#its been so long since i did one of these. missed it

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Spock knew he was dying. It was, he supposed, quite inevitable. In truth, he was surprised that death had not claimed him much sooner; there had been many instances throughout his life and career when it had seemed inescapable.

Now, however, it would be time that would claim him.

All told, it was a significant improvement upon his last death, trapped within the Enterprise's warp core. Though his bones ached with age, his flesh did not burn with radiation, and his vision remained quite clear. He hurt, yes, and was cold, but he was not in agony.

However...

The last time he had died, pressed up against the glass, he had not had to face it alone. Jim had been with him, as had Doctor McCoy and Mr. Scott. He had been unable to touch them - and indeed he had wanted to, had wished quite illogically for the glass to fall away and allow him to tumble into Jim's arms - but they had still been there, at his side.

He was a Vulcan, and so perhaps it should have been inconsequential, but he was old now, and sentimental.

He could not help but want.

And then, as though a breath had passed through the room, Spock sensed a change.

Suddenly, without any fanfare at all, Jim stood at his side, smiling warmly down at him. He looked just as young as he did when Spock had seen him last, before he had been swept away by the Nexus and held away from him for so many long decades. He was, thought Spock, so beautiful.

If this was an illusion, it was a welcome one.

When Jim's hands clasped his own, they felt real, somehow, soft and warm against his chilled flesh, and Spock gripped back with all the strength he could muster. Illusion though it may be, Spock would savor it.

Jim, he wanted to say, how I have missed you, but his voice was well beyond him. To even try would be an exercise in futility. Kaiidth. Perhaps it was for the best. It would not do to frighten his doctors by speaking to a hallucination.

Still, he allowed himself to look, drinking in Jim's appearance like a man parched. It had been so very long since they had been together, and Spock could find no shame in taking advantage of his situation. He was dying, and if an illusion was the only way he could have the company of his husband, he would accept it without question. It felt like Jim, and it looked like Jim, and that was enough for him.

To his other side, a light began to bloom. Sunrise. He had not expected to make it to this sunrise. Memories, long cherished, of watching alien sunrises with Jim bubbled up in his mind, and a sigh fell from his lips.

Oh, how he had missed him! And now, at his very last sunrise, Jim was back with him, hands holding his.

Yes, this was by far an improvement on his previous death.

With some effort, he turned his head towards the sun. Jim, too, turned to face it, and together they watched, as they had so very many times before. It was peaceful. Wonderful.

He did not know how long he lay there, gazing at the rising sun, Jim's hand still in his, before the change became apparent to him: breath no longer stirred in his chest, and his heart no longer beat in his side. Gone, too, was the ache of time that had so suffused him these last years.

And yet, the sun still shone before him, and Jim's hands were still warm against his own.

He blinked, wondering.

"Jim," he whispered, and the name fell with shocking ease from his lips. Cautiously, he pulled himself to a sitting position, and his form moved more smoothly than it had in many years as he turned to meet Jim's eyes once more. "Jim."

"Hello, Mister," Jim replied.

Jim beamed at him, that beloved face warm with affection. The barest hint of sadness lingered at the edges of his eyes, and Spock's hand raised almost of its own accord, brushing lightly over his cheek.

"You grieve," he murmured. "Why?"

Jim just smiled, leaning into Spock's touch. "Illogical, I know," he said, a light puff of laughter escaping his chest. "I only - well. It isn't pleasant to watch you die, peaceful though it was. And, while I'm terribly pleased to see you again, I can't help but feel sorry. Death is - quite permanent, most of the time. I'm afraid no strange Vulcan rituals will be bringing you back, this time around."

Spock understood. Gently, he threaded his fingers into Jim's hair. "I confess that I am relieved by that," he admitted, cherishing the feeling of Jim beneath his touch. "I would not wish to be taken from you once again, so soon after arriving."

Something honey-warm softened in Jim at that, his eyes alight with a deep fondness.

"You sweet talker, you," he said, squeezing gently at the hand still within his grasp. Then, something almost tentative crept into his face. "Spock," he started, eyeing him cautiously, "I know it's been... quite some time, for you. But - to say it bluntly, I still love you. If you've moved on, I'll never mention it again, but-"

Illogical, Spock thought, silencing Jim's words quite suddenly with his lips. Jim melted against him easily, and for a long moment they did nothing but kiss, breathing into one another as they traded touches. When Spock finally pulled away, Jim looked almost kiss-drunk, lips swollen and eyes besotted.

"I suppose that's my answer, then," Jim chuckled, squeezing Spock's hands again.

"Indeed," Spock replied, allowing his eyes to crinkle with some of the delight which pumped through his veins. Gently, he rubbed his nose against Jim's, then pulled back again.

"I'm glad." Jim looked at Spock for a moment, and then glanced down at the bed he still sat upon. "I'll admit, I expected you to have more questions."

"I have surmised that I am dead, and that you are here," Spock said. "Anything further seemed unimportant, for time time being."

Another huff of laughter escaped Jim. "Imminently logical, Mister Spock," he teased. Spock merely inclined his head in response.

Jim stood, and pulled Spock with him, rising from the bed. Disconcertingly, he could see his own body laid out beneath him, eyes closed in death, but then Jim leaned in to press a brief kiss to his cheek, and it was forgotten.

"Well, suffice to say, it seems there's some kind of afterlife. It might be a part of the Nexus, believe it or not." Gently, he tugged Spock along as he started walking, linking their arms together "I'm not the only one who's been waiting for you, I'll have you know," he said, an almost impish smile playing at his lips. "You'll have quite the greeting party, I'm sure. I think Bones has been saving up gripes just for you."

A smile found its way to Spock's face, and he did not try to stop it. He had Jim in his arms once again, and soon he would see their friends. But, before they could continue, Spock pulled lightly at Jim's arm, stopping him.

"Jim?" he said. "I am glad you were with me."

For a moment, Jim looked at him, clearly surprised. Then, an expression which shone like the sun spread across his face. He stepped forwards, enclosing Spock in a hug. Spock went willingly, tucking his face into the crook of Jim's neck.

"I am, too."

[baocean]

flirt - rafe cameron

nice!rafe x reader college au warnings - smut, swearing, drinking summary - when rafe cameron finally takes an interest in you, you think its just another one of his one night stands

get comfy, grab a snack, because baby its longgger. i spent all day on this :) (hahaha ha ha h a) anyways, i wanted a nice, possibly even goofy rafe instead of him being batshit crazy all the time. so please forgive the personality change, we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programs soon.

━

when rafe cameron entered the room, everyone swooned. the football star of unc chapel hill, the hottest guy on campus, the flirt. everyone would gladly drop to their knees for him, except you.

it was like something was wrong with you. because you absolutely did not understand what everyone was always going on about over him.

sure, he was tall and handsome. he was good at football. but he seemed like a complete jerk.

you were a sophomore at unc, rafe was a junior. you’d become very familiar with the horror stories of being around and getting with rafe cameron.

he fucks girls then leaves them on read, picks fights for no reason, drinks way too much, and has a god awful ego.

you just did not get it.

at the party, in some worn out, dirty frat, you stood with your friends in a corner, people watching and giggling.

it had been a fun night so far, meeting new people and having a few too many shots.

but when rafe cameron and his friends walked into the room, everyone’s attention was on him.

you saw him, and wanted to scream ‘boooo’. rolling your eyes, you walked away from your enchanted friends towards the makeshift bar.

a drunk frat brother poured you another drink as your phone dinged. you went to check it, and when you looked back up, there he was, in all his materialistic glory.

“hey angel.” rafe lifted the corner of his lip, handing you the cup the brother just filled.

“thank you.” you smiled for only a second, hopefully fast enough he didn’t even see it, then started to walk away.

“hey, wait!” rafe called behind you, useless. you took a guess that tonight, it was your turn to be the special girl in rafe cameron’s life. you didn’t want that title.

your friends stared in bewilderment as rafe cameron stalks behind you, and pulls on your arm ever so gently to get you to turn around.

“what’s your name?” he asks, his face blank of any little smirk he had before.

“depends on who’s asking.” you shrug, taking a small sip of the juice from your cup. it was strong.

“me.” he clarified, a look on his face telling you should have already known that.

“oh. then, no.” you give him a sweet smile. he scoffs, shaking his head.

“and if it’s for my homeboy over there?” his long finger sticks out and points towards one of his friends, one you’d seen on campus before, but couldn’t put a name to his face.

“oh, if it’s for him, get him to come over here and i’ll tell him myself.”

“what’s your problem with me?” rafe’s face scrunched up, crossing his arms over his chest.

“i don’t have a problem, im just not interested.” you give him one last sickly sweet smile, before returning to the group of friends, patiently waiting to interrogate you.

it had only been a few days since your’s and rafe’s interaction. you hadn’t thought about it much, after getting home to your apartment and debriefing your friends, it had slipped out of your mind completely.

that was, until, you saw him walk into the coffee shop you were studying at.

immediately, you ducked your head, hoping not to get spotted.

he went up to the counter and ordered, fiddling with a straw in his hands, back turned to you.

you thought maybe he had missed you, so with a sigh of relief, you went back to your schoolwork.

“hi, angel.” you cringed at the voice. looking up, there he was.

he was wearing a bandana, tied around his head, some old carhart jacket. he had good style, you’ll give him that.

“oh, hey.” you tried your best to not sound so sincere.

“how’ve you been?” he asked, inviting himself to take a seat across from you.

“great. how about you?” his smile lit up his face, thinking he was finally getting somewhere with you.

he went to answer, when you cut him off, “i’m so sorry, i don’t know your name?” it came out more of a question, a dare.

his smile faltered for a second, and you took that as a win, before he stuck his hand out in between you two.

“i’m rafe cameron.” despite protests, you took his hand in yours to shake it, ignoring how much of a difference in size there was.

he raised his eyebrows, “your turn.”

“still not interested. lovely to see you, though.” you let go of his hand, putting your focus back into your schoolwork.

he scoffed, stood over you for a second, appearing to be looking at something on the table in front of you.

he chuckled, low, then bent down a bit. “i’ll see you later, yn.”

he picked up his coffee and walked out the door without a second glance. alarm bells were going off in your head. how could he possibly know your name?

you grabbed your cup to take a sip, and realization hit you like a brick. on the side of the plastic, your name was written in simple black sharpie.

recently, practice hadn’t been fun. especially since rafe realized the football team practices right next to the women’s soccer team. and also, since rafe found out you were on the women’s soccer team.

he’d made every effort to get your attention, calling your name and throwing footballs towards the soccer pitch, more or less annoying you. your teammates would squeal and giggle, and you groaned.

coach called practice, and as you were packing up your gear and getting ready to make the trek back to your locker rooms, you heard the distinctive voice from behind you.

“angel, how was practice?” you turned, seeing rafe, sweaty and red.

you probably looked the same at him. you’d been running on and off for two and a half hours today, you probably did not look your best. rafe would have disagreed.

“fine, thanks.” you wiped your face with a towel, taking your cleats off and finding your shoes.

“you know, when your face is all red like that, it makes me wonder what you look like when you’re getting f-” you hit rafe on the chest with the back of your hand.

“you’re appalling. does that line ever work on anyone?” you were completely disgusted by him right now, even if the thought did draw a little curiosity from you.

“sometimes. let me take you out on a date.” un phased, rafe cameron persists.

“why would i ever say yes after the comment you just made?” you laugh in his face, earning a shit eating grin from him.

“give me one chance. i don’t know what you think about me, but give me a chance to prove im not whatever it is.”

“no.”

“please, angel.” the way his voice upped an octave erupted thoughts, lot and lots of thoughts.

so, you’d finally give him a little bait to chew on for a while. “i'll think about it.”

with that, you left him standing by the benches. you rolled your eyes at the boy, but couldn’t help but smile.

three hours later you had a follow and dm from rafe cameron.

rafecam: have you thought about our date yet?

yourusername: no, not really

rafecam: come on angel

rafecam: one date is all i’m asking

yourusername: that’s all it’ll be since you’ll ghost me afterwards! it’s perfect!

rafecam: ohhh so that’s what you think

yourusername: the answer is no

rafecam: i’m not taking that for an answer

rafecam: it’s yes or yes

rafecam: i’ll be the perfect gentleman

rafecam: im the man of your dreams come onnnn

yourusername: you’re funny

rafecam: so does tuesday night sound good?

read

yourusername started following you!

deciding on something nice, but not too nice, you took your hair out of the rollers and sighed.

it’s your date with rafe tonight. you were feeling a lot of emotions.

you’d gone through rafe’s instagram the night he dmed you, had followed him back. there was even some 'get to know you' conversations somewhere in between.

pictures of his parents and sisters, his friends, pictures of them on a beach, all smiling. no pictures of him out at a party, or arms slung around girls. there was an image to maintain, though. the quarterback at unc, with forty thousand followers, of course he wasn’t going to post that.

you rolled your eyes and jumped up to show your roommate the black silk dress you were wearing for the dinner date at the fancy restaurant in town. anna was funny, bowing down in front of you like you were some god.

the doorbell to the apartment rang and your eyebrows furrowed. you thought, ‘no way he’d find a way to get up here, no way he’d find your apartment, no way he’d willingly come up here and ring my doorbell’.

but there he was, on the other side of the door, holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. your jaw almost dropped.

he was dressed nicely, a smile painted on his tanned features.

“how did you know where i live. and how do you know about the flowers?” you invited him in, giving him a undoubtedly suspicious look.

“don’t worry, angel. i have my ways,” he smirked, looking at your roommate. “hey anna.”

“oh, okay. got it. got it, thanks anna.” you shake your head, grinning as you put your head in your hands.

“we’ll put these in water then head out, yea?” rafe grabbed the scissors while you grabbed a vase to fill up with water, moving in perfect harmony.

the dinner went well, surprising you. he was a gentleman, like he had promised.

and as much as you hated yourself for it, you swooned, just like that.

his smile, and his jokes, and the lack of inappropriate ones. you thought maybe the bar was on the floor, right now you didn’t care. you could only thing about maybe, you could have been wrong about him.

he’d walked you back up to your apartment on the second floor, carrying his jacket and your heels over his shoulder as you walked together.

when you got to your door, it was unlocked, thank goodness, because you forgot your keys.

“these are yours. angel, i had a really good time. promise you’ll text me in the morning?” rafe asked as he held out your heels, a true, genuine look in his eye signaling he meant it.

you shrugged, love drunk, and pulled his arm so he fell inside with you. “we’ll see.”

he dropped the jacket and heels on one hump on the floor, grabbing around your waist and pulling you in.

the kiss was so desperate and rushed, but still gentle. one of his arms wrapped around your waist as you clung to his neck.

pulling apart, you grabbed his chin and lifted it upwards, placing light kisses on his neck, then sucking. his hands grabbed at your hips.

“you look so good. holy fuck, angel.” he returned the favor, kissing down your neck and shoulder, playing with the strap of your dress with his teeth.

you pulled him towards your room, and at first, he didn’t hesitate.

he faltered once you got to your door, pulling back from you.

“angel, i’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment i saw you, but i want to do this right.”

you were taken aback, not believing the words that were coming out of rafe cameron's mouth. you almost thought he was kidding, letting out a anxious chuckle, met with a confused stare.

"did you just say no to sex?" you questioned. he nodded, looking just as surprised by himself as you were.

he doesn't fucking like me, you thought. how could you be so stupid? of course, of course rafe cameron doesn't want you the same way you want him. do it right? what does that even mean?

and there it was, surprising you again, because since when did you want rafe? have feelings for rafe?

"okay, um well, goodnight, then." you tried, tucking your hair behind your ears and grabbing your heels from the ground.

"okay. goodnight, angel." he took a step forward to try and kiss you, but you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head.

he faltered, heart shooting out of his chest. the one time he tries to treat a girl right, and he's fucked that up, too. he grabbed his jacket, stood up straight, gave you one last look and closed the door behind him.

rafe: good morning

rafe: do u maybe want to get coffee with me

rafe: or i could get it and bring it to u

read

rafe: helllllloooooo

read

rafe: angel what's goin on

rafe: text me back yn

read

it had been three days since you spoke to rafe. it'd been three weeks since you met him, officially. your emotions had been twisted, confusing. he’d been gone for an away football game. he stopped texting you after that.

you watched the game with your roommate anna, rafe throwing pick after pick, completely off his game. you sighed, hoping that the small flame inside trying to convince you you're the reason he keeps messing up is wrong.

the game ended, they won by one point. the team cheered on the field as number forty six walked off the field, helmet in hand and head hung low.

rafe: can you please talk to me

rafe: i would take you telling me you hate me over this

you: can you come over?

rafe: be there in ten

he was there in seven minutes, actually. looks of hesitation painting his features when you opened the door for him.

"you've been okay? you didn't text me back on wednesday."

"yea, we should talk about that." you nodded. his face slumped, he looked defeated.

"what? what is it, angel?" he took a step towards you.

"listen, i really only said yes to that date so you'd leave me alone," rafe felt a little bit liked he'd been punched. "but that entire date i felt so good, and i was honestly just fine with having one night with you and never speaking to you again. but then you said you didn't want to and whatever you meant by that, i'm not sure, but it, like, threw me off." you rambled, arms crossed over your chest in defense.

"i wasn't gonna have sex with you if it meant i never talked to you again." his blue eyes hidden under thick lashes, unable for you to get a good read on them.

"but rafe, thats like all you're known f-" your hands went up in defeat as you tried to finish your statement.

"was, it was. i wish you'd just talk to me instead, angel. but this-" he waves a finger between you two- "is different. i don't know if its because you give me shit every time i try to flirt with you or that you're just unlike anyone i've ever met, i don't fucking know. but id rather give this an actual try than pretend i could treat you like you didn't mean something more."

speechless, thats what you were. taking two steps forward and pulling him in. he tasted like mint gum, smelled like wood and vanilla. his lips parted, letting you familiarize yourself with his mouth.

he pulled back, "go on another date with me?" you laughed, then nodded, then pulled him back into you.

he pulled back again, "be my girlfriend?"

"you're pushing it, rafe." giving him a peck on the lips.

"well, just using my logic, here. if you're my girlfriend, then that means were giving it a try and we can fuck all we want." he shrugged, a hand finding its way under your t-shirt and onto your hip.

"you sound insane. ask me again later." you whispered into him, pulling him into your room, this time he didn't budge. rafe cameron, in your small, student housing bedroom, pulling your shirt off.

he kissed your neck, bit at the spots he'd sucked, picking you up and rolling onto the bed with you, earning a laugh from you.

you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, rafe helping you out. your hands found their way to his upper arms, he closed his eyes and flexed under your touch, almost unconsciously.

"you look so pretty, angel. always do." he whispered, leaned down to kiss you again. he pulled your thin, loungewear bra to the side, let out a quiet groan, and kissed.

and he would have done anything to hear that small moan from you for the first time again. your hand reaches up to grab his hair as one nipple is in his mouth, the other being rubbed between his fingertips.

"angel, you want this as bad as i do?" he looked up at you, watched you nod, and smiled, kissing down to your naval.

lifting your lips, he slid the shorts off you, then his sweatpants next.

he lined himself up, pushing into you slowly, memorizing the sound of your gasps and moans. surely, this is what heaven felt like. sounded like. "holy fuck."

two strong arms landed on each side of your head as he slid in and out of you.

his words came out all incoherent, with a lot of 'please', 'angel', and 'pretty''s thrown in there.

this wasn't the kind of sex you'd have with rafe, you thought it would be more rough, not sweet and caring.

your eyes closed, his hand flying to your face, gripping your chin. "open your eyes, pretty girl. i wanna see you. wanna see whats mine." you let out a moan, clenching around him, too deep in pleasure to care that rafe knew you liked that.

"say it." rafe moaned, his pace fastening, a steady hand still on your face.

"im yours, rafe." he pulled you up as you gasped for the millionth time. now, riding him, your face was an inch above his, his features looked perfect under the sunlight.

"are you mine?" you got out, in between moans.

"since the first time i ever laid eyes on you. all yours, angel."

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 2

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

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

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Terry makes you breakfast, bringing a sense of normalcy to an otherwise chaotic life. Still shaken from the shenanigans of your stalker, you enjoy the break Terry offers you. But all too soon, you’re forced to adapt to an ever-changing schedule. Your label makes you go to a club to promote your new single.

Word Count: 7,152k

AO3 Link

A/N: Idk why I keep doing this to myself, LMFAO. But ya'll see that man show out with his gold chain? Lordt help me, I love that man. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You stood beside the door to your balcony staring at the brightening day. The cry last night was everything you needed to reset. Perhaps it had just been too long since the last time you did. That was okay. It was okay to cry.

You clenched your fists and felt your nails dig into your palms. It was a terrible grounding technique. But pain was good. Pain meant you were alive. And as long as you were alive, your stalker wouldn’t win. He wasn’t winning when you worked hard for this shit.

All the blood, sweat, tears, predatory producers, dickhead managers, trashy bitches with their “gossip” websites, all of it. You didn’t survive this shit to let an anonymous motherfucker get you down. 

You took a deep breath. One day, you’d be able to open the balcony and actually feel the sun on your bones. You had to agree with Terry that it was too easy for someone to take a pot shot at you. Though the stalker seemed to only want to scare you so far. Killing you would kill his fantasy, wouldn’t it? 

It was too morbid to think about on such a pretty Las Vegas day. It was nearing the end of your run here before you would travel to LA. You turned and pulled your robe tighter while walking to your bedroom door and flinging it open. 

It smelled like home. Like warm biscuits, sizzling bacon, and fresh eggs. You followed the smell to the common kitchen and peeked around the corner. Terry stood in the kitchenette in a gray tank top and matching lounge pants.

Your eyes tracked the subtle vein in his arm and followed it to where it ended in his hand gripping the pan. Terry looked up at you and smirked. “I figured after what happened we could all use a little normal,” he said. 

“This…is your normal?” You asked. You hopped onto the nearest barstool and leaned over the bartop to look at the spread. He actually did make biscuits. Fluffy ones with butter melting in the middle. You were tempted to grab one but something told you Terry didn’t play about his kitchen.

You grinned and glanced at Terry who lifted his eyes to yours. You peeked down at yourself and noticed that your girls were threatening to slip out. “I am so sorry,” you said. Though you flirted and harassed the man, you weren’t predatory about it. You truly didn’t mean to let them hang out. You fixed your robe and sat back in your seat like a proper lady.

“It’s all good. Biscuits look good, don’t they?” He asked, his lips dipping in the corners. He almost smiled. Hot damn. Terry brought his thumb to his mouth to lick it and he hummed. The sound vibrated in his chest and you couldn’t help thinking what the hell he was doing as a bodyguard. Bottle that sound and package it into a vibrator and there wouldn’t be a dry cooch in the house.

“Mhm,” you said absently. Maybe the cry hadn’t done its job. Now you were just stuffy and foggy and clearly off your damn marbles. You watched Terry as he finished with the bacon. He moved on to a bowl of eggs he had already cracked and watched his arms work as he whipped up the eggs.

“I really only know how to make scrambled eggs. An omelet if I’m feeling fancy. If you want something else –”

“No, no, this is…sweet of you. I can’t remember the last time someone actually cooked for me. It’s been mostly dining out,” you said. 

“You don’t cook when you’re home?” Terry asked. 

You had to turn away from Terry. He looked downright delicious and he was being sweet. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable by eye fucking him. 

“No, not really. There’s not usually enough time. When I have downtime, I’m usually writing a song or working out or preparing for the next tour. Gotta do something with this brain of mine,” you said. 

Terry nodded. “Shame. Nothing better than some good food cooked with love,” he said. His voice grew hoarse around the word love. Did he have an ex-wife? Did someone break his heart? There was so much you suddenly wanted to know about your bodyguard. You wanted pieces of him that no one else got. You were hungry and greedy for it. Though you had no right to be. 

“So you can’t make anything other than scrambled eggs, huh?” You asked.

Terry scooped out butter and placed it on the hot pan. It immediately sizzled and Terry’s bulging muscles worked back and forth to spread it around. He added the eggs and then turned to you. “I did say an omelet, too. Give me some credit,” he said.

“But only when you’re feeling fancy,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “You get me,” he said.

“So what makes you feel fancy?” You asked. Your eyes drifted to Terry’s every so often and it was bordering on creepy. So you hopped down from the stool and rummaged around in the cabinets.

“What are you doing?” Terry asked. 

“Setting the table,” you said. You grabbed two plates and placed it on the counter. 

“This was my gesture for you. You’re not supposed to set the table,” he said. 

“My grandma would roll in her grave if she knew I didn’t help some kind of way. You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Grammy Bean, would you?” You turned doe eyes to him and added in a cute pout, sticking out your bottom lip. 

Terry chuckled, turning back to the eggs. “I suppose I can’t hurt poor Grammy Bean,” he relented. You grinned and continued setting the bar top with plates, two cups, and forks. By the time you were done, Terry had finished up the breakfast. 

You stood behind him and handed him the plates one by one while he loaded up the eggs, bacon, and biscuits. He handed you the full plate and you set it down. “That was for you,” he said.

“Oh,” you said and giggled. “Thank you.” You rounded the edge of the bar top, suddenly feeling shy and girly. There was no reason for it. You just…fuck, how long had it been since someone did something for you just because? Not because you were paying them to do it? No hidden agenda?

Technically you were paying Terry too, but to guard you, not cook for you. It was unprompted and there was nothing you could do in return for him. There was nothing you could do to feel like you earned it. 

Terry grabbed his own plate and joined you at the bartop. He sat down and spread his legs to accommodate the long length of them. Feet planted firmly on the ground. “Don’t be too harsh on me. I know it’s not the fancy restaurant stuff you eat,” he said.

You laughed. “Don’t believe the hype, Mr. Terry. I am a southern girl at heart. This is way more up my alley than that french reduction, tuna tartar, or whatever else they think people want to eat.”

Terry chuckled and waited until you took a bite of your food. You sighed in appreciation and smiled closed-lipped at him. “This is delicious, Terry,” you said.

Terry grinned, showing off his beautiful smile. It was gone just as quick and he nodded. “Good to hear,” he said. 

What you wouldn’t pay or do to see him smile like that again. You ate beside Terry, soaking in the domesticity of it all. You were burning with questions. But you bit your tongue and just enjoyed the stillness. The peace. The quiet. 

Terry finished in record time, wolfing down his meal like he had just come back from jail or something. He stood up and grabbed two more biscuits. You didn’t know where the fuck he put it all. 

“Did Grammy Bean get you into singing?” Terry asked. 

You smiled and nodded, thinking of your grandmother. “Yup. She had a piano that she let me toddle on until she buckled down and got me piano lessons. She was a mainstay in the jazz scene. She knew them all. I was always following after her, so she ended up getting me started with singing. Encouraged me to do it for me if I was going to do this professionally. She bought me my first audition dress,” you said. 

Bless Grammy Bean, but whew, that dress was hideous. You were twelve at the time and she somehow transformed you into a little version of her. A blue and purple paisley dress with swirls and waves and too many clashing colors. Old lady shoes. If it weren’t for the studio rep who actually listened instead of laughing at you, you would’ve been sent home with tears to keep you company. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Terry said. 

“She really was,” you said softly, remembering the pain of losing the most important person in your corner all over again. “How about you? Any grandma stories?” 

Terry wiped his hands on the paper towel beside his empty plate and then wiped his mouth. He missed a crumb in his mustache but you decided not to tell him. If anything, it made him more endearing. He followed the towel with his hand, swiping away the crumb anyway. Bastard.

“Yeah, my grandma was no joke. Me and my cousin Mike were terrors. Always running in and out of the house, always getting into trouble. One time, we had been play-fighting in the rain. We were covered in mud. When grandma saw us, she hosed us down, gave us a proper whuppin’ for tracking mud on her porch, and then made us clean off her porch before we could come inside,” Terry said, smiling at the memory. 

You smiled with him and shook your head, trying to imagine Terry at such a young age. Was he an awkward teen? Probably not. He was probably born with “responsible" stamped on his forehead. 

“Oh, she was really no joke,” you said.

Terry smiled and shook his head. “Not a one. She’s the one that got me into the Marines. She would tell me all her stories of the Air Force and how she was in charge of making sure the women who served were in bed by curfew. A lot of them tried sneaking out to meet up with boys. My grandma was there with a clipboard and her service weapon telling them to try her,” he said, chuckling to himself. 

“Not the clipboard too,” you said, chuckling with him. 

“They could either get checked off or checked out,” he said, pitching his voice to sound like an older lady. With his deep voice, the sound didn’t quite manage what he went for. You continued to laugh at his impression, waving your hands. 

“I’m not trying–” you kept laughing, unable to apologize. 

“It’s all good. She was a funny woman. She’d want us to laugh,” he said. He sobered and looked at you while you tried to catch your breath. Giggles escaped you as you calmed down yourself, finding yourself getting lost in his stormy eyes. 

You cleared your throat and sucked on your bottom lip. You both opened your mouth at the same time and then giggled. “You go,” he said.

“No, please,” you said.

“Ladies first,” he said. You sighed and rolled your eyes just as the doorbell rang. You cursed under your breath. You almost forgot for a few moments that you weren’t a normal person.

Terry stood up from the bar stool and went to the door for you, checking to see who was there. But you already knew. In five, four, three…

“There you are! Didn’t you get my text?” Mirage asked, walking into the room. 

Joya followed close behind with a shy, pained smile on her face. She clutched her calendar to her chest and you smiled. You nearly had a heart attack looking at Terry. There was no way in hell your sweet assistant could handle Terry’s muscles on full display. 

“I did not. I was eating breakfast, forgive me. Remind me what we’re doing today?” You asked. Because at this point, Terry effectively made you forget for a morning that you were a singer. 

Terry re-entered the room silently, moving around Mirage and headed towards the kitchen. He began to pack up the plates. “Let me help,” you said, hopping off the stool. 

“I got it. Go be awesome,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and giggled. You followed Mirage and Joya into the living room and sat down on the huge, white pleather couch. Joya sat down in the armchair, faced away from Terry, and opened her calendar. 

“I managed to push your LA costume fittings to eleven to let you sleep in. You have an interview with Essence at three. Here is the list of questions,” she said, sliding over a piece of paper to you. You looked them over. Nothing too bad, not much you hadn’t answered before. 

“Okay, pretty light day,” you said. 

“Jake called. He needs you at the club tonight, rather than tomorrow,” Mirage said.

“What? Why?” You asked. 

“Lord AK flew in early and will be there and Jake needs you to hype up the single,” Mirage said. She cringed at your expression as you sighed and fell back against the couch. 

“I was looking forward to staying in,” you said. 

“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t push it. I tried telling Jake about what happened yesterday-”

You waved off her incoming apology. “It’s not you. I know Jake is only thinking dollar signs right now,” you said, thinking of your good for nothing agent. 

“How long do I have to show my face at the club?” You asked. 

“You can’t go to a club. There’s no way to secure your safety,” Terry chimed in from the kitchen. 

“I have to. If I don’t, the single won’t get promoted. If the single doesn’t get promoted, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, my ass is out of a job,” you said. 

Terry’s jaw flexed as he took in the information you gave him. “There’s no way around it?” He asked.

“Ah, sorry. No,” Mirage chimed in for you. 

“There’s going to be a lot of influencers there. Lots of cameras. I don’t know if you could have a bodyguard close by,” Mirage said. 

“I can blend in,” Terry said. 

You looked at Mirage and Joya before glancing guiltily at Terry. He caught on, a smirk stretching his lips. “Don’t think I can hang?” 

“I mean…I wouldn’t call you a square…” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded his head. “I can blend in, princess,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he chuckled, returning to cleaning up the kitchen. You shook your head and turned back to your team. You went over a few more details for the day, the logistics of everything. 

“Ugh, I didn’t pack club clothes,” you said. 

“Already have you covered. After the interview, you’ll have a few choices the label is sending over,” Joya said. She consulted her calendar and thousands of tabs and sticky notes. You marveled at the way her mind worked. 

You smacked your teeth thinking of the type of clothes your label wanted you in. “Oh ye of little faith, girl! I already told them nothing silver, nothing sparkly, and nothing that’ll have your ass hanging out,” Joya said.

“I love you,” you said and giggled.

“I love you too, miss lady. We have fifteen minutes to get on the road before we’re late for your fittings,” Joya said. 

“Ugggghhhhh,” you groaned, sliding off the couch like a toddler. 

Mirage laughed and shook her head. “It’ll be painless. Well…as long as it isn’t Francois,” Mirage said.

You shivered from the floor. “I’m convinced he pokes me so many times to see if my ass is real,” you said. You all laughed and for a brief moment, you pretended that you were sixteen again with a circle of good friends, having a movie night. But those days were long past and gone. 

“Alright, alright, alright. I’m getting up. Fuck,” you said. You stood up from the floor and collected yourself. You squared your shoulders, threw your head back, and took a deep breath.

Movement to your right made you turn to Terry who had stopped cleaning to watch you. He nodded his head at you and you nodded back. Yeah, you had business to attend to.

The fitting was a breeze. Luckily Francois was nowhere to be found so you didn’t have to grab bandaids as you were done with the fitting. That was the secret part you loved about being a musician. Playing dress up. Seeing the mix of fabrics and clothes and getting to see the hidden seams to allow for quick costume changes on stage. 

The interview went just as well, talking with Brandi Harper, a journalist for Essence. She was cool, down to earth, making the interview feel like a conversation rather than a Q&A. You had bonded over your love for anime, discussing the different shows you watched. 

She did end up asking about the A’Kierra interview that you did and you had to fight everything in you not to drag A’Kierra’s nasty ass. You only ended up shrugging and dismissing it. Why give that clown more ammunition? 

Now, you were back at the hotel, getting dolled up for the club. Terry sat on the couch watching everyone like a hawk. He only allowed one make up artist and one hair stylist and only after he did his little background investigation on the both of them. Your team was loyal. You told him as much. Yet he still looked at everyone like any one of them could snap. 

Angie worked on your makeup while Nicky worked on your hair. “You gon’ sweat this out?” He asked.

“Probably, yeah,” you said with a grin. Nicky rolled his eyes but laughed with you as he switched tactics. He quickly abandoned what he was doing and then undid your hair from the ponytail. 

“You gon’ stress me out, chile,” he said.

“I love you, Nicky,” you said. 

Nicky harrumphed and you blew him a kiss while he started to braid your hair. “You lucky I stay ready, miss thing,” he said. He grumbled about you while he got to work, braiding quickly and efficiently. That was why you paid to bring Nicky wherever you went. No one had hands like him. 

Joya entered the circus that was your hotel living room carrying a garment bag over her shoulder. Mirage was in the corner, on the phone with Jake setting up details about the club. 

You snuck a glance at Terry who caught you looking. You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth and Angie groaned. You apologized to Angie who had to switch tactics as well. “Every time, girl?” She asked. 

You giggled. “You’re right. I’m a bad client,” you said.

She sighed and shook her head. “You’re lucky I like you,” she said. 

“Oh, it’s my lucky night then. I need to do some gambling before we leave Vegas,” you said. You let Angie remove the gloss from your lips and went with a lip stain instead. It was a darker red than what you were used to but some sneaks in the mirror had you feeling yourself.

You may be a homebody but deep, deep down in your crevices, you liked to party too. Liked to dance and move and sing your heart out. Get some drinks going and you were the life of the party. 

Joya managed to get closer and tapped the bag. “Got what you needed,” she said.

“Thank you,” you told her. “Terry? Can I see you please?” You asked.

Terry was by your side in a second, crowding your space. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome. You pointed to Joya. “I had her get some outfits for you as well. If you’re going to blend, I need you to really blend. And I doubt you have a club outfit in that duffel you carry,” you said. 

“I’m good, thanks though,” he said.

“And just what do you plan on wearing to blend in then?” You asked.

He spread his hands and you looked at the black T-shirt and jeans he usually wore. You giggled and shook your head, much to Angie’s and Nicky’s frustration. “You cannot go to a club like this wearing your uniform, soldier,” you said.

“It’s a club,” he said. “No one’s worried about me.”

“Sheeit,” Nicky whispered. Angie elbowed him and he cleared his throat, returning to braiding your hair. He was already halfway through your head. 

You were tempted to lick your lips to keep from laughing at the adorable, confused expression on Terry’s face. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t make some kind of effort. Please, indulge me. Otherwise I’d have to go in by myself and without you there to guard me, who knows what could happen?” 

Terry’s jaw flexed. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. He grabbed the clothes bag from Joya who looked like a deer caught in headlights. She lowered her eyes and tried to back away as nonchalant as possible. Poor tink. You understood though. Terry was intimidatingly sexy as hell. 

“I wouldn’t dream of pulling anything,” you said. 

He gave you a blank stare before disappearing to his side of the suite. You turned to Joya with a grateful smile. 

In no time at all, Nicky had your head braided and put on a wig. He flat ironed it and then pulled it into a half up, half down style. “Oh, I like this,” you said, looking at yourself in the mirror he brought. 

“I know, I know. I’m the greatest,” he said.

“We’re running behind, let’s wrap it up soon,” Mirage called out, returning to her call. 

What was taking Terry so long? You wondered which outfit he chose or if he’d stick to his uniform. You had to get dressed yourself so you went into your bedroom with Angie and Nicky to help put on your club outfit and make sure you didn’t mess up your hair and makeup. 

The jumpsuit was sheer and looked painted on when you got it on. The back was out but it made your ass look extra fat. Oh, you were so keeping this. It had a tropical flower design on it that looked fun and perfect for the club. Partnered with your hair and makeup, hell, you’d fuck you tonight. 

You left your room and Terry stood up. You paused, your heels near skidding on the floor. Got. Damn. He chose to wear a navy dress shirt with gold flowers on it. He left it buttoned all the way to the top and his black jeans made him look extra delicious. 

He smoothed the shirt and looked at himself like he couldn’t believe how he got here. You giggled to get over your initial shock. “Not bad, Mr. Terry. Not bad,” you said.

“Don’t look so bad yourself,” he said. 

You smiled and followed your army of people out of the hotel, to the waiting car. Terry opened the door for you and helped you inside. He went around to the other side, climbing into the back with you. 

“Oh, not driving tonight?” You asked. 

“I gotta blend, right?” He asked. 

If he did any more blending, people would think he was a famous movie star. He pulled on some shaded glasses, completing the look while a member of your security team got in the front seat. Mirage and Joya would be in the follow car. 

Sometimes they were your best friends. And sometimes they were your best employees. The ride beyond to the club was short, really only going from one hotel to the next. But because you’d be spotted instantly, it was somehow easier to take the car than walk. 

Paparazzi lined the entrance to the club and those flashing bulbs immediately turned to your car when it was your turn. You took a deep breath, looking out at the sea of vultures. There were some fans mixed in. 

“Guess word got out that I’d be here,” you said with a rueful smile. “Wondered who leaked that.” 

Jake was such a leech. But you kept him around because if nothing else, he could hustle a dollar from a beggar. And for an artist determined to do this shit right, you needed all the money you could scrounge up. After living paycheck to paycheck growing up, robbing Paul to pay Peter, you had plans. You didn’t ever want to go back to the poor little girl you were before. 

“We can turn around,” Terry offered.

You sighed. “No. We really can’t,” you said. You took a deep breath and pulled on your metaphorical armor. You pictured it encasing you in the hardest known element. Not a chink or weak spot to exploit. 

You pulled on your own shades because the flashing lights left you dizzy. Terry’s counterpart got out of the car and then swooped around to open the door for you. Terry got out by himself and quickly walked around the car, offering you his arm. 

The paparazzi resembled a feeding frenzy at the zoo. They called your name endlessly, squawking with demands to turn here, look here, give us a smile, give us a pout, who’s your man, and on and on it went.

You posed and waved to them all, playing into your persona. You singled out a few fans and took pictures with them, signing some autographs. You blew kisses as you walked up the club’s doors and the bouncer let you in without any fuss.

The sudden darkness of the club’s interior foyer after all the flashing lights gave you whiplash. You swayed on your feet and Terry steadied you with a hand on your hip. “You okay?” He asked. 

You shook your head to clear it. “I hate that shit,” you said. But you were fine. You’d live. 

“We made it,” Mirage said, coming up from the side entrance. She wore a simple black party dress that fit her full figure well. She pulled her braids back into a ponytail and added on makeup. You hugged her and then Joya who peeked out from behind Mirage. She had changed as well, into a pair of dark jeans and a flirty shirt. 

“You both look amazing!” You said. 

“Not as good as you!” Joya said. You waved them off. They were too adorable. Linked arm in arm, you passed through the curtains and entered the club proper. Nothing was small in Vegas on the strip. The place was huge, a mass of people gyrating on the dance floor, hanging out by the bar, or trying to make moves on each other.

You made your way to the VIP section. The section was already bumping with multiple artists bopping their heads to the music. Groupies hung around the various rappers and singers, each all similarly dressed in baggy pants and jerseys or oversized coats. 

“You’re here!” Another singer, Alexandra Crane, beamed and then wrapped her arms around you. You screamed with her. The cute little singer from Atlanta had become a friend during a concert you performed together. You were glad to see that she ditched the other two in her group. 

“It is so good to see you!” You said. You introduced Mirage and Joya and true to form, Joya fangirled. 

“Oh, and who’s this?” Alex asked. 

“This is my-”

“I’m her toy for the evening,” Terry said, extending his hand to Alex. She shook it but gave you an exaggerated wink. You waved her off and let your eyes adjust to the dizzying array of spinning neon lights in the club.

The dance floor was full of uncoordinated people jumping up and down to the same four club remixes on repeat. Ugh. “Have you seen Lord AK?” You asked.

Alex shook her head. “Are you meeting up with him?” She asked. 

You nodded and bent closer to be heard over the music. “We’re promoting ‘Down Bad’,” you told her. 

She smiled and nodded her head. “Oh my god, I love that song!” She said.

You flopped onto the couch with Alex and caught up, leaving Terry to sit beside you and scan the club for potential threats. You relaxed as the night went on, going shot for shot with Alex and your girls. 

As the night progressed, some fans dared to approach and ask for pictures. Terry tried to deter them but you went against his orders, taking pictures anyway. It was incredibly brave to even ask. You wouldn’t deny them a quick picture and wave. 

The club finally changed the music to something you could actually shake your ass too. The alcohol warmed your belly and had you feeling yourself. You grabbed Alex’s hand and made your way to the dance floor. 

Terry grabbed your hand as you reached the bottom step of the VIP section. “I can’t protect you around all of them,” he said.

“I wanna dance. You can join meee, boy toy,” you sang, crooking your finger. Terry tilted his head and if you could see his eyes, you were sure he would be judging you. Ah well. You hadn’t had fun in a long time. Your stalker preferred to catch you unawares. The mask had been the creepiest contact so far. 

The fanboy letters and poems were what really creeped you out. You shivered just thinking about it. But that was the point. You didn’t want to think about your stalker. You wanted to have fun. 

Terry let your hand go and then you squealed, getting onto the dance floor and immediately started shaking your ass to the Ying Yang Twins song. You let go. You just followed the rhythm of the music and danced with Alex, pretending you were just a girl in a club, quietly hoping some man would come holler at you for a second. 

You danced in a circle so that it would make you face the VIP section. Terry’s profile was turned towards you, eyeing you as you danced. You put extra flair into your sexy dancing. Swaying your hips, shaking your ass, flirting with him with your body from across the room. 

He watched it all. He didn’t even pay attention to those around him. Didn’t give the waitress a glance as she lingered, hovered, trying to grab his attention. He lifted his fingers to wave her off and she left with a huff. That only made you smile and roll your body to the music. 

The DJ scratched the record, getting everyone’s attention. Everyone turned to the DJ in the middle of the club, up on stage surrounded by a paneled wall full of screens with colors dancing in the display. 

“Ya’ll ready for some hot, new shit? Fresh off the tracks?” The DJ asked. The club screamed. 

“Ya’ll ready or not, damn!” The DJ asked. 

Behind him, Lord AK stepped out with a microphone. “Call me a simp, ‘cause that ass got me mesmerized…” he started rapping the opening lyrics to your song. You screamed, just as shocked as everyone else.

Why didn’t Mirage tell you this was part of the plan? You looked towards the VIP section but Mirage wasn’t there. Were you supposed to sing as well? Were you just there to witness? This mickey mouse shit was unprofessional as fuck. 

Lord AK seemed to know what the hell was going on because he made a beeline through the crowd to you, serenading you with his rap, grinning widely. Gahh, he was so damn cute. If he didn’t have some deep seated fucking issues, that would be your man for real. But after the scare last year at a party, he had disappeared for counseling. 

Fuck it. You grabbed the mic from him when it came time to your part, singing to him, flirting with him and the crowd. You involved them, making them think that they were the ones you were down bad for. 

Mirage’s head bobbed in the crowd. She gave you a harried look, waving a microphone covertly. You pushed on Lord AK’s chest and sang while backing him away. You grabbed the microphone from Mirage just as Lord AK leaned in for a fake kiss. You tapped the microphone on his lips and he grinned, grabbing the microphone and began the breakdown of the song. 

There was a call and response in the middle of the song, getting quicker as the lyrics turned nastier. You and Lord AK circled each other, getting closer and closer, until you reached the climax of the song where you belted out the final lyrics. The club exploded with cheers and whistles. 

The DJ played another one of Lord AK’s songs. The idea was to get people focused on the music, not his hiatus. You felt bad for him, really. He was a talented rapper. People should already focus on the music and not that he was going through shit. Everybody was going through shit. 

Mirage fought her way to you, grabbing your microphone and Lord AK’s. “Fuckin’ Jake sprung this shit on me. By the time I knew, he was already in place and I couldn’t find you and…”

“Babe, breathe,” you said. Mirage stopped mid sentence and took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill him,” she said, shaking her head and walking away. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Somethin’ told me this shit wasn’t right, ‘cause I almost didn’t find you out here,” Lord AK said. 

You waved him off and hugged him, covertly taking a deep whiff of his cologne. He smelled heavenly, like a mix of spiced flowers and sandalwood. You should’ve been having his babies. You inwardly groaned at the loss of your fictional family as you pulled away. 

“It is so good to see you. Need some familiar faces, for real,” you said. 

His grin was wide and genuine, his eyes no longer cloudy now that he got rid of most of his entourage. That whole group had been toxic and you were glad to see him on the other side of it. Healthy looked good on him. 

However, back in his presence, his luminance seemed to dim. He no longer really turned your head. You only had eyes for – him. Terry remained in the VIP section but there was some unknowable expression on his face. You didn’t know him well enough to decipher this particular look. 

He was always so damn grumpy. “How long you here for?” You asked.

Lord AK shrugged his shoulders. “Enough to be seen. Then I’ma dip. This club is ass,” he said. 

“True that. Don’t leave without me seeing you again,” you said.

“You’re gonna see me in LA, girl,” he said.

“And what that mean!” You tapped his shoulder and made your way back to the VIP section. Most of it had cleared out but there were still a few movers and shakers talking, their phones out recording everything. 

The lights began to go crazy, turning the VIP section darker as the lights danced in time with the club remixes again. “Having fun?” Terry asked when you got up the stairs.

“Are you? Have you gotten up once?” You asked.

“Mhm. Just sitting here. Enjoying the free concert,” he said.

You giggled, looking away. You wanted so desperately to ask what he thought of the performance. The words to excuse the behavior were at the tip of your tongue. You wanted to make it clear that it was all an act for you and Lord AK. That you weren’t really into him, ya’ll just had good chemistry. 

But there was nothing to really explain, was there? You didn’t owe Terry an explanation. You grabbed two shots and handed him one. “If this was what you call blending in, it’s so bad. You scream cop,” you said.

“I look good, what you mean?” He asked. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and you shook your head with a giggle. 

“You gotta drink. You gotta dance. Those are the rules,” you said. 

“I don’t drink,” he said. 

“Like a you can’t handle your liquor thing or is this a health nut thing?” You asked.

Terry chuckled. “Health nut?” He asked. 

“You know you can be addicted to working out, right?” You asked. 

Terry shook his head. “I don’t drink on the job,” he said. 

“This isn’t a job. You’re blending. Blending means going method,” you said. Terry sighed and grabbed the shot out of your hand. He knocked it back without a grimace and you matched him, tipping the shot glass back and grinning at him. 

The DJ gave the club remix a break and turned on Post Malone’s “Rockstar”. You squealed and threw up your hands. “I love this song! Dance with me,” you said. You grabbed his hand and tried to pull him to standing. He remained firmly planted in his seat.

“I definitely don’t dance on duty,” he said. 

The alcohol made you petulant. At least that was your excuse and you were sticking to it. You gave up trying to get him to stand so you took another shot for courage and then began dancing in the VIP section.

The neon blue and purple lights danced across the shades he still wore. You couldn’t see his pretty eyes and you pretended that he was a famous person. Someone who understood what it was like to feel lonely in the middle of a crowd. That image quickly disappeared though. You didn’t want a fantasy. 

You wanted to remain yourself. You wanted Terry to remain Terry. The inflexible, professional, gorgeous man who took your safety seriously. The same man who let you peek behind the curtain of his control earlier today. The same man who made you feel in ways you hadn’t in a very long time. 

You turned around and began dancing for him. Just for him. Rolling your ass in a slow circle to the song, bending down as you did so, making your knees do most of the work to entice Terry. 

He adjusted himself in the seat, tilting his head at you. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice rough. 

“Dancing with you since you won’t dance with me,” you said. You continued to dance, looking back at him every so often to make sure he was still looking. You grew more bold as you danced, now doing it just because. Just because he made you feel normal when so much of your life wasn’t. 

You backed into his lap and mimicked bouncing on it. You grabbed his knees and ground your ass in lap, used him for support while you danced slower and slower. The thrumming beat matched the beat of your heart, turning you bolder. 

You looked over your shoulder and bit your lip, still grinding in his lap. Terry took a deep breath but you weren’t making it easy for him. “You know you want to dance with me,” you said over your shoulder.

Terry leaned forward and grabbed your hips, slamming you down onto his lap. You yelped, feeling a third leg pushing at the fabric of his jeans. He placed his lips next to your ear and whispered, “Behave.” 

You grinned and kept grinding and dancing on him, giving him a lap dance whether he wanted it or not. He didn’t stop you, only gripped your hips harder with his thick fingers. He slowly began to move with you, rubbing his bulge into your ass.

He moved one of his hands from your hips to trail a finger along your exposed, sweaty back. You gasped, feeling electricity pass from his fingers to your skin. You took back control by abruptly standing up, turning around, and climbing into his lap. 

You continued your dance, wriggling in his lap. You bent backwards, stretched, and then rolled forward. Terry dragged a finger down your chest and you wished it was open in the front too. You liked his hands on you. You really, really liked his hands on you.

Your skin grew overheated, waves of heat rolling through your body. Terry gripped your ass and squeezed. You gasped and fell forward, knocked off your rhythm with just a firm grip. You ought to be ashamed you were that easy, but hell, who could blame you? 

When he looked that good? Smelled that good? Felt so damn good? 

Terry leaned forward and you steadied yourself on his shoulders. You braced for those full, lush lips to touch yours. Watched as if in slow motion as he leaned in. Your breathing was so rapid, your chest rose and fell. 

Terry moved one of his hands to your face, bringing you closer by cupping your cheek. Your eyes drooped, too eager to get this over with yet wanting to savor every little second. His hand was hot against your cheek. His breath fanned across your face.

He bypassed your lips to bring his closer to your ear. “I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he whispered. He licked your neck and you moaned, shivering as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water down your veins. “I like my women sober when they’re riding me.”

You gasped while he stood up and gently placed you on the couch. “Stay here. I’ll grab you some coffee.” 

You stayed put while he disappeared to do just that. You stared after his retreating form, at a complete loss for words. You were hot and bothered. Your flabbers were ghasted. And you were so damn horny you thought you’d pass out. 

Such a bastard. You fanned yourself as Terry returned with coffee and water, making you somehow drink both. He escorted you out of the club with a few stops to take pictures with fans. Despite whatever the hell he thought, you were not drunk. 

He had you tucked into the car before you could say, “Cinderella”. There was nothing to talk about in the car. The interior was too tense. Too thick. Too cloying with the mix of cologne, perfume, sweat, and hairspray. You rode in silence back to your hotel, escorted to the room, and stood silently while Terry checked every nook and cranny of the room. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Terry,” you sang lazily, heading to your bedroom doors. Terry crossed the living room to his side.

“Goodnight,” he said. 

You stared at each other as you closed the doors at the same time. Finally alone, you turned and leaned your back against the door feeling like the biggest fucking loser on the planet. 

Whew. Help yourself to some more treats! The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

Tag list: PLEASE. I love ya'll FRFR.

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[seitmai]

“Don’t forget me when you become a hot shot pilot mister.” You said to him with tears in your eyes. He looked back at you with something that could only be described as melancholy and kissed your forehead, “I could never forget you tiny dancer.

🥹🥹🥹

You two kept up with each other for the first two years of your college time, but communication became scarce. He didn’t come home for the holidays, you couldn’t blame him though. He finally got out of there, he was doing what he always wanted to do. Communication between the two of you completely went away during your junior year. You’ve kept up with him through your parents and his, and to say you were proud was an understatement.

It's sad but I feel like very common at that age for the communication to fizzle out but I love it that she is still so proud of him 🥹

“We’re just happy to see you and we are hoping you have a great time tonight.” With the cryptic answer said, she walks away leaving you to sit there in your skepticism.

Very suspicious 👀🤔

You see a plane fly across the sky and you huff out a laugh, realizing you’re dreams of seeing Jake again, came true tonight.

That's so cute 🥰

“So-” “It was-” You both start trying to talk simultaneously and once you realize, you both start giggling. You nod your head to tell him he can go first, and with a shy smile he rubs the back of his neck and says, “It was nice to see you again sweetheart, I was really hoping you’d be here.” That warmth from earlier creeps back up your neck, and you smile softly at him. “I was hoping you’d be here too cowboy.” You both just sit there with smiles, and after a few beats of silence you add quietly, “I missed you.” What you could only call longing, flashes in his eyes, before he smiles at you, “I missed you too tiny dancer.”

🥹🥹🥹

“And what was that?” His face is a bit more hopeful now, or maybe you’re just going crazy. After a moment of just looking into his eyes, you turn to fidget with your sweater and finally speak. “They weren’t you Jake.” It came out softer than you thought it would. The silence surrounds you like a suffocating room, and panic starts to claw its way up your throat. You’re about to apologize profusely when Jake finally speaks. “That’s why I don’t have anyone waiting for me sweets. They weren’t you. The gorgeous girl I’ve known since diapers, who has always been so caring. Who put others before herself. The girl who knows me and my family, and still chooses to be around us.” You stare at him with wide eyes, trying to absorb everything that was just said. Softly, you reply, “I will always choose you, Jake. The boy who didn’t let me go to bed upset. The boy who constantly cheered me on in everything I did. The boy who set his sights on something and chased it. ” Your chest feels lighter, while your heart beats at a lightspeed rate.

Ahhh finally 🥰

“So can I take you out tomorrow sweetheart? I should’ve asked you that years ago.” He asks with a smirk across his lips. You mirror his smirk as you respond, “You sure can cowboy. We have a lot of time to make up for.” You both slowly lean in, and your lips meet in a short kiss that makes fireworks go off in your stomach. You both pull away, but that one kiss isn’t enough. The two of you share another short kiss, before breaking out into a long deep kiss. He dips you a bit with this one. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of has come true under the twinkling lights. You’ll have to make sure to send the Seresin women some cookies and flowers for planning this.

🥰🥰🥰

a long long time

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

pictures from pinterest!!

word count: 2.8k

summary: childhood best friends, who always felt a bit more about each other, finally see each other after 12 years. will all their wishes come true at the Seresin holiday party?

warnings: childhood best friends to lovers! fluff!! cheesy goodness!! no use of y/n but reader does uses she/her pronouns! pet names: sweets, sweetheart, darlin, tiny dancer. no looks are given besides an outfit!

an: this is heavily inspired by ‘Its been a long long time’ by harry james! definitely recommend listening to it while reading! can you guys tell i love when people dance together as a form of intimacy? thank you to my friends who have no clue who jake is, who proofread this. & thank you guys for all the love on my other two fics! this is incredibly new to me so to see that people like the stories is really amazing. thank you. likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated!!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Growing up, Jake Seresin was always by your side. Jake’s mom and your mom were best friends, meaning the two of you were destined to be in each other’s lives. Of course, you two went through the phases of disgust when one of you thought the other had cooties, but they never deterred your friendship. When you would fall off your bike and cry because you scraped your knee, Jake would immediately be by your side. Jake’s PeeWee football games never had a silent crowd, of course not. Little you would be right there next to his parents, screaming the loudest for him. A dance recital, nervous about your performances? Don’t worry, Jake would be right there in the front row next to both of your families, with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

High school hit, and Jake became the star football player who girls and guys alike pined after. You on the other hand were a quiet theater kid, dancing still, and leading the school newspaper. Despite running in different social circles, you two were still attached at the hip. The sharp stares you received from girls who wanted Jake would burn into your head, but you never let that affect your friendship. The free time you two had was spent with each other, taking long drives when you needed to clear your head, watching new episodes of TV shows you both enjoyed, and studying together. There has always been a hint of something more between you two, but out of fear of ruining things, you never made a move. Although, there was a time during your senior year when the possibility of being something more didn’t seem as distant. You two had just taken a long drive to a field in the middle of Texas to watch the sunset. It was then that you two shared your first kiss, and then it was over, and neither of you brought it back up. You knew you had feelings for him. That wasn’t even a question. But those feelings would not outweigh your friendship, you’d rather have him in this way, than in no way at all.

When Jake got into the Naval Academy, you were ecstatic for him. He had been dreaming about getting out of here since you were little tots, and now he had his out. You got into a school an hour away for Broadcast Journalism, and he was just as excited for you. When you told him, he picked you up and spun you around, both of you reminiscing on the days when he would play with his model planes and you would pretend to report every little thing that was happening around you two. Graduation day came and went, and soon you were getting ready to send Jake on his way to Maryland.

“Don’t forget me when you become a hot shot pilot mister.” You said to him with tears in your eyes. He looked back at you with something that could only be described as melancholy and kissed your forehead, “I could never forget you tiny dancer. Plus we can still keep up with each other, and I’ll see you over the holidays!”

You two kept up with each other for the first two years of your college time, but communication became scarce. He didn’t come home for the holidays, you couldn’t blame him though. He finally got out of there, he was doing what he always wanted to do. Communication between the two of you completely went away during your junior year. You’ve kept up with him through your parents and his, and to say you were proud was an understatement.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It’s been 12 years since you last saw Jake Seresin. You would be lying if you said you didn’t think about him a lot of the time. After you graduated from UT at Austin, you moved back home and started to work at the local news station as an Anchor. Your free time is spent with friends, going out to bars, or just brunch together. They always hound you about finding a guy, “Come on!! You’re single, hot, and an amazing person!” “You can’t just sit here all night, come meet Tyler, I promise you’ll like him! Please?” You knew they had good intentions, with their bright smiles and kind words. So you tried. You would go out with who they wanted you to, but every time, it felt as though something was missing. You knew what was missing, you just didn’t want to admit it. Seasons change but you don’t think your feelings for those

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The holiday season is always your favorite time of year. From October to January, you feel lighter. Walking around to see decorations everywhere, families laughing together, and hot apple cider to warm the now-cold Texas air. Work is busy, but you can’t complain, you love your job. Recently you covered a story about a baker and her husband who had just celebrated the 30th anniversary of their bakery by having the cutest reindeer cookies and a huge cake for everyone who may want a slice.

Tonight is the annual Seresin family Christmas party, and just like every other year, you hold on to hope that Jake will be there. You know it’s a stretch, but you can’t help but be hopeful.

You bought a new outfit just for tonight, a red cable knit sweater, a black mini-skirt with black transparent tights, and black leather boots that went up to your calves. After adding some touch-ups to your makeup, you decided you were ready to go, grabbed your purse, and headed towards the Seresin’s house. It was about a 5-minute walk from your new place, which is quite convenient, and you spent the entire walk with your head in the clouds, daydreaming about the pilot who stole your heart all those years ago.

Walking into the house you spent so much time at as a child, a sense of warmth feels you. The entire house smells like freshly baked cookies, Christmas lights twinkle along the hallway, and the sounds of laughter and soft Christmas music fills your ears. Mama Seresin sees you and you are immediately engulfed in a hug that could probably fix anybody who is on the receiving side of it. “Oh my goodness look at you!!! You get more beautiful each time I see you.” You felt your face heat up instantly, shying away a bit from her kind words. “Thank you mama Seresin. I’m happy to be here again, happy holidays.” She pulled back and had an incredulous look on her face.

“Thank me?? Sweetheart, you are welcome at this house any day, any time. Make yourself at home, tonight should be a wonderful night.” She winked at you and left you standing there in the entryway.

After making your rounds, you grabbed yourself a drink and sat on the couch watching “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” with one of Jake’s sisters. She kept looking over at you with a sly smirk on her face so you snapped, “What is going on with y’all tonight? First your mama winks at me, Elizabeth said she was ‘So excited’ for me tonight, and now you can’t stop looking at me like the cat who caught the canary! So what is going on?” With an exasperated look on your face, you fully turn to look at her. Charlotte just slides off the couch and smiles, “We’re just happy to see you and we are hoping you have a great time tonight.” With the cryptic answer said, she walks away leaving you to sit there in your skepticism.

After an hour or so, everyone has made it and dinner is about to be served. At least you thought everyone had made it, that is until you hear a knock on the door. Mama Seresin rushes to open it, and you lean over the arm of the couch to see who it is. You can’t tell if it's the winter air or who you see standing there, but a chill runs down your spine. In all his glory, Jake Seresin is standing there with several suitcases and a bright smile on his face. Taking him in, you notice he’s grown into himself in the last 12 years, His sandy blonde hair isn’t as long, he’s filling in the brown button-up shirt very nicely, and he’s grown at least 3 inches since you last saw him. He’s still got his cowboy boots on and a smile that could light up a room, so not everything has changed. Finally, you look back up to his face, and you lock eyes with the man who has never left your mind.

You stand, mouth agape, and the two of you finally make your way to each other. You meet in the middle of the entryway, and as soon as his arms are around you it’s like everybody and everything fades away. You stay there in the comfort of each other’s arms for a few more seconds and when you finally pull away, the sounds from the rest of the house fade back in. Looking at each other, you feel a warmth creeping up your neck, the chill from earlier has fully disappeared. “Hi,” you said with a shy smile as you fiddle with the cuff of his sleeve. “Hi sweetheart,” he replies with the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. The moment is broken when someone clears their throat behind you, “Dinner is ready.” You turn and see the Seresin women standing there with smirks across all of their faces. Looking back at Jake you realize he’s got a scowl on his face, and you just giggle a bit. At the sound of your giggle, he looks back at you, the scowl being replaced with a shy smile, “We can talk after dinner?” You nod your head and make your way toward the dining room.

Dinner is the most delicious thing, but you would never expect anything less from Mama Seresin. She always cooks things with love, which makes things 10,000 times better. Once you get turned away from helping with dishes, you make your way outside to get some air. It’s a bit chilly, the backyard is decorated with lights strung across the way, the music from inside the house carries softly across the yard although it’s muffled, and stars are shining so bright in the night sky. You see a plane fly across the sky and you huff out a laugh, realizing you’re dreams of seeing Jake again, came true tonight. At least you know why the family acted so odd tonight. You take a seat in one of the cushy chairs sat up in the backyard, and stare up at the sky.

Surely Jake didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight, Has he changed a lot? Did he miss you as much as you missed him? Was your pining so obvious to everyone that they sat this up? Your mind starts spiraling with thoughts, and a bit of nervous tension sets in as you sit out there. The music gets less muffled for a second, meaning someone has just opened the back door, but it’s quickly snuffed back out. You don’t bother to turn your head, your mind is busy with so many questions. In your peripheral, you see the man on your mind take a seat next to you. He looks up at the sky and you can feel the nervousness roll off of you both as you sit there.

You turn to look at him, right as he turns to look at you, and you both sit there taking each other in for a second. “So-” “It was-” You both start trying to talk simultaneously and once you realize, you both start giggling. You nod your head to tell him he can go first, and with a shy smile he rubs the back of his neck and says, “It was nice to see you again sweetheart, I was really hoping you’d be here.” That warmth from earlier creeps back up your neck, and you smile softly at him. “I was hoping you’d be here too cowboy.” You both just sit there with smiles, and after a few beats of silence you add quietly, “I missed you.” What you could only call longing, flashes in his eyes, before he smiles at you, “I missed you too tiny dancer.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation. He tells you all about the Naval Academy, and how he is the “best of the best,” which you don’t doubt. Once he sets his mind on something, he doesn’t give up. You learn he’s living out in San Diego, but he constantly misses the Texas skyline. You tell him all about your experience at UT at Austin, and how your job at the local news station is going. You both continue just telling each other what you’ve both missed out on.

At some point, the conversation shifts to relationships. You take a deep breath and ask, “So do you have anyone special waiting for you back in California?” He takes a minute to just look at you before responding, “No sweetheart, I don’t. Do you have anyone missing you tonight?” You let out your breath at the word “no,” and chuckle. “The only person missing me tonight is my fish, Mr. Speckle.” He throws back his head and barks out a laugh at that, before looking back at you with a wide smile. It shifts to a bit of an apprehensive smile before he asks, “Is there any reason? You’re a gorgeous girl who is amazing sweetheart, I’m sure guys are lining up for a date with you.”

You knew you could try and lie to him, but he knows you too well. He would immediately figure you out, so you shake your head and respond truthfully. “I’ve tried over the years. But every single time, it didn’t feel right. Something was always missing. It took me a while to realize what that was.”

“And what was that?” His face is a bit more hopeful now, or maybe you’re just going crazy. After a moment of just looking into his eyes, you turn to fidget with your sweater and finally speak. “They weren’t you Jake.” It came out softer than you thought it would. The silence surrounds you like a suffocating room, and panic starts to claw its way up your throat.

You’re about to apologize profusely when Jake finally speaks. “That’s why I don’t have anyone waiting for me sweets. They weren’t you. The gorgeous girl I’ve known since diapers, who has always been so caring. Who put others before herself. The girl who knows me and my family, and still chooses to be around us.” You stare at him with wide eyes, trying to absorb everything that was just said. Softly, you reply, “I will always choose you, Jake. The boy who didn’t let me go to bed upset. The boy who constantly cheered me on in everything I did. The boy who set his sights on something and chased it. ” Your chest feels lighter, while your heart beats at a lightspeed rate.

Looking at Jake, he has a boyish grin on his face, rubbing the back of his neck again. In the blink of an eye, he is in front of you with his hand held out. You look at him like you’re considering your options for a second, just to make him sweat a bit, but ultimately you take his hand with an affectionate smile. He pulls you close and wraps his arms around your waist, your arms going around his neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. The two of you dance to the muffled music coming from inside, under the twinkling lights of the backyard you’ve spent so much time in over the years. You look up at him to find him already staring at you. He’s got a look of love in his eyes, and you’re sure he sees the same look in yours.

“So can I take you out tomorrow sweetheart? I should’ve asked you that years ago.” He asks with a smirk across his lips. You mirror his smirk as you respond, “You sure can cowboy. We have a lot of time to make up for.” You both slowly lean in, and your lips meet in a short kiss that makes fireworks go off in your stomach. You both pull away, but that one kiss isn’t enough. The two of you share another short kiss, before breaking out into a long deep kiss. He dips you a bit with this one. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of has come true under the twinkling lights. You’ll have to make sure to send the Seresin women some cookies and flowers for planning this.

From inside the house, the Seresin family is silently cheering. They’ve watched both of you pine after each other for so long, they knew y’all just needed a bit of a push in the right direction.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

xiv  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  Love and (Internal) War 

Series mlist 

Tags — possibly offensive humour, Megumi’s self hatred peeking through, oblivious idiot yn 

Words — 1.2k 

The soft knock echoed throughout your otherwise lifeless room, a reminder that the boy on your mind was more than just text bubbles on a screen. You let out a low sound of acknowledgment, sliding off of your plush bed. The floor felt cold beneath you, the wood pressing firmly against the soles of your feet. 

You opened the door, the hinges creaking ever so quietly in the midst of the nights peace. It was late, very much so, but you were sure many of your neighbours were awake. That’s what students did, cramming everything into one short span of hours, usually at the most inconvenient times of night. By now, though, Megumi was usually asleep. It was something you often teased him for, referred to him as an old man. Truth be told, he just loved sleeping. There wasn’t much more to say. So why was he standing in your hallway looking like a lost dog? 

“Hey,” you said, shuffling to the side as an indirect invitation for him to come in. He took it, though hesitantly, as if he hadn’t been the one to show up here in the first place. “What’s up? Are you okay?” you asked. 

You gently pressed the door closed behind you, lingering in front of it, trying to gauge his mood. Your first instinct was to assume something had happened, something bad. Showing up at your dorm at 2 in the morning was a bold move for any average, semi-social person, let alone for Megumi. He shook his head, as if to shoot down any conclusions you’d jumped to. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. He shoved his hands into the pocket of the hoodie he’d haphazardly thrown on as he left his room, a snoring Yuji in the background. He spoke again, a mumble so quiet you’d think it hurt him to say. “…and I wanted to see you.” 

At this, the tension in your shoulders faded, the harsh lines taking up your face smoothing out. Instead it was replaced by a grin, and the hidden bashfulness that came with the way your heart sped up at his confession. 

“What was that?” you smirked, tilting your head in feigned confusion. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” he deadpanned. You let out a laugh, probably too high in volume for the hour. 

“Yeah, sorry. I missed you too.” 

Your shoulder gently brushed against his as you passed him, and the small touch sent too many sparks flying over his skin. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like that he so desperately tried to avoid that longing, that feeling he only felt upon seeing your face, but somehow always found himself here. Well, not exactly here, but with you. No matter the place, he always found himself chasing you like you were all he needed. Like you were home. Maybe you were. 

You plopped down on the bed, the covers rustling beneath you. You gave a discreet nod to the place beside you, noticing the way he stood near the door, barely moving. Did he have to be so mysterious all of the time? So guarded? 

He sat by your side, looking ahead. Anyone could very easily tell something was bothering him, anyone that knew him well enough, at least. He was more tense than he usually was, his walls seeming higher than ever. Though with added height came the crushing weight on the body of them, leaving cracks and holes for hints of vulnerability to seep from. 

“Megumi,” you whispered, a careful hand finding its home on his shoulder. “Is something wrong?” 

He was silent for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he contemplated whether he would be honest or not. His fingers twitched in his pockets, itching to move. They didn’t. 

“How was your date?” he asked, though a bitter feeling resided in his mouth once he spoke. Was that too forward? Too obvious? Were you about to kick him out and push him away? In his mind, those four simple words were as close to any sort of confession he was ready to give. In the few months since the two of you were reunited, he’d felt his walls be slowly chipped away, no matter how hard he fought it. With you, he just couldn’t. It was inevitable, and he was beginning to feel like that same stupid boy he was all those years ago. Stupid stupid boy, falling for you. In his mind, you were the sun and he was simple one of billions of stars yearning for your light. He could never amount to who he wanted to be, to be what you deserved. Wait.. falling for you? Had he just admitted that to himself? 

You paused. Was that what was wrong? Your date? You didn’t understand why such a thing would bother him, let alone enough for him to lose sleep and show up at your dorm in the earliest hours of the morning. “It was nice… he’s nice. Why? Do you not like him?” 

He stole a quick glance at you, softly shaking his head. “I’m not exactly fond of him, no.” 

“Oh?” you said, tilting your head softly to the side. “I didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t expect you to,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about him.” He let out a soft sigh, mindlessly grabbing a book off of your nightstand. He was all too aware of your hand on his shoulder, how close you were sitting to him, and it felt wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Mm,” he said, examining the cover. He felt an odd need to make conversation, which made him sure he was losing it. When was he ever one to speak when not necessary? Who even was he? You took notice of this, knowing that he must’ve just been distracting himself from whatever deeper level of the situation was nagging at him. “You have good taste in books,” he said. 

For some reason, the compliment sounded much better coming from him than it did from Noritoshi. You summed it up to the fact that Megumi was more familiar, which wasn’t completely a lie, but… you knew better than that. 

You spent the next couple of hours talking about everything and nothing in between comfortable silences and shared looks. Whether it was literature, your classes, your friends, hell, you even talked about politics, it was all so comfortable with him. Things felt as if they were meant to be that way. And then, before you knew it, the two of you were slumped against eachother, halfway lying down as you slept in each others arms. He’d mindlessly held you in his sleep, something that came to him subconsciously, as if embracing you was muscle memory. You hadn’t protested, even as you stirred and occasionally gained some of your consciousness. It was just one night, wasn’t it? At least he was sleeping at all. You were just comforting him, that was all. 

Neither of you would voice it, but it was the best you’d slept in a long time. 

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes @walllflowerrrsss @sh0ot1ngst4r @blubearxy @tvnamayo @san-it-is-i-guess @harryzcherry

sighhh I love them lwk been distracted from bttoh tho been nurturing the farmhand yuji fic a lil too much… nb gonna read ts are they cries anyway ermmmm can you guys not kill me or yourselves after the coming chapters release pretty please… with a cherry on top…

[pthalogreenwriter]

Trouville Limerence - Chapter 1

A/n: This is going to be the slowest of burns that I have ever written in my life. If I'm missing any tags, comment what they are and I'll add them!

Wc: 4.1k

Summary: Hitman/Assassin!Gojo x Reader where he's very Yandere but doesn't want to kill you, he is genuinely obsessed with you.

Warning: gore, descriptions of unaliving someone else (tumblr its fake), Gojo being annoying

Satoru Gojo woke up that Friday to the same alarm he woke up to everyday. 

He sat up and slapped his hand down on the clock, promising he would get himself a new one that wasn’t as loud as the one on his nightstand. Gojo was a light sleeper after all, he had to be now that he was in charge of Megumi Fushiguro. 

Fushiguro. It’s been two years since Toji went missing on an assignment and was never heard from again. He dropped Megumi off at Gojo’s in case it took the whole night to get the job done. Turns out, Toji was never able to finish it. 

So Gojo took Megumi in for his friend without question and now years later, he was taking the kid to school, which he didn’t mind at all. Being guardian of Megumi kept him in check. Small mundane things like buying groceries, cleaning up, and schedules became important to Gojo now that he was responsible for someone else’s life. 

Before Fushiguro, Gojo lived the life he wanted to. Working in the day, partying and getting fucked up at night. He brought anyone he wanted home, getting off on anonymity more than the actual person. He was satisfied with the life, no complaints.

And then when Fushiguro came into his life, it changed. No more hookups, he couldn’t just order in anymore since it was unhealthy, and he had to trade in his motorcycle for an actual car. Despite that, he had Megumi. Yeah, the kid was stoic and was always annoyed by him, but Gojo quickly learned that he was like that with everyone, so he wasn’t offended. If anything, Gojo was satisfied that Megumi treated him like everyone else because that way, he knew the kid was comfortable. Yes, he was satisfied with this life too. No complaints.

Except, there was a small one. 

Satoru Gojo was just satisfied. He wasn’t happy. He hasn’t been in a long time.

It was 7:05am when Gojo sighed and decided to get up from his bed, finally waking up Fushiguro even though the kid beat him to the punch everyday like clockwork. He doesn’t know if it was his heightened senses or the food, but Gojo can smell the breakfast aromas coming from the kitchen. He can only hope that Fushiguro saved some for him.

Gojo went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth before going to the kitchen and laughing to himself once he saw Megumi. Although not related, Fushiguro picked up some habits of Gojo before he could stop himself. It started when They would both eat before deciding to get dressed, not wanting to get food on their day clothes. Soon, Megumi started wearing sweatpants to bed when he saw Gojo wake up with different ones all the time, finding them rather comfy himself. The only regret he has with them is that once in a while, both Gojo and Megumi would wake up with matching pants. This annoyed Fushiguro while always amusing the guardian for obvious reasons. This morning was that once in a while.

“Good morning Megumi! How’d you sleep?” It wouldn’t matter what time it was, Gojo always had a better tone than Fushiguro.

A grunt in reply came from Megumi with a “Your food is on the counter.”

Gojo looked and there it was, sitting on the black counter of the kitchen. He grabbed his plate and utensils, thanking Fushiguro by rubbing the top of his head and annoying him further. Gojo continued standing, lower back leaning on the counter while they both ate in silence. Fushiguro’s version of quality time.

Once finished, Gojo washed their dishes and they both continued on with their morning routine. While Fushiguro showered, Gojo picked his standard button up and black slacks for work. Then he did his morning check of the place. 

Prior to Megumi, Gojo was comfortable sleeping with only one lock on the door. He had no deadbolts, windows were open while he slept, and knives were hidden everywhere. He could have taken on anyone who wanted to try it, he knew that. But with someone else under his roof, let alone a child, Gojo knew that if there was a possibility of someone breaking in, then there was a possibility of Megumi getting hurt. And with his line of work, Satoru couldn’t take that chance. 

Gojo killed for a living. He was the murderer of killers, and he loved it. The training he endured as a teen was not what he initially wanted, but he made the best of it. He had no idea at the time what the training would do for him, until one day he decided to actually give “working hard” a try. He became faster, stronger, and smarter when he learned how to hone in on his senses and abilities. 

Satoru excelled at it all, much better than his classmates, with the exception of Suguro Geto. They trained together and when time came, they killed together. All the murderers, pedophiles, and beaters were at their mercy as much as they wanted. It was the thrill of a lifetime to make memories with his best friend while they were at the top of the food chain. Gojo was more than satisfied. Not happy, but close.

And when Toji went missing, Gojo worked on bigger cases that paid more to have more time at home with Megumi. Again, Gojo didn’t care. He would rather take care of him than some freak family he rarely heard Toji talk about. They didn’t even care enough to fight for him in court. 

But Gojo would. He would fight for Fushiguro any day. Now that he had him, he actually had a reason now to give a fuck about himself and someone else. 

Yet, that wasn’t what he was missing, judging by the constant empty pit in his chest. 

He was thinking about this feeling again when he was checking the windows and doors. Gojo didn’t keep knives hidden everywhere because he didn’t think Fushiguro was ready for that conversation yet but he was still glad to feel the ones he had strapped above the living room window and under the right side of the couch. Feeling those in his morning and night checks always helped him relax a little bit and continue on. 

Once Fushiguro left the bathroom, Gojo got ready himself. They were out of the house by their usual time, 8am. Megumi needed to get to his school by 8:30am but lately preferred getting there 15 minutes early to hang with his new friend, Yuji. Gojo was surprised when he first asked, but he was glad that Megumi actually looked forward to talking to someone.

Gojo got to the Kaisen building a little before 9am, like always. Parking his car in the building garage, he took a long deep breath before getting out. 

Yeah Gojo loved his job. Getting paid in millions to kill people worse than him was the dream, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. He toyed with the idea of becoming a regular cop but he knew it would never be possible. The justice system always failed and he preferred the idea of Kaisen fixing the government’s mistakes. Besides, killing was just too much fun.

Satoru Gojo would’ve been the same as the lives he’s ended if he didn’t have his own moral compass. He resented the idea of harming women and children. There was no joy or need to harm them in this life so why do others have that urge? 

It doesn’t matter.

Gojo never listened to their reasoning or pleas. Instead, it made it more fun when they begged him to live. As if he would ever let them. He took his time with his case subjects, just like they would with their victims. Only difference was that he could get away with it. If Gojo ever saw their name on a black file, they never had a chance. 

He wouldn’t always kill the same either. Depending on what they did, Gojo would use different ways to end their lives. Stabbing, burning, if he’s bored, he’ll take them to the woods to hunt them. His personal favorite was by his own hands, beating them to death. 

The only thing each of his kills had in common, was the way he made them look into his eyes as he felt the life leave their bodies. Gojo almost got off on it, if he was that kind of person. But to feel them die in his hands while they looked at him as if he was the monster was the closest he ever got to feeling like a God. 

Gojo took the elevator up to the near top of the building where his office was. He shared the floor with other contractors like Geto and Kento Nanami, men he was glad he could call friends. Both had watched Fushiguro when Gojo had to finish an assignment outside of work hours, helping him as when they all helped Toji. 

Reaching the floor his office was on, the first person that Gojo talked to in the building was Kiyotaka Ijichi. 

Ijichi was leaving Geto’s office when he saw Gojo exit the elevator and mentally prepared himself for the interaction with the contractor. He didn’t hate him, if anything Ijichi was also on the small list that’s trusted to watch Fushigurl on a long day. No, Gojo was just a pain in the ass. 

“Satoru, you were the next person I was going to see.” 

“Awww, did you miss me Ijichi?” Gojo looked at his friend in the suit with a sly smile as his sunglasses slipped a centimeter down the bridge of his nose. 

They entered Gojo’s office, similar to the other large offices on the floor - white walls and ash gray furniture. The desk, couch, and 2 chairs all faced the west side of the room where a TV was hanging on the wall, next to the door of the bathroom. Instead of a back wall, it was large full sized window panes and door, leading out to a black balcony. If you looked close enough, you could see the dust starting to form everywhere but the desk. That’s how much Gojo actually used the office. 

Ijichi wasted no time in his reply, “Actually, no. I’m here about your current case.”

The black folder sat closed on Gojo’s desk as if it was never opened, but he had read it all. Inside the folder, there were pictures of victims, faces and genitals mutilated with what they now know to be a scalpel. Women, early teens to mid 40s, all with exotic colors dyed in their hair as highlights. This was how he chose them.

Depending on the time, the killer would go for women in low or middle class society. The time meaning if he felt like taking a risk or not. Tonight, he was taking a different risk. 

“Well, months after the acquittal and constant surveillance, we can definitely say for sure that Mahito is the Seam Sinner.” This was the name the public came up with after the first two murders. “He waited for it to die down and didn’t go anywhere other than his med-school classes, ordering everything to his place. Until a few days ago, he got bored and we got lucky.” Ijichi paused himself on the update, realizing his mistake. “Although, the girl didn’t.”

Gojo’s usual playful energy escaped from the room at that moment. His expression turned flat, knowing what was to come. Another black file that was in Ijichi’s hand was then placed in front of him. Gojo didn’t notice it until now. 

He opened the folder. Like the others, the girl’s hair was dyed with highlights, this time they were red. Her face and body were cut up with a familiar pattern, shaped like stitches and seams. There was no DNA of his, only pools of her blood around her body, showing that she died of massive blood loss. Pictures of him leaving the abandoned building where her body was later found followed. 

After letting Gojo examine the pictures and reports from Kaisen and the police, Ijichi continued on. “Once her body was found, he didn’t want to wait. Maybe he is on some sort of kill high but last night we found him bringing plastic sheeting and rope he got delivered to his place to another building. He may still already have the scalpel that he’s been using to go at it again tonight.”

The contractor hummed in his seat while he pushed his hands in his pocket and dipped his head. He thought in silence for a moment, confirming what he came up with before. He already knew how he was going to handle Mahito.

“Okay, sounds like a plan.” He wanted to mess with Ijichi one more time before he left the office and said no more. 

The suited man stood in front of the grey desk in silence waiting for Gojo to say something else. No answer.

A minute passed before Gojo collected both folders and tried to give them to his friend. He wouldn’t take them.

Satoru pouted before giving in, his goofy mannerisms coming back like a switch. He was a killer, but silly at heart. He groaned as if this was his second time explaining what he wanted to do. “Keep your men on him for the next twenty-four hours. I have to pick up Megumi from school, but I’ll see him if Geto can watch him tonight. I’ll check him out after lunch but bring me the building address on a sticky note by then. He’ll be gone by the morning. And only him.”

Ijichi was content with that answer yet didn’t leave the room. He wanted to know how Fushiguro was doing, after all, he was close with Tojii too when he was here.

Gojo looked at him from his computer and laughed a bit. “Megumi’s doing well. Don’t worry, he’s doing better in school than I ever did. He’s even made friends.” He saw the surprised look on Ijichi’s face and corrected himself. “Or other kids made friends with him.”

Kiyotaka was finally happy with the exchange of information and left the office without another word. Gojo shrugged on and continued his day with his own thoughts on the Mahito case.

He was acquitted after circumstantial evidence, unreliable witnesses, and no murder weapon was presented at trial. After a while, the body count leaked, pressuring the government to try and close the case as quickly as possible, but ended up letting a guilty man walk free. Kaizen kept tabs on him from the first moment his name popped up in the suspect pool. So did Gojo.

He was looking forward to this moment, not caring to admit it or not. He thought a lot about what he would do if it was Mahito, not having a good feeling about him from the start. By lunch, Gojo didn’t care much to think about how he would kill him, knowing no matter what way he chose, Mojito was going to die while looking into his eyes. 

Once he thought it was a good time, Gojo left the office (with the sticky note) to wait for Geto, driving to lunch together to meet with Nanami. Updating each other on their upcoming weekend plans, Geto agreed to watch Fushiguro that night. He sometimes thought the kid liked to have him around when Gojo was busy. Probably because he didn’t bother him like the way his guardian did on a daily basis. 

The place Nanami chose was quiet in order not to overwhelm any of them. When Gojo and Geto walked in, Nanami had already ordered food for them. He couldn’t wait if he ever wanted to keep to his schedule, yet he never minded having lunch with the pair. 

While they spoke and ate, all three men avoided the topic of work. They all agreed before Toji left that if they wanted to hang out with Megumi, they had to learn to not talk about their cases outside of the office and to have regular conversations. It helped them normalize their lives in a way, not everyone in the world was like them nor saw the things they did. It wasn’t difficult for any of them, but Gojo did have something that he thought was going to be odd to talk about. 

The empty feeling in the pit of his heart hadn’t gone away and he didn’t know what was wrong. He’s felt it before and the pit only grew more hollow as the days passed by. Day after day, the same routine. 

Looking at Nanami’s watch across the table, Gojo had to say something before his friends left. They were going to drive back to the office together while Gojo would surveillance Mahito and pick up Megumi later. 

“Do you guys ever get bored?” He didn’t have a better way to put the feeling into words. 

Both Geto and Nanami looked at him but Geto was the first to speak, “Of you? Of course.”

Satoru nudged his friend in the ribs with his elbow before replying in the same manner, “You could never get tired of me Suguru.”

Nanami across the table looked at the time and sat back finishing his drink. He had a few more minutes, “Bored of what?”

Gojo and Geto were still exchanging elbows when they heard Nanami’s question. Gojo stopped to focus, letting Geto get the last elbow in. 

“Of this, everything. The same routine day in and out. Its starting to get exhausting.” Not only exhausting, but the rut in his chest and head was starting to bum him out. He found it rather annoying. 

“...does this have to do with Fushiguro?” Nanami was almost hesitant to ask the question, afraid to hear his friend’s answer. He had hopes that Gojo would mature with Megumi in his guard and he saw this happen since the child started living with him. But that didn’t mean Gojo couldn’t just one day feel like he wasn’t up for it anymore.

The lean man shook his head immediately, “No, nothing. Things are fine with Megumi.” He paused in thought before giving his friends (and himself) an honest answer. “It's the things in between. There’s always the same next thing to do. I think Megumi felt the same before the start of the school year, until he became friends with that Itadori kid.”

Kento Nanami and Suguru Geto both stayed silent after hearing their friend’s confession. Truth be told, they didn’t know what to say to Satoru. Both men had the freedom and time availability to live the life they wanted, do the things they would want to do if they were in his headspace. But they listened and were sensible, they knew Satoru would only come to them for this.

After another moment, Geto raised his eyebrows in realization and exchanged a look with Nanami, the blonde man knitting his brows in confusion. Geto was signing the check for their lunch when he gave his thoughts, “Maybe you need to find a friend too.”

Nanami shook his head at the idea while Gojo shot his head to the brunette. He thought of this before but he didn’t think it was a good idea to add something, or someone, to his and Fushiguro’s schedule.

When Gojo said nothing, Geto kept going. “I’m not saying get married and tell them what you do. You don’t want to scare them. But maybe you should find someone for those in between moments, someone to look forward to until the next time.” 

“And if I am bored with them too?” That was rhetorical, they all knew Gojo could get someone if he wanted to, only thing was that he never did. Fushiguro was his first priority and he couldn’t bring just anyone home. The idea of bringing a stranger home made Gojo shift in his seat.

It was like Kento could read his mind when he spoke, “It may not be practical to find a person because you’re…bored, but it is reasonable. In time, Fushiguro will start middle school and will want to be with his friends more. By that time, you may need to find something to busy your time with as well. I agree with Suguru, but start slow. Be careful with bringing someone into a child’s life.”

If Geto and Gojo didn’t know who Nanami was, they would think that it was rude or weird that he looked at his watch a lot. Though, they knew he was only being precise and when he arose from his seat unannounced, they weren’t surprised either. 

The three of them walked out the restaurant to the work cars that were parked next to each other. Gojo stayed silent the whole walk. It was a short moment but still it worried Geto, making him want to help his friend further.

“How about this? I will pick up Megumi today so you can go to a bar or something. When was the last time you went out?” He leaned against the passenger side of the black car, Nanami silently groaning from impatience. 

“Going to a bar by myself to pick someone up sounds like the worst idea I could do.” Gojo preferred clubs to bars before he had Fushiguro in his custody. Yet, he never really missed it or had an urge to go. I’ll live.

Geto got in the car with Nanami putting their windows down to finish the conversation. Before they pulled away with no bid of goodbye, Geto secured his offer, “Either way, I will pick up Megumi from school so you can have time to yourself until tomorrow. You should be able to think of something to do with yourself by then.”

As Gojo got in the car and drove, he thought about what his friends said. He couldn’t really imagine getting involved with someone right now, or ever really. It didn’t seem right to bring anyone in his life with the amount of danger he faces, or the amount of danger he makes others face. 

What if I tell them what I do and they think I’m a monster? That would suck.

What if I bring someone home and they hurt Megumi? Poor kid already lost his dad, and I can’t let him get hurt again.

On the way to Mahito’s, Gojo kept his windows in his own car down to distract him from these thoughts and the dullness growing in his gut. He started thinking about his afternoon work plans when he pulled to a stop at a pedestrian walk, focusing on his mental to do list.

Park 2 streets away. His studio is crammed low on the street so I’ll pick the same shop from last time. The girl at the counter likes me so she’ll let me stay as long as I need. Mahito will leave for class at 14:00, taking the-

Satoru stopped thinking. He couldn’t at all. It was like he didn’t have power over anything in his body except smell. It was a smell that made him stop everything. 

The light was still red and Gojo’s demeanor changed. His body stiffened, eyes going wide behind the sunglasses and head turning from one place to another to try and locate where it was coming from. The ambrosial smell was fresh and crisp, yet soft. But to Gojo, it was strong, so strong that it seemed to clear his sinuses. 

Water hyacinths? No that’s not it.

His nose flared with every inhale he took through his nose. It was addictive and he couldn’t get enough of it. He needed more. 

Lilies and mint? Where is it coming from?

His grip on the wheel tightened as he turned his attention to the people on the pedestrian walk. He inhaled through his mouth, wanting the smell to be deep inside his lungs, to imbed inside his capillaries and blood vessels, spreading throughout his body. 

Lotus. Eucalyptus. A hint of baby wipes, soft clean cotton.

It was as if once his mind realized what it smelled like, it led him to you.

The sight of you was breathtaking. Gojo ended up replaying this moment in his head everyday for the rest of his life. The way you scurried across the white lines before the light could turn green made the corner of his lips turn up. You seemed in a rush, and it was the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He saw you rushing through the crowd of people in the street, your cheeks becoming flushed and a thin layer of sweat grew on your body. He could smell that too. 

You were long past the crosswalk when a car behind Gojo beeped at him. The light was green. 

Mahito can fucking wait.

[twistiraki]

Hello, I see that requests are open? I just wanna say I really liked your "The Human Queen" fanfic between the reader and Malleus. Do you mind if I request a fanfic where Queen Maleficia explains to Malleus that another reason why she doesn't approve of his relationship with a human is because while fairies are strictly loyal and faithful to their partners, humans tend to cheat and be unfaithful? do you mind if she recounts an experience in her life when she was in love with a human man, only for him to cast her aside for a human woman?

I'm Alive!! Life decided to hurl everything at me work, existential crises, moving. But then I saw this message. Boom. Heartstrings tugged. My chest got all tight in that “I’m alive” kind of way. Suddenly, I needed to write, to share. Malleus deserve the world!! Thank you for the ask!

The Human Queen Part 2

Part 1

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ TᗯIᔕTEᗪ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᒪᗩᑎᗪ Pairing Malleus x F!Reader Warnings None ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Malleus stood alone in the gardens of Briar Valley, the night air cool and still. His gaze was fixed on the statue of Y/n, lovingly crafted with his own hands after her passing. It had been several years now, and yet, the hollow ache of her absence had never left him. Her likeness was so perfect, her face frozen in youthful beauty, as she had been during their happiest days together. Though she was gone, Malleus could still hear her laughter echo in his memories, still feel the warmth of her presence that no amount of time could erase.

The stone figure of Y/n smiled softly, and Malleus traced a finger along its cold surface, wishing he could feel the warmth of her touch one more time. 

"I miss you," Malleus whispered to the statue, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the gardens. "Every day."

As he stood in his quiet reverie, he sensed a familiar presence approaching from behind him. It was his grandmother, Queen Maleficia, her aura unmistakable. Malleus instinctively straightened, preparing for the words he had long expected to hear. He imagined she would once again remind him of the consequences of his choice, that his love for a human had led to this unbearable loneliness.

He didn’t turn to face her. Instead, he spoke first, his voice low, carrying the weight of the years that had passed since Y/n's death.

“Grandmother, I know what you are going to say,” Malleus began, his gaze still fixed on the statue. “You warned me, and now here I am… alone. But I would rather have spent those fleeting years with Y/n, loving her, than to have spent a thousand years with someone I didn’t love.” Queen Maleficia rarely visited the garden where the statue of Y/n stood, and when she did, it was usually brief, and she would say little. Malleus assumed she would chastise him, perhaps for being too sentimental, or remind him of his duties as a king. He sighed, bracing for her sharp words.

But instead, her voice was soft, almost gentle. "You miss her, don’t you, my grandson?"

Malleus tensed, unsure how to respond. His grandmother was a stern ruler, known for her sharp wisdom and unyielding nature. He had never expected her to address his feelings, let alone acknowledge them. Slowly, he turned to face her.

Her face, usually composed and regal, seemed softened by time and the weight of something far deeper than Malleus had ever seen in her. What truly shocked him, however, was the glint of water in her ancient, powerful eyes.

"Grandmother?" he asked, bewildered.

Maleficia stared at the statue of Y/n, her hands clasped before her. "I must admit something to you, Malleus," she began, her voice steady but laced with a sorrow Malleus had never heard from her before. "When you first told me of your love for Y/n, I did not approve. It was not just because she was a human, though that played its part."

Malleus lowered his head. "I know. You always said I should marry someone of our kind, someone who could live as long as I do, so I wouldn't face... this."

Maleficia nodded but continued, "Yes, it is true. The lifespan of humans is but a fleeting moment compared to ours. I thought that by denying you this union, I would save you from this pain you are feeling now." She paused, her voice faltering slightly. "But there was another reason... one I have kept buried for many, many years."

Malleus looked at her, confused. "Another reason?"

"You may think I never understood your love for Y/n," she began, her eyes still lingering on the statue, "but once… long ago, I felt something very similar."

Malleus turned to look at her, his surprise evident. His grandmother rarely spoke of her past, and she had never mentioned any love of her own.

"It was beautiful," she continued, her voice soft, as if recalling a dream from long ago. "I fell so hard for him. He was human, yes, but none of that mattered then. I had never been so happy in my life. The love we shared was deep, real, and I believed it was unbreakable."

Her expression softened for a brief moment, as if those memories still carried warmth despite the pain that followed. She looked at Malleus, her dark eyes revealing a vulnerability he had never seen before.

"I trusted him completely," she said, her voice lowering. "I gave him my heart. I loved him with everything I had, and in return, I thought he loved me just as fiercely. For a time, he did. We were so close, so deeply entwined, that I thought nothing could ever come between us."

Malleus watched her, stunned by the quiet pain in her voice. This was a side of his grandmother he had never known—a woman who had once loved with the same intensity he had felt for Y/n.

"But then," Maleficia continued, her tone darkening, "he betrayed me."

Her fingers tightened around the small ring she had been absently twirling. "He took something from me. Something so dear to me that it shattered my very soul when he left." She paused, and her voice became bitter. "He cast me aside for a human woman, Malleus. After everything we shared, he chose her."

Malleus could hear the raw emotion in her words, the hurt that had never quite healed. The betrayal his grandmother had experienced was a deep wound, one that still bled, even after centuries. He couldn’t fathom the pain she had endured—how much it must have hurt to be discarded so cruelly by someone she had loved so deeply.

"I was mad," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "So broken, so full of hatred. The pain consumed me, and all I could think of was revenge. I wanted to make him suffer, to take back what he had stolen from me. I was blinded by rage, Malleus. I almost made the gravest mistake of my life."

She fell silent for a moment, her expression shadowed by the weight of those memories. Malleus felt a knot tighten in his chest, his heart aching for the pain his grandmother had suffered.

"But," she said softly, "in the depths of that despair, something else found me. Another kind of love. A different kind of love that healed what was broken."

Malleus furrowed his brow, unsure of where she was going. Queen Maleficia gently touched the ring she wore around her neck, its pink and blue gemstone gleaming in the dimming light.

"It wasn’t the same kind of love as the one I had with him," she continued, her voice lighter, warmer. "But it was just as precious. It gave me strength and reminded me of my worth. It was a love that came from something... someone more important than he ever could be."

She turned to Malleus then, her eyes softening as she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. "That love," she said quietly, "is the same love I feel for you."

Malleus’s breath hitched. He had never heard his grandmother speak like this, with such tenderness. For so long, he had only seen her as a stern ruler, someone driven by duty, someone who had little time for sentiment. But now, he saw that there had always been more beneath her cold exterior.

With surprising gentleness, Queen Maleficia leaned forward and kissed his forehead. The gesture, simple as it was, carried a warmth and comfort.

"I didn’t want you to suffer the way I did," she whispered as she pulled away. "I feared that Y/n might hurt you, that she might betray you as I was betrayed. But... she didn’t. She loved you until the end, and for that, I owe her my gratitude."

Malleus felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t expected this. He had thought she would forever see his love for Y/n as a mistake, but now, for the first time, he realized she had been trying to protect him from her own pain.

"Grandmother..." he began, his voice thick with emotion.

She raised a hand to silence him. "You made your choice, Malleus. And I see now that it was the right one, for both you and for our people. Y/n was a remarkable woman. And while she may be gone, her memory will always remain in this kingdom... and in our heart."

She gave him one last long look, then gently took his arm. "Come, my dear. It’s growing late. Let’s go inside."

Malleus hesitated for a moment, casting one last glance at the statue of Y/n, her image bathed in the soft glow of twilight. His heart ached, but there was a quiet sense of peace that came with knowing that Y/n’s love had not only changed him, but had, in its own way, healed something in his grandmother as well.

He nodded, letting his grandmother guide him back inside the castle, the memory of Y/n still burning brightly in his heart, just as she would remain, forever, as his one true queen. Even in death, she was his and always would be. The fae only loved once, after all—and his love for her would endure through the ages, just as hers had for him.

“The fae only loved once, With a heart fierce and true, A bond that the ages could never undo.

Though lifetimes may pass, and the stars may fade, The fae’s single love will never evade.

For the fae only loved once, with a passion so deep, That even in death, their promise they keep.”

Masterlist

[valewright67]

Ooooh!

In which many many years have passed since Arthur succumbed to his wounds from Camlaan.

Many many years Merlin was alone as Camelot died before him and the world move on.

Many many years that Merlin spent grieving, then honing that into his magic, developing new spells that break the laws of magic and reality.

Many many years that it takes Merlin to perfect a spell to turn back the clock.

Many many years that pass by in the blink of an eye as he rewinds time itself.

Many many years, and yet no time at all, since Merlin has sped up the castle to Arthur's chamber.

Many many years, and yet no time at all, that has passed since Merlin stepped through those towards.

Moved to stand beside the bed.

Lay eyes upon his golden king, the reverent moment undamaged by the drool escaping his lips, the soft, utterly inelegant snores, the horrendously mussed up hair. Rather, made all the better by how utterly human, how utterly alive he is, how entirely real before him.

Oh so very many years since Merlin was able to reach out and touch, without the visage fading into obscurity like all the other half mad hallucinations.

Since Merlin could run his calloused fingers over that golden hair, trail down squished cheeks.

Since he got to watch Arthur's entire face scrunch tightly, like he only did when awaking after being truly, deeply asleep.

Since Arthur lolled his head a little to squint up at him blearily, with oh-so blue eyes Merlin had lost any hope of ever seeing open again.

Since he heard Arthur slur his name in a confused tone, voice still rough with sleep.

Merlin chokes down a hysterical, teary laugh, and Arthur looks more alarmed now, more awake.

"Merlin?" Voice still hushed.

"Forgive me, Sire. I seem to have forgotten your Royal breakfast." He breathes out, not wanting to pierce the reverent quiet, basking in speaking to his golden king once more.

"Is all well? Why have you woken me so early?"

"Not nearly early enough, Arthur. Not nearly early enough."

A far away gaze, snapping all at once back to Arthur when his hand wraps around his forearm. A blinding smile to his worried frown.

Oh how long its been since he felt his hands-

"What- Merlin, why are you crying, what has happened??"

"I-" A startled touch to his own cheek, coming away glistening wet. When had that happened? "I..." A sob wells in his throat.

Many many years of grief and loneliness and longing, all crashing into an astounding joy and relief.

Arthur makes a vaguely panicked noise, sitting up properly and turning to him, and Merlin cannot help but to find it funny despite himself. His golden king had never known what to do with himself when people started crying, and he was no exception to that rule.

He laughs. He thinks he does? He cries? He hiccups, he wheezes, he sobs, his limbs shake and he curves in, curves towards his king, one arm still held up in Arthur's grasp, fist clenching and shaking, really all of him is shaking.

Arthur's other hand clasps onto his shoulders and he chokes on a gasp at the warm touch, giving in to the mind numbingly strong urge to- to be closer, to hold him again, to curl small and tight, to hear and feel that brilliantly strong heart beat thundering along, so loud it's nearly deafening, and yet not loud enough.

His golden king flails, baffled and worried, sputtering out half questions and demands for explanations, and throughout it all, Merlin just laughs and cries at the joy welling up in him, at being so close to him, at feeling his warmth and life and the hesitantly comforting touch as he finally, gingerly, holds him back.

Many many years, and at last, at long long last.

"I've missed you so much, Arthur."

an oooold yet cute merthur sketch

[luvrgreyy]

FRUITS OF THE FLESH.

widow!reader x priest!leon

word count: 3.4k summary: a man reaps what he sows. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

18+ MDNI. catholicism, religious connotations, no specific time frame but i’d like to say victorian era-ish, alot of allusions to the lord or god, reader’s dead husband idk, inner conflict, denial, guilt, leon asking for forgiveness like a hundred times, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex.

a/n: started this like two months ago, just had the motivation to finally finish. i don’t really know how i feel about my writing on this one… i feel like i’ve lost all my skills after not writing for a few weeks

grief is truly a horrible thing. an all-consuming force that threatens to eat you from the inside out.

it’s a shadow that lingers, a specter that moves silently but persistently, weaving itself into the fabric of every moment. it does not announce its presence with fanfare, nor does it depart when you will it to. instead, it creeps, slow and steady, like the cold wind before a storm, pressing against your chest until breathing feels like a sin.

grief is not a feeling; it is a presence. it is a weight, heavy and suffocating, as if drowning in a dark, endless sea. the surface is so far above, unreachable, and the water presses in from all sides, choking the breath from your lungs. there’s simply no escaping it. eve when you close your eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, it finds you there too.

grief is a thief that takes more than just what you’ve lost—it takes time, peace, and clarity. it takes pieces of you.

and ever since your husband’s death, you’ve been trying to pick those pieces back up. but they slip through your fingers like sand, scattering in the wind, impossible to gather in their entirety. every attempt to rebuild feels futile, as though you’re trying to piece together a puzzle with missing parts, the picture never quite forming the way it once did.

the room is relatively empty, save for a few devout attenders who are spread out in their pews. the priest stands on the altar, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his features as he continues the mass. it’s a somewhat traditional ceremony, filled with prayers and rituals that you’d grown accustomed to.

the priest stands before the small congregation, the words of the mass flowing effortlessly from his lips.

you sit near the back, hands folded tightly in your lap. the rhythmic cadence of the priest’s voice, the latin prayers echoing in the cavernous space, should bring you some semblance of peace, but it doesn’t. it feels distant, as though you’re watching the service through a veil, separated from the others.

the priest's voice drones on, a familiar melody that fails to soothe the ragged edges of your heart. you feel like an outsider, a stranger among the devoted faithful. even the rituals that once brought comfort now seem hollow, the prayers falling flat against the weight of your sorrow.

as the mass draws to a close, the priest's eyes meet yours, his gaze piercing and knowing. for a moment, you feel like an animal trapped in his sights, vulnerable and exposed.

the priest's gaze lingers on you a moment longer than necessary as he processes the end of the mass. the small congregation begins to file out of the pew, murmuring gentle blessings and well-wishes to one another. he watches them go, his eyes lingering on each face, before turning to face you once more.

the nave slowly empties, leaving only a handful of devotees behind, including yourself. he remains at the altar, hands folded in quiet contemplation. the soft rustle of the evening breeze carries the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, a melancholy reminder of the passing seasons.

"you stayed behind," leon observes, his voice a gentle whisper.

"is there something on your mind, my child?" he approaches you slowly, his large frame casting a long shadow across the stone floor.

“no, father, everything’s fine," you lie through your teeth, your voice barely a whisper.

"is all well?" there's a pause, and in it, you sense an invitation to share your burdens, to unburden yourself to this man of the cloth. but the words stick in your throat, tangled around the aching void your husband left.

what could you possibly say? what good would it do? the priest's eyes search yours, his face etched with compassion. then, he nods, as if he understands the futility of words.

he accepts your silence, his gaze softening with understanding. in this sacred space, he knows better than to pry, to force confessions or unburdenings. instead, he allows you the solitude you crave, the quiet contemplation you so desperately need.

the silence between you stretches on, a fragile truce that exists solely in this sacred space. it's a comfort, of sorts, to have this shared quiet, a reminder that even in the depths of your grief, there are still moments of solace to be found.

"i'll leave you be for now," leon says eventually, his voice a gentle murmur that breaks the spell.

"thank you, father." he nods, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he takes his leave, the soft rustle of his robes the only sound in the hallowed space.

eventually, you rise, stretching your stiff limbs. the cool stone beneath your feet is a jarring contrast to the warmth of the pew. making your way to the front of the church, you light a candle, your fingers brushing against the smooth glass as you set it upon the altar. the flame flickers to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the surrounding statues.

you linger a moment longer, savoring the peaceful atmosphere, before making your way out.

the church is bathed in an eerie, moonlit glow when you return late that night. the candle you lit earlier still burns, its flame a slowly dying down.

you move with a quiet reverence, your footsteps muffled by the soft carpeting as you make your way to the front row of pews. you've come seeking answers, but none present themselves as you approach the altar. the statue of the crucified christ looms above, his suffering face a poignant reminder of the pain that accompanies loss.

the shadows cast by the statues seem to deepen and twist, taking on a life of their own in the dim light. a shiver runs down your spine, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. something feels off, a discordant note that you can't quite place.

you pray, hoping it’ll all go away, but unease persists.

it's subtle at first, a whispered thought on the edge of your consciousness. but the longer you have your back turned, the more you feel as if someone is behind you. but you don’t dare look.

not until it speaks.

“what are you doing here, my child?," you hear him say softly, his voice carrying a note of gentle warning. "you shouldn't be here this late."

his words send a chill down your spine, the softness of his tone at odds with the tension emanating from him. you slowly turn around, your heart pounding in your chest. leon stands just behind your seat, his silhouette large and imposing against the blackness outside. his eyes glint in the candlelight, a predatory keenness that makes your blood run cold.

"father," you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. "i... i just felt the need to pray," he takes a step closer, his footsteps deliberate and heavy.

"at this hour? prayers can wait till morning. you shouldn't be here, not alone, not now.”

“but, why?” you ask, a hint of fear creeping into your voice. “does the church not allow visitors at any time?”

guilt pricks at his heart, a sharp pang of conscience that he's not entirely sure he wants to acknowledge. “no, of course not. the church doors are always open. but this is late, and you're alone... it's just not safe,” his tone is gentle, but there's an undercurrent of something else - a hunger he's trying his damnedest to suppress.

“is that really the reason, father?”

guilt gnaws at him, a growing sense of unease that he can't quite shake. "of course, that's the only reason," he lies, his voice wavering slightly. but the truth lingers in the air, a palpable tension that he can't seem to dissipate.

he takes a step closer, drawn to you like a moth to flame despite his better judgment. "perhaps... perhaps i misjudged. the church's doors are always open, for the faithful and the lost alike," his eyes roam over your face, drinking in the curves of your features, the softness of your skin in the candlelight. “especially to you.”

a low groan escapes him, half-desire, half-anguish. "forgive me, child. i should not be saying these things,”

“no, wait—“ you softly reach for his arm.

he freezes at the touch, his breath catching in his throat as your fingers make contact with his arm. the sensation sends a jolt of electricity through him, his resolve crumbling like sand beneath the tide.

"don't," he whispers, his voice rough with strain. "please, don't." but even as the words leave his lips, he can't bring himself to pull away, to sever the connection between you.

“but i haven’t done anything, father,”

"you've done plenty, my child," he murmurs, his voice thick with a mix of longing and self-loathing. "just by being here, by existing... you've awakened desires i thought long buried." leon's breathing grows ragged, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

he steps closer still, the heat of his body radiating towards you like a physical manifestation of his turmoil. "i am a man, not a saint," his confession hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of his forbidden attraction.

“and…” he shakes his head, a bitter struggle that leaves him weak-kneed and aching. "i should send you home," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cover yours, to hold it in place. "before we both regret this.”

“no, please don’t push me away, father,” you plead.

his eyes flicker closed, as if in supplication to some higher power, as the admission spills from his lips: "i'm sorry, child. so very sorry for what i am about to do.”

his body crowds yours, crushing the air from your lungs with the sheer force of his need. his mouth descends, claiming yours in a bruising kiss that sets your very soul ablaze. the world narrows to the taste of him — smoke, spice, and something uniquely his own.

it's overwhelming, consuming, and yet, somehow, it's the most natural thing in the world.

and when you end up pushed up against his office desk, the wood cold and unforgiving against your back, you know things have gone irrevocably awry. his hands, so recently devoted to guiding prayer, now roam the curves of your body with a reverence bordering on the religious.

your lips part on a gasp, allowing him greater access, and he seizes the invitation with a fervor that leaves you breathless. large hands roam your body, mapping the contours of your frame with a desperation that belies his years of discipline. he breaks the kiss only to trail open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, the rapid beating of your pulse point a siren's call he's powerless to resist.

he's shaking, the tremors starting deep within, spreading outward through his muscles like ripples on a pond's surface.

"forgive me, lord," he whispers to himself, as if seeking divine absolution from the sin that he’s about to commit. but even as the plea leaves his lips, he doesn't let go. instead, he raises your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to your knuckles.

then he's on his knees in front of you, hands grasping at the hem of your dress. the fabric rustles as he pushes it upward, baring your thighs to his hungry gaze. his breath is heavy, face mere inches from your center.

"tell me to stop," he pleads, his voice a ragged whisper. "command me to sin no more, and i will obey.”

for a moment, he teeters on the brink, the line between devotion and lust blurring until it's nearly indistinguishable. "please," leon's eyes lock onto yours, searching for the strength to resist, to obey his vows. but what he finds there is surrender, a silent plea that sends his resolve crumbling like the weakest brick.

"father," you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips.

he closes his eyes, a silent, anguished prayer issuing forth from his lips. his hands tremble as they part your legs wider, stealing a breath from your chest. slowly, reverently, he leans in, finally dragging you underwear down, exposing you to his gaze.

"you are so beautiful,"

his voice cracks on the words, a mixture of awe, reverence, and raw, animal desire. he can't tear his eyes away from your unveiled flesh, drinking in the sight like a man dying of thirst.

"pray with me," he murmurs, his breath hot against your slick folds. "ask for forgiveness, for the sins we are about to commit." even as he speaks, he's dragging his tongue along your inner thigh, the sensation making you gasp and shudder.

"our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,”

his hands roam your hips, gripping the soft flesh as if to steady himself against the waves of his own depravity.

“thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,"

each curve of your body yields to his touch as his fingertips traced a path of fire across your skin. desperation and control tangled within his gestures, gripping onto the softness beneath his hands as he strives to anchor himself against the tumultuous waves of desire and decadence that threaten to crash over him.

“glory be to the father, and to the son, and to the holy spirit…”

the words are a broken whisper, a plea for mercy that's drowned out by the urgent throb of his own need.

“amen.”

he brings his mouth to you at last, and with a groan of surrender, he begins to eat you out with a hunger that knows no bounds.

he laves at your clit with a fervor that leaves you panting and weak-kneed. you're a mess of whimpers and moans, your hands fisting in his hair as he works you over. leon's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into the flesh as he eats you out with a single-minded determination.

"yes, yes, just like that," you babble, your voice a desperate chant, even as your vision starts to blur at the edges.

one of his hands drifts lower, his fingers seeking out the entrance to your womb. he teases the delicate skin, tracing the outline of your slit before slipping a finger inside. a low groan rumbles in his chest at the slick heat that envelops him, urging him on.he works two fingers in and out of you in a steady rhythm, the lewd squelch of your juices only further fueling his own desire.

"please, father, i need—" the words die on your lips as a particularly intense thrust of his fingers sends you plummeting over the brink.

his eyes blaze with an unholy light as he takes in your ravished expression, his own need reaching a fever pitch. he surges to his feet, shedding his robe and shoving his pants down with a desperate haste. he reaches for you, pulling you forward effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing at all.

he wraps a hand around himself, stroking himself in time with the frantic beat of his heart. "i'm sorry," he whispers, his voice raw with anguish and guilt. "so very sorry."

he hovers over you, his thick length prodding, seeking entrance to the very core of your being. you help guide him in, a hand slowly pushing back on the back if his neck as the thick head of his cock breaching your entrance with a slight burning sensation. he groans, his hips bucking forward as he sheathes himself fully within you.

for a moment, you're both still, letting the intensity of it all wash over you.

and he starts to move forward, inch by inch, the wooden desk creaks in protest beneath you. his eyes squeeze shut as he buries himself to the hilt, your slick walls clenching around him like a vice.

"oh, my lord, forgive me," he breathes, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he struggles to still the tremors that rack his frame. "i am a man undone.”

he starts to move, slowly at first, each thrust a testament to the effort it takes him to resist the primal urge to rut into you like an animal in heat. his hips rise and fall in a deliberate rhythm, each stroke drawing a gasp from your lips.

"you feel so good," he rasps, his breath hot against your skin. he pulls nearly all the way out before plunging back in, the slick glide of his thick length a pleasure unlike anything you've ever known.

sweat drips from his brow as he pounds into you with a fervor that borders on religious ecstasy. each thrust is a prayer, a confession, a plea for absolution. his eyes never leave yours, searching for some glimmer of forgiveness in their depths.

"i'm— i’m close," he warns, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

your head rolls back, a silent moan escaping your lips as the pleasure mounts. his hands fly to your face, cradling your cheeks as he forces your gaze to meet his.

"please, please, don't look away." he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a chaste kiss. "i need to see you," he murmurs, his hips stuttering in their relentless rhythm as he fights for control.

he can feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter within him until he's teetering on the precipice. his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing as if trying to imprint every curve and valley onto his very being.

he's a hairsbreadth from the edge, the tension coiled so tightly within him that he's not sure he can contain it much longer. but for you, he'll try.

he'll endure the sweet agony of restraint. he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers a final plea.

"dear god, i'm so very sorry." the words are a prayer, a plea for forgiveness not just from the divine, but from you. he knows that what he's doing is wrong, that he's violating the sacred trust that he's been entrusted with as a man of the cloth. but in this moment, caught up in the maelstrom of his own desire, he can't bring himself to care.

he hooks an arm beneath your knees, pulling you higher up on the desk. the new angle allows him to drive even deeper, the head of his cock brushing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your body responds, arching up to meet him as a keening wail tears from your throat. he watches, entranced, as ecstasy washes over you in waves, your face a mask of rapturous bliss.

you finally feel his heat as it floods your innermost depths just moments later.

he collapses onto you, his weight crushing in its intimacy as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his heart pounds against your ribcage, a frantic with regret and release.

he stays there, draped over you, his breathing ragged and uneven as he tries to regain some semblance of control. his body is slick with sweat, his muscles trembling with the aftershocks. slowly, he pulls back, his hands still cradling your face as he looks deep into your eyes.

"forgive me," he whispers, the plea hanging heavy in the air between you.

he knows it's not enough. he's broken the trust, violated the sacred vows he's taken. there's no going back from this, no easy path to redemption. but for now, in this moment, he can only cling to the thin thread of your forgiveness and hope that it's enough.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[tartrat]

Unnamed Coaches' Name Headcanons!

Random unnamed coaches and the names I’ve given them. I decided it would be funny if i gave each quotes and quests. I also just gave them all the classic rarity because it would've looked weird without. theres 9 maps and 10 coaches.

1. Freed From Desire: Garnet. I mentioned this in my other drawing of her. I just felt like her being named after a gemstone was fitting, like she just has that air to her. The gemstone itself is believed to bring emotional balance and self confidence, which i think fits with the map.

2. All The Stars: Vega. A while ago I was thinking about avatars for other coaches and I remembered her. Vega is one of the brightest stars in the night sky. maybe she comes from a long line of coaches who use the stars, so she was named after one of the brightest. Side note but i accidentally gave her robes the beta colours, they should be like a purple instead of red.

3 & 4. Love Story: Just straight up Romeo and Juliet. I thought about giving them names that are similar to Romeo and Juliet, but realistically that's what they would be named. I just wanted to draw both of them since Love story is one of my favourite 2022 maps.

5. Blinding Lights extreme: Jayyce Sway but friends and family call him Jayy. I can’t get the idea of him being Talia Sway’s father and him settling down in Wasterra out of my head, plus "Sway" as a last name just sounds futuristic to me. Jayyce is just a corruption of "Jace" that i thought would look futuristic with two ys. I just think he's cool and would be a great father. (you can't really see it but he is smiling here)

6. Giddy On Up: Belle. Another map i miss, its just really fun trying to do those high kicks. Other names i was thinking for her were Andrea and Laura ( after Laura Bell Bundy), but neither sounded country enough for her. Then i thought Annabelle, which i then shortened down to Belle.

7. Follow the White Rabbit: Allison. I didn't want to just straight up call her Alice, unlike how i just gave the love story coaches Romeo and Juliet. Originally i was thinking of spelling it as Alicyn but then went against that. But also it sounds like "Alice In" as in "Alice in Wonderland". Also i know that its the rabbit who says "I'm late!" twice but the quote i was originally giving her didn't really make sense. I rushed this one because intitialy she was in the same pose as one of the gold moves from FTWR but it looked too weird and i wanted to move on. She looks shocked here, i don't want to think about this drawing anymore.

8. John Cena: Jeanne Cena. this is just like the John Wayne coach all over again. You’d pronounce Jeanne like John. It was the obvious choice, and I also just wanted an excuse to draw her. Doubt you'll need her name if you can't even see her in the first place. One of my favourite maps, its just so good.

9. Levitating Extreme: Aster. I was thinking along the lines of Astro for some reason, then the name Aster kept popping up in my head. Turns out Aster means "star" and is also a type of purple flower that is star shaped. Given the space imagery from his background it makes sense.Definitely the type to not tell you his name because he sees no point because he thinks he's disposable (as if Si'ha Nova ever gets attacked).

10. Buscando Extreme: Jacques. I don't know why but he looks french to me, then the name just stuck because i couldn't think of anything else. One of my favourite extremes, at some point in early 2021 i somehow knew most of it off by heart. also i like to think of him as the father of the coach from the classic version. At some point all the male 2021 extremes i'm just going to headcanon as the father of another coach.

-

So this is what i've been working on. I mentioned the love story, Giddy on up and Blinding lights extreme coaches in previous posts because i was doing this lol.

i did it in the order of JC - BLE - FFD - LE - ATS - FTWR - GOU -BE - LSTV. By the point i got to Buscando extreme i was getting tired of doing this so he along side the love story coaches look fucked up. Given that it was my first time drawing some of them, i didn't really think that they'd look good, since i'm not used to drawing them. But it was good to draw coaches that i haven't drawn before, and draw the ones i have already drawn, again.

I have other things i want to draw next, there's a map concept in my drafts that i want to actually draw so that will probably be my next fanart post.

[kolyatoast]

Fading into silence

Summary: you go cray2 aft being in that damn place for so long.

Warnings: angst(?), slight gore(mr gap nom finger)

A/n: its 3am and i felt like writing a short blurb since if ive been brainrotting for homicipher. Turned out too long and i wanted to add mr crawling but maybe for the next part! Did not proofread sorry🦈

You already lost track of the day and time since youve been down here. Three, four weeks? Could be months. You dont know. Water dripped from the worn ceiling,. How long has it been since youve drank a clean cup of water ? Or a shower even.

Mr gap, as always appears under the covers.

"Me have object. Give finger?"

What peaked your interest was the glass panel next to him. Mr gap always brought random things he found from the human world. Guess he managed to get cosmetics too.

"Me give finger"

Pain doesnt phase you anymore. Not after losing multiple limbs and facing near death experiences from the creatures here. Even with the ability to somehow grow? your body parts back, experiencing the pain wasnt so fun.

You grimaced as his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your finger. Blood spilled all over the white bedsheets that you wont clean. When this had happened the first few times, you practically screamed from the pain of your skin tearing. You miss that feeling. The feeling of being human.

The mirror was slightly shattered at the edges, with a wooden frame and floral engravings. Your room used to have a mirror just like this.

Your reflection. Rough dull skin, stained with blood and grime after being unable to clean yourself up for weeks. Grey and uneven hair. You dont even recognise yourself. Your image used to be one of the things you prided on. Despite your crimes, you still prioritised how you looked. Being here, you lost one of the many things that kept you from losing your humanity.

You threw the mirror against the wall , holding back tears as you clutched on your raincoat.

Part 2 with mr crawling maybe!

[outlaw-apologist]

Home For The Holidays (Logan x Reader) Holiday Hurt Comfort

Summary: Haunted by what was and what could've been, this time of year is always really hard for you. Logan knows this feeling all too well and he's not shy about reminding you where you belong. Tags: Hurt with comfort, fluff, seasonal depression, Thanksgiving at the X-Mansion Note: If you enjoy this please consider re-blogging! Likes are appreciated but doesn't show other people the story. Thank youuu xoxo

As the weather grew bleaker, so did your mood. It wasn’t on purpose, of course. Seasonal depression? Maybe… Or perhaps it was the fact that you, like most of the other X-Men, had ghosts. You had stood outside in the same spot every morning for the last few weeks, watching the leaves turn from green to a crisp gold, feeling the cool air lick at your cheeks until it grew bitter and whipped with an icy sting strong enough to cast a rosiness upon your skin. The leaves browned, curling in on themselves before laying bare the skeletons of trees. You understood how nature felt. Wanting to wither away yourself. Wanting to find a nice burrow to spend a long slumber in until spring. To escape the faces that haunt you, the memories that plague your dreams with their sneering reminders that you are alone. Nothing ever lasts. You’ve had family. You’ve lost family. You’ve had friends; you’ve lost friends. Death was a fickle mistress, as they say. But what is worse? Knowing the laughter of the one you love will never ring out in existence again? Or the fact that they could be laughing with anyone but you? It was an internal struggle you could never decide on. Did you miss your lost loved ones more, or the ones who decided to go through life without you?

It had been days since most of the students had packed up and left, excitedly chattering about their trips home, the families they'd be seeing, the familiar places they'd return to. You'd watched them go with a tight, forced smile, the kind that didn't quite reach your eyes. Now, with Thanksgiving just around the corner, the empty halls of the X-Mansion felt quieter than ever. And that silence only made the weight in your chest heavier.

This is my new home, you thought. These people… they’re my family now. You wanted to convince yourself of that, but fear gripped you like a starving snake, desperate to squeeze any light out of its victim before consuming it. They’ll leave too. They always do. And if they don’t leave, they could die. Being a mutant was dangerous, and everyone here had lost someone precious to them. You hated it. It made you sick to your stomach—to want to be loved so badly yet know the consequences were worse than the prize.

“There you are.” Heavy, musky words filled the silence of the wind. You felt a familiar presence make its way to your side, radiating warmth. “Turnin’ purple, I see.”

Your lips twitched up as you spared Logan a glance. “I haven’t been out here that long.”

“With that look in your eyes, I’d say you don’t even know how long it’s been.” Following Logan to a nearby bench, you reveled in the warmth of his company. “I can see you from my window, standin’ out here like a damn statue,” he continued. “What’s got you upset?”

You gave a small shrug. “Life.” Of course, Logan simply laughed. He knew all too well what you meant. Despite his rough exterior, Logan had always been quite soft with you. There had always been a silent kinship between you—a knowing that life was full of hurt and daggers. Or, in Logan’s case, claws. “Holiday blues, huh?” He eyed the twirling branches of the same tree you had been admiring day by day. “If it makes you feel any better, Canada’s Thanksgiving was last month and nobody said a damn word about it.” There was humor in his words. Logan didn’t really give a damn. He’d lived in America long enough to celebrate their Thanksgiving, but it went beyond that. Logan was born before Canada even celebrated a Thanksgiving. His original family long dead, buried by history and heavy snow.

“I know it’s stupid.” You licked your cold, chapped lips. “You’d think by now I’d be used to this. Being alone… Thanksgiving is a dogshit holiday anyway.”

“In my experience, most holidays are dogshit holidays. But that doesn’t stop you from missin’ what they could’ve been. Or the people who should be here right now. Commercialism be damned. We just wanna come together during the bleak months. It’s mutant nature. It’s a way to survive.”

Something in Logan’s words moved you. Hot tears stung your frosty cheeks. “I hate this so much, Logan. I hate how I miss them. How I’ll never get that back. It’s gone forever, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Logan hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, but you don’t wanna live in their past, sweetheart. Trust me, it only destroys you.”

“I know. But I can’t help but feel like it’ll happen again.”

“In our world, it will,” Logan admitted. “And it never gets easier. But you gotta choose what’s gonna make you happiest now. No sense in worrying about a future you don’t know about, or a past that’s let you down.”

Logan had a point. The last few days, you’d been so caught up in your own misery that you’d turned into a ghost yourself. The hours passed by in a blur, and you hardly remembered if you’d eaten or what you’d accomplished. You were lost to the sands of time. What was the point in that?

“I know I ain’t worth two pennies, but I’ll be here. I’ve lived this long. I reckon I’d make it another hundred years.” Wrapping an arm around you, Logan pulled you close, and you snuggled against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re right.” The sigh escaped your lips. “I don’t wanna get so caught up in missing everyone else that I don’t appreciate having you here now.”

You felt a gentle kiss pressed to your hair. “You don’t gotta appreciate me, darlin’. But the others… They care about you too.”

Charles, Ororo, Jean, Scott, and Hank… Your new family was odd, but they were warm and welcoming.

“C’mon. I originally came out here to tell you dinner’s ready.” As he stood, he reached out a large, paw-like hand. No was not an option.

You became aware of just how frigid your ears and face felt once inside the cozy mansion. Glorious scents of cranberry, mashed potatoes, and turkey wafted through the halls, decorated with leaves and other seasonal touches.

“There you are!” Ororo beamed, her warmth filling the room as she opened her arms in welcome. “We didn’t want to start without you.”

A long table stretched across the dining hall, covered in dishes of every kind, steaming and glistening under the soft golden light. Platters of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes topped with toasted marshmallows, and freshly baked rolls still warm from the oven filled every available inch. Bowls of cranberry sauce sat like jewels among the spread, and there were even dishes you’d never seen at any holiday meal before: rich, savory casseroles from Hank’s family recipes, and an assortment of pies lined up along the table's edge, waiting to be sliced.

The sight was almost overwhelming. Your eyes widened, your heart swelling with a strange mix of awe and gratitude as you took it all in. Never had you seen a holiday table so full—so abundant and brimming with care. Each dish seemed like a personal invitation, lovingly prepared and carefully placed. And gathered around it all, eager to share it with you, was your new family.

Logan caught your gaze, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He stepped forward and pulled out a chair, nodding for you to sit. His hand lingered on the back of the chair, silently making sure you were comfortable where you were.

“Who would like to share what they’re thankful for?” Kurt asked, his voice gentle yet bright, his eyes flickering with the light of the candles.

A soft murmur rose around the table as everyone shifted in their seats, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something different settle in your chest. It wasn’t the emptiness you’d known for so long—it was hope. Taking a breath, you allowed a small smile to spread across your lips, feeling the warmth of their gazes surrounding you like a soft embrace.

Chest tightening with warm emotion, you couldn't help but to say: “I’ll go first."

[visenyaism]

feastdance dashboard simulator

💋queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

it’s so sick that people keep criticizing queen cersei as if she’s not the first female ruler of westeros??? literally elevating bastards and women to her small council is super fucking progressive as is creating the precedent of dismissing unfit kingsguard??

🪨dragonstoner Follow

aren’t all of her children literally bastards born of incest

💋 queen-cersei-defense-squad Follow

oh so now you’re going to listen to stannis baratheon, known misogynist, kinslayer, fornicator, team green supporter, and homophobe, huh.

🦑pykedyke

okay guys i know there’s no “perfect candidate” but you have to vote in the kingsmoot anyways not voting is how someone like e****n g*****y wins and literally anyone is better than him. suck it up and row to the polls

🦈reaveherihardlyknowher

ohhhh not this “vote your crew no matter who” “blue lips man bad” bullshit again. fuck off idgaf which godless man sits the seastone chair i’m not voting for asha shes literally a neoliberal

🦷 lastoftheegiants

first i had to give up my rights and then i had to give up my gods just to not get killed by fucking wights but i literally cannot believe the nights watch made me give up my strap as part of the treasure ransom. shit was expensive it was IVORY. i hate southerners so much i hope the lord commander dies

🌪️kinslayerr

DO NOT COME TO THE RIVERLANDS

🍓silverspurs Follow

why

🌪️kinslayerr

there’s riverlands here

🧜‍♂️theythemderly

freys

🌾maidencool

my cousin got eaten by rats in harrenhal

🐎brackennation Follow

dumb cunts wearing raven feather cloaks strutting around who think they’re better than you but they’re not better than you

🌟sevenstar

i saw a guy get killed and then just stand back up and start fighting again because his friend kissed him on the mouth down here once

🦌whitehart

giant feral pack of 60 wolves running around

🍓silverspurs Follow

ok understandable have a nice day

🫧bastardwaters

i hate the fucking sparrows can we be normal for five minutes or can we just not have shit in the crownlands

☠️real-stormlands-patriot Follow

ITS LORD COMMANDOVER #RIPBOZO

🐦‍⬛mormonts-raven-bot Follow

CORN! DEATH! CORN!

(CAW! I follow members of the Night's Watch to remind them of their oaths!)

🦷 lastoftheegiants

????

🍋floriansjonquil

Loras Tyrell x Queen of Love and Beauty!Reader Imagines

Keep Reading

🪻maidens-smile Follow

girl this is notttttt the time he literally just fucking died at dragonstone?

💎oathkeeper

should’ve stanned jaime #LORASFELLOFF

💐flowerknight

one kill yourself jaime lannister is an honorless kingslaying turncloak two i heard loras tyrell was literally fine?

👊fleabottomtop

lord davos seaworth, the class traitor from the stannis baratheon administration, is a nasty little thottie and just died from making it clap in white harbor

🌅girlheir

this tower fucking sucks.

🌅girlheir

i’m just like rhaenyra targaryen for real

🌅girlheir

🐀ratcook5000 Follow

people meat tastes good asf when you don’t have a wench in your ear saying it violates guest right

🐺threeeyedwolf

🍒ladylance

need that targ girl in mereen to get those lizards over here and liberate this website by any means necessary cause what the fuck is going on

[skunkes]

if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[sanstropfremir]

ok nana unsubtly kicked me in the ass about this and i realized they were mostly done anyways so here we go! only four months late!

best stylings 2023 - first half

runners' up

rising - triples

there are two good stages with funky athletic wear, but it wasn't enough to bump it up to the overall category. mcountdown 230216, the show 230221

abyss - woodz

didn't promote it which is a shame, but the variety in the costuming for the different versions of himself is well done and it's a beautifully shot bottle mv.

moody - superkind

you got a fake member you gotta make it spooky!!! he's not real that's inherently spooky!!! anyways this is what i wanted them to do right off the bat some i'm glad they finally got my psychic memo.

golden hour - mark

absolutely fucking crazy. fantastic imagery. i think i talked about it earlier in the year but it's such a stupid and hilarious idea to make a whole diss track mv about a several year old meme and then actually make it strange and weird art. obsessed with it still.

sos - kang daniel

i'm also including the wasteland music sequence here because holy shit when this dropped i lost my mind. i'm always surprised by what kang daniel does bc i can never predict it, which over the last few years i'm coming to enjoy. and i absolutely did not expect him to produce basically an entire wild west mad max movie with equal the production value???? literally how did he do this. how. and then everyone paid it dirt??? it's an amazing mv and one of my faves of the year, the only reason it's not bumped up categories is bc although the styling was actually one of the only times tactical gear has been thematically relevant to a cb, its been so overused that it has no punch anymore, which makes me sad bc the tactical gear was good! and a good choice! and i feel bad saying it has no punch bc it should have!

small talk - kim sungkyu

we love when sungkyu acknowledges that he's annoying and a loser. all these outfits were so losercore. i loved this deviation from form for him; he's normally king wailer supreme, but he does smooth upbeat rock very well and it's a nice contrast with the capital y yearning that's in the bsides. it's only here bc he didn't promote much and i'm mad at him for putting dancing in the mv and then not dancing in any of the stages. mcountdown 230629, music core 230708, inkigayo 230709

ay-yo - nct 127

this is just here for taeyong's urchin outfit. well i'm a bit of liar it is actually a really fun early 00s inspired mv, but we all know the urchin outfit stole the show.

stamp on it - got the beat

i will hear NO slander against got the beat in this house, this was a great mv i love hot women planning a heist.

tricky house - xikers

FANTASTIC debut. does a really great job of establishing a character for them as a group and it's got such unique flavour. kq has made great use of their ateez money and also the lessons that they learned with ateez. i'm excited to see where xikers goes in the future, and since i'm writing this section from the future i can say that i do like where they've gone with full confidence. the only reason it didn't make the top list is bc the styling is kinda average for this era of kpop.

best overall

rose blossom - h1 key

i was aware of h1key before this but they hadn't really grabbed me, but damn this cb was so good. the mv is a nice mix of story and dance sections. plus a surreal section in the middle! and by virtue of being like the first cb of the year, they got the jump on this alt girl look that would be the dominating look for ggs this year. and i do think first did it best in this case, all the looks are smart with good group synergy and and a lot of creativity; when you do this type of alt-y punky style it's important that there's a diy element to it, which a lot of groups fail to grasp bc stylists are obsessed with luxury branding. h1key manages to avoid that mostly by being flops, but i'd like to believe its also bc their creative team cared about capturing the true spirit of the style.

stages: music bank 230106, mcountdown 230202, music bank 230203, mcountdown 230119, inkigayo 230108

tic tac - 8turn

honestly i was kinda ready to not like these guys since mnh shat the bed with chungha, but then i remembered that the mnh creative team is very good at their jobs, so here we are. this is one of the few debuts/cbs this year where every single stage was a hit and it was very hard to narrow down to just a few for here; lots of good emphasis on shape and colour and accent pieces with repeated motifs, which was a big part of the fashion in the 00s that they are remixing here. very strong debut especially for so early in the year and i'm looking forward to more.

stages: show champion 230208, mcountdown 230202, music bank 230203, show champion 230222, music core 230211, mcountdown 230223, music core 230225, inkigayo 230226

bonus: this absolutely hysterical 4minute cover (they even got the name bucket hats! not in the stage, but they had them in photos)

sweet juice - purple kiss

i'm not normally a fan of wes anderson or wes anderson inspired aesthetics because i find them too twee and perfect, but this wasn't too direct in it's inspirations and definitely had the spooky purki flavour. i really liked the uniformity of the costuming, both literally using uniform motifs and using the same fabrics; i really do miss the days when kpop costumes were design to actually be costumes with the group image in mind.

stages: mcountdown 230216, inkigayo 230219, music core 230225, music bank 230224, inkigayo 230226, music core 230304, inkigayo 230305

sour & sweet - bambam

bambam again proving that he's one of the few idols that knows his shit in terms of interesting styling. also if anyone knows where he filmed the mv/performance vid please tell me i need to know bc its so beautiful.

stages: mcountdown 230330, music bank 230331, inkigayo 230402, music bank 230407, music core 230408, inkigayo 230409,

bsides: music bank 230331, inkigayo 230409,

macarena - blitzers

i'm so so so glad blitzers got a bit more attention this year bc they deserve it and macarena was so good. perfect culmination of their goofy ass talents and the unusual creativity of their performance + creative directors. i'm even linking the mv teaser here bc its so goofy and offbeat and different. honestly i'd recommend watching as many of the stages as you can find bc they do different intros every time and it's very funny, but unfortunately tumblr has a link limit so i can't link them all.

stages: show champion 230426, music bank 230428, music core 230429, inkigayo 230430, inkigayo 230514, music core 230527

bouncy - ateez

yea yea yea nobody is surprised so sue me. this was a crazy followup to halazia and proved that ateez can deftly switch between serious dramatic performance and comedic but no less dramatic. i'm very happy to see how much work has been going into the main ateez mvs in the last year because it has very clear and striking direction that fits both their performance style and their creative ambition, as well as their growth as a group. also yea i'm not immune to neon cowboy shit.

stages: inkigayo 230618, music bank 230616, the show 230620, mcountdown 230622, music bank 230623, mcountdown 230629, music core 230701, inkigayo 230702

kick it 4 now - tnx

tnx had an absolutely banging 2023 and although kick it 4 now is has superior and more comprehensive production, love or die is also a very good cb, and both of them together have shown that they have a really good grasp on the genre of teen listlessness, from two different directions. kick it 4 now has been i think the most successful cb to actually capture the feel of first gen, and the creative team did a lot of extra work in order to pull that off. from all the graphic design to the goofy lil 90s style music show promos, to the styling, they had a clear goal and achieved it. i think it will be quite difficult for any other group to pull it off this thoroughly.

stages: music bank 230609 (the giant lyrics!!!), music core 230610, show champion 230614 (more giant lyrics!!), music core 230617, mcountdown 230622

shooting star + left right - xg

we all already know that left right was my most listened song this year, but the fact that the mv was b movie sci fi star trek themed? it's like simon made everything about this specifically for me thank you. xg blew everyone out of the water this year on every front; music, styling, choreography, you name it. i said i wanted groups to commit to their bits and i got it. they were completely unafraid to actually commit to the y2k nostalgia AND to harajuku styling; a lot of groups have weakly pawed at it but always back away due to the fact that harajuku and y2k are not actually 'pretty' fashion trends, which leaves their attempts half assed with no real understanding of why and how those trends happened. xg came saw and conquered the current trend in a way that only a japanese gg can do. my only annoyance is that they tone down the stylings when they promote on music shows, and i know why they do it, so it's not an annoyance at them, it's an annoyance at everyone else.

stages: shooting star - mcountdown 230202, con-tour 230217, the show 230221, inkigayo 230212, inkigayo 230205, con-tour 230224

left right - the show 230228, show champion 230222

circle - onew

absolute masterpiece. album of the year in every way. it's a profoundly beautiful unpacking of grief and the sadness that comes with acknowledging that things change, and the way that in that change life and humanity and story is eternal. a circle. the theatre imagery combined with the 60s style children's tv show use their similar but contrasting forms to illustrate the same point: something can be eternal and fleeting at the same time, and that heightens its value rather than diminishing it. the promo campaign was so thought out as well, i love the integration of the theatre imagery into the highlight medley and i highly recommend you watch it if you haven't. one of the best cbs from a solo artist in years.

stages: mcountdown 230309, music core 230311, music bank 230317, inkigayo 230319

--

ignore the fact this was almost five months late even though i started writing in like. november. i'm busy ok. it's planting season and i have to send so much post. the choreos post is the next most finished so that will probably be out before the styling second half one.