#instead of having to wait until after 2pm

[goddessofroyalty]

Exactly a month away now until Final Fantasy 7 Rebirth comes out. I'm only a little bit counting down...

[mattsrod]

PLEASE WRITE SUBMISSIVE VIRGIN MATT SMUT I AM BEGGING YOU. also please no mommy kink or anything like that, maybe matt could have a praise kink BUT PLEASE I WILL LITERALLY CRY IF YOU DONT WRITE THIS 🤗

- ; MATTHEW STURNIOLO ; -

' PLEASE ? '

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

- ; warnings - smut (obvi), sub!matt, hand jobs, slight dom!reader(?), matts a virgin, reader is experienced, fluff in the beginning, kind of long, blowjob, cum swallowing.

- ; 11:02 am

; your pov

ive been lying in bed for what seems like an eternity, waiting for matt to wake up. my hair is a mess, i have the most miss-matched pyjamas on, and i feel like shit.

i texted nick not too long ago, asking if he wanted to get something to eat.

no reply, he was probably sleeping too.

all I want to do was get ready for the day with my boyfriend.

I want to push gentle kisses into his neck and tell him how pretty he looks as he brushes his teeth.

but he has other plans. and those plans probably consisted of sleeping until 2pm.

and im not gonna accept that.

"matt." I brush my warm fingertips against his exposed arm. the light shining through my window is almost directly in his eyes.

he pulls the covers over his head. "c'mon matt." i coo once more. he let out a groan, but he is so tired that it comes out sounding like more of a whine.

I giggle, to which matt lets out a real groan at.

"matthew c'mon, ive been waiting for you to wake up for like, an hour."

I slowly grip the covers and swiftly rip them off of him in an attempt to catch him off-guard, but when I look at him in the eyes, hes already looking directly at me with a goofy smile and wide eyes.

"Jesus Christ-" I mutter, and matt chuckles slightly, his eyes now scrunching into his smile instead of widened in an attempt to scare me.

"i knew you were awake, now c'mon, get dressed or something."

matts stuffed animal, a small pug, fell off of the bed as I stood up and started walking to the bathroom.

; matts pov

"you're just gonna walk away and not pick him up?!" I meekly shouted to you; my voice is still laced with drowsiness.

you turned around, leaning against the bathroom door frame as you spoke "get dressed and i'll pick him up, i wanna go out for lunch or something." you promptly turned around and shut the door behind you after saying that.

"okay mrs. productive..." I muttered under my breath and look at your makeup and clothes that were scattered around my bedroom.

"i can hear you jackass!!" your voice sounded muffled through the bathroom wall, but I still hear you loud and clear.

I slowly stood up and put my feel on the cold, wooden floor. I then stretched and carelessly grabbed one of the many hoodies off of my floor, not caring to put pants on.

I walked over to the bathroom door and knocked in a rythm that you knew all too well.

you open the door, and your hair looks absolutely beautiful.

"do you need something or do you just wanna stare at me?" i hear you say bluntly, which snaps me back to reality.

i didnt really get snapped back into reality, though.

i was really in a reality where you were slowly kissing up my thigh, making your way up to my manhood as i brushed your beautiful hair out of the way so i could see your gorgeous face better as you...

this is when i realize im getting hard.

and you are standing in front of me,

and i only have boxers on.

shit

; your pov

i dont realize it at first, but as matts face gets red i giggle and look down at the bulge that he is trying to cover up with his large hoodie.

"damn, am i really that hot?" i grab his hand that he is using to hug downwards on his hoodie and i pull him farther into the bathroom.

he started to fidget with his rings once i let go of his hand. he was looking down, avoiding eye contact with me.

"mattheww" i playfully coo, "look at me baby."

he still doesnt look up at me.

"are you embarrassed?" i ask him gently, receiving no response.

that answers my question.

"matt thats nothing to be ashamed of," i pause, thinking of what to say next, "shit, if i was guy i would have a raging boner all the time."

i guess this made matt feel better because he giggled, lifting his head slightly but still not looking at me.

"since you wont look at me.." i get on my knees. "im gonna look at you myself."

i look up at matts face and he flashes me a goofy smile.

i chuckle and grab his waist, moving him against the bathroom counter.

i moved my position on the floor, shuffling over to the bathroom mat, as the cold solid bathroom floor was making my knees ache already.

i dont break eye contact with matt as i do this.

i stare up at him with eyes full of lust, and i think he knows what i want.

and i think he knows what he wants.

; matts pov

your pupils are wide as i stare into your eyes.

ive never liked intense eye contact, but in this moment it couldnt be any hotter.

you bring your right hand up to the hem of my boxers, your left hand on my abdomen for support.

"can i?"

i nod quickly, squirming under your touch.

i squeeze my eyes shut and let out a sigh.

"im gonna need you to use your words, matt." my dick twitches at the sound of your voice, longing for some friction.

"yes, please, please touch me." i manage to mutter out.

you slowly take of my boxers agonizingly slow, and i inhale sharply as my dick springs up, the cold air hitting it.

you look at my cock and then back up at me.

i couldve folded right then and there.

my heart started racing as you brought your hand up to my tip, which was already leaking precum.

"so wet already mattie."

i nod, leaning my elbows against the sink for extra support.

you brought your manicured nail up to the slit, and dragged your nail across it gently, making my hips buck forward with every small touch.

the unfamiliar feeling gave me a warm feeling that slowly bubbled up in my stomach, starting in my lower stomach area, and pulsing through my dick as you slowly started stroking me from the base, all the way up to my tip.

my hips shuddered as you quickened your pace, and i throw my head back, letting out a quiet moan.

when i look back down you are already looking back up at me with your gorgeous eyes

; your pov

"you are so sensitive, babe." again, i got no reply.

was he that lost in the pleasure?

matt was squirming everytime i reached his swollen, sensitive tip, and i could tell he needed more.

"do you want my mouth matt?"

another nod.

i took my hand off of his dick, leaving it twitching and wet.

"what did i say about using your words, hm?" i put my hands on my knees.

"im sorry." he whined out, "i need your mouth on me. please, i need it so bad- i-"

i cut off matt by putting my tongue directly on his tip, kitten licking it many times before i actually took him in my mouth.

this time matt doesnt even make an attempt to cover up his moans.

he throws his head back once again moaning loudly and looking then looking down at me.

i took more of him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around his girthy member.

i start to bob my head up and down at a steady pace. i can tell matt is close.

; matts pov

i whimper slightly as i feel the warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach start to get even more intense.

i lean harder against the counter and bring one of my supporting hands up to my mouth to hide the sounds i was making.

you take your lips off of my length for a moment, making my hips shutter, and also making the fuzzy feeling in my stomach abruptly stop. "let me hear your pretty sounds matt" you say.

i immediately put my hand back in its original position on the counter, taking it off of my mouth.

you position your lips with my cock again, making my cheeks heat up.

you lick a painfully long, but pleasurable stripe up my cock, grabbing the base of it with your hand.

i jolted forward which made you giggle.

"you are doing so good mattie."

you start working your hand around the base of my cock before taking me in your mouth.

i let out a loud moan at the sudden contact.

"n-need more." i mutter out

you hum onto my cock, pretending not to hear me.

"baby, i need more. please." i breath out, "faster, please!"

; your pov

i happily oblige to matts directions, going faster, using my hand to rub what i couldnt take in my mouth.

now i knew that matt was really close. his whimpers became consistent and the salty taste of precum was already filling my mouth.

matt let out a loud moan and the first rope of cum hit the back of my throat.

i moan onto his cock, licking up his warm seed.

"fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck" he sputtered out

he whimpered.

his hips were now shaking uncontrollably from all of the stimulation he was getting, so i took my hand off of the base of his cock and used it to hold his hips.

i slowly bob my head up and down, helping matt ride out his high.

"holy fucking shit." matt mutters, his hips jolt once more as i took my mouth off of him.

he looks down at me with a shocked expression, his cheeks are extremely red, and his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat.

i looked up at him then stood up, trailing my hands up his waist as i do this, making him shiver.

"you did so fucking good," i kissed him hard on his lips, and he sighed into the kiss.

i took my lips off of his and looked into his eyes lovingly

"im so proud of you for telling me what you wanted, mattie"

he smiled and then rolled his eyes. "shut the fuck up or im gonna cum again."

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

i like this but honestly, i dont know how to feel about the two povs thing. so lmk if u like it ! also, both of my previous works have 900+ likes, so thank u so much. i also hit 400 followers like what. ive only had this acc for a month. TY FOR READING !! if u have any requests please please send them in !

[daengtokki]

𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒

Kim Seungmin/female reader

wc: 1.8k

synopsis: someone is cheating // pt 1

rating: mature/angst (contains: aggression, confrontation)

⤜ · · ♡ · · →

3pm

SM: I won’t be back until Sunday, love, but I’ll call you tonight before you fall asleep! Hopefully I can catch you before you do

YN: it’s okay, Min. I’ll be here, and I’ll be up for a while

SM: I’ll text first just in case

YN: ♥️

12:30am

SM: sleeping?

11am

SM: I’m sorry I missed you last night, we can try again today!

2pm

SM: babe, you know I hate double triple quadruple texting you. Are you okay?

· · ♡ · ·

Saturday, 10:30pm

Seungmin struggles for a moment with his key, but manages without dropping his bags. The door swings open, and he’s greeted by a dark foyer, a dark living room, and a single faint light coming from the kitchen. And it’s too quiet—no tv left on, no music playing to fill the silence, like usual. It’s a little warm inside, and it was a warm day, but Seungmin can feel a breeze coming in from one open window.

“I’m home,” he calls out softly, and his voice carries down the hall and into the open door of the bedroom. But the apartment is empty. You’re not here.

He looks down at his phone, opens his texts, and types. His face falls slowly as he figures out another message to send to you. Seungmin has been away a lot lately, and things have felt strained, but you always answer, eventually, even if it’s hours later. You’ve never been silent for more than a day, and now it’s going on two.

sm: hi love, I’m home early

After making sure you’re not just sound asleep in bed, he starts to type one more message. But he stops himself, and instead he starts to unpack his things.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzes.

yn: hey, I’m so sorry sweetie. I’ll be home soon. I went out with some friends and my phone died

He sighs, relieved to finally hear from you. But he doesn’t reply right away; he waits until he empties his bag, showers, get dressed, and makes himself tea.

The lock clicks and the door swings open just as he reaches for his phone.

“Minnie!” You run to him and he opens his arms to hold you against him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

He fights with questioning your absence—not from the house, but from answering his texts, and decides to wait. Right now, he wants to sit down with you and relax; talk; catch up. Maybe that will reveal the answers without him having to ask—he hopes it will, because it’s slowly starting to eat at him.

· · ♡ · ·

“We traveled all day today, a lot of driving, so it was a little hectic.” He curls up on the couch and hugs his knees tights to his chest. “I missed talking to you last night.”

“I guess I was more tired than I thought”

“But I’m here now”

Seungmin’s little nod, his hesitant smile…you missed him so much, and you’re not sure you can even begin to tell him just how much. You crawl across the couch and kneel in front of him. “You’re here”

The kiss you give him is returned, but it’s as hesitant as his smile.

“What’s wrong, Min?”

He shakes his head, “nothing…I’m okay, uhm…”

“You can tell me, you know that”

Yes, he can. The two of you tell each other everything, and as far as Seungmin knows, there are no secrets between you. So why does he suddenly feel so uneasy? “Just too tired to think straight. Maybe we should go to bed.”

“Yeah, let’s go to bed. Clean sheets and everything, all ready for you.”

· · ♡ · ·

Weeks pass, and eventually, Seungmin feels better—less worried, less unsure about things. It’s not completely gone, though. Every hour that passes without a reply from you makes his heart sink a little more. But then you do reply, and everything is fine for a while. Communication between you has changed…just a little bit, but enough.

It’s turning into a vicious cycle, and it’s not good for his head right now. He feels distracted from his work.

Seungmin video calls you on his way home a few days later. You don’t answer.

-

Coming home is like deja vu. Dark, though not quite as dark this time. The tv is on, and so is the bedroom light. Seungmin can hear the shower running when he closes the door. He’s relieved he doesn’t have to worry like last time, and for some reason, even though so much is still eating at him, being home feels good, and everything feels okay. You’re home and waiting for him, and maybe you haven’t been in much of a talking mood lately.

That’s all this is. Everything is good.

He hears his phone buzz and feels for it in his back pocket, but it’s not him. Yours is sitting on the kitchen counter, right next to the coffee you were drinking not long ago. It doesn’t seem out of place of him to look at the notification on your screen, because he’s done it before—you don’t hide anything from each other. But this time he isn’t sure of what he’s seeing. It’s not a text notif, or Instagram, or twitter. It’s not KakaoTalk, which he knows you use, just not much. This one is from Line, and the sender is a name you don’t recognize: 민수

Maybe it’s a coworker, or a client. You know so many people through your work, and Seungmin knows that. But the message is right there…two of them.

민수: I hope you had a good time...I did! I’ll see you again soon

The second message is a ❤️. The same red heart you always send to him. Seungmin feels every drop of blood drain from him, and he feels like he’s falling, but he’s not. His feet are somehow still flat on the floor, and his hand trembles as he touches your screen—he wants to see it and read it one more time, just in case he read it wrong.

The shower stops, and in the time it takes you to get yourself dressed, Seungmin doesn’t move. He’s rooted to this spot, and he’s sure if he takes a single step, he’ll crumble, and he won’t be able to put himself back together again.

“Minnie?”

Your voice echoes in his head.

“Seungmin, baby, you’re home…what—“

He sees your eyes move and glance at your phone on the counter, and then they’re back on his.

“What’s wrong?”

Why can’t he speak? His mouth drops open and nothing comes out, but inside he’s screaming, picking something up and throwing it against the wall, jumping on you and shaking you until you tell him…

“Why?” Is all he manages.

“Why what? Is everything okay? Seungmin, you look so pale…”

His fist clenches behind his back. “I know I haven’t been around much lately…more than lately. But I’m trying. I try so hard to be with you…when I’m away. I thought I was…” he stops and takes a stuttering breath, and his nails dig so hard into his palm, it feels like he’s breaking skin, “…doing okay.”

“Seungmin, you do better than okay”

“Where have you been? You never answer my calls anymore. You hardly text back, and when you do…it’s hours later.”

“You’re right, I’ve been really bad at this for the last few weeks”

“Who is Minsoo?”

There's silence for far longer than either of you intend, but breaking it is impossible. Seungmin said it out loud, he had to, and now things will play out exactly as they should.

But the silence is as much of an answer as he needs. He turns to your phone and picks it up, looks at the messages again. The heart was sent an hour ago, right after you left wherever you were, got home, made coffee, got in the shower. Seungmin wonders what clothes are lying on the bathroom floor right now, and his eyes sting with tears at what his mind creates.

The metal frame of the phone gives a little under his grip, and it gives in completely when it meets the wall between you. The sound is intense—the crunch of glass, the crumble of drywall. Seungmin is strong when he’s not angry, and right now he’s more than that. He’s pissed, and he’s confused.

“Why?” His hand runs through his hair and stays there as he stares at the remnants of your phone; one half of the lifeline between you when he’s gone. “Answer me.”

You jump again, despite the eerie softness of his voice. You have no answer for him, and even if you did, it wouldn’t change a thing right now. “Minnie, I love you.”

“You love me?”

He takes a few steps toward you, and you move back just as many. Seungmin has never given you any reason to fear him, and he’s never argued or fought. You don’t know anyone nearly as level-headed and calm as him, but you’ve also never done anything this stupid before.

“I do, more than anything.”

This time you stay put when he closes the gap, because something has to happen, and there’s nowhere else to go. It’s you, it’s Seungmin, and it’s the wall behind you.

His hands come up, close around your cheeks, and his thumbs run over them so sweetly, “you love me…but, you fucked someone else?”

“I didn’t. Seungmin, I didn’t. Please.”

“You've been ignoring me for another man. Pouring yourself out to him? Telling him things, telling him how you feel being all alone in bed all the time because your boyfriend is never here for you.”

“No. No, Seungmin.”

His touch on you tightens, just for a moment, as he matches the intensity of your gaze. And then he relaxes and lets go. You stay quiet as he grabs his bag and disappears into the bedroom, and you brace yourself for a slam that doesn’t come. There may be no coming back after this, and you know that. It didn’t cross your mind what might happen if a night like this came, because you weren’t sure if what you were doing, at least initially, was that wrong. But things spiraled, and you spiraled with them, and you let your isolation get the better of you.

You should have stopped when the messages got more frequent; when you felt guilty texting Seungmin at the same time as him; ignoring a phone call when you were with him.

Seungmin flies by you and heads for the door.

“Please don’t leave, Minnie, I need you”

“You need me?” He pulls his shoes on and takes his time re-lacing them. “I needed you, too. Every time I text you goodnight, or facetime you, I do it for a reason.”

“I know. I fucked up.”

“Because it’s lonely being away, even when I’m surrounded by people. Did I ever tell you that?”

“No”

“That much is my fault then, but I didn’t think I had to tell you.” He picks up both of his bags and opens the door.

“Where are you going?”

“My dorm,” he looks back once more with his hand on the doorknob, but says nothing.

“I love you…I love you, Min”

“Goodnight”

[vertigoed]

tinder 3.0 || fuckboy!satoru gojo

synopsis : in which you match with satoru gojo, tokyos most seeked after bachelor

summary: fem!reader, toxic!satoru

Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

it is mandatory to imagine this version of gojo when reading this part :) thank u hehe

you wake up to an empty bed, feeling hungover as your groggy eyes try to adjust to the bright sunlight shining through the french windows. you look around at your surroundings as you feel the soft silk sheets underneath you. the room was opulent with plush carpeting and decorated with expensive looking artwork, some of which you recognised as takashi murakami's.

you wondered where satoru was as you check your phone to see the time- it was almost mid day. "fuck," you groaned, not realising you slept in so much.

you swing your legs over to the side of the bed and tread your way to the ensuite. you couldn't help but gasp at the extravagance of the space. the bathroom was adorned with gold fixtures, marbled floors and sparkling chandelier hanging over the huge sunken bathtub in the middle.

"he must have rich fucking parents," you muttered.

once you've freshened up, you make your way downstairs in search of your clothes from last night. you had the fright of your life when you walked into a small framed suited man sitting in the lounge room, reading a newspaper.

he looked equally as shocked and hastily stood up from his seat, giving you a bow.

"nice to meet you y/n, i'm kiyotaka ichiji. gojo asked me to drop you off home."

"oh!" you said awkwardly, "are you his chauffeur?"

the man chuckled flatly at your question and shook his head, "i'm his co-worker but i can see why you may get that impression. are you ready to leave?"

you look down at satoru's shirt and pants you were wearing, shifting your weight from one foot to another. "i'm definitely missing clothes but i don't want to waste your time any further so yeah i'm ready to go!"

as much as you could appreciate satoru's gesture of arranging a ride, you wished he would've given you a heads up that a stranger will be waiting for you in his apartment.

after a painfully long car ride, you thank ichiji and sprint out, taking the stairs instead of the elevator as you didn't want to risk running into any of your neighbours.

once you get into the comfort of your four walls, you throw yourself onto your bed and let out a sigh, feeling like you can finally breathe.

the past 24 hours felt like a crazy whirlwind of experiences and you felt like you came back from another universe. you take a look around at your humble abode and couldn't help but compare the contrast of your lifestyle to his.

you knew you were helplessly falling for someone who was on a whole different class from you and you drift off to sleep with pessimistic thoughts and a fatigued body.

you wake up 15 hours later with a headache, feeling like absolute shit from sleeping half the day. you don't check your phone until you've showered and scoffed down a hot meal. you then open up satoru's tinder messages.

gojo: i can't stop thinking about last night

gojo: give me your number

you notice he sent this at 2pm and you look at the current time which was 2am. you quickly text him back your digits, tightly clutching your glass of water as you watch the bubbles pop up showing that he was typing.

gojo: u take a whole day to reply to me

gojo: what could u possibly be doing that made u too busy for me 🤣

you narrow your eyes and take a sip, he was acting uncalled for. the toxic part of you wanted to play games with him. he didn't have to know you were actually passed out from being fucked out too hard by him.

you: i dont have my tinder notifications on

satoru didn't reply to that and this time round, you don't hear back from him for a very long time.

three months later

you feel your phone ring and pull it out to see who was calling you during class. you frown at the unknown number and press the decline button, thinking it was a scam call.

once your lecture has finished, nobara dragged you off to a mixer, ignoring your protests as per usual.

"i told you to dress nice today," she tuts at your outfit as you made your way to the bar.

"i hate going to mixers and you know that," you rolled your eyes, looking down at your sweater and pants.

you enter the bar and nobara waves at the two college guys that were arranged for the mixer. only one of them had an enthusiastic smile on their faces.

"i dibs the pink hair guy," nobara whispered to you.

"hey guys!" the pink haired boy beams at both of you as you sit yourself across from the dark haired one, "i'm yuji and this is megumi."

the megumi guy gives a curt nod, barely smiling. he didn't seem too interested in this gathering as well.

"i'm nobara and this is y/n," your friend greets him back and you give a small smile.

nobara and yuji instantly hit it off, passionately raving to each other about some show they both watch. you sigh in boredom, watching the bubbles in your beer pop as you tune in and out of their conversation.

megumi was dead silent, his position mirroring yours with his arms tightly crossed against his chest and his eyes staring into blank space.

"what's up with you guys?"

your head shoots to yuji who was gesturing at you and megumi.

"what do you mean?" you straighten your back.

"you guys look dead," nobara chimed in, taking a sip of her drink, she clicks her fingers at you "come on, i want to see some talking."

you and megumi meet eyes for a brief second before he looks away. you turn back to the other two with a forced smile, but your eyes were begging them to stop.

"we're comfortable with the silence," you shrugged, "you can't force a conversation between us, what if we just don't feel like chatting?"

"don't you want to get to know megumi?" yuji sounded almost hurt.

"she's hooked on this old rich dude who ghosted her two months ago," nobara speaks up. you noticed megumi raise his brows, causing you to kick her under the table and she hastily added, "i mean, not like super old, just older. besides the point, that's why i dragged her along to this mixer, hoping we can find a replacement for her."

"i see," yuji nodded and suddenly perked up, "well i like your honesty nobara!"

thankfully the food came to the rescue, saving you from this uncomfortable conversation. you busy yourself by stuffing your mouth with the karage and takoyaki, washing down every bite with beer and lemon sours.

eventually, you're on your third pint of beer and nobara and yuji were both passed out in their seats, refusing to wake up, leaving poor megumi to put up with your drunken rants.

"honestly," you drawl, slamming your fist onto the table and leaning into megumi, who looked bored out of his mind, "i really do hate him megumi, i do. i just wish he'd fuck off and i wish i never met him."

"he did fuck off," he stated. his cheeks were flushed pink from alcohol but he was the most sober one out of everyone.

"that's true," you nodded, resting your head against your palms, feeling pathetic for sulking over a one night stand. your head was aching from it constantly pounding.

"how are we going to take care of these two?" megumi changed the subject, gesturing at the bodies.

"well, i definitely can't carry any of them."

"i should've just stayed home," he closed his eyes while tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.

you miserably nodded in agreement. you reach for your phone in your pocket and your heart drops when you find it to be empty.

"fuck! where's my phone?"

"when did you last have it?" megumi rolled his eyes, clearly not caring about your newfound dilemma.

you think back and realise you must have left it in the lecture room. you bury your head in the table, feeling even worse and begin slamming your forehead.

"i'm so fucking stupid," you said in between hits.

"okay, you're way too drunk right now, relax, just get it tomorrow," megumi placed his hand in between your head and the table.

you raise your head and his gaze softens at the sight of your tears. he tosses some tissues at you, his voice noticeably lighter, "come outside for a smoke, fresh air will sober you up a bit."

you follow him out, wiping away at your eyes. megumi offered you a cigarette which you accepted. you let him light the end for you.

you don't notice his dark eyes staring into you as he leaned up against the wall, his cigarette mingling in the warm summer breeze.

"you smoke often?" he asked.

"only when drunk, but-"

"gojo sensei?"

you tense at the name and slowly turned to where megumi was looking at. your breath hitches when you see the white haired man you were moping over standing right before your eyes.

his hair was shorter and messier with a new undercut. he looked like he had been working out with his tight-fitting shirt accentuating his bulging biceps and broad shoulders even further.

your eyes trail over to the beautiful, dark haired girl hanging onto his arms. you quickly looked away from the pair when the girl caught you staring.

"megumi!" satoru smiled, taking his hand away from the woman to give him a wave, his eyes flickered to your cigarette in your hand before he flashed a smile at you, "and y/n! what are you two doing here?"

"wait, how do you know gojo?" megumi turned to you with a bewildered expression.

your mouth opened and closed and you look over at satoru, hoping he'd say something, but of course, he enjoyed watching you squirm under pressure.

"we don't really know each other, i think we met once at a family event," you lied, glaring at the man who was trying to stifle his laugh.

megumi blinked at you with a blank face but didn't say anything. fuck does he know i'm lying? you think to yourself.

the girl was eyeing you up and down with her lips tightly pursed, suspecting something was off from the way satoru kept shamelessly focusing checking you out.

she nudges satoru to introduce her. he quickly clears his throat with a smile and said, "excuse my manners guy, i forgot to introduce my date, this is julia-"

"julie."

"that's what i said," satoru continued and wrapped his hand around the girl's hip in the exact same way he held onto you and her scowl instantly softened into a smile.

you and julie were no different from each other.

"anyway, catch me up with what's going on with you two. how on earth do you guys know each other?"

you sighed under your breath realising the juxtaposition and take a long draw from your cigarette. your night couldn't get any worse than this.

"yuji dragged me to a mixer and i met her there," megumi replied with a shrug, glancing at you, "okay, well, have fun on your date."

"i'm just going to go back in as well," you announced and turn to walk in.

"okay-"

"i'm calling a taxi for julie now, any of you guys need a ride home?" satoru cuts megumi off. his blue eyes looking straight at you.

"i'm going to taxi with nobara," you answered, avoiding satoru's burning gaze.

you glance over at satoru's date who looked appalled at the current situation and felt a pang of guilt.

"i got my car," megumi replied dryly, "we're going back in, see you around sensei."

you don't look back at the couple and quickly follow megumi back into the bar. your blood was pumping at this point. it was infuriating that satoru was offering you a ride home when he was on another date as if he had no respect for either of you or julie.

does he really think you're that low?

you knew you had to down another pint of beer to wash away the frustration burning inside of you. megumi watched you throw back the drink in one chug, letting out a burp. he grimaced in disgust at your lack of manners.

"so what's the relationship between you two? you guys seem pretty close," you asked, wiping your mouth.

"he was my high school teacher but he looked after me when i was a kid," megumi answered, "are you into him?"

"no," you lied with a scoff but you knew your cheeks were flushed from that question.

"well you should probably drop all interest now. during the 12 years i've known him, he's never been tied down," said megumi before adding, "unless you're into the one night stands and being treated with no respect."

his words felt like a blade digging into your heart, bruising your ego and shattering the little hope you had. you don't answer for a bit and play with the hair tie around your wrist.

"well, good thing i'm not interested in your teacher."

"you are a terrible liar," megumi gives a small smirk, "let me guess, gojo is the guy you've been crying over. he fucked you and now you can't get over him?"

your jaw dropped, shocked that megumi could be so blunt when he seemed like such a reserved guy. your shoulders fall and you let out a dramatic sigh. you knew there was no point in denying the truth.

so you reveal everything to the guy who was raised by satoru gojo. one of those drunken moments that your sober self will soon enough come to regret.

----------

you check the missed calls and messages when you find your phone the next morning. your eyes widen at the string of messages from the same unknown number that was calling you.

2:09PM it's me satoru pick up my call, im free tonight wanna hang?

11:00PM u like fucking little boys like megumi?

1:00am: he cant fuck u like i do

you scoffed at the nerve of this man to be acting jealous when he was the one who ghosted you for three months.

9:00am: don't worry he wasn't little

you sent the message without thinking, then instantly regret it as soon as it delivered. you pray satoru doesn't bring you up to megumi, otherwise you would have some very awkward explaining to do.

you brush off the jittery feeling and bite back a grin, placing your screen down so you can focus on your studying. couple of minutes later, your phone buzzes again.

9:10am: are you angry at me love?

9:11am: if it makes u feel better ur mouth and pussy feels better than hers . its unfair how good u feel .

9:12am: i know you've been thinking about me too

you bite the inside of your cheek until you taste metal and you hastily put your phone on do not disturb, ignoring the warm fuzziness building up inside you. you squeeze your thighs to relieve some tension and strain your eyes onto the words but your brain was processing no information.

you had your mid term exams coming up and you had no time to be playing into his games but, your mind kept on drifting onto that particular night and like an annoying itch, you were desperate to scratch it for some relief.

as if your body had its mind of its own, your fingers begin to type out a message despite nobara's voice ringing in your head.

"ugh, he hasn't been texting you because he's busy fucking his other matches, get over it."

"you fucked him once. it was a one night stand. have some self respect and get yourself a boy our age, you're better than this!"

but nobara was wrong, you weren't better than this.

in fact, you don't think you've even been this low in your life before.

11am: ur right, i've been thinking about you

-

ok so nobara isnt a sorcerer in this but megumi and yuji are . this is set after the culling games and lets just be delusional and pretend nobody died, gojo won and its all sunshine and rainbows

TAGLIST: @mc-reborn @cherrymoon4 @creolequeen11210

lmk if you'd to be added to the taglist!!!! ❤️

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day 28: Mind Control (Part One)

Augusnippets Masterlist

tw: mind control, hypnosis, alien abduction, medical examination, drugging, memory erasure, sketchy therapist

Dr. Palmer looked over her schedule for the day. It was mostly filled with her usual sorts of appointments -- anxiety, stop smoking, get over her ex, anxiety again -- a bit dull, but it would pay the bills. Some days, though, she would have an appointment like her 2pm. This client had seemed very nervous on the phone, saying that she wanted hypnotherapy to uncover a distressing, buried memory, but refused to say what it was until she arrived.

She had requests like this on a semi-frequent basis, people who wanted to be regressed to past lives or uncover hidden memories, things like that. Those were some of her favorites. She could hypnotize the client, make up whatever outlandish story she wanted, get their brain to fill in the blanks, and they'd leave happy, thinking that she'd helped them remember some important truth. Dr. Palmer didn't actually believe in past lives or any of that -- but she did believe in the human mind's ability to make things up under hypnosis. The client heard what they wanted to hear, she got a paycheck -- a good day's work, as far as she was concerned.

Usually, when she got a request like this, the client was the sort that wore healing crystals and magnetic bracelets and essential oils from an MLM scheme. She was a bit surprised at how put-together her 2pm was. Zhihao Han wore a deep purple blouse and a smart black skirt, hair and makeup both flawless, dressed the part for a high stress office career. The only crack in her facade was the stress in her eyes, a subtle sign that Dr. Palmer had learned to recognize.

"Welcome," said Dr. Palmer, leading her over to her excessively comfortable reclining chair, a necessary component of putting her clients at ease and helping them relax. "Is this your first time with a hypnotherapist?"

"Yes, it is." She seemed stiff and nervous even in the chair, sitting on the edge instead of relaxing back into it. "As I mentioned over the phone, it's a problem that I'm somewhat embarrassed about. I was hoping that maybe you could help me with it."

Dr. Palmer put on her best disarming smile. "Of course. I'm happy to help with whatever problem you need. And you don't need to be embarrassed with me. I've heard it all. There's no judgement in this office."

"You say that, but you're going to think I'm losing my mind." She took a deep breath. "Do you believe in aliens?"

"Aliens?" Oh, this was getting interesting.

"Yes, aliens. Extraterrestrials. Beings from beyond the stars."

"Well, it's a big universe. I certainly think it's possible we're not alone out there."

"That's how I thought about it too. Well, I didn't think about aliens much at all. I've never been all that interested in science fiction or any of that…. until I started having these dreams."

"What are the dreams about?"

"In the dreams, I'm being abducted by aliens," she says. "At first I thought it was just a random dream like any other… but then I started having them on a routine basis, every couple of months or so. And they seemed so vivid and real when I was having them, but after I woke up, I would find them so hard to remember clearly."

"I see. And this is what you'd like to explore today?"

"I know it must sound crazy, but every time I wake up from one of these dreams, I feel absolutely convinced that it's real. I've never had an experience like this with dreams before." She looked significantly more agitated now than when she came in. "I keep thinking strange thoughts…"

"Like…?" Dr. Palmer prodded gently.

"Like I'm just waiting for the aliens to return and abduct me again. Like I want it to happen. But I don't! I have a career that I've worked hard to maintain, and I'm trying to get a promotion, and I really don't have time to sit around in a daze, daydreaming about aliens. I keep trying so hard to remember what exactly is in the dream, but I can't."

"So you want me to help you remember?"

"Yes. I hope if I can remember the dream and talk about it with someone, I can finally convince my subconscious that it isn't real," she said. "I feel like I can't talk about this with my normal therapist, or anyone else."

"I understand," said Dr. Palmer. "Can I ask you a bit about your job? It sounds very stressful."

"Yes, it is. I can't talk much about the details, but I have an important deadline coming up in a month, on top of my normal duties and endless meetings. That's another reason why I can't afford to be distracted by something like this. Honestly, I don't even have the time for this appointment, but I felt like I had no choice but to do something."

Dr. Palmer starting to get a very obvious working theory about what's going on with Zhihao. The only real trouble would be putting her under. She was clearly skeptical and had difficulty relaxing, so it might be tough. "I think I can help you," she said, "but it might take more than one session."

"Whatever you need to do, the sooner the better."

"Have you ever been hypnotized?"

"No, I haven't. I have no idea if I even can be."

Yes, this might take more than one session. She'd be lucky to get Zhihao even somewhat hypnotized in the hour they had. "I think anyone can be hypnotized, but sometimes it takes several tries. For today, I'm just going to have you follow along with my instructions, and we'll see if we can get you to relax, at least."

"I guess relaxing would do me some good," said Zhihao, who didn't seem aware of what an understatement that was.

"Can you lean back in the chair for me?"

"All right." She finally stopped perching on the very edge of the chair and sank into the comfortable leather cushions.

"Good! Now there's no pressure here. I just want you to sit back and listen, and soon you might feel yourself growing more relaxed. It will happen naturally -- you don't need to worry about it. First of all, I'd like you to think about the tension you're holding in your jaw…"

Dr. Palmer began leading Zhihao through a standard relaxation induction, and was surprised at how much she was responding to it. After just a few minutes, she was noticeably more relaxed, with a slightly distant expression on her face. Dr. Palmer figured she'd judged wrong -- instead of being unable to relax, she might have been so desperate for rest that she couldn't help but follow along with everything the doctor was saying.

"Now I want you to take a nice deep breath. Take a deep breath in… hold it… and out. That's good. Another deep breath in… hold it… and out." Dr. Palmer was now hopeful of actually getting a working trance in this session. "I want you to keep taking deep breaths, slowly and evenly. And as you breathe in, I want you to allow your eyelids to fall shut… and when you breathe out, you can open them again. Breathe in, closing those eyes down… and breathe out, opening your eyes."

Zhihao followed along easily, her eyes fluttering shut on every deep breath as Dr. Palmer coaxed her further into trance.

"And as you take those big deep breaths, and your eyes open and close, you may feel yourself starting to get a little drowsy. Your eyelids may start to feel heavy from having to open and close them, and that's okay. Just keep on taking nice deep breaths in, allowing those heavy eyes to close, and out, opening them again. It's okay if you struggle a little to open your eyes. They're probably feeling very heavy now, like they'd just want to stay shut. And you might be feeling more and more sleepy…"

Again, Dr. Palmer was surprised by how quickly she responded. It didn't take long at all before Zhihao was practically falling asleep.

"…and you can just keep your drowsy, sleepy, heavy eyelids closed," said Dr. Palmer. "How are you feeling?"

Her voice sounded dreamy and far away. "…Obedient."

Now that was interesting, because Dr. Palmer hadn't even mentioned obedience. Clearly this client had some ideas about hypnosis that were influencing her -- probably related to her alien abduction fantasy. Well, she could certainly work with that.

"That's right, obedient. And the sleepier you get, the more you're going to drop down into a deep state of obedience…"

Zhihao was absolute putty in Dr. Palmer's hands as soon as she brought up obedience, almost like she'd been hypnotized before and this was some sort of trigger.

"You're certain you've never been hypnotized before?"

"The aliens hypnotize me each time they take me. They need me to be docile and obedient."

Ah, so this really was just part of her alien fantasy. Convenient. "Let's talk about that more, now that you're in such a deep and peaceful hypnotic trance," she said. "Can you tell me when and where the aliens usually abduct you?"

"In my bedroom, just as I'm about to go to sleep," she said. "I can feel it about to happen before it does. They use their psychic powers to make me too tired to struggle and force me to be quiet, so that when they show up, I won't resist."

"All right. Can you imagine that now? Imagine that you're in your bedroom, safe in your bed, getting ready to go to sleep, when you feel the presence of the aliens."

"They're in my head." She sounded like a different person, small and almost childlike. "Their powers make me so, so sleepy, and I can't get up. I can't call for help, because they want me to be quiet. They make me be quiet. I see some bright lights, and then they're standing by my bed, ready to take me."

"What do they look like?"

"Taller than normal humans and very thin. They have gray skin and enormous dark eyes like the night sky."

So, standard alien "grays", the kind you'd see on any cheesy conspiracy show. "Can you tell me what happens next?"

"They don't speak. They beam their commands directly into my head, and I'm helpless to resist. I feel so drowsy, like I've been drugged. One of them will beckon for me to follow them, and I can't stop myself from getting out of bed and following, like a sleepwalker. They do something to make me want to obey them, more than anything. I always let them take me without any fight at all."

I'm starting to get the picture. My client is severely stressed and overworked, almost certainly neglecting her needs, and she has to constantly wear a facade of being perfect and put together. It's too much for anyone, and her mind is begging for some sort of release. So she imagines a scenario where she's half-asleep and completely powerless, an escape valve of sorts.

"So do you remember what happens after you're taken?"

"I think they must put me to sleep. It gets hard to remember…" She sounded frustrated.

"It's okay, just relax. You can relax and sink deeper into trance. You don't need to pressure yourself to remember," Dr. Palmer encouraged. "If there's anything that stands out to you, any images or feelings, talking about it might help you remember more."

"There is another thing."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She hesitated briefly. "I have this strong image in my head of waking up on a kind of metal table. There are aliens looking down at me, and bright lights overhead. The room is filled with strange machines. And… I'm usually naked, on this table."

Dr. Palmer nodded and noted down a possible sexual frustration component to the client's fantasy.

"The aliens want me awake, but they're still using their psychic powers to make me very, very sleepy and docile. I'm not restrained in any way, but the aliens make me be completely still. And I remember how much I want to obey them. They have strange instruments they use to measure my body and perform tests on me. I remember some sort of eye test with a screen, I think. And they put commands in my head. Commands I'm not allowed to remember."

"Not allowed to remember?"

"Yes," she said, with some distress. "It's very important to obey. It's very important to forget." She sounds like she's reciting some mantra from her dream.

"Is that what they told you?"

"I… remember," she said. "I think I can I remember something I'm not supposed to. Something I've been trying to remember."

"You're very safe here. You can tell me."

"I remember a mask. A scary-looking kind of gas mask. They always bring it out when they're finished with the tests." Zhihao, still deep in trance, seems so agitated about this. "They seal it over my mouth and nose, and I can't resist, because I'm too tired and I have to stay still. Then they tell me that I need to sleep and forget."

"Is that why you can't remember what happens?"

"I don't want to forget. I know that the strange dreams are driving me out of my mind, because I can't remember them. I need to remember. But the gas is so strong, and I can't fight it for long, especially with the aliens using their psychic powers. I get so sleepy that I can't stay awake, and I can feel myself starting to forget, no matter how hard I try to hold on. They make me sleep and forget." A tear rolls down her cheek, her eyes still shut tight.

"It's all right. You're safe here."

"I'm not safe. I'm not safe anywhere," she said. "They can take me any time they please, and I'll be powerless to resist. They can do whatever they want to my mind. They can make me dazed and forgetful. It's ruining my life! And no one would ever believe me."

"I believe you."

"You do?"

Dr. Palmer was at least a little bit tempted to tell her that the aliens were real and that she'd have to do many more sessions to strengthen her mind against them, or some bull like that. After all, judging by this patient's clothing and her description of her job, she had plenty of money for it. But her conscience got the better of her. She felt bad for this woman who had stressed out so hard she was starting to hallucinate. Besides, if she actually helped with the stress, Zhihao might shell out for legitimate hypnotherapy.

"I believe that you've been having these strange, vivid dreams that seems so real you're convinced they must have happened," said Dr. Palmer. "And I believe that these dreams are causing you to become dazed and forgetful at work. But that doesn't mean the aliens themselves are real, no matter how real they seem."

"I knew you would think I was crazy."

"That's not what I'm saying at all. I definitely don't think you're crazy. This sort of situation is way more common than you think."

Zhihao's face scrunched, trying to process, so Dr. Palmer continued on.

"You're obviously very stressed, and I'm going to guess that you haven't been getting enough sleep."

"I try to get four hours a night."

Oh lord. "That's not nearly enough sleep, you know. And I'm guessing you're neglecting other needs, like food and hydration."

Even still under trance, Zhihao looked miserable thinking about it. "With so many meetings, there's no time in the day to eat lunch…"

"Stress, lack of sleep, and neglecting of your basic needs can definitely cause vivid nightmares."

She nodded slowly. "But why are they so vivid and specific?"

"Well, you're incredibly stressed, so your dreams are also stressful. Your body needs more sleep, but you're always denying it, so you're imagining a situation where you're forced to sleep. And having so many responsibilities and needing to make hard decisions all day is exhausting, so you imagine a situation where you're powerless and not in control, no decisions possible."

"That makes sense…"

"I think what would help you is some self-hypnosis techniques to help you relax and sleep better," said Dr. Palmer, putting on her best therapist voice. "May I teach you a few?"

"If you think it will help."

Half an hour later, Zhihao was blinking her eyes awake from heavy trance, yawning and stretching and already looking better. "That was amazing!" she said. "I feel so relieved, and I think I really did need to relax for a while."

"I'm glad I could help," said Dr. Palmer. "I think getting even a little more sleep and trying out some of the stress-relieving techniques I taught you will help reduce the amount and intensity of those nightmares."

"It can't hurt. I'm willing to try anything."

"Would you be interested in a followup appointment in a month?"

"That's really close to my deadline -- could it be a month and a half?"

As Zhihao waved goodbye and headed out the door, Dr. Palmer felt satisfied with how it'd all turned out. She'd hopefully helped this woman avoid a premature heart attack and she'd possibly made a loyal customer, a win-win situation. Besides that, this patient's stories about aliens were far more interesting than a lot of the problems her patients had.

For once, Dr. Palmer was certain that she'd done well.

That is, until she saw the bright lights outside her window that night.

Augusnippets Masterlist

@augusnippets

There is a part two to this story once I finish it!

[sissylittlefeather]

This is the Story

Chapter 6

A/N: I'm super nervous to publish this chapter, for some reason, so if you like it please let me know! And I hope you do love it! This is so fluffy it's the unicorn from Despicable Me.

ICYMI: This is the one with the OC Grace Dubois, author and single mom of Wendy. It's set in 1973 and this chapter happens in November, just after Halloween. Need to catch up? Here are links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Warnings: None really? Again. It's. So. Fluffy.

Word count: 2.9k

Song that inspired the series:

Both Elvis and Grace get ready for bed and attempt sleeping, trying and failing to think of anything but each other.

******

The next day, Grace takes her time getting ready to go to Graceland. She normally arrives around lunchtime, but today it's almost 2pm. When she finally arrives, she knocks on the door and Elvis answers. He gives her an awkward smile and coughs as he gestures for her to come in. They get up to his office and he seems to be having trouble sitting still. He keeps getting up to get a glass of water or an aspirin or to go to the bathroom.

Grace starts to think she imagined everything that she thought was between them last night. He seems to be doing everything in his power to avoid her. Why did he hug her then? And the almost kiss? What was that if he can't stand to be in her presence?

After about an hour of this, Grace is starting to get irritated with him. Eventually, he stops her from asking questions.

"I'm sorry; I think we're going to have to be done for today. I'm not feeling well." He smiles awkwardly and stands up to walk her to the door.

Now she's angry. Yes, maybe it was a little awkward after last night, but if he has to make up a lie about not feeling well just to get out of her presence, she's not going to force him. She nods curtly and heads for the door. When they get there, he acts like he wants to hug her again, but she walks straight past him to her car.

The next day is Friday, so she drops Wendy off at school and is ready to let Elvis know how she's feeling when the phone rings out of nowhere.

"Ms. Dubois? This is Jerry Schilling. Elvis won't be needing you to come to the house today. Thank you." Click.

He didn't even give her a chance to ask why or say anything at all. But if Elvis is that desperate to avoid her, then fine. She'll just wait until the weekly Sunday night call, when they make a schedule for the upcoming week, to let him know what she thinks.

But on Sunday evening, there's no phone call. Grace sits on the side of her bed trying not to cry. What did she do wrong? It felt like maybe she had finally found someone she could trust after all these years. But now he is reminding her of Wendy's father. She had trusted him and then he abandoned her when she needed him the most. Was Elvis doing the same thing? She wasn't exactly in a crisis, but he was already proving that he was untrustworthy.

Frank was right. She should've kept her distance.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Wendy comes into her room and sits next to her on the bed.

"Oh, nothing, I'm fine, sweetie."

"Is this about Daddy?"

"Daddy?"

"Mr. Presley!" Wendy rolls her eyes a little that Grace doesn't remember.

"Honey, no. It has nothing to do with him. And he's not your daddy. You shouldn't call him that."

"Why not? Lisa Marie said I could." Grace puts a hand on her forehead. The pounding behind her eyes is starting to get to her.

"You just... can't, okay?" Wendy nods slowly.

"Sure. I'll stop." She says it quietly, but she has no intention of stopping.

On Monday morning, Grace is ready to go to battle with Elvis. He has now ignored her for three full days. It doesn't matter how awkward it might've been on Halloween. He could at least apologize to her face and let her know he wasn't interested. Instead, he's sneaking around and avoiding her like a child. And he was mad that she disappeared?

She drops Wendy off and goes straight to the house around 9am. It's earlier than she's ever been there and she knows Elvis is probably still asleep, but she is fully prepared to stand in the foyer and yell until he comes down.

She stomps up to the door and knocks loudly. Jerry answers slowly.

"Ms. Dubois, what are you doing here? He's not..." Grace pushes past him into the front hall.

"Elvis! You owe me an explanation!"

"He's not here, Grace." She whips around to Jerry. Did he take off? He's probably back in Vegas.

"Where the FUCK is he, Jerry?!" Jerry shakes his head. He's obviously avoiding telling her. Just then, the phone rings. He walks to it and answers it carefully. Grace stands close by. She can hear Elvis's father, Vernon, on the other end of the line.

"What is it?" Jerry asks.

"He's asking for Grace. Should we call her?" Jerry turns and looks at her. He knows she heard that.

"We don't need to call her. She's here."

"Are you going to tell her?"

"I think I have to. Especially if he's asking for her."

"Well, alright then." Jerry hangs up the phone and looks at her nervously.

"Jerry, you better tell me what's going on right now." He hesitates before he opens his mouth.

"He's in the hospital. He has pneumonia. The doctors are worried..."

Jerry keeps talking but Grace doesn't hear anything else. Her heart sinks to her stomach and feels like it's in a vice. Everything starts to sounds garbled and her heart rate hits the roof. Her hands start shaking and without another thought, she turns on her heel and starts running towards her car. She has to get to him, now. She feels tears stream down her face as she tries to get her key into the car door, but she's shaking too much. Then, she feels Jerry's hand on her shoulder gently.

"Come on. I'll drive you." He takes the keys and guides her around to the passenger side. Once they're headed for the hospital, Grace begins to sob openly.

"This whole time I've been so angry and he's in the hospital."

"Oh, Grace, you had no way of knowing."

"What if he dies?!" She turns to Jerry frantically. "Please. He can't die." She's begging Jerry like he has some control over the situation.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Grace looks down at her hands and continues crying. She didn't even realize how much she cared about him until she knew he was in danger.

"I really do." Jerry smiles softly and looks over at her in the passenger seat. "Please don't tell him. I still don't know how he feels about me."

"Grace, I'm not sure I've ever seen him like this before. Usually between shows, he gets very sulky and spends most of his time in his room. But now? He's always so excited to see you. His mood is better than ever. Even the other guys have noticed. Don't feel bad for caring about him."

She swallows hard and thinks about what this might mean. Just then, Jerry pulls into the hospital parking lot. She can't think about any of that right now. Right now she just needs to see him and make sure he's okay.

******

Elvis has been in and out of delirious consciousness for the last two days. His fever is very high and he needs oxygen to keep breathing. Today is the first day he's been able to speak. He pulls the oxygen mask off again and gestures for his father to come close to him.

"Did you call Grace? Is she coming?"

"I'm not sure. We told her, but I don't know if she's coming."

He puts the oxygen mask back on for a bit. Surely, she'll come? If nothing else, she said she wouldn't disappear again. She said they could be friends. This is his last thought before he drifts off to sleep.

******

Grace walks carefully into the hospital room and her breath catches in her throat. Her hand goes to her mouth and she feels her eyes fill with tears again.

"No." She whispers. He looks even worse than she imagined, with the oxygen mask on and the IVs hooked up to him.

When Vernon sees her, he gets up out of the chair next to the bed. She goes immediately to the side of the bed, taking Elvis's big, warm hand in her own. Then, she pushes his hair back off his forehead and feels his fever. He's so warm, it's scary. Her hands are cool, so she gently presses one to his cheek. She wants him to wake up, but he doesn't. Finally, she settles in the chair Vernon was sitting in. She lowers her head and presses a kiss on his hand and then holds it up to her face.

Wake up, Elvis. I'm here. Wake up.

She wills him to wake up, and somehow it's like he hears her. His eyes flutter open and she stands up, leaning over him again. He pulls the oxygen mask off his face. Jerry gestures to Vernon that they should give them the room. The two men walk out and leave Grace and Elvis alone.

"You're here."

"Of course I am." She smiles softly. "I promised I wouldn't disappear again."

He smiles weakly and tries to lift his hand to her face, but he can't. She grabs his hand and holds it, bringing it to her cheek for him. Then, she kisses the inside of his palm.

"What do you need? Can I get anything for you?" He shakes his head slightly.

"I just need you." He puts the oxygen mask back on and rubs his thumb over her cheek. She puts his hand back down and he drifts off to sleep again.

As soon as he's asleep, she uses a pay phone to call Paulette and get her on the first plane to Memphis. She'll need her to watch Wendy while she cares for Elvis. Luckily, there's a flight coming in around 2, just in time for her to be at the apartment when Wendy gets off the bus. She arranges with Jerry for a driver to pick her up from the airport and uses her work expense account to pay for the flight. Once Wendy and Paulette are squared away, she goes back to Elvis. She stays by his bedside for the rest of the day, not even leaving to eat lunch. He sleeps for most of the day, but every time he wakes up, he looks for her and she's quick to make sure he knows she's there.

At one point in the afternoon, the Colonel arrives to check on him. He's shocked to find Grace there and he's even more shocked to see how comfortable she seems by his side.

"Ms. Du-boys, surely you're not here collecting information for the book."

She whips her head around to him. Nothing could be further from her mind.

"Absolutely not. I'm just here for him."

"You two seem to have gotten close."

"We're... friends." She hesitates a little and she can tell the Colonel notices.

Evening comes and Grace, Jerry, Vernon, and the Colonel are all still there. A nurse comes in to tell them regular visiting hours are over.

"Only one of you can stay with him overnight." Jerry and Vernon both look at Grace. Again, the Colonel is surprised.

"I'll stay." She tries to say it with some authority since she's not his next of kin or anything, but the nurse doesn't seem to care.

She spends the night sitting in the chair leaned over asleep on the side of his bed.

******

At one point in the night, Elvis wakes up. Again he looks for Grace first. He's comforted to find her there, breathing softly, peacefully sleeping on the side of his bed. He lifts his hand and strokes her hair, which she's taken down to be more comfortable.

The moonlight streams in through the window, illuminating her features. She's so beautiful. His heart feels full and he prays that she never leaves. He's never felt this way about any woman in his life.

Before he goes back to sleep, he runs his fingers down her face gently, tracing her high cheekbones and the outline of her soft lips. Then, he drifts off more content than he's been in years.

******

Grace stays by Elvis's bedside for the next three days as he slowly comes back to health. She leaves only to check on Wendy and shower.

On the third day, the doctor comes in and tells them he can go home.

"It was touch and go for a bit, but he hit a real turning point on Monday. He'll be fine. He just needs to continue to rest for the next week or so. Does he have someone who can look after him at home?" Again, Vernon and Jerry look at Grace. This time Elvis does too. She had already planned on taking care of him, so she nods.

Wendy is safe with Paulette and when Grace tells her why she is going to be gone, Wendy smiles widely.

"Daddy needs you. It's okay." Grace rolls her eyes but doesn't correct her this time. She packs a suitcase and kisses Wendy on the head.

"I'll be back to check on you everyday."

"Take good care of Daddy." Grace shakes her head as she walks out the door. Where does that girl get her spunk?

******

Once Elvis is settled in his bed in pajamas that evening, Grace comes in to check on him. Part of him is shocked she agreed to stay with him while he recovers. He's starting to wonder if maybe she is feeling something close to what he's feeling.

"Do you need anything?" She says as she collects his dinner tray.

"Maybe some more water? Thank you, honey." When she comes back with the water, she sets it on the bedside table and starts to walk away. He grabs her hand.

"Hey, sit with me for a bit." He pats on the bedspread for her to sit down next to him. She positions herself on the edge of the bed, facing him.

"Did you need something else?" She's smiling softly.

"No I just wanted to talk to you." She relaxes a bit. He can tell she's a little nervous caring for him in his house.

"What should we talk about?" She laughs quietly. He looks over her T-shirt and jeans, searching for something to say. In reality, he just wants her to stay close to him.

"Would you like me to read to you?" He looks back up into her face, thankful for her suggestion.

"Yes, I would like that very much." He points her to a stack of books. She chooses one that happens to be a favorite of his and settles herself back onto the bed. As she begins to read, he watches her carefully. He loves the way she licks her lips as she turns the page and the piece of hair that's fallen out of her loose bun. If he had any kind of strength at all, he would reach out and touch her, but he's still weak from sickness. But if being sick is what it takes to keep her here, he hopes he's sick forever.

******

Grace does everything in her power not to lay down next to him on the bed as she reads. She wants to feel his closeness, not in a sexual way, but in a comforting way. The moment feels deeply intimate, but there's so much separation between them. And she still doesn't even know for sure if he would want that. She considers just asking him, straight out, but the thought that he might say no kills her. Better to just not know.

She reads for an hour or two with him listening intently before he finally gives in and goes to sleep. Or, at least, she thinks he's asleep, but when she closes the book and gets up to leave, she hears his voice softly behind her.

"Please stay."

"Elvis, it's late. I need to go to bed."

"Sleep here. Please." She looks at the bed skeptically. "It's a big bed. You don't even have to touch me. You know I'm too sick to try anything. Please?" She turns to leave. "Grace?"

"I'm getting my pajamas." She gives him a small smile and goes to the room where her suitcase is. Her heart is racing and she knows this is probably a bad idea, but she grabs her things and changes quickly. She's spent the last few nights with her head on the bed next to him anyway. How much different is this really?

******

When Grace comes back into the room in her pajamas, Elvis's heart skips a beat. He can't believe he asked her to sleep in the bed with him. He's not the kind of man to sleep in a bed with a woman before he spends time doing other things in the bed. But this is different. She's different.

She gets in the bed on the opposite side and lays down with a good bit of space between them.

"Thank you. For everything." He looks over at her. She scoots over closer to him until their arms are touching.

"Well the last thing I need is for Elvis Presley to stop breathing on my watch." He laughs and starts to cough. Instinctively, she rolls over and puts her hand on his chest. He stops coughing and puts his hand over hers. Then, he presses his lips to her forehead and whispers.

"Thank you."

They sleep this way for the next week and a half. And no matter how hard they try, they always wake up in the morning cuddled together in the middle of the bed.

******

Stay tuned! The next chapter should be a doozy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @xanatenshi @returntopresley @p0lksaladannie @deniseinmn @jaqueline19997 @that-hotdog @mykievolturi @18lkpeters @joshuntildawn13 @rjmartin11 @littlehoneyposts

Want to be added to the Taglist? Let me know! It's about to get 🌶️ spicy 🌶️ 😉

[nenelonomh]

day 43/100 ~ 100 days of productivity

achievements: ♡ spanish oral exam ♡ got end of exam block froyo with my friends!

insights: ♡ the point is that you have to want to change, otherwise nothing will

notes: ♡ i forgot my housekey today after i went to school this morning, and when i was about home i realised (around 2pm) so i had to walk to the library instead, and wait a couple of hours until another one of my family members had gotten home. i'm so proud of myself for how i made the most of the situation - enjoying my book and picking up some lunch.

daily physical activity study time reading time

image source: pinterest

[sssammich]

day 22: art

for supercorptober2023

read on ao3 instead

this is a long one (~6.4k) idk what happened tbh but here we are

summary: kara buys a portrait of lena luthor in an estate sale

---

After finishing her work early, Kara made her way to Noonan’s for their afternoon cinnamon buns. While she waited for her order, she stood by the community bulletin boards to pass the time when a particular flier caught her eye. It advertised an estate sale on the outskirts of town today at 2pm. She normally never paid attention to these things, but something about the image of the mansion printed on the paper gave her pause. 

When she checked her wristwatch, she gasped when she found that it was due to start in half an hour. She quickly opened the maps on her phone and calculated how long it would take for the bus to get there and found that if she left now, she could catch the bus right down the street and make it there, even if a little late. 

Kara had no idea why she felt compelled to go, just that she was and she wanted to find out what was out there. Either way, she’d convinced herself that this was what she was going to spend her free afternoon. 

A surge of determination coursed through her and she quickly swiped the bag of pastries from the counter with her cup of coffee before rushing out, her messenger bag hurriedly slung over her shoulder. She ran to the bus stop just as it was pulling up, and she tried to mask her out-of-breathness as she tapped her card. 

She started eating one of her three cinnamon buns during the bus ride, helping to settle her nerves. Eventually, she got to the last stop and rushed towards the mansion, the biggest one on the street.

When she arrived, there were already plenty of people milling about. She took a bite out of her last bun as she perused, nudging her glasses up on her face as she tried to get out of people’s way. She wasn’t sure why she was even there, to be honest, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her and after having spent 45 minutes on the bus, she wanted to see what was happening. 

Kara finally made it inside and quietly walked through the halls, each one oozing a kind of coldness she couldn’t quite shake off. The mansion was grand, it looked very much like the people who lived there were wealthy and affluent. She saw different trinkets and items all laid out around the home itself, various people trying to pitch them to potential customers. Eventually, she made it to a large room upstairs devoid of anything save for frames of various sizes with all sorts of art. She watched over people’s shoulders as they rifled through the frames, but none of them really stood out. 

Until she came across a portrait of a family: a father and mother sitting in their respective armchairs, and a daughter and a son standing behind them. The man was a large figure, his features stern and intense. Beside him was a woman with dark blonde hair with pursed lips and a critical eye. The man behind him, who Kara guessed was the son, was a bald man with a full beard, his smirk apparent. Finally, Kara’s eyes landed on the younger brunette woman behind the sitting man, a small polite smile on her face. 

When she made a comment about the portrait, wondering aloud who they were, a gruff man came over and responded. 

The Luthors, he said. A corrupt family full of heathens and criminals. 

She took another glance at the bald man with his hand on his mother’s shoulder before looking away. 

The customer continued to rifle through the portraits until they reached the end with a simple portrait of the daughter. This was a closer image of the woman now sitting on the armchair, her hands folded on her lap as she looked straight ahead. The small, polite smile was there—very Mona Lisa, if Kara thought about it—yet there was something else about her appearance. She was wearing a forest green dress that further emphasized the light green of her eyes. Her dark, almost raven hair was down in beautiful waves, and her lips painted red. 

Simply, she was a vision, and Kara was amazed at how well the artist was able to capture the woman’s beauty. Yet there was something off about her image: a sadness, a sullenness in her expression, despite the smile. 

Kara understood. Or, as much as she could with a painting of a woman she’d never met  before. 

“Who’s she?” she asked aloud, her fingers delicately fiddling with the frame. 

“Lena Luthor. She’s the bastard daughter.” She frowned, not liking the way he was so dismissive of this woman. 

“How’d you know that?” 

The man stared at her, his gaze quickly souring. “Learn to read a newspaper, kid. Now, are you gonna buy or what?”  

Resolute in wanting to protect this woman in the portrait, Kara eventually haggled him down to a measly $50, a far cry from the $150 that he’d originally asked for. Kara had an inkling that she’d aggravated him enough that he was ready to let her and the portrait go. 

She quickly handed over the last of her bills from her pocket and hoisted the frame of the Luthor daughter out of the estate and into a taxi where it took most of the legroom of the backseat. 

When Kara hooked the frame on her wall just to the right of her t.v. console, she did so with pride and satisfaction, placing her hands on her hips in appreciation. It had been an ordeal getting the frame up the stairs, but she’d done it without tearing or messing up the frame or the painting. It wasn’t like the frame itself was terribly immense or unwieldy, but there was something about maintaining the beauty in it that Kara forced herself to be as careful as possible—fighting every atom in her body to not be her regular clumsy self. Luckily, the universe seemed to have been generous with her that day. 

“Ok, Lena Luthor. Welcome to your new home.” She laughed to herself, feeling silly for talking to herself. Her inquisitive mind typed in Luthor and found news articles of Lionel and Lillian Luthor coming into power in business and real estate and creating the Luthor empire, by any means necessary. How their son Lex was poised to inherit said empire until he was discovered to be the serial arsonist that had wreaked havoc in Metropolis, setting multiple buildings ablaze in the course of a short month, injuring dozens and killing a handful of tenants. 

There weren’t many words written about Lena in these articles, mostly mentioning that she had been residing out of the country in London when much of the crimes took place. Her eyes landed on some comments blaming Lena for not being responsible enough to stop her brother’s actions, and that was when she closed her browser down. 

She read about Lena’s ways to distance herself from her family as much as possible, staying far away from the limelight and the lavish lifestyle that the rest of her family participated in. She was doing some type of medical research or engineering of some sort, yet reports of her were rather sparse and elusive. 

She decided that was enough for her, and despite how her fingers itched to know more, Kara shut her laptop down. Strange as it may have been, she wanted to prove her faith in the woman—this stranger. She decided then and there that she’d learned all she wanted to know and that she was going to leave that woman alone and appreciate the portrait for what it was. For all Kara cared, the less she knew about this woman, the better. 

“I’ll stop looking,” she said aloud, as if a silent gesture of good will towards the portrait. “Pinky promise.” 

—

Kara found herself spending the following couple of weeks after her impulsive purchase greeting Lena throughout the day. She’d wish the portrait a good morning when she first walked into the living area and when she was on her way out the door to work. Then she’d greet the portrait when she came home and a good night when she got ready for bed. All the while, she giggled to herself as she did so—both feeling silly and endeared at the thought of connecting with the woman in the portrait. It certainly helped to make her feel a little less lonely, especially after Alex had moved out to the suburbs with her wife so they could start a family. 

Lena was the same as ever in her formal pose, a small smile on her face that Kara had quickly known and loved. The portrait became a highlight of her day, and Kara couldn’t help but smile at that. Every night, she hoped that Lena was doing well wherever she was, that she was safe and cared for and loved. That someone was making her smile the way Kara smiled at her portrait. 

Sometimes, she’d imagine how Lena in the real world was doing. What she was working on, what her job was. What she liked, what got on her nerves. What peeved her, what made her laugh so hard it gave her hiccups. If she had a lover, if she had a pet, if she thought about where these portraits were of her family. If she was happy. 

Kara hoped she was happy. 

—

“Kara, why do you have some random woman’s portrait on your wall?” 

Her back stiffened and she stopped searching for her scarf in her closet when she heard her sister’s voice. She’d completely forgotten that nobody had been to her apartment in a month, so that meant that nobody knew about Lena. Finding the red cashmere scarf, she quickly wrapped it around her neck and walked out of her bedroom with her head held high. 

“Got her at an estate sale.” 

“That doesn’t explain anything.” Alex was staring at her now, one hand on her hip as she quirked a brow expectantly. Kara only rolled her eyes and tried her best to usher her sister out of the door. 

“It does! Now come on, I thought you didn’t wanna be late to the movies.” 

With a quick glance back at the portrait, she mouthed a see you later! to the portrait before closing her door. 

—

When it was Kara’s turn to host game night with her friends a couple of weeks after Alex first saw the portrait, she’d been nervous about what her friends would say. She’d even said so as much to Lena. 

“I just don’t want them to make fun of you!” she reasoned aloud, only to be met with the same silence that she was always met with when she talked to the portrait. She shook her head and laughed ruefully to herself. “God, I’m talking to myself.”

Unsurprisingly, each one of her friends made some type of comment about the portrait that ranged from comments she expected like wow she’s hot (Nia), she’s very pretty but she looks a little sad, doesn’t she? (Kelly), is this an oil painting? (Brainy), to one she should have expected, yet didn’t, why do you have a portrait of Lena Luthor on your wall, Kara? (James). 

All eyes were on her when James asked his question, and she opened her mouth even if no sound came out. Finally, thankfully, “Uh, estate sale?” 

Their eyes all then turned to James when he pressed forward. “Do you even know who the Luthors are?” 

Like a tennis match, the rest of them turned their sights back on her. 

“Yes.” 

A volley. 

“So why would you support that family?” 

Another volley. 

“I’m not supporting her family.” 

Another. 

“Her portrait says otherwise.” 

Another. 

She clenched her jaw. She knew where he was coming from; he’d covered the news during his time in Metropolis when this was happening. He was there. Yet, she didn’t believe in his blanket judgment, especially over Lena. 

“She’s not her brother, James. She’s not the one who committed the crimes. I’m going to judge her on the merits of her character instead of sweeping her in with the rest of her family.” 

He pursed his lips, though she could tell there was a part of him that didn’t approve. 

Yet before he could try to push her, Alex clapped her hands. “Alright, we can listen to this nonsense or you guys can lose to me in Pictionary for the third time in a row.” 

The tension dissipated, mostly, and the rest of the group seemed all too eager to move on. Alex threw her a reassuring glance and Kara smiled at her sister, happy for the assist. The rest of the night went on without a fuss, and Kara couldn’t be happier. James would sometimes stare at her, his mind definitely thinking, but she pretended not to see. 

Eventually, she was alone again, cleaning up the apartment before plopping on the couch where she had a perfect view of Lena and her small smile. 

“Sorry about James,” she said. “He means well, but…it’s personal to him, I guess. But I meant what I said earlier. I wouldn’t ever judge you for what your family had done. I can only imagine what you’ve been going through all this time. I hope wherever you are, you’re taking care of yourself. And people are kind to you. I think you deserve that kindness in your life.” 

She yawned, and further sunk into the couch, pulling the small blanket over her and letting sleep take over. 

—

Over the course of the following year, Lena’s portrait became a permanent fixture on her wall. Her friends lost interest over time and Kara sighed in relief. Even James finally let the topic go. 

She continued to greet Lena in the mornings and at night. She talked to her silent companion as she recounted her days, her work, and the things that she experienced. Lena became a sounding board as Kara processed through facets of her life. It was like talking to a plant, Alex had observed once, and Kara had agreed. But Kara knew that in her heart of hearts, it wasn’t like talking to a plant at all because it felt like she was talking to Lena the person and not the portrait. She kept that thought to herself though, not sure how her sister or her friends would take it. 

In some ways, she considered Lena’s portrait as a friend. 

And, like always, she wished good health and happiness for Lena, wherever she may be. 

—

One day, on a day like any other, Kara’s life changed in a way she never would have guessed or anticipated. 

Because on that day, Kara would meet Lena Luthor. 

She was covering for a colleague to do the technology beat about Spheerical Industries.

Kara was on her way to freshen up just before the press release when she collided with a woman with black hair and green eyes and red lips.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—I can be, uh, very clumsy,” she said, grabbing hold of the woman’s arms to keep her steady.

The woman looked up just as her own hands grabbed onto Kara’s elbows. The two of them stared at each other. 

“Quite alright,” the woman said, a reassuring smile on her face. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” she offered, her mouth dry when her mind caught up to her brain. In front of her was the woman she'd been having a one-sided conversation for over a year. This time, her hair was pulled up in a low bun and she was wearing a collared satin shirt with a pencil skirt. “Uh, Kara.”

She'd moved her hands off of the woman before offering one to shake. The woman placed her hand in Kara’s, arched her brow slightly just as her mouth slanted with a curious smile. “Lena.”

There, a confirmation of what Kara both hoped and dreaded. 

“It’s, ah, nice to meet you. Sorry about the collision.”

“No harm done. Now, are you here for the press release?”

Kara took her free hand and lifted her badge up. “Guess so.” 

“See you inside then,” Lena said. It wasn't until that moment that Kara realized that they'd still been holding hands, their handshake extending longer than either of them seemed to realize. 

“Right, yeah. Sorry about the—” she gestured in the air between them. Yet Lena only smiled, the curious smile widening to an amused one. The image of it wrapped Kara’s heart in a vice grip when she realized that her mind easily replaced the small smile in the portrait with the livelier one in person. 

She watched as Lena walked away and headed back into the main space where the press release was set. Kara took a deep breath and slowly curled her fist, savoring the remnants of warmth on all the points where their skin touched. 

Lena was every bit as Kara imagined her to be. No, actually, she was more and better! Her imagination paled in comparison to whoever this woman was who stood in front of her—who so generously gave Kara the time of day. 

She groaned to herself, turning around so she could rest her head on the wall. 

“Shoot.”

—

Kara’s desk at work was full of flowers courtesy of L.L. from Spheerical Industries a day after her article was released. She snagged the card out of the biggest bouquet just as Nia and James walked in, hiding it in her palm and quickly pocketing it. 

Nia whistled before she spoke up. “Someone’s got a secret admirer.” 

“It’s not like that.”

“Who’s it from?” James asked. 

“Uh, Spheerical Industries sent them, I think,” she offered with a scratch on her forehead. “Guess they liked my article.”

She didn't meet their eyes as she started to move the bouquets off of her desk. Nia eventually left as soon as Snapper started yelling for his reporters. James followed suit, but not until he took another sweep of her office until his gaze landed on her. She grabbed hold of her pad and pen before bypassing him at the door. 

When she went home, she brought the largest bouquet with her before giving away the rest to her colleagues and random strangers. 

She placed the vase on her counter and sank into her couch staring straight up at the portrait of Lena with her small smile. 

For the first time in all the time she had the portrait, she thought about bringing the frame down. 

—

Kara did her best to steer clear of Lena Luthor, maintaining as much professionalism as possible between them. Though it seemed that her best laid plans were simply that: plans. 

She had been standing at Noonan’s for their afternoon cinnamon buns when she spotted a familiar brunette woman standing just two people ahead of her. She quickly ducked, trying and failing to hide behind the tiny elderly woman in front of her who seemed to struggle reading the menu in her hand. 

Said elderly lady turned around and squinted at her. “Hi, dear, can you do me a favor and tell me what they have on the daily specials up on the board. I can’t quite see what’s up there.” 

“Uh…sure, okay.” She grimaced despite herself before offering the older woman a quick rundown of the specials. Kara went on to list the specials on the board and ended up ordering for her and the lady who thanked her profusely for her help. So distracted by this older woman that she had momentarily forgotten about Lena Luthor and her presence until she heard a velvety voice call for her. 

“Kara? Is that you?” 

She stilled in her spot and took a deep breath before pasting on a bright smile, as genuine as she could muster, when she turned to face Lena. 

“Lena, hi,” she greeted as she anxiously pushed her glasses up. 

“You were quite the Samaritan back there,” Lena said, motioning towards the older woman who had taken residence at the end of a long table. 

“Oh, you know,” she said with a quick dismissive wave of her hand. “I was just…trying to help.” 

Lena tilted her head, those sharp eyes studying her. So Kara ducked her head before glancing back at the counter to see if her order had been made knowing it hadn’t. 

“So, uh, my desk was overflowing with flowers,” Kara started to say, making small talk. So accustomed to talking to her Lena—a strange thought that she did not have the time to investigate at this moment—that she couldn’t help when the words came tumbling out. “Wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” 

Lena grinned, as if sharing a secret with her, and Kara couldn’t help the way her heart parachuted from her chest and into her belly, the swoop so exhilarating to watch. The portrait’s smile was beautiful and ethereal, but nothing would beat the shades of smiles and grins and joy that appeared on Lena’s face in real time. “I wouldn’t, no. But if I did, I bet it might have to do with your refreshingly even-keeled and fair assessment of our new technology.” 

“Right,” she intoned, Kara nodding along as she got swept up in Lena’s charming orbit. “But you don’t know anything about that.” 

Lena shook her head, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes and Kara knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was a goner. For what, she wasn’t even sure herself. But whatever Lena Luthor was selling, she was buying. 

The baristas eventually called for the both of them and they walked in tandem as they picked up their order. 

In retrospect, Kara knew this was the one exit strategy the universe had given her to take—her one shot of coming out of this unscathed so she could proceed with her life as she had been.

Yet, Kara threw that escape plan out of the window as soon as she opened her mouth and asked Lena, hey what are you doing right now? Wanna take a walk to the park and try out this cinnamon bun? It’s the best in the city. 

To which Lena would respond with, I suppose I can spend a little while out of the office. Do you mind if I just text my assistant? 

She shook her head and urged Lena to please, go ahead. 

And that was that. 

—

Kara went home with a spring in her step and a skip in her heart after having spent a part of her afternoon with Lena. She walked into her apartment with a wistful sigh until she was faced with the portrait on the wall. 

“Oh, Lena,” she groaned as she walked towards the living room and plopped down on the couch. “This is weird, isn’t it? I never expected to meet the real you. Did you know she’s so smart? That you’re so smart? And so charming and just so good. You’re nothing like the things people have written about you. I mean, I could already tell that, but it’s nice to see it with my own eyes.” 

She shook her head, so many confusing thoughts swirling in her mind. 

“How do I tell her that you exist?” she asked aloud, a contemplative frown painted on her features. “What if I just…don’t?” 

Kara stared at the portrait and then shook her head. “No, you’re right. She deserves to know. It’s weird. But, for now, you’re going to have to come down. Sorry.” 

With a heavier heart than she thought possible, Kara took the portrait down and gingerly placed it by the far bookshelf until she figured what to do with her. 

Then, she decided she would tell Lena once she sorted out how to do so. 

—

Unfortunately for Kara, she never figured out how to tell Lena. 

In her defense, their friendship blossomed swiftly, Kara chasing after it to catch up. It started with regular trips to Noonan’s and taking walks after. Then to visits at each other’s offices, always with snacks in tow. Then there were the takeouts for late dinners, usually at Lena’s office. 

Before Kara knew it, Lena Luthor wasn’t just a woman in a portrait she bought in an estate sale nor was she just a lead engineer in Spheerical Industries, she was Kara’s friend. 

Lena used to just be someone that Kara wished was safe and cared for and loved. But now, she had the power to be a source of all those things for Lena: safety, care, and love. 

So Kara never got around to telling Lena. She’d gotten careless, pushed her luck to its limit, stuck her head in the sand until it was much too late. 

Which meant that the truth revealed itself out of Kara’s control. 

—

She’d invited Lena to her apartment, letting her know that she had a pretty healthy library of fiction and nonfiction alike that Lena was welcome to peruse after they’d spent hours talking about ways they passed the time with books and movies. 

So Saturday morning came and Lena appeared at Kara’s doorstep with an offering of bagels of morning cinnamon buns from Noonan’s as well as two steaming cups of coffee. Best of all, she presented it with a bright smile of her own, one that Kara never got tired of. 

“Come in,” Kara said, a bright smile of her own as she pulled the door back to let the engineer in. 

“Cool place,” Lena offered as her eyes swept the space. 

“Thanks. It used to be my sister’s apartment back in the day. The power of nepotism, you know what I mean?” 

Lena snorted and cut her a look that made Kara giddy inside. 

They camped out of the coffee table as they chatted, mouths stuffed with delectable carbs. 

“Feel free to peruse the library while I go pick up some of the books I have on my nightstand, I’ll be right back.” 

Kara hummed to herself as she quickly rifled through her stack of books by her bed before piling them in her arms. 

However, as she walked back to the living room, she almost dropped them where she stood when she found Lena standing in front of the portrait. 

Lena twisted her head to face Kara, her eyes brimming with tears even as her face steeled in anger.

“I can explain! It’s not what you thi—”  She took a step forward, but Lena took a step back and Kara’s heart sank, a cinderblock tied around it. 

Lena shook her head, an errant tear escaping before she quickly wiped it. “I don’t know what cruel joke you’re playing here, but I never thought it’d come from you.” 

“Please, Lena,” she begged, attempting to take another step forward. “I can explain. It was—there was a sale a couple of years ago. Like, um, it was in the mansion on the edge of the city, and—I didn’t think I’d meet you or anything. And it just happened, but—” 

Kara was gesticulating wildly, wanting to put her words in the order she wanted them just so she could explain properly. But the panic that engulfed her at the thought of losing Lena tied her tongue, her words coming out a garbled mess. 

“If you’re some kind of Luthor fanatic—” 

“No!” she cried out. “Please, Lena. I’m not—you’re getting this all wrong!” 

Kara tried to take another step forward, but Lena stepped back again, a dance they were doing six feet apart. Lena rushed to the door without a glance back and slammed the door on her way out. 

Kara covered her face with both hands and screamed before the tears flowed past her fingers. 

—

Kara persisted for three weeks to reach Lena, but to no avail. 

Her access to Spheerical Industries was revoked and all of her messages were left on read. 

She’d sent in one last message, a final plea where I just want to explain myself. I’ll tell you everything you want to know and I’ll answer any questions. And after that, I’ll leave you alone and never bother you ever again. So whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. 

—

She hadn’t wanted to accept defeat, but even she knew that if Lena ever considered giving her the time of day, perhaps incessantly reaching out was not the best move.

“She’ll come around,” Alex offered when Kara took the trip out to her sister’s suburban home just to get away from the city. She nodded along, but she felt the hollowness in those words. “And if she doesn’t, well, she’s an idiot.” 

She smiled weakly, and rested her head on Alex’s shoulder, accepting the loving pat on her thigh. “Yeah.” 

At the end of the day, she returned back to her apartment, trudging up the stairs one step at a time. As she reached the landing, she almost lost her footing when she discovered Lena leaning against her door, a contemplative frown on her face. 

Lena stood on her feet, pushing herself from the door, and stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets. Kara wasn’t sure what to do, but she was half tempted to walk straight back down and take a cab all the way to Alex’s house and hide. 

“Hi.” 

Kara watched her carefully, afraid to make any sudden movements. She jutted her chin in greeting. “Um, hi.” 

“You weren’t answering your phone, so I thought—”

Kara pawed at her pocket and found two missed calls from Lena. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” she said as she took a few tentative steps closer. “But what are you doing here?” 

“You said you’d explain yourself.” 

“Oh. Right. Okay, yeah. D-did you wanna come in?” 

Wordlessly, Lena nodded. Kara then rushed to her door, fumbling as she tried to open the door. It took a few tries as she used her body to shield herself from Lena watching her miss the keyhole a few times. 

They stood by the entrance, Lena hovering by the door as if ready to bolt. She’d hated that the one and only time Lena got a chance to share her space, it had caused this chasm between them. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” 

“No, that’s fine.” 

“Okay, I’ll just…I’ll just get myself some water.” 

She opened the fridge door and took a deep breath, taking a few precious seconds to herself as she attempted to center her breath, appreciating the cool air from the refrigerator to help with her nerves. She took the pitcher out and poured herself a glass of water. Lena, in the meantime, had moved from the foyer to the opposite end of the kitchen island. 

She shakily laughed to herself, awkward and uncomfortable. “I don’t—I’m not sure where to start.” 

“From the beginning?” Lena offered, her voice soft, kind. 

“Um, okay. So I got your portrait from an estate sale a couple of years ago…” As soon as she spoke the words, they continued to pour out, so she explained everything from the estate sale and finding the portrait of Lena’s family before finding Lena’s portrait. Then how she reverently placed it on her wall and began greeting it like a friend.

How it became a source of relief just after her sister had moved to the suburbs and Kara felt lonely without her sister immediately available like she’d always been. How Kara had appreciated the safety and comfort that her portrait provided, like a friend. How she never thought to meet Lena, and stopped looking at information about her, wanting to give Lena the privacy she deserved after having gone through a rabbit hole learning about the rest of her family. How their meeting at the Spheerical Industries had irrevocably changed something in Kara’s life. How she’d talked to the portrait for some guidance before putting it away and letting that suffice even knowing that it wasn’t enough. How their friendship was something that she treasured and that she was sorry for having kept this piece of information to herself and costing her one of the most important people in her life. 

“I should’ve told you from the start,” Kara said. “But how do I tell someone I just met that not only did I know who she was, but that I have a portrait of her and basically talked to her portrait doppelganger on a regular basis. That I imagined what her life was like instead of the rumors being spread in the news about her.” 

“What did you imagine for me?” 

She shrugged, slumping back on the back counter, her arms drawn around herself. “That you liked your job. Before I knew you were officially working at Spheerical Industries, I just imagined you doing odd jobs here and there. It changed every day, depending on how I felt, but that you always liked it. Then you’d come home to a lazy cat who only liked you. That you spent time with your friends on game nights that you liked to host.” 

“That sounds nice. Definitely better than the life I’d been leading before.” 

She swallowed, feeling more vulnerable and exposed with the following words than any of the things she’d revealed before. “But above all else, I just imagined that you were happy and loved. That’s all I ever wished for you.” 

Though there were still hints of uncertainty and caution in those green eyes, Kara found that Lena was no longer as standoffish as she’d been when she first came in. “Why?” 

Kara shrugged again. “Because I saw a bit of myself when I looked at you. I guess I wanted the both of us to make it, you know?” 

Lena seemed baffled by this, the tension between them shifting ever so slightly that Kara felt okay taking a deep breath as Lena seemed to mull her explanations. 

“How much did the portrait go for?” 

Surprised at the turn of their conversation, Kara momentarily blanked until, “Uh. Fifty dollars.” 

That surprised Lena, her eyes widening slightly. “You paid fifty dollars for a portrait of me?” 

“I haggled the guy down for $150. That sounds bad, sorry.” 

“I didn’t think it’d even go for any money at all,” Lena huffed. 

Silence enveloped them further, so Kara figured that their time together was coming to a close. So she took one more deep breath and pushed off the counter so she stood directly across the kitchen island from Lena. “I’m sorry I never told you. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret, but it became easier to pretend until it was too late. I promise to leave you alone if that’s what you want. You can keep the portrait, too. Whatever will make you feel most comfortable.” 

She expected many things to happen, but Kara didn’t expect Lena to slump down on the bar stool beside her. 

“That’s not—I don’t want you out of my life, Kara,” she huffed. “You’ve been the best thing to come into my life in a long time, so I freaked out when I saw that not only did you have a secret portrait of me, but that it was something that reminded me of the life I’d tried so hard to escape. Those portraits weren’t exactly fun memories.” 

“I’m sorry, Lena—” she started to say, but Lena just put her hand up to stop her.  

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve let you explain yourself. But I panicked and thought the worst of you because of the insecurities that I carry. So I’m sorry, too, for what it’s worth.” 

Emboldened by the words that she was hearing from Lena, she quickly walked around the island and took residence in the bar stool right beside Lena. 

“So are we…good?” she asked, her tone cautiously hopeful.

Lena’s face split into a toothy smile, and Kara was struck with how enamored she was with all facets of Lena’s smile and joy. 

“I always thought your smile in the portrait was nice, but I have to tell you the real thing blows it out of the water.” 

“Charmer,” Lena commented, even as she ducked her head. 

She cleared her throat. “So what now?” 

“I think it’ll take some getting used to knowing that you have that portrait of me, but I guess if there was anybody I'd trust to ever have bought it, I’m glad it was you.” 

Her brows shot up to her hairline. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really.” Lena’s features relaxed and she laughed slightly, placing a hand on Kara’s knee. “I missed you.” 

Unbidden, Kara’s eyes brimmed with the threat of tears, even as she smiled up at Lena. “God, I missed you, too. So much.” 

Lena raised her hand and used the back of her hand to wipe the single tear that managed to escape from the corner of Kara’s eye. 

“Sorry.” 

Kara shook her head and offered her best smile, her hand coming up to cover Lena’s. “Water under the bridge.” 

—

The portrait stayed facing the wall in Kara’s apartment for another year until she and Lena finally moved in together. 

She’d been given the blessing to put it up in her office, Kara’s surprise so apparent on her face that Lena could only roll her eyes. Kara showed her appreciation by showering Lena with kisses that the brunette woman was all too happy to indulge in. 

When they got engaged a year after that, Lena surprised Kara with an appointment to get their portraits done together. Kara had laughed, hearty and infectious, before she took Lena in her arms and asked her why do this if portraits were bad memories? 

Because, Lena would respond, you knew me and you loved me before you even met me because of that portrait. So what better way to celebrate? 

Kara only kissed her fiancée with glee. 

The portrait of the two of them with identical smiles hung beside the first one. Those two portraits would then be accompanied by a third one of them at their wedding. 

Kara loved all three, proudly adorned their walls with them. But every now and again, she’d go back to the portrait that started it all. She knew she would always have a soft spot for the portrait of the young woman with green eyes and red lips, a small smile on her face.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Sunday, 12-15-24, 2pm Pacific

Aaaaaaaand 'afternoon, all...Mr. Baggins here, back with our Afternoon Stack of Classic Wax! Today I've set the dial on my Wayback Machine to 1963, which was the year I became mostly self-aware at the age of four. American pop music was in a very odd place in 1963, very odd...it really didn't know which way it wanted to go. It was mired in the miasma of the past (novelty songs and doo-wop numbers) but trying desperately to look forward (girl-group numbers, surf music, and psycho-drama), and ended up being a weird amalgam of all those things, instead of a cohesive singularity, like 1964 would end up being, with the British Invasion and the Rise of Motown. It was just a bunch of different and odd things in a basket, at best. It was almost like American Pop Music was WAITING for something like The Beatles to give it focus and inspire it, and in the interim amused itself with an odd assortment of toys. We had tunes like this one from Jimmy Gilmer (who was never heard from again) about beatnik coffee-house chicks:

1963 had some really solid soul pop, like this, from a very young Curtis Mayfield:

It was also the rise of The Girl Group, with lots of 1-hit wonders, like this:

By '63 "Folk Music" was a thing on college campuses, with more 1-hitters like this one:

And then there were these guys, with a lead singer who had a voice like a serrated knife-edge, who had a falsetto that cut like a saw-blade. Forward-looking production, but regressing back to doo-wop. And I gotta say quite honestly, looking back after all these years, I never liked his voice!!

And on the soul-side, we had doo-wop-adjacent groups as well, but with a harder-hitting delivery:

And we officially had the Birth of Surf in '63!

And the folkies gave us some indelible songs in '63, to be sure:

The girl groups all had real attitude...

But there was also lots of psycho-drama, like this truly weird song from a group never heard from before or since, a spooky-sounding thing that went to number one...like WTF? is Sally hidin' in the rose bushes with a butcher knife waiting to ambush after seeing her "baby with another girl" ?

And that's all the space we have for this Afternoon Stack of Classic Wax! Hope you've enjoyed our little survey of Pre-Beatles American Pop music from 1963! Mr. Baggins signing off for now, I'll be back at 7pm Pacific with your Sunday Serenade: music to soothe our collective achin' nerves and help ease us all into a good night.

Until then, be kind, babies, be kind.

Baggins out.

[drama--universe]

I want you back

Requested by anonymous: hello, I really like your stories with the Hierophant. I will be happy if you write a post about him and the reader, where they were each other's first love, but broke up and then met at the game and started dating again.

Pairing: Lee Kun-Hyeok (Hierophant) x reader

Word Count: 1.4k words

Warnings: none

You were dragged along the hallways by Kun, trying to ignore the boy's laughter as you tried to keep up with his speed. You didn't know where you were going, but you were quite certain that Tong Yao would be there and maybe even other teams. You were quite surprised when it wasn't the woman that he was leading you to, but rather to a man. Kun-Hyeok stood there, talking to Si-Cheng and you almost wanting to scream.

You knew Kun-Hyeok, you dated him a few years ago before either of you gained any fame, and unfortunately it didn't really end on the best note. A lot of screaming and crying, which eventually just led to you storming out and leaving the country for a month or two. Since then, you hadn't seen him again nor did you want to. Yet now, you didn't seem to have much of a choice as Kun dragged you closer and closer.

"(Y/n)." Si-Cheng greeted you first, Kun-Hyeok said nothing and Kun started ranting in Korean. You understood nothing, choosing to stare into a distance instead and Kun-Hyeok did the same.

"I'll see you two later." Si-Cheng said, looking exhausted already a he guided Kun away from the two of you and both of you remained in your place with an awkward silence once again. Kun-Hyeok was the first to talk, asking you how you had been.

"I'm... okay." You answered, awkwardly smiling before glancing around. The area was empty and the match wouldn't start until 2pm, which was still 30 minutes away and thus you couldn't really say that you had to leave. You could also not use your phone, because that was left in Kun's pocket...

"This is so annoying..." You whispered under your breath, not knowing what to say to your ex. He didn't hear you, but he did seem to read your mind.

"I want to apologize." He said and you could only stare at him in shock. You didn't know why he did, he didn't really have anything to apologize. If anyone had to apologize, it was probably you instead of him. So you quickly started to sputter words of disagreement, which only made Kun-Hyeok smile.

"You get flustered so easily." He said, which only made your face heat up from embarrassment and he chuckled again.

"Anyway, I stand by what I said. Would you maybe like to go eat something so we could talk?" He asked and you nodded softly, a bit too confused to understood what exactly was going on. Then he left and you remained on your own, staring at the spot where he previously stood while trying to process everything.

The glass in front of you was long empty and your stomach was rumbling loudly. You had been waiting for 20 minutes now, no sign or text from Kun-Hyeok and at this point everyone was giving you looks of pity, only making you more jittery and annoyed. Just when you wanted to leave, Kun-Hyeok entered and he looked like he had ran all the way from his home to the restaurant. He looked distressed when he couldn't find you, so you stuck your hand up and he smiled.

"Sorry, my manager didn't stop talking." He confessed and you shook your head, understanding what he meant well enough. You remember how you once missed your flight home because your manager wouldn't shut up, so... Nonetheless, you quickly ordered some food to stop the earth quake in your body.

"You were hungry. Sorry for making you wait so long." "Stop apologizing and eat instead." You said, grabbing the food that arrived on the table immediately. Following your lead, Kun-Hyeok also dug in with glee and it went silent again. It wasn't an awkward silence, rather a comforting one that neither of you minded. Finishing the food didn't take long, the table empty after only 15 minutes and now you were basically forced to talk.

"How have you been these last few years?" You asked, grabbing your drink as you waited for an answer. He thought about it for awhile before clearly being okay with the answer he came up with.

"I have been well, but I must admit that it has been difficult. I was quite lonely after our break-up." He said and you nodded, agreeing with the thought easily. You felt the same back then, being so used to his presence and then suddenly he was gone. It took a couple of months to get back to your original self, but even now you sometimes felt lonely. You were so focused on your thoughts that you barely noticed as Kun-Hyeok asked you something.

"Huh? Sorry, what did you say?" You asked and Kun-Hyeok put down his cutlery, softly sighing before opening his mouth to speak again.

"Can we stay in touch after this? I know we ended on a bad note, but I did really miss you..." He confessed and you paused, sighing as you looked to the river beside you. You wanted to, but you were a bit against it. You were sure you'd eventually would start liking him again, although you were sure that you were already crushing on him again and you had a feeling that he wasn't over you either.

"Alright." You didn't think about it any longer and just decided to go for it, what harm could possible go wrong?

"You're doomed." Tong Yao spoke and you could only agree with her at this point. You reluctantly asked for her advise, as she was the only one that you knew that had a steady relationship, and you were honestly annoyed with the fact that you had done so. The woman had been helpful at first, but now she was snickering softly at your situation. You didn't know when it happened, but you had fallen and you had fallen hard. Your crush on Kun-Hyeok had grown once again, causing you to want the man as your lover again like before. It infuriated you to no end, but the heart wants what it wants and in your case that was Kun-Hyeok.

"What do I do? Seriously, what?" "Go for it! He clearly likes you too, your the only one who doesn't see it." Tong Yao said and you scoffed, shaking your head. You did kind of know, Kun-Hyeok wore his heart on his sleeve and that was also very clear to you. You had caught him staring at you a few times already, but usually you ignored it. Why? Because you still weren't sure of anything, not even your own feelings. You worried that you might not love him, that your feelings might just be the familiarity that you had with him or something along those lines. You didn't want to hurt him in any way, but it was starting to hurt you after months of worries and anxiousness. So your feelings were much clearer now and you might follow Tong Yao's advise.

Your phone rang loudly, scaring both you and Tong Yao. Kun-Hyeok's name flashed on the screen as your ringtone rang, but Tong Yao was quicker in grabbing the phone than you were.

"Hello~ (Y/n)? Yeah, they're here. Can they come downstairs? I'll tell them!" Then she hung up and you stared at the girl in shock as she handed your phone back, grinning from ear to ear.

"Go on, go downstairs." She teased and you reluctantly got up, rolling your eyes at Tong Yao's giggles as you made your way down. You ignored the others in the dorm and went to the front door, opening it and giving a smile to Kun-Hyeok. Pulling him along for a walk, you waited for what he was going to say. When he stopped, you turned and faced him.

"I want to be with you again." He stated shortly and you stared at him, staying quiet while trying to progress his confession. Then you nodded, agreeing with him without saying much of a word. The smile on Kun-Hyeok's face grew and you couldn't help but return it before getting closer and kissing his cheek.

"Date tomorrow, I'll send you the info." And then you walked off after kissing him on the lips quickly. The man before you turned red, watching you walk off with a small smile.

He was glad that he took the first initiative.

[kedreeva]

.

I am so very, very tired of this whole electrical deal. We had our HVAC system replaced and fuse box/service upgraded, and were advised to have our electrical line from the road to house buried since we were eligible due to a change in service and apparently DTE won't do it unless you're changing service and it's a fucking HAZARD here, it's been for years. The install went flawlessly. Dealing with my fucking township has been one nightmare of communication after another.

I scheduled two different inspections that had to be done before DTE would come out, an electrical and a mechanical. I don't know why they wouldn't just do one for both, but apparently they won't. They tell me the first guy, mechanical, will be here between 9am and 2pm. I'm up at 7am to wait. I sit in my front room by the front door all day. Around 2 I get a knock and it's the electrical guy but I thought it was the mechanical guy, since I haven't heard from anyone else yet. I take him around back to look at the AC, which he does, and then I go to take him to the basement to look at the furnace, and find a bright orange "NOT APPROVED - LOCKED OUT" tag on my back door. Which is like ???? I was literally here all day??? NO ONE knocked until electrical guy showed up. So I take him down, he looks at the electrical, and then also the furnace, and then tells me to call the number on the tag and tell him he looked at all of it, including the other guy's part, and it's fine. SOUNDS FAKE BUT OK

So I call, and explain to karen what's happened. she says she has to wait for the reports to come in so she can verify. I said okay, that's fine, Electrical Guy said he would say so. I call back when she told me to, and get an answering machine. So I leave a message. at just after 5pm I get a call back from Karen who says the reports say the electrical passed but the mechanical was locked out. I explain again that Electrical Guy said both were fine, can she please check with him? She says oh right, you called about that, I will talk to both of them and let you know what they say.

Then my install company calls, because they have stuff to do after DTE does their stuff that DTE can't do until the township does stuff, and says that they got notification that electrical passed but mechanical was "locked out" (literally and figuratively not true, I was home and the doors were not locked) and they are going to try to charge me $45 for the inspection they say I wasn't home for, despite that I was sitting maybe 15 feet from the front door all day. The guy left the tag on my BACK DOOR for some reason, which makes me think he went around back and knocked instead of the front door like a normal human being.

Anyway, I am going to be calling back in a little bit and bitching until someone passes my goddamn inspections so I can stop having a live wire sitting on my roof. It should not be this hard to get a problem fixed.

[kpopsexstories]

This coming week: Xiaojun (Tuesday) & NCT Dream (Thursday) – K-pop Smut

I'm slowing things down a bit again this week with "only" two stories: one straight, one gay.

Xiaojun Quick Fix (December 10, 2024)

In Tuesday's Quick Fix story you (female reader) have sex all night with Xiaojun – both steamy and wild. But is someone watching from across the street?

NCT Dream Dating Ban Ending (December 12, 2024)

Yup, it's the final part of the final story. This x male reader series is ending and the very last post comes out on Thursday.

As always, stories are published at 14:00/2PM Central European Time. That's 08:00/8AM in New York and 00:00/12AM midnight in Sydney.

The week after that...

Even though I'm going down from four to two stories this week there's a lot of new hot stuff on the horizon. The most immediate are two larger stories which are both posted in two parts:

Kissing Booth Spin-off (Thursday December 19 & 26, 2024)

Someone requested a Kissing Booth spin-off: a story in which boyfriends Chenle and Jisung struggle to have sex because they can never find time alone. This story will be posted in two parts one week apart and it will fill the gay void when the NCT Dream Dating Ban is over.

WayV Ten Tries Straight Sex (Monday December 16 & 23, 2024)

When I first started the (totally gay) Dating Ban series someone said it was too much for them to consume. I totally get that, and if Jisung's first part was too much it only got worse from there 😆🥵

They instead requested a straight story in which Ten, a gay character, tries straight sex for the first time, guided by one of his friends. A straight story with "gay vibes".

The resulting story is now done! It's also a two-parter that I'll post one week apart. It's Ten x Female Reader featuring... no, I shouldn't spoil it. You'll just have to wait and see on December 16 and 23 respectively (Part 1 and 2).

I really struggled with writing this one at first. I got hung up on how they would even be in a situation where a third person "guides" Ten during sex. But I finally figured it out. The sex may be straight, but I really think you'll love this one regardless of your preference!

What about the gay and straight Quick Fix seasons?

Quick Fix Season 4 (straight sex) is still in full bloom. The Xiaojun story this coming Tuesday (in two days time of this post) marks the half way point of the season. There's still four more weeks – four more stories – to be posted weekly (on Tuesdays) all the way to January 7 when the final one comes out.

NOTE: I've made some changes to the season's schedule. The order in which the remaining stories will be published has been updated. Check the Quick Fix master post for current dates.

As mentioned before Quick Fix Gay Season 1 will not see a new story every week. I've already posted the four first ones. There won't be more until at least after the Kissing Booth spin-off is over. I need to portion out the gay content a bit more, and all stories of Season 1 of this series have not been written yet. But don't worry, they're on the way 😉

Other Planned Requests & Story Finder

A lot of the above – including several of the Quick Fix stories – are responses to requests. Is yours coming soon? 😃🙌

I'm working on several others too that I haven't mentioned in this post. That's because I have no idea when they'll be done. There may be some surprises in 2025.

As always you can visit Story Finder (an external website where you can browse all the stories from this blog) and specifically the Requests page to see the current status of your requests.

So, whatever your sexual preferences are, there's quite a bit of content left leading up to Christmas and beyond. I'm really excited about the Dating Ban ending, the Kissing Booth spin-off, and the Ten Tries Straight Sex story – all of which are coming in the next two-three weeks and which I think turned out great!

[writing-rat]

In Sickness and No School

Pairing: Tara x Amber

Content Warning: Sickness, fluff

Summary: Tara is sick. Amber skips school for her

Tara was sick that day, and Amber was missing her. She was currently sat in English class, tapping her pencil on the table and was sighing. She had only been in school for 2 hours, and it was 11am, but she needed to see her girlfriend. Right this second. She saw the text Tara had sent to the group chat at 4am, and she was thinking she could at least last until 2pm. It was impossible. She knew her girlfriend had been vomiting, and she knew that Tara would get panic attacks from anything related to vomit. She waited for the bell to ring in 5 minutes.

After 5 begrudging minutes, the bell rang and Amber immediately left the classroom. She made a beeline to the car park before she got on her motorbike. She did put her helmet on so quick she had to do it again, which frustrated her but she was nearly done. Eventually she did set off and was thankful when she did. Arriving at Tara’s, she parked up and didn’t care about her helmet as she grabbed the spare key from under the doormat and unlocked the door. Entering, she wandered over to the living room, where a little Tara was curled up watching TV. She had a bucket next to her as well as some water. Amber slowly took her helmet off and placed the helmet down in a corner where it would have no danger. 

When Amber sat next to Tara, Tara jumped and blushed, then smiled at the taller girl. “Hey,” she spoke hoarsely. “You’re meant to be in school,” she then mumbled out, putting her head on Amber’s lap. 

“Well, I tried to go to school but I couldn’t stop thinking of you my love. I also know how you are with vomiting and was concerned for you,” Amber explained. Tara smiled at the last bit and kissed her thigh as a thank you. Amber proceeded to watch TV with the smaller girl curled up on her instead. She was wrapped in a blanket now, per Amber’s request. In fact she was wrapped up like a burrito. Every now and then Tara would suddenly grasp the bucket but nothing would come out, not until the last time. Tara was breathing heavily as Amber rubbed her hair. 

“Hey babe,” she spoke gently. “Just look at me when you are done,” she added. Tara slowly looked up and Amber nodded. “Now breathe with me,” she instructed and was helping her breathe. Soon Tara could breathe again. 

“Thank you mi amor, is it ok if you carry me to bed? I want to be alone right now, just get me some water,” Tara spoke quietly. Amber nodded as she carried the burrito bridal style and set her down on the bed, also putting the bucket next to her. She then went to the kitchen, got her a glass of water then brought it up. She set it down as she noticed Tara sleeping. She smiled gently as she kissed her forehead.

“Sweet dreams hon,” she spoke quietly then left the room. She would take care of her girlfriend whenever, and would refuse to leave her. She was wondering what caused Tara’s sickness, but once she reached the kitchen it was clear. She had not cooked the chicken she made enough. Amebr sighed, but smiled. 

She would teach her when Tara felt better (and could eat again too).

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #271

I ended up not cooking today. Last night, I stayed up until about 4 in the morning, worried about various things, and writing a lengthy email to the acquaintance I mentioned yesterday in response to those worries. This interaction is not going to work unless I keep my instincts sharp and my boundaries robust.

I've written things before in this Tumblr space about the importance of being kind to everyone, while also recognizing that care must be taken to assert very strong boundaries in response to certain patterns of trauma behavior. I've written before on the notion that kindness without boundaries and the willingness to enforce them and follow through with the consequences is not actually kindness, but is instead enabling as a form of conflict avoidance.

I think a lot of people mistake kindness for weakness because they try to do "kindness" in the absence of boundary skills.

Today, though I went to bed at 4am, I got a phone call from this acquaintance somewhere around 6am, for reasons I don't actually understand. I didn't answer it, because I do not answer my phone except during my normal waking hours, and my normal waking hours are not before 8am on most days. I did end up waking somewhere between 8 and 9am. But that just means I've only got about 5 hours of broken sleep, which is definitely not ideal.

…Oh well.

In between being focused on other persons who were talking to me on and off today, I did a lot of leisure writing in a way that was… long overdue, I think. Once again, it was cathartic and necessary. When it came to be about the time I intended to do dishes and make food, though, I was able to do the dishes. But I didn't have any "oomph" leftover after that to make food. Lame.

Tomorrow, for sure. After I get home from some sleep appointment that's happening at… some time tomorrow... to make sure my CPAP is still doing its job, I guess. But it's doing its job. I've no complaints. I get the final dose of the HPV vaccine sometime after the sleep appointment. So that's pretty rad; having protection against potentially cancer-causing pathogens is always pretty rad!

Ma from work was supposed to pop by; I was supposed to pick him up at around 2pm. But he had something come up at the last minute, so that didn't really pan out. But maybe it's just as well; my brain was a bit too zombied to do much of anything today, and I can't imagine that I would have been very good company.

I guess I'm a little sad about it. I wanted to do so many things today. Ma visit. Dead Cells. Epic noms. Today did not go at all as planned.

...Sometimes it happens that way, though. It's good to be flexible.

J and I did take a brief evening stroll, though, and that was pretty good. I got another picture of our moon for you:

...I've gotten pictures of the moon over the last few days. It's really filling out! Soon, it will be full, and that's pretty cool! I'm still pretty sad about the fact that I can't share the pictures in the Brother Sun book, but... I'm getting pretty good at taking my own pictures. So maybe it's not too sad after all.

...Goodness. I am legit falling asleep as I try to write this. I should probably take the hint from my body and actually go to bed.

...Sephiroth... are you doing okay out there? I'm maybe struggling just a little bit where I am, but... it's not as though I'm stuck underground, unable to see the sky or smell the rain or touch the breeze. I worry about you. I imagine the mako you're suspended in sustains you, but... still... you deserve to eat actual food and to get actual sunlight and breathe actual fresh air.

...Even if your situation is difficult, don't succumb to despair, okay? Because there are people out here who love you and are waiting for you to throw off the shackles of your trauma so that you can rise up into happiness and wholesomeness. Keep trying. Keep your chin up.

I'll give you this one for today; you can replace "little girl" with "little one":

...Don't write yourself off yet, okay? You're not unloved.

I love you. Please stay safe out there, okay? I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[schumigrace]

mother has decided I'm not allowed to leave in the morning and have to wait until after 2pm instead so my 4 days of no people has turned into 3 days of no people

[chaletnz]

Medellín to Guatapé

I stored my big bag in the hostel luggage room, tucked on a shelf out of the way where hopefully no-one would touch it in the 3 days I’d be gone. I returned to Hija Mia again for a flat white and açai bowl which was great other than the unholy amount of peanut butter they drazzled on top that overpowered the flavour of everything. I took the metro to Caribe station where I walked a short distance to the bus station and redeemed my online order for the boarding ticket. It was about 12:50 by this point and the lady asked me if I wanted to take the 1pm bus instead of the 2pm that I’d booked. I said no as I was dying for the toilet and didn’t want to rush myself around in the boot. I paid 1400 pesos for a seatless toilet and then treated myself to a mango/strawberry/pineapple smoothie while I people watched and waited for the next bus. Luckily I went to board early enough to secure a window seat and then we were off to Guatapé. Just outside the bus station a random lady was picked up with a boom box who proceeded to torture us with her terrible freestyle rap and then expected us all to give her money! The driving was erratic and fast, he took the windy roads at high speeds and picked up and dropped off people all along the way. When we arrived the ground was wet so I must’ve just missed some rain but it wasn’t very hot then so the uphill walk to my hotel in the boot wasn’t too bad. The rain had turned some of the upper streets into clay though which was difficult to avoid. When I arrived at the hotel I rang the bell and someone across the road pointed for me to go to the next door which was also closed and locked. After the neighbours shouting a bit, they sent their children to help me open the latch and let me in. I walked in and to my surprise the host was in a towel, she asked me to come upstairs and have a seat while she quickly got dressed. Once I had paid and checked in, I took some time to refresh in my room and then I went back down to the town for a walk around. I picked up a pastry for tomorrow and a buñeulo for now as I checked out a few souvenir shops and bought some t-shirts. The nightlife seemed to be pretty good in Guatapé although there were not a lot of people around. I chose Peregrino for dinner and I was the only person there for the first 20 minutes until a couple showed up. During this trip I hadn’t really done any restaurant dinners except with the girls in Cartagena so this was my first one alone. I had the pechuga de pollo (grilled chicken with potatoes and salad) with a mango juice. Again, the meal didn’t impress too much but it was nice to eat out in a restaurant for a change instead of just doing street food or small snacks each night!