to put a name on the map.

The weekend was ahead, and it would be busy for the Saturday lessons you offered. They would begin around eleven, giving you plenty of time to sleep in and even set up.

You were basically done cleaning up, the last thing was to rotate everything in the kiln. Which would've been completed, until the bell at the front door rang. "Oh! Sorry, we're closed!" You had called from the back, wiping the pottery off your hands onto the apron. By the door stood a curious-looking lady. Her hair pinned up and the curls fell down freely, some framing her face. Her eyes. Those were the next thing you had taken in. They were big, brown, and full of adventures you were for sure of it. They dropped against your body and you found yourself standing straighter and at attention.

"Can I help you?" You gave her your sweetest customer service voice possible. Hands coming to clasp in front of you and your head tilted. A few stray hairs falling with.

"I wanted to come see what was dragging in the business. Just not during it being an open business." She flashed you a softer smile, one that you could let your guard down to just a bit.

So you did, your shoulders had visibly relaxed and your chest didn't feel as tight. "Oh! Well it's just me and a dream here." You chuckled, a hand at the back of your neck. "I live in the apartment right down the street as well so I'm practically always here."

"I'm in the tarot shop across the street, so I know what you mean. This is cute, a nice addition I'd say." She hummed out, eyes roaming the space once more with a finger wagging in the air. You lightly laughed and held out your hand, giving her your name with a welcoming smile. "Lilia Calderu, how did someone like you get here anyways?"

"Like I said, me and a dream here. I went to college for a business degree, learned how to run a company, minored with an art degree. Work in between all that. All because I had a dream and gave my trust to the universe and here I am. My dream come true." You rambled a bit about yourself, knowing you could go deeper into all of it. But it was the simple version of your life.

Lilia enjoyed the way you spoke so passionately about something. She had forgotten how pure some people could still be within this grueling world. "It's nice to know some people still dream."

"Saying you don't dream?" You raised a challenging brow and crossed your arms. "You don't have something that keeps you going everyday even though the world sucks?"

"You sound so generic," she scoffed with a sly smirk. "I'm long past the dreaming age anyways. I've gotten content with my solo life. But you keep dreaming. I should get going though, it was nice meeting you."

You nodded slightly and watched her go. Standing like a mannequin until she opened her shops door. Once she was inside, you sighed happily and got back to work.

As for Lilia, her night concluded with her fiddling with cards as you seemed to run around in her mind. She felt silly if she used the cards in such a childish manner. Even when she groaned and placed the deck back down to the table. What was it about you?

~

A few weeks had rolled by and you had began a steady pace with work. Along with building deeper relationships with your students. A particular group you enjoyed was with Agatha, Alice, and Billy. They always knew something about someone.

You once asked them about Lilia, silently curious about the woman across the way. "She's been here ever since I could remember." Agatha started the talk. "She lives alone over there. In the back of her shop."

"She's gay. I can tell you that as well. There's no way she isn't." Billy pitched in. The fact earned him a silence and stares. "I went over there once for a reading. She's one weird, but sweet lady really."

You eyed Alice, she sat silently while working with her clay. "You got anything to add Alice? Anything I should be aware of?" You brushed your hair off your nose, getting a little bit of clay on your cheek.

"She's a quiet lady. I've never had trouble with her." Her eyes were focused to the spinning wheel, like she physically couldn't meet your gaze.

"Alice slept with her." Agatha snorted. Inflicting a heavy blush to the other as her head shot up and she began to deny the accusation.

You and Billy were left to witness the debate while trying not to holler with laughter. "It's ok anyways! Everyone's got their own thing. Whether you did or didn't, she seems nice. Except her shop is always dead. She gets maybe one or two customers if she's lucky?"

"Watching your new crush?" Agatha finally turned to tease you. Wiggling her brows and making kissy faces at you.

Your head shook and a smile was there, "hardly could say I have a crush. She an old lady who lives by herself, so what if my mind can't help to wonder if she's lonely. Anyone would. I just hope nothing bad happens." You finalized, pouring the rest of your focus into the yarn bowl you were attempting.

It wasn't until closing again that Lilia became your minds only focus. You were already set on grabbing take-out before heading home, and suddenly found yourself at her shops door knocking against the glass.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you waited. Maybe she was asleep, or busy...or maybe even out..wherever she was you thought up a million conclusions until the door opened. Lilia stared up to you with furrowed brows.

Your name fell from her lips in a whisper, "What are you doing here?" She searched briefly over your person to find an answer. Her posture had seemed like she had been caught of something.

"I couldn't help but wonder, if you'd care to join me for dinner? It's usually what I grab on my way home on Fridays and I figured since you hadn't left yours for a while maybe it'd be nice for a change?" You were wincing at your own words. It was a brave invite alone, and you didn't anticipate how effective her being this close to you would be.

Lilia stood in much looser clothing. Patchy pants that were a variety of dulled colors, it fit with the silky cover up that draped her shoulders. Her shirt was the darkest piece, the neck line dropping enough to expose her chest. And her hair was up in a messy ponytail again.

"How sweet of you, but I've already had my dinner. Maybe next time though doll, I'm sure you're amazing company." She bid you a goodbye and the door was closed again.

But for the next three weeks, she continued to decline your offer. Simply, the fourth week you left her with little choice. You knocked against her door and patiently waited like normal. Only this time when the door opened, you didn't wait for pleasantries.

"This is the fourth week. I would invite you, but I know you'll say no. And I know you haven't actually eaten because your house doesn't smell like cooking, not even thirty minutes before. One dinner and if I'm really that bad, I will never bother you again." You held the door from closing with your foot against the frame. "We can have it here and everything."

Lilia eyed you for a moment. You really were persistent with getting to know her. So..she sighed and opened the door further. Slightly grinning as you squealed before rushing in. The smell of good take-out wafting into the air.

Your body buzzed with excitement as you began to set everything on the table as she grabbed plates and glasses for each of you. Even as you finally sat across from her, you couldn't help the beaming smile that touched your eyes.

"You really wanted to have dinner with me?" She chuckled, being the first to start plating food. You eyed her wised hands before following suit.

Your head nodded, "a woman like you is alluring. I bet you have stories to be told and nobody knows them. I wanna know all of them." You missed her hesitation as she really eyed you now. Too busy putting noodles onto your plate.

"Well I do have a few. But what are they to you? Don't you know other people who can give you better stories?" She raised, knowing you had built connections with many people through your art. How deep you could take someone with a piece of clay and a conversation.

Your head bobbed in agreement, "I mean yeah I guess, but at the same time I've failed at many connections. Pottery is selective just like tarot is. I've heard the art stories and so on, but I haven't heard yours yet. So, what crazy adventures has Lilia Calderu been on?"

That night she had told you a variety of stories. The funny ones, the ones that put you on the edge of your seat and make you wonder how she managed, ones that were sad, all of them. As many as she could because finally, someone wanted to pay attention to her and hear everything she's accomplished.

The lingering fear of being forgotten soon seemed to cower into a corner with you around. She liked it. She liked this feeling of freeness. She liked not being alone suddenly. Even as her big doey eyes watched your cheeks burn pink from laughing so hard, she couldn't get enough of it.

"My my, Lilia!" You huffed down your giggles. "I knew I wanted to know your stories for a reason! You are a woman of many lives." You leaned against your hand as you stared at her. "I wish I could've lived that all with you, sounds so much better than an average k-12 childhood."

"You're telling me, the one with the pottery shop, was average? You made your dreams come true, didn't you?" It was her turn to shine the spotlight.

"Nothing special about me. Ran around as a kid. Hid in the closet once I figured out what it was. Came out, got told it was just a phase. And then I kept quiet mostly till I got to college. Explored, studied, graduated, job, dream job. That's basically it." You sighed, taking a sip of water.

"Mm, I never labeled myself. That's the thing with the younger generations, so desperate for a label." She rolled her eyes, then suddenly they were on you with a small challenge behind them.

"Sometimes a label makes them feel validated. Gives worth to something. Haven't you ever wanted a title?" You quirked a brow to her, her move.

"It's sad you need a title to have worth," she shot.

"Says Madame Calderu?" You dodged and returned fire, only not missing.

Lilia sighed and put her hands up in surrender. Chuckling out a "you got me" before crossing her arms again. "This was nice, thank you."

"Well it only took four weeks of perusing, but I think it was well worth it....why exactly did it take four week?" Your tone curved the outcome of the night unbeknownst to you.

"I had eaten those three other weeks. You caught me when I was behind on schedule." She attempted to turn down the topic nicely. She really had no excuse except she thought you were taking pity on her. Now she could see that that wasn't true.

"Ok and I own the Mona Lisa." You mocked, earning a kick under the table. It made your eyebrows furrow quickly. "What? Can I not call out bullshit when I hear it? If you're gonna lie at least lie to me better." Another kick. "Alright! Geez lady, gonna leave me all bruised."

"Good, maybe it'll teach you some manners." She cocked her head briefly. You laughed, throwing your head back with a wide smile.

Continuing as you started cleaning up the table. "I'll have you know my mother raised a well mannered woman! I graduated the nicest in class, so I speak for myself."

Lilia stood and grabbed at the plates, her hip bumping yours. "Whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night."

You shook your head while putting the empty containers into the plastic bag. "I tell myself a lot of positive things before bed. Tonight it'll be complimenting myself for finally getting dinner with you." You turned to her with a cocky gleam.

The woman just squinted her eyes and sighed out. "You're an interesting one, ya know that? That average Joe crap doesn't suit you at all."

This time you let out a snort, a hand covering your mouth and nose instantly. "You're making me blush, Lilia! But truly, if I can figure out what interesting thing you see, I'll cut the Joe out."

"Anything named Joe should be cut out. Especially the men named Joe." She rambled only slightly. You hummed in agreement anyways, trying to stay serious with her. "I knew a Joe once, he was nothing good. Just caused me problems on problems. Had to bail him out twice before deciding enough was enough."

You smirked, "does that mean I can call you next time I'm in trouble?"

"As if you would get in trouble. You're a good girl there's no doubt about it. Matter of fact, I know why you really came." She lead you towards the small lounge area. Sitting in the chair facing the window and melting into the cushions. Missing the subtle pink on your face.

You sat across in the other chair, your back to the shinning moon. Although you got to see how the moon reflected against her. Highlighting the silver in her curls. "And what did I really come here for?"

"You've learned of something and you want to help me. But I can reassure you I'm fine. I will keep moving and settle somewhere else." She eyed you curiously, watching as your mouth opened and closed. You were caught. "I appreciate the thought though. It's nice to know someone's not forgotten me."

Your brows furrowed and you frowned. "Lilia you do know living is impossible in this day and age. I'm 35 and just moved out my parent's basement. Where are you really going to go? Not saying I doubt you or anything," you already knew where you were taking this entire conversation.

"I've managed my life this much. I can manage a few more years." She shrugged it down to a mere distraction. Only for it to eat an annoyed groan from across the way.

"You so have no plan and you're accepting that! That is like the worse plan of hoping things work out I've ever heard!" You couldn't help the need to express your opinion suddenly. Even though she had never even asked or told you for sure she was getting evicted. "What happened if you don't find anything? You're just gonna be homeless?"

She knew her circumstances weren't the greatest, but what was she really to do? "I'm sure I'll find something, worst case is an old people home. Don't worry so much about me, baby."

You couldn't help it though. Ever since she introduced herself to you, you couldn't help but worry about her. "I can't help it. You're here just alone 24/7. I hardly see you leave to even get groceries."

"You pay too much attention to my life then," she chuckled. You could tell it was in attempt to change the topic to something, anything else.

"Lilia. I'm serious." Your features rested as your eyes held all your emotions.

She stared at you for a long second. Just staring. The dark chocolate swirls of her eyes werwarmer than ever before in the moonlight. "What would you like me to do then?" She wasn't giving you any sass, it was her genuinely asking you.

You leaned forward, resting your arms on your thighs and you thought. Trying to think of anything you could possibly do to help her. It looked more like you were studying her carpet than thinking....your study. It was a spare bedroom, surely big enough for her. It's not even in the works, still a board of inspiration on Pinterest. She could come live with you. You make enough to cover and with the extra money you still have left over.

Lilia watched as it clicked into place for you. Seeing the glimmer of hope find its way to your eyes highlight. "I have an extra room." You began, raising a finger as she was about to speak. Her eyes widen, "you honestly have no room to argue. No rent, nothing. But in request you help at the shop sometimes?"

She sat silent, just hard staring you."You drive a hard bargain, you know that? You must do this often if you're this good at it." Lilia caved with a huff. You made a strong point anyways. "But you forget, the clay is all your thing."

Your smile was back, "I'll teach you! I'm closed on Sunday's, so it'll be the perfect day to introduce you to the shop and all the things you'll need to know. I won't make you do anything too hard, I promise." your hand extended over the coffee table. "Do I have a deal?"

Her eyes dropped to your hand, she took it with hers. "Fine, you have yourself a deal."

But you didn't really expect the outcome of the deal after a few months of it. You learned of Lilia's habits at home quickly. Like how she's very neat, but also loves a little bit of clutter. For example the tv stand is lined with her crystals and other tarot decks. She kept a specific one on the coffee table however, perfectly stacked and only she touched it.

Although, you couldn't help yourself one night. She had already gone off to bed and you had to do the order before you forgot. Your hands were delicate with them, scared that one touch would make the paper incinerate right before you.

They were what you assumed average. That was until you pulled your flashlight out to really look at the art work and paint. Each card was hand painted and sealed, the gold 'L.C' in the corner of them told you exactly who did it as well. She hand made her deck and just left them lying about like they were everyday cards.

It gave you the perfect idea for a birthday gift for her, seeing as the day was already a few days away. The topic of gifts hadn't come up at all, even when you did try and bring it up, she gave you practically nothing. Yet now you analyzed her personal cards and had to make a matching holder for them.

Your nights at the shop had begun to drag till almost eleven as you hunched over the dried holder. Painting details that matched to the cards, wiping them off after concluding they weren't perfect, only to repaint them. It was like this for almost two weeks. It was two weeks you hardly saw your roommate or even asked her to come in.

The Friday leading to her birthday, was the first time you'd been home at a reasonable time. Not that ten was any better, but when you unlocked the door and got in, Lilia was waiting with a wine glass in her hand.

"Look who's finally home." She was sarcastic about it. Like she was upset that this was another late night with no text, call, or explanation. "Two weeks and this is the first time I'm seeing you."

"You miss me?" The joke rolled from your tired tongue. You trudged to your room, placing your bag down and ridding of your day clothes into a black long sleeve and red plaid boxers. "I'm sorry, the shop has been really busy with the schools on break. Everyone's doing homemade gifts in class and then there's just the everyday pieces. I plan to have everything fired and ready for pick up tomorrow, then I'm closed for like three days."

"So you've been busy, I could've come to help. It is the deal." She got up to pour you a glass, except you just grabbed hers and took a sip. Her brown eyes stalked you talking a sip.

Your face contorted and you waved her back down. Getting up to get your own juice and pouring it into a matching glass. "It wasn't anything I couldn't have handled. Plus a lot of it was kiln work, I didn't teach you anything about Kit."

"Kit? Who's Kit?" Her brows furrowed as she took another sip. You both sat on the couch, you turned to stare at her fully with both legs crossed, while she had one leg bent and leaned against her fist to face you.

"The kiln. He's honestly the only man I would ever allow into my life. Except it seems that people don't take kindly to a kiln being picked over them." You bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged. Really not hearing the issue even as Lilia laughed at you.

"You don't understand how a big oven being picked would offend someone? You do know what you look like and your personality right?" She raised that perfect brows. You loved when she looked at you like this, you knew it meant she was teasing you and meaning it with humor.

"I could look and act like anyone," you tilted the glass at her. "I don't know, maybe I like me and my ceramics. They can never really break my heart. It's easier to trust the Earths natural gifts than an unpredictable human with my heart."

"That's playing it safe, baby." She spoke so softly. Yet every word dug into your brain to the core. Lilia downed her glass and stood up, "I'm turning in for the night. Do you need any help at the shop with all the pickups?"

You knew you brought home hers, so she had no chance of seeing it early. "That'd be really nice, thank you. Have a goodnight, Lilia." You stayed on the couch as she headed for her door. Ignoring (attempting to) how sudden the couch felt without her.

~

The next morning you were up and making Lilia's favorite breakfast. Well...maybe not her favorite, she never outright said it. A lot of things you know of her are honestly from the context of her stories. It was working though, you always seemed to know your way with her.

"You're up early?" Her voice echoed into the kitchen space. She stood in her silk pajamas. They were yellow stripes but they suited her. "Cooking as well?"

"It's a thank you for helping me since it'll be busy today." You spun around, finding her leaning against the counter and staring at you. Yet, you couldn't figure out how she was staring. It was a look you've never seen before from her. "If you're too tired you don't have to."

"No, no...nothing like that. What are you making? Or attempting to make?" She brushed it off and was switching her stare to something more teasing and delightful.

Your nose scrunched up, "I'll have you know a wise woman once said she enjoyed my cooking in the morning. But if you must, it's French toast with cinnamon and strawberry frosting. Served cutely with a cup of coffee."

"Now you're spoiling me. Is it really gonna be that busy?" Lilia watched you plate the breakfast and serve her first. Giving her a show of garnishing. "You should hope you're wrong."

You smirked, knowing you weren't wrong. "And if I am, then this'll have been me spoiling you because I'm sorry I've been out late with no word." You hummed before turning to start your own breakfast. "It'll be nice anyways. Billy's been asking about you recently so he'll be excited to see you. So will Agatha, she doesn't verbally show her liking for people but it's in her actions and expressions sometimes. And her pottery, she really pours her emotions out. Alice also enjoys your company, she said you and Jen, that's her roommate though we all know they're together, would be good friends." You were rambling on about everyone suddenly. Telling her about everyone and how much they always ask about her. It carried you through the entire breakfast.

Lilia was left speechless. She didn't realize that many people knew about her and asked. Nor the fact you were the one they were always asking and you always had an answer. "Now you're just trying to flatter me."

"No! Really! When you come in they're gonna love seeing you! We should start getting ready though, I have a class starting earlier today and running later." You collected the plates and put them in the sink. Slipping away without another word to get into pottery clothes.

With the weather getting nicer you had settled for a light yellow long sleeve and a pair of art overalls. You had painted flowers from the splatters from projects. Slipping on your old boots and grabbing your bag. Leaving your hair in the messy clip you did this morning.

As you closed your door, Lilia's closed in time with you. Your head snapped around to her in a flowing skirt and a sweater filled with colors. Her curls were free, falling graciously down her back and you suddenly felt your heart stop. Your hand was at your chest, and you just played it to dusting your shoulder.

You hadn't said anything after seeing her then. Staying silent and scolding yourself to not gawk and drool over her. No matter how badly you could imagine your hands tangled in her peppered mane, along with the many reasons why. Your cheeks must've flushed cause Lilia was staring at you now worried.

You were in the middle of moving the paints and everything to the circle table in the sunlight. But you had stopped and were just staring out the window. Blushing from your own lucid thoughts.

"Your cheeks are warm and pink," her voice cut through. Her soft hands were on your cheeks before you had noticed, holding them for only a moment. Lilia glowed in the sun light. Just like she did in the moonlight. She was earthal. Universally beautiful. Day and night, never did she falter. A timeless beauty.

"I'm..I'm good. I just..don't worry." You managed out finally. It felt like the air was being vacuumed out your lungs. Your chest was beginning to feel tight. Is this what dying is? An angel to hold you while it all just goes warm and tingly? Or is this what love felt like? Were they the same thing?

Saved when Billy was soon the first to show up. You must be behind already. You're too distracted today. Asking yourself by what was a foolish move, you just couldn't grasp the reality of the cause.

"Oh Lilia! It's good to see you again! We've missed you around here." He greeted the lady with a hug before coming to settle at the table. "You should join our class for today, we're making a tea set this time. And since you guys live together you could divvy up the work."

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to impose. I'm just here to help hand out the finished pieces." She waved a dismissive hand, much to your dismay. Even when she caught the sad glint take root in your eye, she stood by the front desk.

"I'm sure with a good towel and teamwork, you both could manage. Join us just for the day." The teen was persistent as he tied the apron around his body. "Come learn the juicy gossip this one spills in the circles."

"I do not spill any gossip! If anything it's Agatha who tells the most," you defended your name. A finger raised in the air, "and besides, I don't live a life to have anything!"

"Oh that's such a lie," Agatha had waltzed in. Her hair already pinned back and instantly found her seat at the table. "Just last week you had a fresher scoop on Dotti and her husband before I did. And I'm their neighbor!"

Lilia looked shocked to hear this, her eyes wide as they stared at you. "And what do you know about Dotti and her husband?" She challenged you.

And suddenly it was like a switch had been flipped. "Ok so, there's an update to them as well, from like yesterday morning. So to fill you in," you slowly sat down at your wheel.

Alice came in last finally, "we're already gossiping? I knew I was running late but not this late." She filled the empty wheel to your right. Making haste to get situated and get right in.

"We just started. We're starting with Dotti." You wiggled your brows.

"Oh! Did you hear about yesterday morning?!" You nodded your head. "Oh I heard the actual end of it, it sounded good so I'm ready." Alice sat, hands at the ready.

Your hands grabbed at the clay from the center, everyone following. "So I heard that he had forgotten their anniversary....again." You got lost in telling the details, some so itty bitty they questioned if you were actually there.

Lilia, from the front, listened and paid every ounce of attention to you when not helping a customer. She noted how relaxed you were in this setting. Eyes trained to the clay that span under your fingers, shoulders dropped, smile blooming as everyone talked. Overall, you seemed so at peace. She enjoyed watching you in this state.

"Yeah, Rio said she'd join one day." Agatha had spoken when Lilia tuned back in to the full conversation and not staring at you.

"We could do a little couples pottery! Alice and Jen, Agatha and Rio, Me and Teddy!" Then he turned to you and you could only throw your head back in laughter. "It's not funny! You've lived here long enough and still haven't tried dating!"

"Oh but that's not what I've heard." Agatha was the one to eye you now. Your face reddened when you felt her gaze burn into your hair. "Rumor is you're getting home late for two weeks?"

You shook your head, "officer no! It's not what you think!" You cried humorously before agreeing though. "Yeah, I have been. I've been busy here at the shop. Someone's gotta fire everything."

"Got any witnesses to back you up? Cause it gets juicier." Agatha continued, her eyebrow sharp.

You gasped, geneuinly confused on what's being said about you. "Oh my- what have people been saying?! Do people think I'm a...whore?" You whispered the title. Devastation written all over your face.

Lilia was dying to know where this was leading. This was her answer of if you really were here all those hours or you found someone young and they just kept you out all night. Being young.

"Oh they're thinking more than that. Recently Norm has been getting home around those hours as well....I'm sure the dots connect for you just like it does for everyone else." She eyed you, everyone was. "For him it's great, they think he finally found someone. For you though, they're saying it's settling."

You were cackling at that now. "Oh my God, no! I would never settle for Norm! Never! Who even started this rumor?" You couldn't help but to see the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

Your eyes quickly, praying she wasn't already looking at you, jumped to Lilia. She was staring right at you. If you didn't tear your eyes away, you'd have spaced out but when you felt the blush sprinting up your neck you had to. It made its way to your cheeks anyways.

"I think it was Herb. He's always been close with Norm. Maybe he saw you go home late one time." She reasoned, her hands up as she finished her teapot, examining her own work. "It reminds me of Rio."

Alice chuckled, finishing her own pot as well. "Herb and Norm starting the rumor you slept with him honestly makes sense. Recently his mom and sister have been pestering him about bringing a girl around." She added.

"I don't think I've ever even talked to either of them outside this shop. This is why being the young, single, shop owner is a trap in itself. If I wasn't a young, single, shop owner they would've never even bothered. So next time you hear someone put dirt on my name, I'm going to need you to clean it for me." You pointed a finger to everyone. Making sure they really understood you were serious.

Billy huffed, "so does that mean no couples class?" He put his best puppy eyes forward. And to your surprise, Agatha and Alice had joined him in their own way.

You soaked in their pleading expressions, letting your eyes slowly wonder to the woman at the front. "Fine...Lilia will just have to be my partner for it. And she'll act like it's the worst thing she's ever done, but we all know I'm the best in town."

"Please," Lilia scoffed. "Just the other week you didn't understand why picking a kiln over a human was offensive." She handed out the last pick up for the day. Surprised that it was all gone before two. She had finally came over to see what was actually happening.

"First of all, he has a name. His name is Kit. Use it and respect it. Second, maybe people should be more understanding." You shrugged. "Alright, I say we each make at least four tea cups. They're the same as the bowls basically, but...cup shaped."

Billy waved in the air first. "No, hold on. We are not skipping that. I've first hand seen Rio try to flirt with Agatha when she's pissed off, but that takes the title for most embarrassing."

Your jaw dropped with a gasp. "Excuse me! It's not embarrassing at all!"

"It so is! You're literally hot and you're picking kilns over people? That's like the biggest case of looks being deceiving." He kept going. His hands moving around in dramatics. "Like you pull in with the great appearance, and then you pick...the oven. I bet it's something deeper. There's another reason you pick the kiln."

Agatha perked up, eyes instantly glowing. She was ready to poke at you. "Oh I bet there is. You make the kiln out of the bodies of your dates and that's why we never know who they are?"

"Agatha...what the fuck?" You used the ball of your hand to rub between your furrowed brows. "There is no deeper meaning on why I like my kiln over most people."

"Over most...there's someone you're after isn't there?" Her brown eyes bored into you, not letting you look to anyone for help. She held you hostage for an answer. "Oh there is. Who is it? Is it actually Norm?"

"No!" Your voice worked quicker than your brain. "No there is no one, and even if there was it wouldn't be Norm. Like I said, I would never settle with a man. I'm dedicated to women, have been since I was sixteen. Billy is the only one here who likes men anyways."

"You never let us poke fun at you." Billy sighed. His eyes bouncing up to Lilia. "Do you get to make jokes at home?"

In that moment, you turned up to see. A part of you wondering what she would really answer. Because in reality, you do let her make fun of you. Every day, any day if she wanted. If it earned you a smile or a laugh, you didn't care. You just wanted to see and hear her happiness.

"Every now and then I get a good one in. For two weeks I haven't made one though, someone's too busy sneaking around with Norm." Lilia made her point, her cunning smirk stared back at you.

You managed out a chuckle and shook your head, "I'm not sneaking around! Can I not just be a shop owner who was tending to her customers work?"

Alice was the one to answer, "that's too easy. You need a little spice on your name."

"No! No I don't! I like my life plain, it's never disrupted and is just there." You tried to defend, suddenly it seemed with Lilia next to you everyone was going to get a dig in.

"Yeah, except a plain life wouldn't involve late nights with no alibi." Billy pointed.

"So you really do have to be hiding something from us if you're trying to play it down." Agatha nodded along.

"I was here. I know it's the truth so believe it or not. I was here for two consecutive weeks firing and making things for people to just come paint. Because I'm starting that soon, instead of being just clay." You were insistent now, really just wanting to clear the two weeks.

There was a collection of hums, trying to decide if it was a good enough excuse or not. "And where are these pieces then?" Lilia nudged you. She hadn't seen any extra pieces in the back.

You were silent. Caught in your own lie. Usually, the three wouldn't have known what's in the back. You would've told them there, that you have a shelf near the kiln to put them all on. But Lilia had been back there. She's seen what's there and what was not there.

"Oh..seems like you've been put in the hot seat. How do you plead now?" Agatha's eyes raised to find you with rosy cheeks and trained to your own hands.

"Not guilty." You mumbled. "I'm dropping the topic." The three groaned but let it go anyways. Leaving the rest of the class to random talks about what's been happening in their lives, minus you as they seemed to already know.

And the topic never came back up till it was just you and Lilia in the shop. With the sign on the door reading close and each cleaning in different areas. You in the back putting in the pieces from today and then going to wipe down and wash the tools used.

"So...if you've been sneaking around," she raised. Holding back her laugh as you groaned. "Well you were the one who was caught in a lie."

"Yeah cause I didn't think you'd air me out like that! I really have been here. You know I don't like men, I've stressed that, so it's not even realistic. I've been here just working honestly." You sounded more defeated, maybe it was cause you were tired as the sun slowly started setting. "Why does it bother you so much, even if it was me sneaking around?"

Lilia was suddenly next to you, her lips pressed together. She was biting back her true answer and now you knew how it felt to not know the truth. "If you're sneaking around, it means it's not for the public and you just deserve better than that, that's all. I want you to be happy and well taken care of."

"I am happy. I am also well taken care of. I have no purpose to sneak around with anyone. If I was, you would've known of them by now. But there is nobody. I don't need anyone else," your sentence fell off and remained incomplete. there was a moment where you both just stared in silence. Like you both knew that there was something being unsaid. "We should finish up and get home. I haven't had a night at home in ages." Her curls bounced in agreement. Leaving your side and going back to the front, wiping down a few more tables.

~

When you got home, you could only sigh. The day had finally caught up to you and you wanted nothing but out of your clothes. Lilia seemed the same way as she had instantly disappeared into her room. At first that's what you really did believe, expecting her to come back out within five minutes to have a drink with you.

You chose something simple, a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low and the same long black sleeve from the other night. Finally letting your hair down and washing your skin from all the clay that still was on you. Feeling incredibly refreshed for the night.

You left your room, sliding in socks to the kitchen. Pouring two glasses, one red and the other juice. You couldn't help but giggle at how childish you seemed drinking fruit punch out a wine glass, mocking the wine glass that was clearly darker. Lilia had joined you only a few seconds later, wearing your shirt and pajama pants.

You pulled your legs together and stared at her. "So..your birthday is tomorrow. Got any plans? Anything you want?" You started, taking the first sip as well.

"Little late to be asking about a gift, don't ya' think?" She leaned back to fully look at you, head propped against her fist. You've realized how natural this is, how easily you both fall into this exact spot night after night.

"That's you assuming I didn't already get you something." You hummed, wiggling your brows a bit. "Anything you want to do?"

"I haven't celebrated a birthday in ages, I don't think I'll start now. But thank you for the thought." She went to shut down the topic, but your facial expression was unsatisfied. "I'm sorry, its just another day for me."

"Boo!" You gave her two thumbs down in her face. Pulling them away before she could swat them down, the sound of your laugh gracing the air. "Well, luckily for you Lilia Calderu, I have a special day planned for you that is the perfect mix of relaxing and spoiling." You beamed, proud of how well you managed to keep everything quiet till now.

The older woman only shook her head. "Baby, we really don't have to celebrate it. Really." Your stomach did flips at the pet name, the blush on your cheeks reddening just slightly. It seemed once you realized your hearts desires, you couldn't conceal anything anymore.. "Anyways, you've done enough for me this year than needed."

"That's because I wanted to do those things. You think I stood outside your shop in the cold because I needed to? I did it cause I wanted to know you. And now that I know you, I want to do something meaningful for you. Also it's a day to celebrate my favorite roommate, so yeah..we're celebrating tomorrow." Your eyes were everything of warm and giving. Lilia enjoyed this stare, how you treated her so well.

She caved, "Alright, what do you have planned? Pottery at the shop?"

You audibly gasped, "Lilia do you think that's all I know?!" You were so happy here. "I planned a late morning so you can sleep in, so I can sleep in, and then I'll make your favorite brunch. After we're going to that one show you had mentioned wanting to see, but eating dinner before because it's not till 8. Everything would be closed by the time we got out. To finish, we'll do presents before bed."

"That is quite the day planned. Is there a limit to how late we're sleeping in? And what say do I get in any of this?" She wasn't objecting to anything, so you figured you had done well. Now everything just had to go as well.

Your head shook left to right, "no ma'am. Sleep as late as you want. It's brunch for a reason. And as for what say you get, you can have all the say, I just made the plan." Your hands were in the air surrendering all power to her.

~

While you had woken up first and began cooking, you wore boxers and the same black long sleeve. Shaking your hips at the song in your head. Something about today told you that it was bound to be so much better than what you had prepared.

Today you woke up and told yourself you would hint at your feelings. Leaving it open for her to catch on in her own time, but you couldn't bring yourself to out right tell her. Not when you had no idea if she could ever reciprocate those feelings. Yet, you danced while making the perfect breakfast for you and her to share.

Your mind couldn't help to focus on her though, subconsciously flipping the pancakes at this point.

Lilia was many things, you had realized this quickly, but your favorite word to tease her with was kooky. Sometimes even wispy. She always was mumbling different tarot cards to herself. You had played it down to a pull she did earlier or something that had a significance with the card. You also used those terms when she would be scolding you for some tiny mess you had left from either cooking or doing pottery out on the balcony. Those were your favorite times as well.

If it was just right outside and you had enough free time, you would work on new techniques and designs. Lilia would bring herself, a cup of tea leaves, and a blanket that would be wrapped over her legs. She would watch you work first, maybe for the most of ten minutes, before she emerged herself into the tea leaves. You never understood it either, you weren't in her world unfortunately. You knew nothing about tarot or tea leaves. She never let you in either, not like how you did her into your world of clay.

As much as it pained you to not see through her lens, you had managed to accept it and witness from the neighboring universe. You mostly enjoyed being her witness when she couldn't sleep and asked you to come sit in the living room with her. Even if it had been the most grueling day at work, you did. You pried yourself from the warmth of your bed and to the living room.

You were unaware of the many times you did fall asleep though. Lilia felt bad most those nights, yet she needed your presence to ground her from it all. All the crazed times she travels through. But it wasn't till the first time you had came out and laid your head in her lap, so exhausted you didn't even fight it and just slept on her lap that night. Her hands pulled the lovers card as well that night.

"You're making pancakes?" Her voice cleared your thoughts instantly. Especially when you whipped around to see her. Lilia had her curls free from all maintenance, sleep evident in her eyes as she yawned. She still was in your shirt.

"Do you not want pancakes, birthday girl?" You wore a teasing smirk already. Excited to celebrate her even more as she was awake. "I made chocolate chip ones, assuming that you liked them a lot the way you wolfed down three the first time I made them for you."

"Alright no need to be so cocky, baby. It's my day remember? Plus, you surrendered all control so I'd be nice if I were you." She fed your teasing right back to you. Finding a seat at the kitchen table, knowing you were already done in time for when she woke up. Her eyes followed you as you danced around the kitchen to gather everything and set the table. "Thank you," she hummed when you placed a perfect plate in front of her. "You really have stepped up your presentation skills."

"Only the best for you Madame Calderu." You glowed with her attention on you. Taking your own seat, you raised your glass of orange juice. "Happy birthday, Lilia." Lilia smirked at your antics but raised her glass anyways. Clinking the rim of her glass to yours.

It fell quiet for the first bites, the only sound that could be heard was Lilia moaning in approval at the taste of each pancake. A childish glimmer was in her eyes. "You know how to make a girl feel special." She praised you as she continued to eat. You only giggled and let the silence return as you also ate without much to say.

Even while you cleaned up, it was silent as Lilia stayed at the table and watched your every move. You were overly aware of that fact as well. "Can I ask you a question about your pajama choice?" It wasn't what you were expecting, but you nodded anyways. "It's a mix of very feminine pieces, like silks and pinks, while other times it's this almost masculine? What's that all about?"

"Most of my clothes are the ones from my exploring as a twenty year old who didn't know what type of gay was the right one yet. So I went between being hyperfeminine and masculine to see who was right for me. Eventually I gave up because it seemed it was never me, but more so who I was with. I didn't like that idea of changing my appearance for others though. I kept a mix of it all because in the end I'm gonna be gay, so what do my clothes matter?" You had rambled a bit, being honest about the evolution of your wardrobe. "Does it bother you?"

"No...no, I was just intrigue. I do your laundry and sometimes it really does look like you have a man here whose clothes I'm always washing. I can see why people think you and Norm were happening." She smirked behind the rim of her mug.

Your head had whipped around, a mean glare being shot from your spot. "I'm not sneaking with Norm! I have eyes for someone else anyways! So ha!" You stuck your tongue out at her.

"Oh yeah? Who? Kit?" She scrunched her nose. Not giving you a chance to keep defending yourself by getting up to find a spot on the couch. Also, Lilia didn't want to hear about you having the hots for anyone that wasn't her. It awoke a green monster she hadn't seen in a long time. "Did you plan anything for the four hours between brunch and getting ready?"

You came over after finishing up, head shaking. "No, I figured id leave it open for you to decide what we do?" You sat closer than intended, the couching sinking under you and sliding you right next to Lilia. It would be rude to scoot away so you got yourself situated to be more comfortable. "Maybe catch up on the show you've missed the last few episodes of?"

"You'd really sit here and watch that with me?" She really was enjoying having you do whatever she wanted already. "You said last time, and I quote, this show doesn't even had good plot, the gayness is all portrayed wrong. No lesbian actually does that pose."

You glanced down to your hands then back to her. "For you Lilia Calderu, it seems I will do a lot of things. So if that is truly what you want to do, then I will sit here and suffer for your happiness." You sighed out defeat as she reached for the remote. "It really is not how any gay person would act, I want you to know that."

"Yeah? And how do they really act?" She turned to look at you, the first moment the brown was visible for you, your brain failed to comprehend. It was honestly a good example of a gay panic without intent. "Hmm, so I see." Her hand was on your cheek instantly following. Her eyes darkened just slightly as she searched your features.

"See..see what?" You so dumbly managed, completely in this woman's trance. Never wanting to leave it though, all her focus was you and she just saw you.

Although, she flashed you that smile and the conversation was dropped as the show began playing. Her attention no longer on you but on the screen. There it stayed for the next few hours, never breaking away. Well you wouldn't know as you caved into the body heat Lilia radiated and fell into a small nap on her shoulder.

Lilia however refused to wake you until four, lulling you into a deeper state of sleep by playing with the few strands that weren't clips back. But surely she had taken it out to really play in your hair, nails scratching over your scalp as you pushed deeper into her side. A hand throwing itself over her lap was the sign you were actually deep asleep. How long had you been up for you to be this tired naturally? The day had hardly started.

Yet, by five-thirty both of you stood by the doors to your bedrooms gawking at the other. You, in a baby pink mini dress, the back was a corset and a big bow right atop your butt. A simple white short cardigan covered your arms and white chunky heels dawned your feet. Tying everything together with an assortment of jewels and metals. Lilia, in plaid wide legged pants that flowed nicely, it was assortments of yellows and blues over a deep maroon. A plain white button up and a mustard yellow jacket that complimented with the pants. She must've been wearing some platform on her boots as she stood only slightly taller than her average days.

You smiled and your cheeks warmed when she returned it. "You look nice," you made the first step towards the door. Picking up your keys and opening the door for her. "M'lady," you bowed and gestured out.

"You look lovely as well, baby. I could almost tease you all night long while you look this cute." Huh? Had you heard her right? There was no time to question it once she was out the door, looping her arm with yours as you began to talk down. "So where is dinner?"

You slightly smiled, still caught on her previous statement. "It's a little place Billy and Alice both suggested. We told Agatha to not give her opinion after she suggested Starks. That woman and her...Rio are the finest dinners I've ever met. But it's still nice and up there, just more affordable."

"I'm sure it'll be just fine." She hummed. Her approval seemed to be something you were always constantly chasing, stressing yourself for it to the days end. You loved when she thought you did a good job. It at some point began to tickle a need and drive in you, even if you were unaware.

And the dinner was fine, actually it was almost perfect. You had known they served Sicilian specialties, which made Lilia ecstatic to try and compare them to her own cooking. Maybe you should start learning more dishes to cook.

You did let her pick your meal, seeing as you were oblivious to what half of the items tasted or even looked like. It was how you asked that stirred the shift. "Lilia...can you order for me?" You were so shy about asking her. It was such a childish thing to do, when you could've looked it all up, but she was there and knew how each one should taste.

Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her brown earthal gaze was full of mischief and mysteries. "Aww, the lil' chef out her comfort zone? Don't worry, I've got you baby." Lilia beamed anyways and glanced back to the menu. Leaving you to sit dumb and pretty.

The way her lips formed the pet name was enticing. Calling you closer when they pressed together, but pulling back when you did lean in. The deep red was perfect for her. It complimented her every shimmer of her eyes when she got lost in the topic with you.

Lilia called you 'baby' a lot more during the dinner after you had asked her as well. You squirmed in how you slowly felt yourself slipping further and further into her. The worst part about it was the fact she knew what she was doing. Her faux worries of, "baby are you ok?" Or if it was her hand grabbing yours and saying, "can I do anything to help?" Her fingers tracing into your palm, more specifically her middle and ring finger pushing them into the skin.

The server was your savior for the night, coming by frequently to give you time to collect yourself from Lilia. Trying your absolute best to pull your brain back to this planet. Especially when they brought out the little slice of cake with a candle.

The sight of it sobered you up thankfully. A goofy grin shinning from your glossed lips. "Happy Birthday Lilia," you were sparkling like the flame. This was the moment you waited for all night. To see the hidden child finally be celebrated. To see a woman to finally be celebrated for holding on. To see Lilia being celebrated for just being herself.

She felt the world disappear as she blew out the candle. Feeling the wave of appreciation you sent her way as the smoke swayed into the air. "You really are the sweetest, ya' know? Always taking care of me, from the very start. I knew there was something to you."

You weren't quite sure what that meant but you gave a nervous laugh. "I just know when I like someone I guess. I care about the people I like. You're one of those people. You always will be." Your emotions were mixed within your words and they invaded your eyes.

Lilia let her hand return to your cheek, "you make me feel special when you look at me like that."

It was the perfect opening, "it's cause you are. You've been special...and kooky." You teased her back finally. Her eyes narrowing just slightly at you, her hand falling and retreating. But you grabbed it and held it for a second, "I mean it. You are special Lilia. I've been trying to get you to realize that." A weight had crumbled from your shoulders. Even if it wasn't a direct confession, it made you feel open enough that she had a grasp of the idea.

She sighed and focused on how your fingers played with her rings. Your touch was soft and precise. She should've known that though, with how you work with clay and design such intricate shapes, of course you had skilled hands. "You might be the only one who thinks that much of me."

"Good, only I can think of you." It came flying out quicker than you noticed. Once Lilia let out a rumbling laugh, you caught up.

"What? You wanna be my only baby or something?" The confidence she radiated made you feel hot. You put yourself in this situation.

If you backed down, you'd never know. If she said no, that she didn't feel the same, you'd be ok with that. You might spend the night crying and alone but that'll be ok.

"What if I do?" You tried to match her, not even coming close when she shifted more forward. Her canine teeth barred themselves to you. The light making them look sharper than you've ever noticed.

Her tongue darted out, catching your attention to those lips again. Your breathing picked up and you felt on the edge like you've never been before. It was a long drop, you knew that, but if you just got one kiss you'd happily fall. Hell, you'd full sprint off the edge while laughing hysterically.

You pried away and back to her eyes. They were now dark rivers in the night. Lust swimming around and creating little waves of reflected moonlight. This was a look you never knew could be real. "You wanna be mama's good girl don't you?"

The names. The look. Her touch under yours. It was earth shattering. Like everything you had built and had made was only the second important thing to you. The first was her. The first had always been her. "Yes...yes please." Your eyes glossed over in seconds. Succumbing to her dominance and slipping bashful.

Lilia grew a grin that was a combination of everything from sweet and nurturing to hot and destructive. "Is that really what you want, baby?"

Your head nodded while your lips slightly parted. "Yes, more than anything. Please..." the server came back around once more with your card and the final receipt. Wishing you both a goodnight, and Lilia another birthday wish. You signed it smoothly and then huffed yourself back into the reality of what was just happening. "I really do want this."

Lilia hadn't taken you as one to have such a deep headspace, so when you were really meeting her gaze she knew it couldn't have been easy to come back from it. She was the first to stand, wrapping herself in the yellow coat. It was then she came and stood closer to you, having the higher advantage. "I do too, believe me." She leaned forward and kiss your forehead. "I do too, baby." Her kisses must've been powerful because your eyes were blown all over again. You had fallen deep back into it. She couldn't help to hold your soft cheek at it all, it was one of her new favorite moments. "Why don't we go see that show?"

You beamed and nodded. Pulling your own coat over your dress. You were instant to intertwine your fingers, letting her pull you on out but keeping you close behind. You already were a fan of holding her hand, never wanting to let go.

The only time you did was when you sat and her hand held your thigh. She left it there the entire show. It was a distraction just being still, it was derailment when her nails scratched up and down. You had tried to grab her hand and hold it still, yet she would only turn and give you this warning look before returning to the stage. You let go and traced shapes into her hand to focus from her ministrations.

It was the end of the show and not a single line had reached you. You just stood with everyone else while clapping along. The echoing applause sounded the same as the crackling of fire that was your skin. Lilia had you warming up with such light touches. But eventually, it all died down and the cool air of outside is sizzling your skin out.

"Did you like it?" Lilia had asked you, a little eager to know your thoughts on such a show. You only nodded, attempting to play it like you had been paying attention and not thinking of her and all the things she might do to you. Those wised eyes knew though, she knew you hadn't caught a single thing said the moment her hand touched your soft thigh. "Yeah? And what was your favorite part?"

"The acting." You so simply stated. Hoping it was good enough for her to not continue to press. But that would be too easy.

"Who's?" She raised her brow and all you could do was give her a blankness look while walking closer to the car. "You weren't paying attention were you?" The guilt filled your body and answered in itself. Lilia's curls danced around her as her head shook. "That truly is a shame, it's an amazing play."

Your frown was quick to appear, "'m sorry...it's just...you didn't make it easy..." you apologized. Stepping into her space and looping your arm with hers.

"Oh so it's my fault?" She lowly chuckled out her question. A cocky smile filling the silence as you stuttered out sounds but no words. "I'm just teasing you, baby. Don't get yourself so worked up over it."

"And because of your teasing I couldn't pay attention." You bit the inside of your cheek, leaning against her to throw off her balance. Succeeding in the efforts and snickering.

Lilia laughed with you, even as she regained herself. Her arm slipped from yours and her hand settled on your back. "Did I tease you the entire time to work you up? Maybe. And maybe pretty girl, I plan to finish what I started at home."

You rounded to stand in front of her, cheeks turning red but the night dimming it out. Her lips were curled with a smirk that implied everything you needed to know. Soon it was you holding her hand and dragging her to the car.

~

It started with her straddling your lap in the center of your bed. Her lips kissing all over yours and down your neck, finding every right spot to leave you gasping. The feeling felt overwhelming, to finally have her kissing you. It was feeling like everything was hypersensitive. Stinging with pleasure as she continued all over.

Your hand slipped into her curls, twisting your fingers with the pattern and holding her close. She knew how to work a body and it showed.

Lilia also knew how to stake her claim. Leaving bruises all down the spans of your neck. A silent thought to show the town you were no longer available rang in her head. And when your hand found her hair, she only could groan against you. You needed her just as she needed you. It made her blood rush with anticipation. She wanted to make you feel better than you've ever felt. Really secure her place in your mind. Making sure nobody could ever come in and kick her out.

Her lips were plush against your pulse. Even when they covered her teeth as they sunk into you, the moan slipped straight from your throat. Your free hand flew to steady yourself on her hip, feeling the heat radiating from her. How it seeped through her clothes and onto your exposed skin.

"Lilia..." You hummed before swallowing thickly. You didn't know what you were actually asking for, all you knew is you wanted more of her. In your sight, on your tongue, in your hands, echoing in your ears, and filling your every breath. The very feeling of her on you wasn't enough as you really caved into her. "Mama..."

Her hum vibrated against you, "Yes baby?" You whined at the pet name finally. Knowing that if there was anytime to let her know her effect it was here and now. And the way she called you 'baby' always tickled something deeply rooted in your brain.

You sighed out, the hand on her hip began fisting her top. Begging her closer, "more..."

"So needy...I bet you've been needing me for a while haven't you?" Her movements lightened to almost ghostly passes. It made your skin crawl with goosebumps. "You're the perfect gift for me baby." She spoke low and with rasp. "My perfect girl."

You gasped at the claim. "All yours..." you tightened your grip. Just the subtle touches of her, the amber and deep musk invading your lungs, the sounds of her lips on your skin, sucking, bruising you, everything. It was everything this woman was doing and also wasn't doing that drove you into override. Your mind felt hazy and your body felt hot and tingly. "Mm..please mama...I need more." You whined.

Lilia pulled off, cupping your cheek and seeing that long gone look in your eyes. Your pupils dilated to the very brim of color. "I hear you baby," she hummed. It was effortless to get you to lie down. All it took was a glance back at the pillows and you were crawling frantically to get comfortable. "You look so damn adorable in this dress. Just like a doll."

Your cheeks warmed further and you couldn't help the small grin. "Thank you, I bought it just for you," you bashfully confessed. And suddenly you were on your knees showing yourself off to her.

"Isn't that just sweet of you, dressing for me already. And you're so well mannered baby, you really did want to be my good girl." She smirked as your head bobbed in agreement with a proud smile. "You'll be good for me right? Even when mama buries her cock so deep in you?"

Her hands were holding you firmly in place and she was back in your space. On you without even an inch apart. Lilia was struggling to keep her control and work you up...but fuck you for being so precious. She couldn't help the need to destroy it. To make you her slutty baby.

Her shuddering breath made you lower back down from her. Sitting back on your heels and staring up at her. "Yeah...yes..yes I'll be good even then. Promise," you batted your lashes.

The lust in her eyes deepened to something darker. "Mama's gonna have so much fun with you baby."

You glowed with innocence as you eagerly settled your self back into the pillows again, this time Lilia trapped you down with her hands on either side of you. Her devilish smile seemed nothing of mischief to you, so you were giggling up to her. Relishing in what you thought would be slow and languished.

How naive you were.

Lilia's lips were latching to your chest completely disregarding your already bruised neck, making you gasp and cry. But she made a whole new mural of purple across your collar bones. Leaving your chest rising in deep breaths. "Nobody's gonna think you're single now baby. No more rumors with you and anyone else."

You tried to catch yourself to respond but before you knew it her lips were pressing over your covered stomach. "I'm gonna fuck you in and out of this dress so nicely, baby. The things you make me want to do."

"Mama..." you whined while your hips bucked into the air, bumping into her chest. It made you realized how clothed she is against you and your dress. Your hand grabbed her shoulder, fisting the shirt just once more and pulling carefully at it. "Your shirt...off please." You were polite even in your stare as she obliged.

Letting you drink in the sight as she undid each button one by one. Soon the white fabric was on the floor and she was in just her white bra. Her boobs spilling out just right. Your eyes twinkled with thoughts of kissing them and sucking on them. Making her moan and hum in delight.

Lilia must've seen the gears turning cause she returned to kissing her way down. "When I'm done with you, then you can have whatever you need from me. Got it?"

Your head agreed, "yes mama." Your eyes focused on her between your legs. You were desperate to burn it into your brain. More desperate for her to actually eat you out though.

Lilia was kissing all around your core. Your thighs were left with even more love bites than your chest. "I can't wait to taste how sweet my girl is." She pressed her lips to your clit, smiling to herself as you sharply inhaled and body stilled. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling your white panties down and off your legs.

The cold air over your wetness made you shiver in anticipation. It was when her warm breath fanned over you did you cry out. "Please, I need you so bad mama. I can't take any longer." You pleaded.

It was the richest honey her ears had ever been given. Her tongue flattened against you and in one swipe she collected as much of you as she could. Humming in content at your taste that was all hers. This was her secret stash of honey that only she'd ever be allowed to use. And she couldn't get enough.

Her tongue ravage you in ways you didn't expect. Like she had done this so much it was practically second nature. The thought made you shift slightly, but Lilia seemed to know you in this state like the back of her cards. "I've never had anyone like you baby. I just can't get enough. You're so fucking sweet. So...god who did I please to get you? Hmm? My sweet, sweet fucking girl."

Your body loosened and began to heat up. The coil in your stomach tightening in the most delicious ways. "Ma..mama..don't stop please.."

She hummed against you again, picking up her pace and pushing harder against you. Slurping up as much of you as she could as you came with a cry of her name. Her actual name.

You had snapped back to feel the reality of it for just one moment. To grab her hand and squeeze it as she kept licking and sucking at you. And then as conscious as you were, you were back to whining for her.

Lilia delivered one last lick before placing kisses all over your hips and thighs. Trailing all the way up to your lips, were you both hummed at the taste of you. "We're gonna have issues now that I know you're just a piece of my favorite candy. I'll never be able to resist you, baby."

You, still trying to catch a steady breathing, giggled. "You're exaggerating, mama." Your hand cupped her cheek and you smiled widely once again.

Yet, Lilia only crashed her lips to yours once again. This time a little more rough as her tongue slipped in while you gasped. Establishing itself and dancing lead with yours. She was making sure you tasted what she just did. And when she pulled back, her eyes were sharper as they stared down at you. "The way I'm going to fuck you will make you realize just how humble you are. That you wont believe that's how people want to do you. But only mama will get you. Only mama."

It was much more commanding now. The air felt thicker and you felt your body melt into the mattress you were in flames.

Your heavy breathes were the only thing to be heard as Lilia stood and riffed of her pants. Swaying her hips as she disappeared out the room. You took the minute she was gone to just breathe and calm your racing heart beat.

All your efforts were instantly thrown out however. Lilia returned, and much to her word, she had a rather large strap around her waist. Although it looked rather real if you had any say. She pointed towards the ground in front of her. Flashing her sharp teeth as you obeyed and she was able to collect a fistful of your hair. "Go on. Suck mama before she ruins you."

You loved this switch. Yes her softness and delicacy were nice, but this side of her made your skin crawl with heat. She was dominating everything from your body to your mind. There was nothing besides Lilia.

Your plush lips wrapped around just the tip and Lilia's brows twitched for a split second. You had begun to bob up and down her, chalking it up to be the sight getting her off the most. It was when her hips began to roll with the movement of you, hitting deeper in your throat. Then her hand in your hair had begun to tighten and her hips started snapping faster. She was throat fucking you. Groaning and gasping at the desperate way you held her thighs to stabilize yourself as tears rolled past your temples. All while you kept your eyes on hers.

With one last deep thrust, warmth had shot down the back of your throat and Lilia gave a shaky moan. Her hand let up in your hair and you slipped her out your mouth. You swallowed once to get everything down. Cheeks bright red as you stared at the twitching appendage. White cum still oozed slowly out the tip and your eyes had jumped up.

But Lilia didn't explain anything, she just pointed to the bed. "On all fours baby." Was the only instruction.

Apart of you was in conflict. Something was whispering so quietly to pull out of the deep space you were in. It was so quiet it was gone with the sound of floor creaking under your knees as you stood. Finding your spot in the middle, exactly how Lilia wanted you. Listening to the room around you to find the woman.

Her wised hands ran over your hips, one up your spin and to your neck. Pushing you down into the mattress. Her fingers ghosted the curve of your body. "And look, there's even a bow in the back." She played with the fabric a little before flipping it over to bare your ass to her. She was memorized by your glistening folds. "You're impeccable, baby." She held your hips more firm and lined herself up. "Mama's gonna take such good care of you baby. Don't ever worry again."

You let out a strangled moan as she bottomed out, letting out her own grunt as well. Her chest was pressed against your back as she gave you both a second to adjust. And after five, she was slowly easing into her pace. Pulling all the way to the tip, just to slam all the way back in. "Look at you, already taking me so well." Her lips pressed against your spine.

"Th..thank you..'mmhh..mama," you managed. Your hands fisted at the sheets and your hips started to push back against her. Helping her to find a deeper, softer spot. Once she registered it was your sweet spot her hips moved quicker.

Snapping against you and pounding you into the mattress. "Fuck baby...I don't think I can ever let you leave now. Not when you're sucking me in like this." It was brutal how quick she was moving.her hand snuck around your body and two fingers circled around your clit.

"Fuck...fuck me mama. Just like that. Please, please, please just like that." You felt your breath hitch in your throat and your body tighten. It felt all so good, so warm, so right. You clenched around her as you let a moan echo into the room.

But Lilia kept going. Her pace never faltering as she just slammed into you. Her nails digging into your beautiful hips, pulling you back against each thrust. It felt like she had began to find deeper as your body was working up all over again.

"You're so captivating baby, ever since the day you first arrived. I couldn't help myself but want more of you. And denying you..god that was the worst part. I was denying myself. But now, now we're done denying." You heard her words but they felt like muffled harmonies just passing through.

Your body tensed again and you were crying out again. "Mama..." you tried to get away, leaning forward out her grasp.

Yet she had one last thrust in her. She let you slip just away enough, that when she slid right back through your tight warmth, she found the golden spot. Sending you into an intense aftershock and she filled you full and groaned against your shoulder. Her arm hooked around your waist and held you still with her.

Both of you panting and hardly having anything to say. "Let's get you out this dress." She whispered, kissing your sweating temple.

You felt her slip right out of you and lean back. The sound of the harness coming undone caught your ear, yet it never hit the floor. Using your remains strength you pushed up to look for it. But it wasn't anywhere to be found. And when you looked to Lilia, she was walking away from you into the bathroom.

Your mind only thought it over so long before Lilia was returning in a shirt and with a wet towel. She offered you a hand to stand which you took. It was subtle the next moment. Her hands untying the dress and freeing you from it. The pink fell to your feet and you were suddenly butt naked in front of Lilia. Blushing madly as you caught her eyes in the mirror.

She licked her lips. "Oh baby...we might have to do a round two."

~

"That wasn't part of the plan Lilia!" Agatha scolded the older witch. "I need my walking darkhold conscious and aware of reality. Not whimpering and begging mama!"

Lilia sat in the chair feeling ashamed. It wasn't meant to happen. They were supposed to come and pull you from the many witches and warlocks who've added to the Scarlet Witch's curse. Those who knew of your knowledge worked to conceal you into your fairytale life.

But when Agatha Harkness formed a coven to walk The Witches Road successfully, she needed more. She needed you. The walking Darkhold. Secluded and alone between an apartment and clay shop. They were nice enough to give you two locations unlike Agatha.

"Ok, well let's think. She's oblivious to us all having powers. So we're still clear of being detected as anything." Alice pointed out the pro.

"I've been doing pottery with magic for how long and she hasn't noticed." Agatha added. Her blue eyes trained to Lilia as she thought. "Did you use any magic at home?"

Her big brown eyes shifted to look away. "Last night I did..." she murmured but the coven easily knew what she said.

"Oh my god Lilia! You man," Billy nudged her while walking by to get a drink from the kitchen. "So what if you ease her to question it? You have the deepest, no pun intended, connection with her. Drop things of the darkhold to her."

"Are we sure giving Agatha Harkness back the thing is a good idea anyways?" Jen crossed her arms, being against this idea in the beginning.

"She's not a thing." Lilia and Agatha said at the same time. Eyeing each other in suspicion.

"Let's run with Maximoff's idea. What if you mention details I feed you? Ones I know she knows on the fly? I'll write them down and you'll leave them about the place." Agatha played off the boys thought.

"And what if it doesn't work?" Lilia raised the opposing. Apart of her didn't want to break you out. She wanted you all to herself. If you were out you'd be spending all your time with Agatha trying to recreate the Darkhold.

Alice crossed her arms and held herself a little tighter. "We have no choice but to try Lilia. What harm could it bring?"

"Unleashing the last source of spells that have been put into a hook called 'The Darkhold' for a reason." Jen scoffed. As much as she didn't like the idea, she was running with it to free someone 'bound'. She knew that feeling herself.

Agatha hurried around and scribbled down spells onto a variety of sticky notes. In total making seven and handing them to the divination witch. "I need her out the spell Calderu. Don't let whatever feelings you conjured for her little personality ruin this. Or so help me, I will walk in next time and drag her out."

It was an honest promise kore than a threat. Lilia knew that. "Fine. I'll put them around the house tonight before she comes home."

"Good girl," Agatha hummed before leading them out the apartment. After Jen had left, the brunette turned one more time. "Lilia. Get this done so we don't have to be vicious."

So she did. She placed the spells in the places she knows you go straight for when you get home. One in the key bowl by the door, one in the bathroom on the mirror, your pajama drawer, on your nightstand by your charger, the fridge on your fruit punch, in the cup cabinet, and lastly on the black tv screen. It was impossible to miss any of them.

But it didn't prepare her for what you had planned for coming home. You waltzed in basically shinning with joy as you pecked her cheek. She sat in the living room, anxiously waiting your arrival.

"Today was so busy! Busy but good!" You clearly missed the note in the key bowl. There were six other chances. "Pour me juice and I'll be right out," you gave her another peck and we're off into the room.

You first collected something to change into. Feeling a sweats and boxer outfit, you collected the black sweats from the closet and boxers from the top drawer. Grabbing a hoodie as well and throwing it all on to the bed.

Heading into the bathroom next. In need to wash away all the grime and clay that lingered. The note caught your attention first. Your brows furrowed and you mumbled over the words. Something about them felt staticy on your tongue. You even went as far to check yourself in the mirror.

In all, with the new unease you continued through your routine. You were changing clothes when the house just seemed too warm for a hoodie, so you swapped it for a tank. Another note with gibberish was lying on top. Had Lilia placed these about? What are they and why in your drawer?

You kept moving about, finding another next to your charger. You figured you could ask if you brought them to her. Including the one you caught on the tv. "Lilia? What are these notes?" You had four in your hands and none of them made sense.

"Baby...I need you to really concentrate. Do they seem familiar at all?" Her brown eyes were wide with pleads. None of this was making sense to you. "Have you tried saying them out loud?"

"They're in a language I don't even know. What is it even? Latin?" You wildly guessed. You took your spot right next to her and kept trying to read them. "I'm a bit confused. This feels like earlier when Rio stopped by...said something about reality and I just assumed she was making a bad joke."

"Yeah? And what did she say?" Lilia stood, briefly leaving your side to grab the other three. Bringing them back and setting all seven on the coffee table.

You shrugged while staring. "She was on about Agatha needing me in a different reality. Like we knew each other somewhere else. Then she said this one was cute and boring. I need an adventure." You intently focused on the fifth note. "You know Latin right? Said you took a class? Can't you read these?"

"I can, but it's not about me." She shook her head.

"Then what's this about?" You picked up the note and really traced the letters. "This one kinda seems familiar. Like I've seen these letters arranged once before." You kept repeating what you could.

Eventually your broken syllables turned into words. Then you were chanting them. Your body shook with a cold rush that ran all through your veins. You've known this feeling before. Your eyes fell to the other notes, realizing what they were. You knew these spells.

"Oh thank- fucking finally hun!" Agatha's voice barged into the room.

"Oh my- Harkness what the hell happened?" You shot up. Where were you and who were these people around you? Your eyes dropped to your hands, so did Agatha's.

Her chuckle of relief washed the room. "Oh you still have it all. Oh, the Scarlet Witch. She destroyed every copy of the Darkhold. But not you. You got buried deep. Weeks. Months of coven work to get you freed."

You scoffed. "Please, Agatha Harkness and a coven? That's the biggest joke I've heard in my life. Is that who these people all are? Your coven?" Your bite was so familiar for the purple witch, but new to everyone who'd met your false personality.

"I see why you two get along." Jen huffed, taking a seat over on a stool. "So how'd you meet her Darkhold?"

"Unintentionally. She was fucking around with the book, casted a spell and poof! The literal embodiment of all those spells and things you would let take over your morales." Your smile was sickening.

"Yeah, well I need you." Agatha cut the rest of the conversation. Snapping her fingers in your face to get your focus. "I need your knowledge. I need you to rewrite the book."

You sighed, "it's always need, need, need with you Agatha."

"I just freed you from how many curses? This is how you respond?" She was in disbelief.

You nodded, "uhh yeah! I was only in that curse cause of you! Dragged my ass to Westview and played house and now look! Whose house are we even in?!" Your hands were wildly gesturing.

"Yours! Well yours and Lilia's. Ya know? Mama?" Agatha's brow arched and her smile was nothing but teasing. "I know you remember more of those months than you're letting one."

Your eyes dropped to the oldest witch by your side. Well...technically you're the oldest living thing in the room. "You fucked me with a magical dick?" Your brows furrowed. Her cheeks blushed heavily at your forwardness. "I wanna put a pin in that for sure, but in the mean time. Even if we do recreate the Darkhold, it won't be the same. Especially since I have a horrible drawing hand so I could get you the correct formations for certain rituals."

"I don't need rituals! I need power," she groaned. Her hands on your shoulders and pushing you down to the couch. She crouched and held your hands. "You hold over thousands years of dark magic up in the pretty brain of yours hun. I need you to use it for me ok?"

Lilia tensed at the way Agatha was speaking to you. Like she had once been the one to dominate you. "That's because I am well into at least my five thousands."

The three in the kitchen finally took further interest in you. "Hold on," Billy pipped up. Rushing over to hover over you as well. "You're over five thousand years old?"

"I'm the embodiment of that dumb book, yeah. Unfortunately. And you kid, your mother was a pain in my ass. I mean seriously, even under everything, every curse, spell, binding, I could feel her using the book. She never slept, kept me lingering for ever." You pointed before dropping to Agatha again.

"What do you say, hun? Just like old times?" Her blue eyes were silently, and so hidden deeply, begging you.

Lilia was for sure you'd go. That those dark fingertips that used to be clear from all mischief would run off to cause destruction. Leaving her forgotten.

"No."

The room erupted in to confused 'huh's. Except for Jen who was laughing in Agatha's face at the backfiring of her plan.

"What the fuck do you mean no?" Her hands gestured in your lap for any explanation to this.

Your eyes found Lilia. "I want to stay here with her. You're right, I do remember those months. And I remember how real it felt with Lilia. Unfortunately do hope as the Darkhold, I'm still accepted." You were in just her world. "I can give you everything."

To engrossed in those deep swirls, you missed Agatha groaning as she got up. Already just accepting her defeat on having you fully, but she was going to get those spells.

Lilia's hand had come up to your cheek, a thumb stroking over it as her heart swelled. "You really mean it?"

"You'll have to relearn me is the only downside." You placed your dark fingertips on her hand. Finally drawing all the rooms attention to them. The blackness ran far up your arms and under your shirt.

"Wait, wait, wait. Before you go swearing yourself into marriage Bookie I need to know you'll at least give me spells when I need them? I just need something, anything from you." She had that signature annoyed look she always had with you.

"If you ever call me that again I'm not helping you. But for now you have yourself a deal. But don't think you're getting any of the good ones." You hummed, not really paying any mind to her anymore.

"We should go before they start making out..." Alice mumbled, watching you and Lilia get closer and closer slowly. It was comedic how they all scurried out.

The door closing as you, the knowledge of the Darkhold, laughed the wondrous Madame Calderu for the first time clearly.

"I never gave you your gift did it?" The question fell from your lips softly. You were quieter when with just two people. Her curls shook left and right. "Yeah..you did fuck me pretty good. Imma go get it, I know pottery me would've wanted you to actually have it."

You pressed a kiss to the back of her hands and went to get the bag in the corner of your room. Bringing it back with you to the living room. "Here, she even wrapped it according to you."

"You say she like it still wasn't you?" Lilia sensed the disassociation with roommate she fell heavily for.

Your head shook, "I know that she wasn't me. I would've never made anything in bed that easy." Your smile was still the same though. Even if the eyes with it were full of contained wickedness and chaos. "Go on, pretty girl. Open it."

Her cheeks heated under your prominent gaze. You're right, you wouldn't have made sex easy. As she pulled out the white and yellow paper, she couldn't help to think of how the age gap has shifted. You were millenniums before her. She wasn't even close to one thousand. Her hands touched something cool. Grasping around it and pulling it up.

It was a ceramic card holder. The details being all so familiar to the witch. They were the same ones she painted long ago by her own hand. It was almost replicas of each card lining around the sides. But the cover was her most favorite part, the big queen of cups stared up at her. Except the difference was the color in curls. They weren't red and young like how Lilia's was, these were peppered like hers now. Like the face you had met.

"You knew?" Her eyes leaped to yours as her fingers couldn't help to take in every inch of texture.

Your head nodded slowly, "I always had an inkling I was missing something but I wasn't ever going to piece together the truth. And it was the amount of attention the card. I figured one plus one equals two... do you like it?"

"Baby I love it. Thank you." She whispered so gently. This time she leaned in. Her wised smile pressing to your goofy one. It felt natural already and made all the chaos you hold disappear into a void of knowledge.

She was someone you could get used to.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

I know I don't usually reblog anything but that doesn't count if it's my own work haha. 😂

I'm reblogging this because HOW THE HECK DOES THIS HAVE SO MANY MORE NOTES THAN MY ACTUAL COMPILED STORIES MASTERLIST?? Like how?

I'm so confused. AND the fact that the part 1 of this same 2-part story doesn't even have HALF the amount of notes this one does? Whaaaaat???

Thank you everyone for all the love this story's been getting! Honestly I wasn't expecting this one to be nearly as popular as a lot io my other series, but hey, I'm not complaining! It's a nice surprise considering I'm likely one of the least-well-known writers on Tumblr.

Whumpee & His Collar part 2

Warnings: tight collar around Whumpee's neck, severely restricted breathing, mentions of beating and past torture & conditioning, panic attack and choking

The collar was tight around his neck, digging into his skin with every strained breath he took.

"Oh honey, I promised I wouldn't hurt you here, and I keep my promises," Caretaker tried to soothe. "Why don't you want the collar off?"

"What did I do wrong?" Whumpee choked out.

"What did you... do wrong?" Caretaker echoed, confused. "You did nothing wrong, Whumpee -- what gave you that impression?"

Whumpee pointed with a shaky finger to the collar around his neck. "Y-You were going to take it off, which means I did something horrific and need to be thoroughly punished for it." He couldn't understand why, but he saw Caretaker's eyes fill with sad tears.

"I... think I understand now. But you're not with Whumper anymore," Caretaker spoke softly. "New house, New rules, okay? You will never be hurt here. Not even with your collar off."

Whumpee found it hard to believe her words. His entire life revolved around this collar, it gave him a clear sense of direction and purpose. So that he would always know what to expect at any given time, depending on how tight it was strapped around his throat.

But Caretaker hadn't done anything with it in all the time since his rescue. So... maybe she was telling the truth...

Whumpee's chest was heaving with the effort to keep breathing by now, his mouth gaped open as he gasped and choked on sobs.

"Whumpee, please -- you're going to pass out if you keep it up. Please let me take it off. I promise I won't hurt you, and I will always love and care for you. Do you trust me?" Caretaker reached her hands out toward him, pausing a few inches away as though waiting for permission to make contact. Giving Whumpee a choice, to accept or deny her help.

Whumpee squeezed his eyes shut tight, terrified beyond belief, but forced himself to give a shallow nod. But he still reflexively flinched when he felt Caretaker's warm hands gently cup his face, a soothing and comforting presence.

"You're going to be okay, Whumpee, just breathe..."

Whumpee tried his absolute best to obey, he really did, to be good and perfect for her -- but it was just so difficult with the tight collar in place, his situation worsened by the panicked hyperventilating. He felt Caretaker's hands gently slide down from his jaw to his neck, carefully fiddling with the clasp keeping the collar on him.

The fear washed over him all over again, but he managed to hold still as Caretaker finally unbuckled the collar and took it off completely. Cold air hit the skin where the collar always rested for the first time in weeks, a sensation so unnatural and foreign to him.

Then there were strong arms around him, pulling him away from the wall he was curled up and cowering against and into a fierce hug.

“You're so brave, Whumpee, so so brave” Caretaker praised comfortingly, running a soothing hand through his hair in the way she knew he liked most.

Whumpee trembled like a fragile leaf in her arms with a whine, burying his face into her shoulder, and clinging to her desperately like a lifeline. It felt different to be able to properly breathe again, so strange after he'd gotten used to the calculated, measured breaths he'd take whenever the collar was on.

He gulped it down greedily, sucking in as much fresh air as he could with each deep breath. Caretaker was right, it felt so much better to have the torturous collar off.

“Y-You're not going to abandon me now that's it off, are you?” Whumpee asked quietly, his voice wobbly and uncertain.

“Never, Whumpee, never,” Caretaker answered firmly. There was no hesitation whatsoever in her tone, and Whumpee wanted to cry again – in gratitude this time instead of fear.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Caretaker,” Whumpee mumbled into her shoulder.

“Always,” Caretaker whispered into his ear. An eternal promise, one that she would forever keep.

⏪️ Back

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[scarletwinterxx]

breaking the ice - chwe vernon scenario

scrolled through tiktok too much now i'm simping over vernon🫠

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold air inside the ice rink nipped at your skin as you pulled your coat tighter around yourself. You weren’t much of a sports fan, but when your cousin, Chan, practically begged you to come watch his game, you couldn’t say no.

"It's gonna be fun! Just come once, and if you hate it, I won't ask again," he had insisted over the phone.

And that's how you found yourself in the bleachers, watching a group of guys in bulky gear chase a puck across the ice. You weren’t clueless—you knew the basic rules—but you weren’t about to start screaming at referees like some of the other fans. You were here for one reason: Chan.

The game was intense, fast-paced, and honestly more interesting than you expected. You followed your cousin’s movements as he skated past an opponent and passed the puck to a teammate. The crowd roared when the puck was slapped straight into the goal.

You clapped, smiling as Chan pumped his fist in the air. That’s my cousin, you thought proudly.

Then, your eyes drifted to the player who had taken the shot. Number 16. He skated back toward Chan, giving him a nod of acknowledgment before the two joined the rest of the team.

You squinted.

The name on the back of his jersey read "Chwe"

You weren’t sure why, but something about him stood out. He wasn’t showy like some of the other players who thrived on the crowd’s attention. He barely reacted after scoring, just gave a small nod before skating off.

"Who’s number 16?" you asked the girl sitting beside you, who had been squealing nonstop.

She gawked at you. "You don’t know Chwe Vernon?!"

You blinked. "Should I?"

She looked at you like you had just committed a crime. "He's literally one of the best players on the team! And super famous! His family's Korean-American, and he's been playing since he was a kid. How do you not know him?"

You shrugged. "I don’t really follow hockey."

The girl sighed dramatically. "You’re missing out. He’s, like, effortlessly cool and insanely good."

You turned back to the rink, watching as Vernon—Chwe Vernon, apparently—glided across the ice. Effortlessly cool, huh? You weren’t convinced.

After the game, you waited for Chan outside the locker rooms. The hallway was filled with people—some reporters, some fans, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the players.

When the team finally emerged, Chan spotted you instantly. "Hey!" He grinned, walking over. His hair was damp from the shower, and he still had a towel draped around his neck. "So? Did I impress you?"

"You did great," you said, ruffling his hair, making him groan. "Proud cousin moment."

"Good. I need you to come to more games for good luck."

"Don't push it," you teased.

Before he could respond, someone else walked past you—number 16. Vernon.

Chan called out to him. "Hyung!"

Vernon turned his head slightly, slowing his pace. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were. He had this laid-back, unreadable expression, like nothing ever surprised him.

Chan gestured toward you. "This is my cousin, the one I told you about."

You arched a brow. "You talked about me?"

Chan ignored you. "This is Vernon."

Vernon gave you a short nod. "Hey."

That was it. Just one word. No handshake, no smile.

You crossed your arms. "Wow, you’re a real talker, huh?"

Chan coughed, trying to stifle a laugh.

Vernon just blinked. "Not really."

You stared at him, waiting for him to say more. He didn't. This guy was something else.

"Well, okay" you said your name, breaking the silence. "Since we’re introducing ourselves and all."

He nodded again. "Cool."

You squinted at him. "Do you always talk in one-word sentences?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering your question. "Depends."

You exhaled sharply, turning to Chan. "I’m leaving. This guy’s impossible."

Chan laughed. "That’s just how he is."

You gave Vernon one last glance. He wasn’t unfriendly, just... different. Quiet. Detached.

And yet, something about him made you curious.

A few days later, Chan texted you.

Chan: Come to our next game. You: Why? Chan: Because I bet Vernon you wouldn’t come. You: …You bet on me? Chan: Yeah. He said you wouldn’t bother. I said you would. You: What do I get if I show up? Chan: The satisfaction of proving Vernon wrong. You: Tempting. Chan: Also, if I win, Vernon has to buy me dinner. So do it for me.

You sighed, staring at the text. You weren’t the type to back down from a challenge. Contemplating for only a few moments before shooting Chan one last message saying you'd go.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d get a reaction out of Vernon this time.

The next game rolled around quicker than expected. You hadn’t initially planned to attend, but the thought of proving Vernon wrong was too tempting.

So there you were, sitting in the bleachers again, this time with a smirk on your face as you spotted number 16 skating onto the ice.

Chan was the first to notice you. From where he stood, he shot you a triumphant grin, raising his fist in victory. You lifted your hand in a mock salute, acknowledging the win.

Vernon, on the other hand, took a bit longer to spot you. When he did, you could swear there was a brief flicker of surprise in his usually impassive expression. His eyes met yours for a split second before he coolly looked away. No reaction, no acknowledgment—just Vernon being Vernon.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it? Fine.

The game started, and as expected, it was intense. You found yourself getting more invested than last time, especially when Chan assisted in another goal. But what caught your attention the most was Vernon. He was ridiculously fast on the ice, his movements so fluid and effortless that it was almost unfair to the opposing team.

By the time the final buzzer rang, their team had won. The crowd erupted into cheers, and even you found yourself clapping.

Chan was practically bouncing when he ran over to you after the game. “Ha! Told you! I knew you’d come.”

You smirked. “Enjoy your free dinner.”

Before Chan could respond, Vernon walked up behind him. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and he looked as composed as ever despite just finishing a game.

“You actually showed up,” he said, voice neutral.

“I did.” You crossed your arms. “Surprised?”

He shrugged. “A little.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not gonna admit you were wrong?”

He blinked, considering. “Nope.”

Chan burst out laughing. “He’d rather die than say that.”

You turned back to Vernon. “Well, I did come. So now you owe Chan dinner. Hope you have deep pockets.”

Vernon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I do.”

You weren’t sure why, but the idea of Vernon being slightly inconvenienced by this bet made you a little too satisfied.

Chan clapped a hand on Vernon’s shoulder. “Since I’m getting a free meal, you should come too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me?”

Chan nodded. “Yeah, you’re the reason I won the bet. Might as well let you enjoy the victory too.”

You glanced at Vernon, half-expecting him to protest, but he just nodded. “Up to you.”

You weren’t sure if he genuinely didn’t care or if he was just going along with it because Chan said so. Either way, you weren’t about to back down.

“Fine,” you said. “Let’s go.”

You ended up at a small Korean barbecue place not too far from the rink. It wasn’t fancy, but it smelled amazing. Vernon, true to his word, paid without complaint, though you noticed he didn’t exactly look thrilled about it. You didn’t feel bad in the slightest.

As the food started cooking, Chan filled the silence with his usual chatter. You had always liked how easygoing he was, able to carry conversations without effort.

“So,” Chan said, turning to Vernon. “What do you think of my cousin?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “What kind of question is that?”

Chan grinned mischievously. “I just wanna know. Vernon’s not really a people person, so I’m curious.”

You turned your gaze to Vernon, expecting some deadpan answer like “She’s fine” or “She exists.”

Instead, he looked directly at you and said, “She’s different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He tilted his head slightly, considering his words. “Most people try too hard. You don’t.”

You blinked. That was… surprisingly insightful.

Chan nodded approvingly. “That’s a compliment, by the way. Vernon doesn’t say much, but when he does, he means it.”

You studied Vernon for a moment. He was still as unreadable as ever, but now you were intrigued. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

Dinner continued with casual conversation, mostly dominated by Chan. Vernon remained quiet but occasionally chimed in with a dry comment that made you laugh more than expected.

By the end of the night, you realized something strange.

You didn’t dislike him.

In fact, you kind of wanted to see what it would take to get a real reaction out of him.

A week later, you got an unexpected text from Chan.

Chan: You’re not gonna believe this. You: What? Chan: Vernon just asked if you were coming to the next game. You: …You’re lying. Chan: I’m dead serious. He just asked me out of nowhere.

You stared at your phone, processing.

Vernon? Asking about you?

Interesting.

You: Tell him to ask me himself. Chan: LMAO you’re evil.

A few minutes later, another text came in.

Unknown Number: Are you coming? - Vernon

You smirked. So he finally cracked.

This was going to be fun.

Sitting at your desk, you stretched your arms, feeling the exhaustion settle into your bones. The clock on your laptop read 11:47 PM, and you still weren’t done with the reports your supervisor had asked for last minute.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You hadn’t expected your internship to be this demanding, but then again, you had never been the type to slack off. If you were going to do something, you were going to do it well.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

Vernon: Heard you were busy.

You blinked. Of all people, he was texting you? You smirked, quickly typing back.

You: Look at you, sending full sentences. I’m impressed.

A few seconds passed before the typing bubble appeared.

Vernon: I can type. You: Could’ve fooled me.

You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Was it bad that you found this amusing?

You weren’t expecting another text, but then—

Vernon: …You gonna come next time?

Your eyebrows raised slightly. So he did notice you weren’t there.

You debated your response, then decided to push his buttons a little.

You: Why? Did you miss me?

This time, the reply didn’t come immediately. You wondered if you had caught him off guard.

Finally, after a minute—

Vernon: Maybe.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You: …Huh. Didn’t expect that. Vernon: Yeah. Me neither.

That made you pause.

You had been joking before, but now… was he actually admitting something?

You stared at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. No way. This is Vernon. He doesn’t just say things like that.

You decided to test the waters.

You: Careful, Chwe. Almost sounded like you like having me around.

This time, his reply came quicker.

Vernon: Don’t get ahead of yourself. You: Good night, hockey boy. Vernon: Night.

Setting your phone down, you exhaled. That was unexpected.

And oddly… kind of nice.

A few days passed, and you found yourself back to your usual routine—internship, assignments, barely enough time to breathe.

You hadn’t planned on going to the next hockey game either, but then Chan called. "Please," he whined over the phone. "Vernon’s been weird since you didn’t come last time."

You frowned. "Weird how?"

"I don’t know! Just… quiet."

You snorted. "Vernon’s always quiet."

"Yeah, but this time it’s different. Like he’s thinking about something."

That made you pause.

"Are you telling me you think Vernon missed me?" you teased.

Chan groaned. "I’m saying something’s up with him, and I think you should come see for yourself."

You hesitated. You really didn’t have the time, but… now you were curious.

"Fine," you said, "but if I show up and he acts the same, you owe me coffee."

Chan laughed. "Deal."

When you stepped into the ice rink the following evening, the familiar chill made you shiver. You spotted the team warming up, Chan already waving at you from the ice.

Your eyes flickered to Vernon.

He was stretching near the goal, looking as calm and composed as ever. But when he turned his head and spotted you in the stands, something shifted in his expression. It wasn’t dramatic—just a small pause, a barely-there flicker of acknowledgment.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looked away.

You smirked.

Yeah. He definitely noticed.

As the game started, you found yourself watching him more closely. He was fast, efficient, never wasted movement. But every now and then, when there was a break in play, you swore he glanced in your direction.

By the time the game ended, you were already preparing a sarcastic remark for when you saw him.

Chan met you outside the locker room first. "Told you he was acting weird."

You shrugged. "He looks the same to me."

"Trust me," Chan said, "for Vernon, that was basically a full-blown confession."

Before you could respond, Vernon appeared in the hallway. His damp hair fell over his forehead, his usual quiet presence making him seem effortlessly cool.

"You’re here," he said, stopping in front of you.

You crossed your arms. "You sound surprised."

He met your gaze. "A little."

You tilted your head. "Miss me?"

Vernon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You always ask that."

"And you never give me an answer."

He paused, then—

"Maybe."

You blinked. Well that was new. Before you could say anything, he walked past you, heading toward the exit. But as he did, he spoke just loud enough for you to hear

"See you next game."

You stared after him, lips slowly curling into a smile.

Another game day.

The rink buzzed with energy as another game night rolled in. The usual excitement from the crowd filled the air, fans from both teams eager to see their favorites go head-to-head.

Vernon adjusted his helmet as he skated onto the ice, his mind focused—until Chan nudged him.

“Look,” Chan said, nodding toward the stands.

Vernon followed his gaze, and there you were.

His brow furrowed slightly. He wasn’t expecting you. Usually, you’d give Chan a heads-up if you were coming.

“Guess she had time after all,” Chan muttered, but there was something in his tone—something suspicious.

Before Vernon could ask, his eyes flickered to the opposing team warming up. That’s when he saw it. You weren’t just watching the game. You were standing near the barrier, laughing. With him.

Lee Seokmin.

Forward for the rival team. Loud, energetic, and way too familiar with you.

Vernon’s grip on his stick tightened slightly as he watched Seokmin grin at you, leaning against the boards like this was some casual meet-up and not a competitive match.

Chan turned to Vernon, eyes wide. “Did I miss something, or do they know each other?”

“I don’t know,” Vernon said flatly, but now he really wanted to.

After warm-ups, the team headed back to the locker room. Vernon kept quiet, but Chan wasn’t letting this go.

“Okay, seriously,” he said, shoving his helmet into his bag. “What is going on? Why is my cousin talking to Seokmin?”

Joshua, another teammate, overheard and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, your cousin? She knows Seokmin?”

“I don’t know!” Chan said, exasperated. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

Vernon untied his skates, processing. He wasn’t sure why this bugged him, but it did. You weren’t the type to be friendly just for the sake of it—so if you were joking around with Seokmin, there had to be history there.

And for some reason, that annoyed him.

After the game, which ended in a close win for Vernon’s team, you were waiting outside the locker room.

Chan wasted no time. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “Explain.”

You blinked. “Explain what?”

He gestured toward the rink. “Why were you laughing it up with Seokmin before the game?”

You gave him a look. “Because we’re friends?”

Chan’s eyes narrowed. “Since when?”

You sighed, already predicting this reaction. “We used to date. A long time ago. Now we’re just friends.”

Chan’s jaw dropped. Vernon, standing next to him, simply blinked.

“…You dated him?” Chan asked, as if the words didn’t make sense together.

“For, like, five months. It wasn’t that serious.”

Vernon finally spoke. “Why’d you break up?”

You turned to him, surprised he even asked. “We were better off as friends.”

Vernon’s expression didn’t change, but he held your gaze for a beat longer than usual.

Chan, still recovering, groaned. “I feel betrayed.”

You laughed. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Seokmin’s voice interrupted. “Are we talking about me?”

You turned to see Seokmin approaching, still in his team jacket, his ever-present grin in place.

Chan groaned louder. “Oh my god.”

Seokmin laughed, nudging you. “Did you tell them how you used to cheer for my team?”

You smirked. “I left that part out.”

Chan looked like he was about to collapse. “This is so much worse than I thought.”

Vernon, still quiet, glanced between you and Seokmin before saying, “So you’re just friends now?”

You nodded. “Yeah”

He doesn't say anything after that but you could tell there was definitely a reason. And you weren’t going to let it go unnoticed. Meanwhile, Chan was still staring at you like you had just confessed to some deep, dark secret.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He held up a hand. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you and Seokmin—”

“Dated?” Seokmin finished helpfully, grinning. “Yeah, man. Keep up.”

Chan dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead. “How did I not know this? How did no one tell me?”

You shrugged. “We broke up before you even joined the team, and it wasn’t that serious. Plus, you were busy with your own stuff.”

Chan looked genuinely offended. “I feel like I should have felt it or something. Like a disturbance in the Force.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Jedi.”

Meanwhile, Vernon was watching the entire conversation with his usual unreadable expression, but something about his posture was different. He was listening.

Seokmin clapped a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re just slow.”

Chan smacked his hand away. “I’m not slow, I just—ugh! This is so weird!”

You smirked. “Why? Because you hate the idea of me dating anyone or because it’s Seokmin?”

“…Both.” Chan groaned. “This is, like, finding out your best friend and your worst enemy were secretly besties behind your back.”

Seokmin gasped. “Worst enemy? I thought we were friends!”

“You’re my rival, not my friend,” Chan shot back.

Seokmin patted his shoulder. “Rival is just another word for friend who won’t admit it.”

You stifled a laugh as Chan let out another dramatic groan. But while Chan was too busy overreacting, Vernon was still quiet.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You good, hockey boy?”

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a second, he hesitated. Then, in his usual calm voice, he said, “Just surprised. That’s all.”

Seokmin grinned. “Vernon, don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Vernon blinked at him. “Why would I be?”

Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

For a fraction of a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something in Vernon’s expression. Annoyance? Amusement? Something in between?

But, as always, he kept it cool. “Not jealous.”

“Sure,” Seokmin said, clearly not convinced.

You smirked, deciding to push Vernon a little. “I was a great girlfriend.”

Vernon’s eyes flicked to yours again, this time holding your gaze.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice unreadable.

You tilted your head. “Yeah.”

A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Seokmin looked between the two of you and let out a low whistle. “Huh. Interesting.”

Chan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

Seokmin grinned. “I think your cousin has a new favorite hockey player.”

Chan groaned for the fourth time. “I hate everything about tonight.”

You just laughed. But the thing was—Seokmin might not have been entirely wrong.

The night air was crisp as you stepped into the parking lot with Chan and Vernon. The game had ended, and while the rivalry on the ice had been intense, the real battle had been you versus Chan’s endless questions about Seokmin.

Vernon had offered to drive both of you home, claiming it was “on the way,” but you were starting to suspect he just wanted to witness the soap opera unfolding in real time.

Chan, still in full interrogation mode, walked beside you. “Okay, but seriously—how did it even start?”

You sighed, exasperated. “I already told you, Chan. We dated, we broke up, we’re friends now. That’s it.”

Chan scoffed. “That’s not it! I need details. Like, who made the first move?”

Seokmin’s grinning face flashed in your mind. “He did.”

Chan gasped dramatically. “Seokmin made the first move?! What did he do, trip over his own skates and land in your lap?”

You laughed. “No, idiot. He was actually really sweet.”

Vernon unlocked the car and got in without a word, letting Chan get it all out of his system before the drive even started.

As soon as you all settled inside, Chan still wasn’t done.

“So let me get this straight,” he continued from the passenger seat, twisting around to face you. “You, my very strong, very independent cousin, voluntarily dated a hockey player?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Chan. I, a normal human being, dated another normal human being. Groundbreaking.”

Chan shook his head, like this was the biggest scandal of the century. “You always said you’d never date an athlete.”

“Right,” you deadpanned. “Which is why I’m never dating a hockey player again.”

Vernon, silent up until now, suddenly coughed beside Chan. Both you and Chan turned to him.

Vernon kept his eyes on the road, shifting gears like nothing happened.

Chan squinted. “You good?”

Vernon nodded, completely unfazed. “Yeah. Just dry air.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Chan threw his hands up. “Okay, now I really need to know what went down.”

You sighed dramatically. “Do you really want to hear about my tragic love story, or do you want Vernon to get us home in one piece?”

Chan hesitated before reluctantly turning back around. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over.”

From the driver’s seat, Vernon finally spoke again—his voice smooth, unreadable.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes still on the road. “I bet it isn’t.”

Something about the way he said it made you glance at him again. Maybe it was just your imagination. Or maybe, just maybe, Vernon was thinking about how you might not keep that promise after all.

The hum of the engine filled the car as Vernon smoothly maneuvered through the late-night traffic. The city lights blurred past, casting fleeting shadows across his face. You sat in the backseat, arms crossed, while Chan sat in the passenger seat, still digesting your revelation about Seokmin.

"Okay," Chan started again, shifting to look at you, "so you’re telling me you went from hating the idea of dating an athlete to actually dating one?"

You groaned. "Chan—"

"No, no," he interrupted, waving his hands. "I just need to understand the timeline. When did this betrayal happen?"

Vernon let out a short breath, which you swore sounded like a laugh, though his face remained unreadable.

"You make it sound like I committed a crime," you said, rolling your eyes. "It was, like, a year and a half ago."

Chan gasped. "A year and a half ago?! That recently? And I’m just finding out now?"

"Look, it wasn’t a big deal," you said. "We went on a few dates, had fun, realized we were better as friends, and that was that."

Vernon, still focused on the road, finally spoke. "You broke up with him?"

You glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His voice was as calm as ever, but something about the way he asked made you curious.

"Technically, yeah," you admitted.

Chan groaned again. "Of course you broke up with him. You probably made him think it was his idea, too." Seokmin had been a little blindsided, but you weren’t about to admit that.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you said, smirking.

Chan turned back to Vernon. "See? This is why I tell people not to mess with my cousin. She’s too powerful."

Vernon finally looked at you through the mirror, his gaze unreadable. "Yeah," he murmured, "I can see that."

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

Chan, oblivious, continued his rant. "But seriously, what did he do that made you swear off hockey players forever? Did he forget your anniversary? Get too competitive?"

You shrugged. "Nah. I just don’t want to deal with the whole team rivalries, constant traveling, always being second to the sport thing. Hockey players are a lot of work."

Vernon coughed again.

Chan turned to him, frowning. "Dude, do you need water?"

Vernon cleared his throat. "I’m fine."

You smirked. "Are you sure? You seem… distracted."

Vernon glanced at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. "Just listening."

"Hmm." You leaned back. "Well, anyway, I learned my lesson. I’m sticking to normal people now."

Chan snorted. "Normal people?"

"Yeah. You know—guys with normal schedules, normal jobs, no risk of getting concussed every other week."

Vernon’s hands flexed on the steering wheel.

Chan laughed. "I give it two months before you go back on that."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because," Chan said, smirking, "you like the chaos too much. Admit it, you love being involved in hockey drama. You thrive on it."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me! I am very peaceful."

Vernon finally spoke again, his tone deadpan. "Sure."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you siding with Chan?"

"I mean," Vernon said, shrugging, "you are sitting in a hockey player’s car, after attending a hockey game, while arguing about hockey."

Chan burst out laughing. "Oh my god, he’s got a point."

You huffed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I tolerate the chaos. But that doesn’t mean I’ll date another hockey player."

Vernon didn’t say anything but when you glanced at him through the mirror again, he had the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

The rest of the ride was quieter. Chan was scrolling through his phone, occasionally making dramatic sighs about his “betrayal,” while Vernon drove smoothly through the streets.

At one point, you rested your chin on your hand, watching the buildings blur past. Despite the chaos of the evening, there was something… nice about being in Vernon’s car. He was steady, dependable. Even with Chan’s endless commentary, he never seemed irritated. Just patient.

When Vernon finally pulled up to Chan’s place, your cousin unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed dramatically. "Alright, I guess I’ll forgive you. For now."

You smirked. "Gee, thanks."

Chan opened the door but paused, glancing between you and Vernon. Then, with a knowing smirk, he said, "You two have fun."

Before you could question him, he hopped out and disappeared inside.

You scoffed. "What was that about?"

Vernon hummed. "Not sure."

But he definitely looked like he knew. with Chan gone, the car suddenly felt… quieter.

Vernon shifted slightly, one hand resting on the gear shift. "Where to?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

"Your place," he said simply. "Where is it?"

"Oh." You gave him the directions, and he nodded, smoothly pulling back onto the road. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t awkward, though. Just… different.

"So," Vernon finally said, glancing at you through the mirror, "never dating a hockey player again?"

You smirked. "That’s the plan."

"Hmm." He didn’t sound convinced.

You tilted your head. "Why? You don’t think I can do it?"

Vernon let out a small breath—almost a chuckle. "I just think… you might change your mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

He slowed to a stop at a red light, then turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes.

"Just a feeling," he said simply.

You held his gaze, searching for something—anything—in his expression. But, as always, Vernon was unreadable. Calm. Completely in control.

Yet, for some reason, your heart did a weird little flip.

You scoffed, looking away. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m done with hockey boys."

Vernon tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Mm."

The light turned green, and he pulled forward. And though he didn’t say anything else, the ghost of a smirk lingered on his lips.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park but didn’t move to unlock the doors yet. Instead, he rested his wrist on the steering wheel and turned his head slightly toward you.

"You sure about that?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He kept his gaze on you, calm and unreadable. "About being done with hockey players."

You scoffed. "Yeah, I’m sure."

Vernon hummed, like he wasn’t convinced.

Your eyes narrowed. "Why? You think I’m lying?"

He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. "I think people say things they don’t mean all the time."

You frowned. "Well, I do mean it."

Vernon tilted his head, studying you like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve. Then, after a moment, he said, "Wanna bet?"

Your brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

He leaned back, resting his arm on the car door. "Bet me that you won’t date another hockey player."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "What are we, twelve?"

Vernon just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

You rolled your eyes. "Fine. What’s at stake?"

His lips curled slightly—barely noticeable, but there. "Winner gets whatever they want."

You raised a skeptical brow. "Like… money?"

Vernon shook his head. "Nope."

"Then what?"

He exhaled through his nose, thinking for a second before saying, "Bragging rights."

"That’s it?"

"That’s it," Vernon confirmed.

You squinted at him. "You’re really so confident that I’ll cave and date another hockey player?"

Vernon didn’t even hesitate. "Yeah."

Something about his unwavering confidence made you cross your arms. "Okay, fine. It’s a bet. I will never date another hockey player again."

Vernon nodded. "Cool." Then, finally, he reached over and unlocked the doors.

You narrowed your eyes. "Wait. What happens if I win?"

His lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Then you get to rub it in my face."

You smirked. "Oh, I will."

Vernon just shrugged, like he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

That irritated you even more.

"Goodnight, hockey boy," you said, reaching for the door handle.

Vernon’s response was so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. "Goodnight," he murmured. Then, as you stepped out, he added, "See you around."

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine.

Like he already knew how this was going to end.

Like he was just waiting.

The bet was stupid.

You knew it was stupid the second you agreed to it, and yet… it bothered you. Not because you thought you’d lose—because you wouldn’t. There was no way you’d fall for another hockey player.

No, what bothered you was Vernon’s confidence. The way he’d looked at you, calm and collected, like he already knew how this would play out. Like he wasn’t guessing, but rather waiting.

And that? That was infuriating.

So you did the only logical thing.

You ignored it.

For an entire week, you threw yourself into work, into your internship, into anything that would keep you too busy to think about Vernon or his stupid, smug little bet.

And it worked. Kind of.

When you arrived at the rink, you told yourself you were not looking for him.

You weren’t scanning the ice, weren’t checking the players warming up, weren’t—

Oh.

There he was.

Vernon stood near the bench, adjusting his gloves, looking annoyingly good in his gear. He wasn’t flashy like some of the other guys, but he had this effortless kind of presence—calm, confident, and completely unbothered.

Which only made you more bothered.

You turned back to Chan. "I hate you for bringing me here."

Chan grinned. "Love you too, cousin."

A whistle blew, signaling the players to line up, and as Vernon skated past, he glanced toward the stands. His eyes found yours immediately.

And then—he smirked. Like he knew you’d be here.

Your stomach flipped, and you immediately turned to Chan. "I take it back. I really hate you."

Chan just laughed. "No, you don’t."

The game started, and you did your best to focus. But it was hard when you were hyper-aware of one player in particular and every time you told yourself you were imagining things, that Vernon wasn’t paying any special attention to you.

He’d prove you wrong.

A glance before a faceoff. A lingering look after a goal. A subtle smirk every time he skated near your side of the rink.

And the worst part?

You knew he was doing it on purpose.

By the time the game ended, you were fully prepared to never attend another one again.

You tried to ignore Vernon.

You really did.

But ignoring Vernon was impossible when he wasn’t ignoring you.

Every game you attended, he’d look for you. Every time he saw you, there was a smirk, a glance, a knowing look that said I’m still winning.

And the worst part?

You caught yourself looking for him too.

It was small things at first—wondering if he’d be at the team hangouts, noticing when he was not at practice, catching yourself staring a second too long during games.

You were slipping.

And you hated it.

You were officially avoiding Vernon.

It wasn’t obvious avoidance. You weren’t hiding behind corners or diving into bushes when you saw him. No, you were subtle.

You stopped showing up to games as often. You made excuses whenever Chan invited you to team hangouts. You even started leaving early when you knew Vernon might be around.

And for a while, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

Because Vernon wasn’t stupid.

And unfortunately for you, he was patient.

He wasn’t mad you were avoiding him. He wasn’t giving up.

He was just waiting. Waiting for you to stop fighting yourself. Waiting for you to let yourself have something good. And somehow that was worse because you could handle anger.

But patience?

Patience made you want to give in.

It happened at a café. You were minding your own business, fully immersed in your laptop, when suddenly a chair scraped against the floor in front of you.

You looked up and there he was.

Vernon.

Sitting across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked. "What—"

"You’re avoiding me," he said.

You scoffed. "No, I’m not."

"You are."

"I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "Sure."

You clenched your jaw. "I am."

Vernon took a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered. "You were at every game before. Then, suddenly, you’re not. Feels personal."

"It’s not," you lied.

"Right."

You exhaled sharply, tapping your fingers against the table. "Is this why you sat here? To call me out?"

"Partly," Vernon admitted.

"And the other part?"

He tilted his head. "I missed you."

Your brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?"

Vernon shrugged. "It was more fun when you were around."

You stared at him. "Are you messing with me?"

"Nope."

"Vernon."

"Hm?"

"You’re being weird."

He smirked. "Or maybe you just don’t know how to deal with me being serious."

Your stomach flipped. Okay. This was dangerous territory. He was right and your brain can't process the situation, you're so used to his one word remarks and nonchalance. But this feels like something your heart isn't prepared for.

You forced a laugh. "Nice try, but I’m not falling for it."

Vernon leaned back, watching you closely. "You sure?"

You clenched your jaw. "Yes."

"Okay," he said easily.

After a while he did leave you alone, even though he wanted to stay and banter with you some more because these days it seems that his main source of entertainment is to get under your skin. Coach called for a meeting. After a quick goodbye you find yourself alone again.

Later that day though, Chan came to your apartment. The moment you saw Chan, you regretted telling him anything.

Because instead of sympathy, he just grinned.

"You’re doomed."

You glared at him. "I am not."

"Vernon likes you."

You crossed your arms. "He does not."

"Okay, and you like him."

"Chan."

"You’re in denial."

You groaned. "Can you be normal for once?"

Chan ignored you. "You realize Vernon is going to win, right?"

"He isn’t."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."

You threw a pillow at him.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were at another game (against your better judgment), sitting next to Chan, when the unthinkable happened... Vernon scored.

And you.... you cheered. Loudly. Enthusiastically.

And worst of all?

Vernon heard.

He turned immediately, locking eyes with you from across the rink.

Vernon, still looking at you, winked.

You were still recovering from what happened during the game. The team had won, meaning the energy in the rink was electric. Fans cheered, players celebrated, and you?

You were debating leaving immediately before Vernon found you. But before you could execute your escape Chan grabbed your arm. "Oh no. You’re not running away."

You scowled. "I’m not running. I just have things to do."

"Like avoiding Vernon?"

"Exactly."

Chan shook his head, dragging you toward the locker rooms. "Nope. You’re gonna face your feelings like an adult."

"I am an adult. And my adult decision is denial."

"That’s not how it works."

"It’s worked for me so far."

Chan ignored you, you hear the pushing open of the locker room door before Chan screams "Hey, Vernon! Your biggest fan is here."

You smacked Chan’s arm. "I hate you."

"Hey."

Vernon.

Standing right there, fresh out of the shower, towel around his neck, still slightly damp from the game and he's looking directly at you.

Chan grinned. "I’ll leave you two alone."

You turned sharply. "You traitor—"

But he was already gone. You were going to kill him. You thought but first you had to deal with Vernon.

"Good game."

Vernon smirked. "I could tell. You were very excited when I scored."

You rolled your eyes. "It was an automatic reaction."

"Right."

"It’s called sportsmanship."

"Uh-huh."

You exhaled sharply. "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"A little," he admitted.

You crossed your arms. "If you’re expecting me to confess I like you, it’s not happening."

Vernon hummed. "You just did, though."

Your jaw dropped. "I did not."

"You said, ‘if you’re expecting me to confess I like you,’ which implies there’s something to confess."

You blinked. "I hate you."

Vernon grinned. "No, you don’t."

You clenched your fists. "This is a nightmare."

Vernon tilted his head. "So… when are you taking me on a date?"

You nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"You lost the bet, right?"

"I did not lose the bet!"

You were completely and utterly screwed.

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with avoiding him because, a few days later, he showed up outside the building where you were doing your internship. You nearly dropped your bag when you spotted him standing near the entrance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you hissed, marching up to him.

Vernon looked amused. "Visiting."

"Visiting who?"

"You."

You stared at him. "Why?"

Vernon shoved his hands in his pockets, looking far too casual. "Because you’re avoiding me."

"I am not avoiding you."

"You are."

You groaned. "Why do you do this?"

Vernon tilted his head. "Because it’s fun."

"For who?"

He smirked. "Me." You were going to lose your mind. You were seriously debating throwing your very heavy tote bag at him and his smug face.

Vernon glanced past you into the building. "So, this is where you spend all your time now?"

"Yes," you said firmly. "Because I’m busy."

Vernon nodded. "So busy you don’t have time for a date?"

Your brain short-circuited.

"What?"

Vernon shrugged. "A date. With me."

You blinked at him. "You’re joking."

"I’m not."

You stared. "You do remember the bet, right?"

"Yep."

"And that I refuse to date another hockey player?"

Vernon nodded. "Still waiting on that to work out for you."

You exhaled sharply. "I’m not dating you."

"Yet," Vernon added.

"Ever."

"We’ll see."

"STOP SAYING THAT" you all but scream at him, the way he's looking at you right now is making you want to pull all your hair out.

Vernon smirked, taking a step closer. "Admit it. You like me."

You scowled. "I will never admit that."

Vernon hummed. "Okay."

Too calm.

Too smug.

You knew he didn’t believe you and somehow, that was infinitely worse. You had spent days trying to push down the realization that you might actually—God forbid—like Vernon. And somehow, in those same days, he got worse.

Not in an annoying way.

No.

Vernon had started being… sweet. Not the obvious kind. Not the cheesy, over-the-top, grand gestures kind. But Vernon’s kind.

Small things.

Subtle things.

Things that made you notice how well he knew you. Like how he always made sure you had a seat at the games, whether you said you were coming or not. Or how he started bringing you coffee without asking, without a word just sliding it in front of you at the rink like it was normal.

Or how, when you stayed late at your internship, your phone would buzz with a single text:

Vernon: Don’t walk home alone. I’ll pick you up.

(And when you argued, he’d just show up anyway.)

It was infuriating.

Because it was working.

And somehow, you were losing the bet in real time.

It happened after a late game.

You weren’t supposed to go. You had convinced yourself you wouldn’t go and yet you find yourself sitting at the bleachers again waiting for the game to finish.

You blamed Chan. (And also yourself.)

You stayed after, waiting for Chan, when suddenly a hoodie dropped over your head. You startled, pulling it off. "What the—"

You turned and Vernon was there. He looked at you, completely unaffected. "It’s cold."

You blinked. "I—what—"

"Just wear it."

You hesitated, staring down at it.

It was his hoodie.

Still warm. Still smelling like him.

And for some reason you put it on. You didn't put up a fight, didn't say another snarky remark. You just put it on. Vernon nodded, satisfied, then leaned against the wall next to you.

Neither of you spoke. For the first time, it wasn’t teasing, wasn’t banter.

It was just—quiet.

"You know," Vernon said suddenly, "I like you."

Your breath caught.

You turned to him. "What?"

Vernon exhaled, tilting his head to look at you. "I like you."

Just like that. No hesitation. No we’ll see. No denial.

Just the truth.

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes now. You put your hands inside the pocket of his hoodie, toying with your fingers as you look at anywhere but him.

"You’re just saying that because you want to win."

Vernon shook his head. "I already won."

You stared at him. "You did not—"

"You’re wearing my hoodie."

You opened your mouth then closed it.

Because damn it—he was right.

And the worst part? For the first time you didn’t want to fight it.

After that, it's like everything was normal again. For Vernon, not for you. You had not recovered from Vernon’s confession. Mostly because he didn’t bring it up again. No teasing. No rubbing it in.

He just—let it sit which somehow made it worse because now, you were the one thinking about it.

About him.

About how easy it would be to just… give in.

And then one night, after another late shift, you walked outside and found him waiting leaning against his car. Hands in his pockets.

Like it was normal.

You sighed. "Vernon—"

"I know," he said. "You didn’t ask me to come."

You stared at him. "Then why did you?"

Vernon shrugged. "Because I knew you’d be tired."

Your chest tightened. You swallowed. "You really like me, huh?" you say, voice barely a whisper but he heard you. He heard you loud and clear.

"Yeah."

You like Vernon.

You like Vernon not just in a haha, he’s annoying but funny way. Not just in a he’s hot but I’d never admit it way but in a real, terrifying, no-going-back way and the realization hit you so hard that you had to physically sit down.

Chan, ever the menace, noticed immediately. "Oh no. It happened, didn’t it?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I hate my life."

Chan cackled. "I knew it."

"You are not allowed to tell anyone."

"Are you kidding? I’m telling everyone."

You shot him a glare. "Chan—" "Kidding. Relax. Your secret’s safe."

You exhaled. "Good."

Chan smirked. "But, uh… you might want to tell Vernon soon."

You blinked. "Why?" Chan pointed behind you.

And when you turned Vernon was standing there and he's looking right at you.

You froze. Vernon didn’t.

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly. "So."

Meanwhile Chan slowly walks backwards to escape the scene and leaving you to your devices.

You swallowed. "So?"

"You like me." he smirks. The man had the audacity to smirk and it sends something right through you. Either you want to run away from or run away with, you're not so sure.

You let out a sharp breath. "Don’t start."

Vernon hummed. "You do, though."

You ran a hand through your hair. "Vernon—"

"It’s okay," he said. "I already knew."

Your stomach flipped. "Excuse me?" you look at him wide eyed

Vernon shrugged. "I was just waiting for you to admit it."

You stared at him. "You’re insufferable."

He grinned. "And you like me anyway."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "This is the worst day of my life."

Vernon chuckled. "Is it?"

You hesitated because no it wasn’t.

It was actually… kind of nice.

Finally letting yourself feel it.

Finally stopping the fight.

Finally looking at him and knowing he had been waiting for you all along.

You sighed. "Fine." Vernon raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

You crossed your arms. "Fine. I like you. Happy now?"

Vernon just smiled.

"Yeah."

And then he walks closer to you, only a step away. Close enough you can smell his shower gel and fabric softener but far enough to give you space if you needed it.

Then he laced his fingers through yours. He did it like it was normal. Like he had been waiting to do it this whole time.

You stared down at your hand in his. Warm. Steady. Unwavering.

And suddenly you felt stupid.

Because what now? what, he got what he wanted? You admitted it. You said it. He won. Was he going to smirk, say told you so, and just… walk away?

You pulled your hand back, crossing your arms. "What now?"

Vernon blinked. "What do you mean?"

You scowled. "What now? You’re happy? You win?"

Vernon tilted his head, confused. "Win what?"

You huffed. "The bet. The whole stupid game you’ve been playing. Congratulations. You made me fall for you. Now you can go back to your cool, mysterious, hockey star life and leave me alone."

Vernon frowned. "What?"

You threw your hands up. "I mean, that’s how this goes, right? You chase me, I resist, I finally give in, and then boom—you’re over it."

You scoffed. "See? Silence. I knew it. I knew—"

"I’m not leaving."

You froze.

Vernon’s gaze was steady, unreadable, but there was something serious in his tone.

You swallowed. "What?"

"I’m not leaving, I'm not going anywhere. Where do you think I'm going?" he asks, confused

You hesitated. "Why not?"

Vernon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Because I like you. Like, actually like you. This wasn’t just some game for me."

"It wasn’t?" you mumble

"No."

You shifted on your feet. "Are you sure?"

Vernon laughed a quiet, breathy sound, like he couldn’t believe you were actually asking. Then he reached out—gently, carefully—and hooked his pinky around yours. And somehow, that tiny, stupid action made your chest feel like it was about to explode.

Vernon looked at you. "I’m sure."

And just like that—

You didn’t know how to fight him anymore.

After that night, Vernon didn’t change.

He didn’t start being overly sweet. He didn’t suddenly turn into a rom-com boyfriend who sent you flowers and love notes.

No.

He was just him.

Still showing up.

Still waiting outside your internship, still tossing his jacket over your shoulders, still holding your hand in that quiet, casual way that made you wonder how you had gone this long without it.

And maybe…

Just maybe…

You were finally starting to trust it. To trust him because he wasn’t going anywhere and for once you didn’t want him to. The moment you realized you weren’t fighting this anymore—weren’t fighting him—a strange kind of calm settled over you.

Vernon was still holding your hand. Still standing close. Still watching you with that infuriatingly patient expression like he had all the time in the world to wait for you to catch up.

It should have been a big moment. A grand, cinematic, fireworks-in-the-background kind of thing.

But instead—

"OH MY GOD."

You and Vernon both jumped, heads snapping up just in time to see Chan standing there, eyes wide, mouth open.

Your idiot cousin pointed an accusing finger at your intertwined hands.

"WHAT IS THAT?"

You blinked. "What is what?"

"THAT!" Chan gestured wildly. "You! Him! HANDS!"

Vernon blinked at him, unfazed. "Yeah, we have hands."

"OH MY GOD."

You groaned, trying to yank your hand away out of pure instinct only for Vernon to tighten his grip. Subtle. Calm. Like he was telling you, No. Don’t let go just because he’s here.

You hesitated. Then…

You didn’t let go.

Chan screamed.

"I need a moment," Chan announced, dramatically collapsing onto a bench like he had just received life-altering news.

You rolled your eyes. "Chan, it’s not that serious."

"NOT THAT SERIOUS?" Chan clutched his chest. "You—you and Vernon—I mean—when—HOW?"

Vernon just stuffed his free hand in his pocket, watching Chan with his usual unreadable expression. "You good?"

"No," Chan wheezed.

You sighed. "You’re being dramatic."

Chan sat up abruptly, eyes narrowing. "Oh? I’m being dramatic? Says the girl who SWORE she would NEVER date another hockey player?"

Your face burned. "I—okay, yeah, I might’ve said that, but—"

"SO WHAT IS THIS THEN?" Chan gestured wildly at you and Vernon.

You opened your mouth—then closed it because what was this?

Vernon didn’t let you think for long. "We’re dating," he said simply.

You choked. "Vernon!"

Chan’s jaw dropped. "YOU ARE?!"

Vernon turned to you, unfazed. "We’re not?"

You floundered. "I mean—I—are we?"

Vernon shrugged. "You like me. I like you. We hold hands now. Feels like dating."

Your brain short-circuited.

Because… that was it? That easy?

Chan looked between the two of you, unimpressed. "This is the weirdest way I’ve ever seen two people start dating."

You groaned. "I hate both of you."

Vernon smirked. "You like me, though."

You scowled. "Don’t push it."

Chan stood up, rubbing his temples. "I need time to process this."

You crossed your arms. "It’s not that deep."

Chan snorted. "Not that deep? Please. The entire team is gonna freak when they find out."

Your stomach dropped.

"The team?"

"Oh yeah," Chan smirked. "Good luck keeping this quiet."

Vernon didn’t seem fazed at all. But you?

You were doomed.

Chan had seen a lot of things in his life.

He had seen Vernon score impossible goals in the last seconds of a game. He had seen you single-handedly shut down an entire group of guys trying to hit on you at a party. He had seen Seungkwan lose his mind when they ran out of his favorite snacks at the dorms.

But this?

This was a new level of shocking.

He had come over to your place after practice, expecting a normal night of hanging out. Maybe some bickering, maybe some teasing—nothing out of the ordinary.

What he did not expect was to walk into the kitchen and see Vernon standing behind you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, casually resting his chin on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone.

And even more shocking?

You were letting him.

You. The queen of personal space. The same person who once smacked Chan for putting his feet on your couch.

But now?

You were just standing there, completely unbothered, letting Vernon be all up in your space like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Chan froze. "WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?"

You barely glanced up. "Hey, Chan."

"No." He pointed an accusatory finger at you. "What is this?"

Vernon blinked lazily. "A kitchen."

"VERNON."

"What?" Vernon was so calm it was infuriating.

Chan sputtered. "You’re—you’re literally all over her, and she’s letting you?"

Vernon hummed. "Yeah."

"YEAH?"

You sighed, turning your head slightly to look at Chan. "Why are you acting like this is a crime?"

"Because YOU used to YELL at me for even TOUCHING YOUR SHOULDER!"

You shrugged. "You’re not Vernon."

"EXACTLY!"

Chan ran a hand down his face, groaning dramatically. "Oh my god. Oh my god, I need a second."

Vernon just looked at him, completely unfazed.

"You’re acting like I’m holding her hostage," Vernon said, resting his chin back on your shoulder.

"Okay," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest. "I need—I need to sit down."

You rolled your eyes. "Drama queen."

"No, YOU DON’T GET IT," Chan huffed. "I spent YEARS watching you destroy men for breathing near you, and NOW YOU’RE JUST LETTING VERNON CUDDLE YOU IN THE KITCHEN?"

Vernon smirked. "Would you rather I kiss your cousin in the kitchen?"

Chan stared at him, deadpan. "I will throw you in a snowbank."

Vernon just shrugged, unbothered, and looped his arm around your waist again. And when you didn’t move away—didn’t fight it, didn’t act like it was a big deal—Chan lost his mind.

"I CAN’T BE HERE."

And with that, your cousin stormed out of the kitchen.

You laughed, shaking your head. "He’ll be fine."

Vernon just smirked, squeezing your waist slightly before pulling away.

"Yeah," he said. "But this is fun."

And honestly?

He wasn’t wrong.

The first time Vernon kissed you, it wasn’t in some dramatic, romantic moment. It wasn’t after a big fight or some emotional confession.

It was a regular night. The two of you had just finished getting dinner, and he had walked you to your door like he always did.

No pressure. No expectations. Just… Vernon being Vernon.

And as you turned to say goodnight, he just looked at you for a second—head tilted, hands in his pockets, gaze steady as ever.

Then, so casually it almost felt like an afterthought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

No rush. No hesitation. Just… easy.

And instead of pulling away, instead of overthinking it you kissed him back.

Because, for once in your life you weren’t scared. You weren’t running. You weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And Vernon?

He had been waiting for you to figure that out all along.

The apartment was quiet.

Dim lighting from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room, the kind that made everything feel warm and safe. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, within the walls of your shared space, it was just you and Vernon.

And Vernon was clingy.

Not in an obvious, dramatic way. Not in the way some people whined for attention or made a big show of it.

No—Vernon’s clinginess was quiet, subtle, and completely inescapable.

Like now.

You had barely shifted an inch when his arm—already wrapped snugly around your waist—tightened.

"Where are you going?" His voice was low, raspy from sleep.

You sighed. "I wasn’t going anywhere."

"Good."

His hold on you relaxed slightly, but he didn’t let go. He never did. Vernon wasn’t the type to smother you with affection in public, but in private?

He was relentless.

He had to feel you. Had to know you were there. Had to keep you close, even in sleep which explained why your legs were tangled together, his arm was curled around your stomach, and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

The warmth of his breath tickled your skin.

You shivered and, of course, Vernon noticed. He let out a quiet hum, nuzzling even closer.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

Without a word, he pulled the blanket higher, tucked it around you both, and pressed himself closer.

"Better?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

Vernon sighed, his lips barely grazing your shoulder. Silence settled between you. The comfortable kind. The kind where you didn’t need to say anything because just being there was enough.

But then you felt it. The way his fingers started tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. Soft. Thoughtless. Completely natural.

It was so Vernon.

Always the same quiet gestures. Always the same small ways of showing affection. You reached down, lacing your fingers through his.

Vernon stilled for a second, then—without a word—he intertwined them properly, squeezing once before relaxing again.

And for a while, that was it.

Just the sound of your breathing. Just the warmth of him against you. Just the steady, slow rhythm of two people who fit together perfectly.

But then Vernon spoke.

"…You’re my favorite."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You turned slightly, catching the sleepy, almost shy expression on his face.

You raised an eyebrow. "Favorite what?"

"Just…" His voice was a little hoarse, a little soft, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud. "My favorite everything."

Your breath caught.

Vernon never said things like this. Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he didn’t need to.

He showed it instead.

Through the way he waited for you after your internship, even if it meant sitting outside for an hour. Through the way he always pulled you closer in his sleep, like he was scared you’d disappear. Through the way he remembered the smallest things, like how you hated sleeping with socks on or how you always curled up a certain way when you were tired.

He didn’t have to say it.

But he did anyway.

Because you needed to hear it.

You swallowed, heart too full, too warm, too much.

"You’re such a sap," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice cracked just a little.

Vernon smirked, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"You like it."

You huffed. "Maybe."

He chuckled. Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head forward, pressed a lazy kiss against your jaw, and mumbled—

"Go to sleep."

And just like that—

You did.

[kingoftheclaudes]

Propaganda

Senator Joseph Harrison Paine (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington) - Every time I watch this movie, I feel such a rush of good feelings. There are so many wonderful characters in this film but I adore watching Senator Paine every second he's on screen. He's such a tragic character too and we see his hesitation about turning on Jefferson. These people he's worked with, the little guys, were the people he's built his platform on. That Academy Award nomination was so well-deserved and I'm disappointed he never got much more than a nod. I'm also upset that the film cut out the ending portion of the script where Jefferson sees Paine and invites him to walk in the parade with him and brings him home for dinner. Pledge your vote for Paine!

Dr. Jack Griffin (The Invisible Man) - He may be an invisible loser but he's MY invisible loser! He's my favorite Universal Monster and just a whole lotta growling energy packed into a small package. I love his laugh and his soft moments when he's with Flora. It really brings a sense of humanity to a "monster" and those thirty seconds he's "visible" gave me a "Oh, no! He's hot!" reaction. His monologues pop off and he can do so much with his voice, going from 0 to 100 in a millisecond. Not to mention, I think he has the highest kill count for a Universal Monster, which is surprising. I guess only an invisible English dude with a vendetta is more powerful than Dracula, haha!

This is round three for The King of the Claudes tournament and other matchups can be found here!

Additional Propaganda under the cut!

Senator Joseph Harrison Paine

This movie honestly means so much to me and it was one of the first "serious" movies I watched as a kid. Claude's performance is delightful and heartwarming. I see the love he has for Jeff throughout and those little moments of 'I care about this kid' sprinkled through make it all the much realer.

Dr. Jack Griffin

I like my men how I like my science experiments - crazy. He's an unhinged little freak with a huge ego and a penchant for stripping and terrorizing small English villages. He's a delight to watch and I'm so happy he kicked off his movie career with such a banger and without this role, I'm sure a lot of people wouldn't remember what a great actor he was.

[wizardofahz]

Putting my sunglasses on indoors when I feel a migraine coming on

Pro: Not developing a debilitating headache and nausea Con: Having to explain to almost every co-worker that I am not in fact trying to look cool

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[pa-pa-plasma]

i don't think i'll ever get over how people treat kids that aren't good in school as worthless no matter what. "oh it can't be that bad" my guy idk how to tell you this but the last time i went to a normal high school the principal called me into his office to brag about how he failed me in all of my classes before the semester was even finished & i should quit while i'm ahead cuz i'm too stupid ("officially" diagnosed as such by a school counselor & a psychiatrist!!) to succeed. & this is considered normal

[quasi-normalcy]

.

[lesliemeyers]

finally locating the downloaded copy you knew you had somewhere of a fic that's been deleted for years is such an exciting feeling.

[dogboy-dyke]

Before and after of the boots I found at the thrift store

Still a bit scuffed but they look and fit great

[gwydionae]

I get using no specific iteration of the TMNT in a crossover and just making yet another new version. After all, the franchise has had many, many different versions at this point, so it's easy to accept that this is simply one more to add to the pile.

But Naruto has... one. Just the one. So when all of a sudden characters are written/shown to have expertise that they shouldn't have at the age they're being depicted, it just ends up feeling weird.

I get that fitting things into the Naruto timeline can be a chore. Do it too early, and Sakura is kinda useless. Do it too late, and Sasuke's off murdering people. And if you try to set it after the series, the power levels are seriously gonna be out of whack.

But breaking the only canon that has ever existed for these characters makes them feel like... not the same characters. I might be the only one who cares about this, but it really took me out of the story, to the point where I couldn't help but focus on it. I don't want to be distracted from page one of a silly ninja crossover comic.

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I really wish some of the actresses who have voiced Disney Princesses would stop comparing their princess to the previous ones and claim how she was the "first" one to have *gasp* independence and strength *gasp*. Have they ever watched a Disney movie outside of their own?

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

I was actually having a pretty good day until just now :/

[queerbauten]

#isnt amanda palmer like racist as well? or at least acts like an entitled white woman

Yeahhh. Case in point: look up "Amanda Palmer N-Word" on YouTube.

(And of course, because this website loves to make Gaiman into this innocent creature who has nothing to do with Amanda, she very much used the N-word on their joint album, An Evening With Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer (as an introduction to... a racist song). He would have not only heard her use of the slur, but he would have then said, "Yes, I am perfectly fine with this word appearing under my name." He is not innocent.)

I love that people in my notes are calling Neil Gaiman a “random Jewish celebrity” that I’m baselessly attacking, as though: 1) “Israel has the right to exist” is not textbook Zionism; 2) he was not married to Amanda Palmer when she performed in Israel (in spite of calls for her not to do so); and, 3) he isn’t a wildly successful author and artist that this website worships

There are plenty of Jewish celebrities who give me no reason to think about their stance on Zionism! There are plenty of gentile celebrities who do! Get a grip!

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley who- I'M BITING HIM I'M BITING HIM I'M BITING HIM I'M-

He don't mind but the rest of 141 is wondering if he has an ill-mannered cat at home

Roommate!Simon Riley that’s extremely close to you. you've lived with each other for a couple years - Simon coming and going from work. honestly, your friends are surprised you aren’t dating. “We’re just friends.”, friends that stay up late talking over takeout, friends that cuddle underneath a couple blankets when Simon returns from a deployment, friends that nip and bite at each other, marring the other’s skin

Roommate!Simon Riley that lets out a gruff hum when you bite at his bicep, chest rumbling deeply when you gnaw on his forearm. he holds back pleased smirks and delighted, crooked smiles when you absentmindedly chew on his hand, little teeth indents decorating his fingers. he loves it - the way his well trained, firm body becomes your personal chew toy

Roommate!Simon Riley that returns to base after leave, fatigues hiding his arms, gloves covering his hands. every time he changes in the barracks, every time he looks at his arms before he sleeps, he looks at your scattered bite marks - some faded to a faint red, others a little deeper, something he can trace his thumb over. they’ll be gone before he knows, maybe a day or two if you took a particularly hard chomp of his arm

Roommate!Simon Riley that’s changing with the 141, pausing when he hears Soap whistle, “What ’appened to you?”. all Simon does is tug a shirt on, grabbing his gloves as he glances at the men, “Got a critter at home, has a mean bite.”. Soap and Gaz tease him, mumbling something about how he can’t get his pet under control - Price? he’s eyeing Simon as he slips his gloves on. Soap and Gaz didn’t pay much mind to it, but Price knows a set of teeth marks when he sees them