#like i just don’t think I could bring myself to care and choose someone every single day

[starlooove]

Uhh sometimes I feel so sad that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have a romantic partner - like i don’t want one and if I did date someone genuinely I don’t think I’d be able to put up with it for more than two weeks but I feel so sad that like. The option is locked away ig. Like i still get crushes and the flash forward to the picket fence 3 kids and a dog and all but the thought of actually dating someone and putting that effort in makes me want to curl up and die

[twinsarekeepers]

“This isn’t the Arch, seaweed brain. You’re not pushing me into the stairwell again.”

First of all, LINE DELIVERY?? Leah Sava Jeffries is an ACTRESS because ‘seaweed brain’ is actually so corny and it would simply feel like fan-service if they included it earlier or in another context but this was so natural and I was so swept up by all the other amazing things happening that I was excited about it but also keyed into the rest of the scene.

But the way this perfectly displays her fatal flaw. She will not let this boy trick her again (spoiler: he does). She was caught off guard at the Arch because she wasn’t familiar with his game but now she’s ready. She WILL die for him and that is final.

“Yes, I am.”

This was CRAZY?? Percy Jackson #1 mentally unstable man because how is he determined to win every ‘sacrifice myself’ off with her? And he says it to her face too. He does not care for the games anymore, he’s fully telling her that he needs her to live.

“I’m not going to let you this time. It doesn’t work that way!”

This made me so incredibly sad. Annabeth is still thinking in transactions. She’s thinking about how he made a sacrifice in the Arch so it’s her turn now. This is how relationships work. This is how every relationship she’s had works. She literally can’t comprehend how he doesn’t see it that way. How he could be selfless enough to sacrifice himself for her TWICE. How he could care about her enough to believe she deserves it even after she was the reason they were in the Arch in the first place (my baby my baby say it with me now you’re my baby).

“It’s why you’re here!”

“Excuse me?”

This was so soft like I just *screaming crying gif*. The last time she said ‘excuse me’ to him she was pissed off about him bringing up Athena but now she’s just confused and sad. Like, she trying to figure out what he means by this. Does he think she’s so heartless and robotic that she’d just let him die for her own gain?

I also love how they don’t have her say ‘what?’ because it just adds this extra layer of how Annabeth has trained herself to be more mature in everything she does, even her language, because she believes that if she’s not perfect, she’s not worthy of love and affection and maybe even existing (literally sobbing wtf).

“When I was choosing my team, I told Chiron I needed someone who wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice me if the quest required it. He agreed. That was you.”

I was confused at first about this because I thought Annabeth knew Percy thought this about her until I went back and watched the choosing ceremony again. He’s definitely keeping his voice lower as he speaks to Chiron and both Chiron and him are raising their voice as they address the other campers so makes sense that she wouldn’t have heard him.

But also, this just adds so much to literally everything. Because, in the beginning, Percy didn’t think him and Annabeth would become friends. He genuinely did think that she would sacrifice him if she had to and he thought he’d be able to curb it. He thought he’d be able to fight Annabeth if it came to it because she might choose the quest over his mom and he couldn’t allow that.

But now here he is, after getting to know her, and seeing her vulnerability and bravery and strength and courage and wisdom and passion and everything that makes her so beautiful and wonderful and amazing and his friend. She’s his friend and she’d never betray him. She’d never sacrifice him. She’d rather sacrifice herself before she ever did anything to harm him.

And he’s apologizing to her. Listen to the way Walker says the last line (again, THE ACTING). It’s literally a confession because he feels so bad that he ever believed that about her. And now he’s making her do it. He’s making her do this thing that he once thought she’d have done without hesitation. He’s thinking about the Fates cutting that string and he’s thinking about his own words to Chiron and how Chiron agreed and he’s thinking about how Annabeth said that prophecies aren’t always clear and he fully believes that he’s figured it out. This is fate. Annabeth would sacrifice him and complete the prophecy. She’ll be the friend that betrays him but not because she wanted to and he will fail to save what matters most, his own life.

This entire exchange was very insane. It’s my Roman Empire. I can’t stop thinking about it because it shows their motivations and their viewpoints and their internal struggles so so so well like I can’t even … I’m having a malfunction.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

When the Levee Breaks pt.1

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

tags / warnings: friends to lovers fluff then smut, mutual pining, smoking weed (be responsible irl), high sex, explicit descriptions of oral (f receiving), fem!reader

NSFW notes: A LARGE PORTION OF THIS FIC IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS; DO NOT READ IT IF IT ISN'T APPROPRIATE FOR YOU! HOWEVER, because such a long portion (like 2/3) has no sexual material (except for the implication at the very beginning), i have clearly marked where it becomes NSFW in case any age-appropriate readers want to read only up to that point (i know some people just want fluff not smut even if they're of age, and that's so chill); i will say there is drug use before then, so still adult material, but fluffy around that; please please be responsible for your content consumption

random notes: set in the late 70's / early 80's, following canon of when the marauders would've met but the rest of the world building (e.g. au) left ambiguous title inspired by a song on one of the albums mentioned idk why this turned out similar to The Prettiest Star with Sirius Black, but i guess my fantasy is just to listen to music intensely with someone then fuck lovingly lol

word count: 6.4k

hope you enjoy! thank you if you read it! 🫶

You watch as his long fingers, practiced and adept, roll the spliff. You liked this part. You could stare at his hands under the guise of watching the rolling. Remus didn’t have to know how far from pot your mind wandered when you did. He didn’t have to know it made you wonder every time what else he could do with this fingers. Imagine how they would feel on you. In you. 

At the thought, you squirm where you’re seated on his settee next to him. He chuckles in a low tone. 

“Antsy?” 

“No.” 

He can tell you’re lying. You can tell he can tell. But you don’t care. As long as he can’t tell why you’re lying, it doesn’t matter, and you can keep wriggling.

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.” 

Your wringing hands catch his attention, and his eyes fix on them even as his hands continue their work. 

“Next time, you’re rolling it,” he says through a smile. “There’d be nothing left to smoke by the time you finished shaking it everywhere,” he laughs, too amused with himself, giggling as if he were already high. 

“Remus?” you start, and he shakes his head and chuckles, loving how you get when he teases you. 

“What?” he smiles, eyebrows shooting up at you, both a welcome and a challenge for you to say whatever you’re about to. 

“Can you remind me who provided this wonderful gift on this wonderful afternoon?” You shake the baggy you brought to his flat not 15 minutes ago. 

He laughs, now nodding, and concedes, “You’re right, sunshine. I should be so grateful.”

Remus brings the spliff to his mouth to lick the edge of the paper, and your retort gets caught in your throat as you fixate on his tongue. 

A bit too late, a bit too quiet for your usual banter, you say, “You should be, Moons. I can still take it home and smoke by myself.”

“Oh now I’ve rolled it for you, yeah? Didn’t realize you were just here for my services. Should’ve known you were just pretending to love me till you got what you wanted.” He holds up his finished work — a beauty really — in front of you as he finishes his joke. You hum affirmatively, taking it from him and looking it over. 

You inspect it exaggeratedly and with a theatrical sense of casual satisfaction tell him, “Hm, not bad. I was starting to regret the long con, but I think this was worth it.” 

He’s giggling as he gets up, bumping his body against yours before he does, going toward his record collection. He walks over lazily, unhurriedly, his bare feet quiet on the floor, his hand coming up to mess with his hair. His loose, comfy clothes do a lot to hide the muscles you know are lean but strong underneath.

“Come help me choose,” he says over his shoulder as he falls to one knee to scan a lower shelf. Almost a whole wall of his small apartment is covered in shelves, boxes, stacks of records. It looks a mess, but it’s actually meticulously organized by release date.

You follow him, come up just behind him. You crouch, too, not all the way down like him. You lean on him, resting your head atop his, bringing your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

He moans casually, seeming happy, and grabs your arms where they fall across his chest. 

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up at you. You look down at him, seeing his warm smile upside down. 

“This is the real reason I’ve pretended to be your friend all these years,” you fake seriousness as you nod toward the records. Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile stretches further across his lovely face. It pulls on a long scar that runs down his cheek. 

“And may I ask how you knew when we were eleven that one day I would own such an epic collection?” 

“Easy. You wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt one of the first days we knew each other.”

He’s taken aback by your giving an actual answer. 

“Did I really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling down at him. The warmth of reminiscing about those childhood years softening you. 

“I think I remember that shirt,” he smiles nostalgically. “How do you remember that?” He twists in your embrace, coming to sit on the floor and pulling you with him. You’re sitting close to each other, and he’s watching you, rapt. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I remember being so nervous and lonely at the beginning. Wanting to make friends. And you seemed nice, so I noticed you.” You shrug again, look down for a moment, not wanting to express embarrassment at a more honest recollection: you had a crush on him immediately, even back then, even before you were really sure what it was you were feeling — that came with the years that followed. “The day you wore that shirt, it was like something familiar I could latch onto. Someone who liked something I liked.” Remus is smiling adoringly at you. Listening as intently as he is, looking as giddy, he looks like a child at the greatest story time ever from his seat on the floor. 

“I even tried to talk to you about it,” you confess, cringing teasingly at yourself.

“Yeah?” He sits up straighter like a puppy hearing someone at the door. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“I don’t remember that happening.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” you laugh. “I said tried to talk to you. I got too nervous and ran to hide before I could get the words out.” 

He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his smile still plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed you yet.” Remus looks especially contemplative for a moment then hums, biting his lower lip. “It’s crazy. Trying to think of my life before you is like remembering a blank canvas.” 

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart. 

You’re smiling a beaming smile at him but say, “There wasn’t much to notice. I was pretty quiet. And besides, your attention probably couldn’t handle a single thing more given you were getting to know Sirius and James.” He laughs lightly at the good memories but shakes his head at you a little more pronouncedly. 

“I’m sure there was a lot to notice. I was just an idiot. And quiet, too. By comparison to that lot anyway. They spoke enough for the three of us. I probably would’ve wimped out if I’d tried to talk to a pretty girl like you back then.” The edges of his entrancing brown eyes crinkled from his smile. “I mean… to be honest… I’d get nervous for a while, talking to you at first.”

“You didn’t,” you tease but secretly really want to hear more.  

“I did, yeah. Of course I did,” he laughs at himself. “I had a big crush on you. James and Sirius wouldn’t let me live it down for ages.” 

You’re shocked at this news. And maybe your face shows it. What it doesn’t show is how desperately your mind is racing, questioning: “Wait, could things have been otherwise? Did he actually like me as more than a friend at some point? Did I ruin it somehow?”

Remus tenses slightly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes, which are attentive at your reaction. 

“That was a long time ago,” he jokes to fill the silence that is beginning to stretch too long, his tone awkward.

“What happened?” you whisper, unable to help it. 

He takes a second to answer, like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s searching your face, and you’re not sure how much he can read there. 

He shrugs. His face gives an “I don’t know” scowl. He’s trying to escape answering, but you don’t let him.

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully. 

“I don’t know,” he giggles. “I don’t know. Then I got to know you I guess. And we became friends.” 

You give a scoffy laugh. You know he probably didn’t mean it that way, but your stomach sinks at the idea that getting to know you would remedy him of his crush. You’re staring at the floor when his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey, you okay?” He’s trying to keep the playful atmosphere, but you hear true concern in his tone. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”

You want to say “yes,” but you wouldn’t be able to tell him which part. So, you don’t say anything.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, after all these years,” he says more softly.

“No, Rem. Of course I don’t mind.” You shake your head as if dismissing the idea, attempting a laugh that still comes out strained. “I was just surprised is all.” 

He’s watching you, nodding subtlety, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Let’s choose something, yeah?” you nod next to you toward the wall, desperate to redirect attention.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Remus turns toward the records, skimming across his stacks. A thought catches him, and he moves purposefully toward a different shelf.

“What are you thinking?” you notice, your interest piqued. 

“1971,” he says as if it’s an answer. It is to you. 

1971: the year you met. 

He pulls out a well-worn record, and the strain on your smile finally dissipates to easy delight. You come stand next to him, and he hands it to you. 

“Do you remember how much we listened to that then?” he asks. 

“How could I forget,” you smile, your fingers tracing the cover of Led Zeppelin IV. 

It came out November 1971, but neither of you could get it till at least a month later, during Christmas break from school. When you finally did, the two of you listened to it nonstop. You absolutely loved the album, but you knew you listened to it that much because it was an easy excuse to hang out with Remus. You’d been listening to music together, often just the two of you, ever since.

“Fuck, I remember we’d listen to it in my room,” Remus reminisces. “And even Sirius, the biggest Zeppelin fan of us all, couldn’t take it anymore,” he laughs. “He’d turn it off when he found us listening to it, scolding us for ‘abusing a sacred thing.’”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Oh, look at this,” Remus startles you, excited. He pulls another record off the same shelf.

“This is too perfect,” he giggles. “I didn’t remember this came out then,” he muses, looking it over. “Probably didn’t get my hands on it till much later, I guess. But it’s like it was made for us. For you.” He hands you Just As I Am by Bill Withers, but you still don’t get what he’s saying. He sees your confused look and chuckles. “Second track,” he hints. Your eyes land on “Ain’t No Sunshine.” 

“Sunshine”: Remus’s nickname for you for years. You had Sirius to thank for it actually. He’d said you and Remus were like yin and yang. And since you all already called him “Moony,” you had to be “Sunny.” The other three of you cringed at the sound of that, so he tried “sunshine” instead, conceding it was close enough, and it stuck. Over the years, Sirius and James used it less and less, Remus more and more.

“It’s your song,” Remus urges, knocking his shoulder against yours. “There literally can’t be sunshine when you’re gone because you are sunshine.” He sounds too excited, and it’s adorable. 

“You sound like Sirius saying he’s serious,” you tease. He just laughs and takes the record back.

“Whatever, grumpy. It’s an epic song, and you know it, and now it’s yours, and I don’t care if that’s cheesy.”

“I love it,” escapes you, teasing tone gone. His eyes snap to yours, and he looks at you warmly.

“Alright, sunshine,” he whispers. A beat. “Wanna listen to it?” he asks, voice almost normal again. You nod gladly then go back to the sofa as he sets it up.

Remus soon comes back and joins you. He grabs the spliff from between stacks of snacks you’d prepared for the afternoon then looks over at you.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

“You do the honours.” He hands it to you and grabs the lighter. Rather than handing that to you too, he lights it for you as it dangles from your parted lips. 

You take a long drag, feeling it enter you and welcoming it. You cough lightly as you exhale slowly. You are no novice but are still always a cougher. Remus still always giggles when you do, but it’s never mocking. He has a glass of water ready for you, knowing you well, always looking after you. You trade him the water for the spliff, which he proceeds to hit with equal enthusiasm and less wheezing.  

You pass it back and forth for a little while. It’s strong stuff and just three hits in, you feel it engulfing you. The settee feels softer; the music sounds better. 

“Ain’t No Sunshine” is playing, and in your dazed state, you’re sure this is going to be the peak of the album even if it doesn’t coincide with the peak of your high. You close your eyes, and you can feel the music on your skin. 

Remus chuckles next to you, and your face turns to him.

“You look so stoned right now,” he explains, giddy. 

“That’s because I am,” you laugh. Once you start laughing it’s hard to stop; once Remus joins, it’s almost impossible. 

You chat easily, observations and jokes from both of you greatly benefitting from the induced assistance. Remus has a revelation about your listening to HI-fi while high. Your mind is blown multiple times at how deep the lyrics are. 

“They’re all talkin’ at him, but he doesn’t hear a word they’re sayin’, Moons! Not a word! I should do that,” you tell him as if it’s the most urgent thing in the world. He cracks up. “He’s so right, you know? Gotta keep the sun shining through the pouring rain, you know?”

“Uh-huh, I know, sunshine, I know,” he just laughs at you.

“You have such a nice smile, Moony,” you observe, dazed just as much from the feelings perambulating through your system than the pot doing the same.

“Yeah?” he asks, exaggerating it till he’s all teeth and squinty eyes. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It looked funny upside down over there,” you remember. “Watch!” 

You flip over on the sofa till your feet are up where your neck should rest and your head is dangling off the edge where your knees would normally be. You smile up at him. Remus doubles over laughing with you, bringing his face much closer to yours as he leans into it. 

“You’re right. Looks funny,” he tells you much more softly than you expected after his cackling. He watches you intently then brings a hand to your upside down face. He traces your features lightly, and it’s warm and tingly. His long finger travels down your nose, across your eyebrows. 

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

“Where?” he whispers back, his voice a gruff chuckle again. 

“Down here!” you whisper-yell. 

You pull his shoulder down and start kicking his legs up as he contorts until you get him in the same position as you. You end up side by side, upside-down on the sofa. 

Each of you giggles at the other as you steal side glances. Your faces, pulled the wrong way by gravity, softened more than normal by the smoking, look even goofier through your incessant giggles and pointless efforts at holding those back.

You listen, and laugh, to at least a whole song like this. You kick each other’s feet throughout. As one of your kicks brings you closer to Remus, he rolls over to tickle you. You laugh so loud you can’t even hear the record over it. 

“Stop, Rem! Stop!” you plead. “I’m already too dizzy.” 

He keeps it up a moment but soon takes pity on you and helps move your body the right way around, his strong hands manipulating you easily. 

“Alright, dizzy. Enough upside-down,” he says as he fixes your now crazy hair. 

You just nod and shift closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shuffles to a comfortable height for you, laying his own head on yours. 

A primary reason you enjoy getting high with Remus: you both get snuggly. You’re touchy normally, even more than most best friends you’ve seen, but not overly so. When you’re high, it’s overly so. But it somehow doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it feels wonderful. 

So, it feels wonderful, not weird, when you absentmindedly reach over for his hand. He gives it to you easily, and you begin caressing it. 

“Your skin is so soft, Rem.” You pull his hand closer to you, bringing it close to your face, looking it at like you’ve never seen a hand before. Remus takes the opportunity and quickly grabs at your nose playfully. You giggle at this as he responds to your initial comment.

“In between all the scars maybe.” He sounds matter of fact. There’s a lot less pain in his voice now when he talks about them than when he did in your younger years. You look forward to the day when you hear no pain there at all. 

“No, the scars too,” you correct him gently, and you bring your thumb to a scar that runs from the top of his hand up to his forearm. You trace it with reverence, and he shivers at your touch. You know for a fact you’re the only person in the world he allows to touch them. You’re so grateful for his trust, and in this moment, your emotions heightened, your inhibitions lowered, the vibrations of the music moving through you, you feel the need to tell him so. 

“Thank you for letting me touch you, Moony.” 

Remus has been watching where your hands are connected until now, but at your words, he looks into your eyes. He just looks at you for a long moment. You can’t tell how long, time elongated and indeterminable in your current state, but you’re completely comfortable to sit in it through its entirety, looking straight back at him. 

Eventually, the softest grin blossoms on his face. You mirror it. 

“Thank you for not being afraid to,” he whispers. You genuinely don’t understand. 

“Why would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” he tries to explain. He looks down in shyness but back at you before continuing, “Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s ‘disgusted’ or something…” 

His voice is fading to a low whisper by the end, like the louder the words are the truer they’ll be. 

Without hesitating, you tell him the truth: “Remus, you’re the least disgusting person in the world. You’re beautiful.” He grimaces like he can’t believe you, so you go on. “You are.” 

You turn your body even more toward him, bringing your connected hands to your almost shared lap and bringing your other hand to caress his cheek. 

“Silly Moony. You’re so sickeningly beautiful,” you chuckle. Your hand runs up through his hair. “This hair is ridiculous,” you inform him, tousling it. He leans into your touch like a content puppy. “These eyes.” You trace circles around each of them, first skimming his eyebrows then looping around. “They’re the easiest thing in the world to melt into, no pot needed.” You feel them crinkle as they smile into your compliments. “This nose.” You trace it slowly. “These lips,” you say more softly. You feel his gasp when you touch them then feel nothing, his breath held as you trace them. “And your scars,” you say with some finality. You trace a prominent one across his face. He closes his eyes while you do, opens them again when you reach its end. “You beauty isn’t one to be ruined by scars, Remus Lupin. Your beauty is the kind that incorporates the scar and makes that beautiful too.” 

Remus squeezes your interlaced hands. Your faces are so close to each other that you could see his eyes moisten as you tell him all this. He closes them before full tears form and moves his face that tiny bit closer till his forehead rests on yours. You nuzzle his nose, and he nuzzles yours back. 

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, breaking the silence — noticing the silence. You didn’t notice when the album ended.  Remus just hums in response. 

The silence is loaded but peaceful. You don’t want to pressure him into having to say something back after you let yourself get so intense with him. It wasn’t about what he said back; it was about his understanding how you saw him, how you hoped he would see himself. 

So, with his eyes still closed, you give the scar that runs across his nose a light kiss, do the same to another larger one across his jaw. Then you bring your head back to his shoulder, snuggling into him to mark the end of the moment, no further pressure necessary. 

Remus shifts his body closer, as close to you as possible. He brings his arm around your shoulders without letting go of your hand. He’s holding you close, and your arm crosses your chest to keep your hands intertwined. He kisses the top of your head — new, sweet — then rests his own there again — familiar, warm. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of his hand. 

You sit together in the quiet a long while. You close your eyes, breathe Remus in, let his body, his presence envelop you then just bask in it. Everything feels pleasantly heavy — the air, his body where it touches yours.

You settle into him, and without your noticing you’re doing it, your hand on his stills. 

“Don’t stop,” he whispers. 

“Hm?” you need to ask, unsure what he means. You look up, and he looks down, and your faces are a breadth away from each other. 

“I liked how you were touching me,” he whispers. “I always like how you touch me,” he adds like a secret. 

He brings his hand that’s not holding yours up to your face. First, the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheekbone then he rests his hand there. His fingers hold your jaw; his thumb caresses your cheek. Like you tend to do, you lean into his touch. 

His gentle, soothing touch flutters your eyes closed. Your inability to see his face makes it less scary to respond, “I always like how you touch me too.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, his hand holding you a bit more tightly, his thumb coming down to graze your bottom lip. You nod slowly, his hand moving with your head.

“Do you ever think about other ways we could touch each other?” he whispers. Your eyes fly open at this and land on his: lidded, dilated, gazing into your own. 

“Do you?” 

“I asked you first,” he giggles. “And I’ve already told you a secret today. It’s your turn.”

“What secret?” Your voices are still soft, whispering even though there’s no need for quiet other than your intimacy demanding it. 

“About my crush.” 

“I had a crush on you too,” you tell him. “So now we’re even.”

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he smiles. You smile back. 

Then, after a moment, like he can’t help it, “You did?” 

“Of course I did.” 

“What happened?” he echoes. 

“Nothing,” you confess. 

His eyebrows furrow, unsure how to interpret this. His eyes hold hope and trepidation at once. 

“I got to know you… And we became friends…” you continue. His expression falls, and you’re pretty sure you recognize this look as disappointment. But you go on, “And it made me love you all the more.” 

You’re ready to read his expression closely this time, but you don’t get the chance before he’s kissing you, before you’re kissing back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s slow. Deliberate. His lips push on yours; his arms bring you closer. His tongue teases your lips, and though they part in response, his tongue traces them rather than push in. You whimper at the feeling of it, and he moans at your reaction. He breathes you in, covers your whole mouth with his, devouring the sound, devouring you. 

Now his tongue enters your mouth, exploring, playing with yours. You’re not sure whether his movements are slow or whether they just feel slow because you’re still high. You are sure you have no desire to speed any of it up. 

You bring your hands to either side of his face, holding him gently but pulling him to you. He follows easily, and when your chests are almost flush, you trace your hands down to his shirt and pull him on top of you as you lean back, lying down on the sofa.

You keep kissing a deliciously long while then Remus goes beyond your lips, kissing along your jaw leisurely. He mouths at your skin, licking, nipping his way unhurriedly down to your neck. Here he languidly runs his tongue along the length of your neck, kissing your pulse point, nipping behind your ear. 

Everywhere he touches is buzzing, and you shiver at the sensation. When his breath blows cold air on your now wet skin, you shiver even harder, your body shuddering against his above you. He chuckles into the crook of your neck and continues. 

After another while of his working his way down, he has to pull the neck of your shirt down to reach further. You bare your neck to him, loving his exploratory path. 

When his mouth leaves your skin for the first time in several minutes, your impulse is to immediately pull him back to you.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers sedately, gruffly, tugging at your top. 

You pull it off and don’t waste time unclasping and sliding your bra off as well. Remus looks at you, dopey and delighted, but without further ado, pushes your chest so that you lie back again. His hand stays on you and begins lazily kneading your breast as he brings his mouth back to you.

He kisses the base of your neck and continues his previous ministrations across your collarbones. He seems to be on a mission to trace the entire surface area of your skin with his wandering mouth, and you have every intention of letting him and enjoying every long second of it. 

As he makes his languorous way down your sternum, you arch your back, pushing up into him, and bring your hands to his messy hair, holding him close. You scratch and tug, needing somewhere to release some energy, every part of you he’s touched left humming warm and electric. He groans into your chest, and you’re certain you feel the vibrations move through your skin, across your chest cavity, and into your heart, where they ricochet within it, making it beat faster. 

“Remus,” you whine adoringly. He hums into your skin again in response and speeds up his southward trajectory just the slightest bit. 

His face comes between your breasts, and he runs his teeth down the valley, then licks his tongue up the same path. You shake a little, and his hand squeezes your breast tighter. The other one he mouths across until his tongue traces a slow, wet circle around your nipple. This shoots a hot, jolting current straight from where his mouth is connected to you down to between your legs.

He’s gentle for a while, moving back and forth between your tits, often agonizingly slowly, his hands kneading at your chest all the while. Without your expecting it, though, he bites one of your hard, sensitive nipples and tugs lightly. You squeal and push your chest into his mouth. He keeps going, switching as he fancies between rough and tender. 

At a bite of the side of your breast, you rut up into him, and the movement has you feeling how wet you are. You’ve never been this wet before before direct stimulation. 

Remus holds your hips down to the sofa but moves from your chest to your stomach. His roaming mouth proceeds at its perfect, maddening pace. It meanders to your ribs, down your sides, not following a straight path down. 

Once he eventually reaches the threshold of your pants, he looks up at you. 

Remus looks higher than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks elated, in awe. 

“I want to spend hours and hours on your body like this,” he tells you, nuzzling his face into your lower stomach, kissing it as he detaches from you.

“Remus,” you whimper, running your hand into his hair and inadvertently thrusting your hips up. He chuckles, still sounding high, but his voice is as low as you’ve ever heard it.

He takes your trousers and underwear off in one efficient but slow tug. He pulls his shirt off much faster, and you touch all his skin you can reach before he’s repositioning himself.

Your thighs feel cold now uncovered, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of fresh air on your soaking cunt. As you adjust your body, you feel a thick wetness drip from your entrance down to where your arse meets the sofa. You feel the coldness of that wetness even more as Remus pushes your legs further apart to position himself between them. 

You’re completely sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, but you’re not sure if you could possibly be as wet as you feel, thinking the high could be heightening your sensation of it. You’re worried it’s too much, worried you’ll put Remus off. 

“I can clean up a little if —“ you start, but you’re cut off by Remus diving in, running his flat tongue slowly, firmly up from the base of your puddle up to your pubic bone. A strangled, prolonged gasp functions as the end of your sentence.

When Remus licks you again, your thighs shake on either side of his head. You feel him laugh into your cunt, and this time you imagine the vibrations shooting all the way up your body, following the chaotic roadmap his mouth left lingering across it.

Remus pulls back from you and rests his chin on your pubic bone, looking up at you. 

He informs you simply, “You taste delicious, darling.” He looks drunk on it. 

“Everything tastes better when you’re high,” you tease.

“Then I’m really going to enjoy this,” he smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll get me high just by letting me do this other times.” 

“Other times?” 

“Well, yeah…” he giggles. His eyes bore into yours even though he’s the length of your torso away. “I though this was a first, not an only…”

“Good.” You sound giddy. “Just checking.”

“Silly,” he shakes his head at you. You thrust your hips up and laugh at the expression he makes when you bump his face, like he’s dazed. He squeezes your thigh harshly where he’s holding you. 

“Behave, sunshine. It’s feeling dangerous down here.” 

“I thought you were enjoying it.” 

“I am.” A bite at your hip. “And I’m seriously getting the munchies, so just…” You don’t understand the end of his sentence, the words muffled against your skin as he starts eating you out.

It’s heavenly. High as you are, in love as you are, you think you’re on cloud nine. This gets you wondering where such an odd expression even comes from. It seems so random. 

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

“Why do you think it’s called being on cloud nine?”

He pulls back. The whole lower half of his face shines in your slick. 

“Why are you thinking about that right now? Am I that bad at this?”

“Bad? It’s amazing.” You ruffle his hair in your groping hands. “Which is why I’m on cloud nine, which is why I’m thinking about that right now. Your hair is as soft as clouds, Moons.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

“Can you keep going now? It felt so good. Your mouth is ridiculous.” You thrust your hips up at him again.

“Ridiculous and bossy,” he complains, but he’s smiling hard, and before you can even think of a retort, he does as you bid. 

His mouth takes its time between your legs. He spends eternities teasing you: mouthing at the tops of your thighs, licking up your bikini line, nipping at your clit without giving it the attention he knows you want from how loud you whine every time he gives it the slightest graze. He loves all over your vulva, not leaving any part untouched, unworshipped. His tongue fucks into your entrance languidly; it swirls there. He licks your labia, sucks on it, gives the same attention to your clit when you moan loud enough. He travels back and forth, seemingly enjoying all of it too much to stick to any one attention too long. The next time he lands on your clit, he prolongs it.

Your legs shake; your back arches; your whines grow loud before turning strangled, and Remus takes his cue to reserve the relaxed approach for later. He picks up his pace, gripping your thighs tightly and shakes his whole face into you, alternating between licking and sucking rhythmically at your clit. You cum hard, and it feels like it goes on for minutes. 

With your eyes closed, you truly feel like you’re floating, your only anchor to the world Remus Lupin where you feel his body attached to yours. 

You’re laughing in pleasure, and the laughs turn to pants as you slowly, slowly come down. You love coming down to an already high baseline, and you giggle at the sensation of relaxing into a still heightened state. 

It suddenly strikes you it feels like it’s been years since you talked to Remus, heard his mellifluous voice, and you startle your eyes open searching for him. 

You see him immediately. He’s gazing at you with equal parts ardor and adoration, but when he sees your expression, his shifts to concern. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” He rushes to hover just above you. His face is close to yours again, though it’s scanning all over your body. His hand holds your face gently, his other arm holding him up. “Did something feel bad? Does something hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m fine, Moons, I’m fine,” you rush to reassure. “I just missed you,” you explain.

“Missed me?” His eyes shoot to yours. “I’m right here, love; what do you mean you missed me?” He can’t help a subtle giggle, and his adoring expression takes back its rightful place on his beautiful face. 

“I just thought I hadn’t seen you in too long.” Your hands caress his face, thread through his hair. “Or heard your voice…” 

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m right here. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” you smile. 

“I love you.” 

You’ve heard them before, but never like this, and they’re the best words in the world, in the universe. 

“Remus,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes intensely of you, and you laugh into the kiss. “I’m sorry I got you so… so slicky.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “Means it was good, right?”

“Beyond. ‘Good’ is like… like one colour out of a whole rainbow for how that just felt.” 

He’s beaming down at you and kisses you again, lingering there. 

When he finally separates from you, his caressing thumb comes to wipe some slick at the corner of your lip. You grab his hand and kiss each of his fingers lightly. Then you lick down his long index finger, your tongue finding and following a scar up his hand to his wrist.

You look into his eyes, and he’s staring at you, transfixed. 

“I was thinking about your fingers when you were rolling the spliff.” 

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh. 

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

“How beautiful your hands are. How they’d feel touching me… How your fingers would feel inside me…”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wanna find out?”

“Yes,” you moan. 

“Get them nice and wet for me, and I’ll show you.” They’re already lingering at your lips, but he slowly pushes them in. You welcome them enthusiastically and lazily suck on them, swirl your tongue around them.

“Fuck.” His voice is low. “Fuck, I want to feel everything there is to feel with you.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your mouth still full. 

Remus takes his fingers out, kisses you, and lets his mouth stay on yours as his fingers trace down your chin, your chest, your stomach steadily, leaving a wet path. When they reach between your legs, you squirm in anticipation. 

He rubs a couple of tight, slow circles on your clit. You’re so sensitive, and it feels amazing. You mewl into his mouth where it still hovers just above yours. 

“Ready, my sunshine?” 

“Mmhhmm.”

Remus pushes two fingers into you ever so slowly. You release a low, slow whine the whole time he takes to press in. He gives you gentle kisses, eating it up. When his fingers are in to the hilt, you wonder how you didn’t feel devastatingly empty every moment of your life before this one. When he adds a third, you’re sure you will every moment after.

You clench purposefully around him, and he moans into your mouth. Closing your eyes again, it’s the easiest thing to let yourself be consumed by the sensations, by Remus. 

When he curls his fingers inside you, you clench again, this time automatically. You grip his hair and clutch his back, your arms pulling his body close to yours. 

The spot he starts massaging feels like it’s a blazing fire, but everywhere else you’re connected, your chests, your mouths, is scattered scalding embers.

You’re savouring every second, every sensation, already feeling another high building but relishing in the time it’ll take to get there. 

You run your hands down Remus’s back, feeling the bumps of his scars, the grooves of his defined muscles. For the first time all afternoon, you feel a desire to hurry… 

You start moving your hips to meet his rhythm, eager, even more than for your own climax, for your turn to take your time on him. 

pt. 2!

[cherryspicest]

Assurance

male reader x Ahn Yujin

Though it was a bad decision to earn a rival's trust, you still tried despite the consequences you may face.

It was a perfect time to bring her car for a downhill mountain ride as the sun sets down into the thick clouds, the majestic sight of Seoul down from the mountain hoping if only the people down there could hear her Lancer IX roar in each pull she makes. A woman like her driving such an iconic JDM car is any guy’s dream woman, but remembering she’s one of Chaewon’s rivals is a reason not to be attached with her too much. Despite her teammates like Wonyoung, who drives a violet Rx8 or Rei who owns a R34 skyline, Yujin’s vibe is entirely a different yet unexplainable level of coolness from theirs.

She would sometimes land a glance at you amid the trip while you enjoy your moment sitting in the passenger seat -inside joke of you being called a Passenger Princess without the double ‘S’. Even with the amount of urge to look back at her wild, yet attractive visuals, you decide to ignore and pretend as if you didn’t care.

“You know you’re too dumb to think you’re safe enough to ride into someone’s car knowing the person right next to you . . . “ she pauses to give you a slow look of  disappointment. “Is someone who pointed a gun at you a while ago?”

You find yourself chuckling in her words. She’s indeed a threat, a look of someone who wouldn’t spare you nor who’d kill you with a barbecue stick possible. But for what? You think that killing you is definitely a waste of time as you don’t even serve any special purpose rather than being a male guy who beats a racer like her.  

“You’ll just waste a bullet at me I guess, plus I really imagined myself sitting inside your car. A Lancer Evo is something that would crumble my heart to be honest.” 

Your words are enough to make her look away, speechless as you sight a small curve forming into the corner of her lips afterwards. You never expect such a small compliment could make a tigress passive once again -or maybe you are just assuming too much. 

“Chaewon must have put enough steroids on your car just to beat me didn’t she?” Yujin says in a plain tone as if it was a regular thing to her. “Your car is the most bullshit thing to see in a Hakone, yet you manage to beat me with it.” After passing several curved roads, she looks at you and takes guesses of what Chaewon had inserted into your GTO. She manages to guess almost everything right -weight reduction? Right she had made a wide and long light as her Evo V, swapped engine? Yes, she made your car scream like a Skyline. Much as you want to agree, you keep yourself shut; you still don’t trust Yujin that much.

“But still, I like your car more.” You say, and she meets your eyes. You feel the car slow down, the engine gets quieter as Yujin pulls the car beside a metal railing where the view of Seoul is clearly seen. Though it may be dangerous to stop a car in the middle of a road, it’s Yujin, she never cares for the rules.

A smile forms into her lips after she chuckles, and it’s way more visible than before. It’s common to see her resting bitch face every time when it turns out that she looks prettier when she brightens up. With the gothic styled shorthair, and a ‘Tomboy’ vibe attitude, who would even expect her to achieve such a smile. You who’s lucky enough to see it, you’re here to keep it

“I never expect that the person whom I wanted to put down, is the first person who would admire my work.” Afterwhile, she hides the smile again. “Most guys would choose my teammate's car, why would you even choose mine who’s evidently plain and boring?”

“Guys have different tastes” You answer confidently. “One likes the ricers one, one likes the simple ones. I could tell that the car design reflects the driver’s personality. For me, the people who're minimalist with their design just simply love racing and keeping up with fellow racers like them while ignoring the attention of the crowd. Someone that never pretends to be a new one just for attention, and rather who’d be herself despite the criticism she may face.”

She keeps her eyes at you, finally the first moment you see her face you for a long time. And with that, a short silence fills the atmosphere before she looks down, and moves herself to face at the front. She rests both of her hands against the top of the steering wheel while she leans herself into it. 

“You okay?” You concern, even with the high urge of placing a tap on her back, you flee it away. Maybe it was your words that made her quiet for a moment, but perhaps it was not. She doesn’t seem to be the type of person who’d feel down for some sweetly dramatic words. 

She murmurs a “mhm” while her face is rested against her arms. You didn’t ask for more, you didn’t want to be the type of person who’d throw more questions because the answer wasn’t enough. Though you weren’t satisfied, her head starts to face you with tired eyes.

“Why are you so kind to me?” she says with a hint of worry. “You must be doing this on purpose. You want me to be with your team? The answer is obvious, kid, you just wasted your time”

Shaking your head in disagreement seems to confuse her more, along with the chuckle you let out. 

“Then why?”

“Because I know you’re different from your team. You’re the only rival I faced who played fairly against me . . . . someone who wouldn't try to cross the line just to beat me.” 

When a smile once again forms into her lips, your unnecessary thoughts get clear out again; the thought of her playing easy on you because she may know you’re just a one piece of a waste of time. 

“Who in their right mind would even be so confident to stay around me?” She pulls the key out from the starter knob, then opens the door. Her eyes glances at you as soon as she steps outside. “I bet you will choose to smell fresh air here rather than staying there.” and she closes the door. 

No choice, not really but she hits the right point. You follow her outside where she sits over the metal railing despite her ass getting beyond the space which she didn’t seem to care about. Her eyes widened when you left a meter of space between you and her after you sat, even with the little hint of ‘sit beside me’ you decided to act like you don’t care. Though playing hard to get didn’t last that long when she motions her head at you to sit right next to her. 

“You know Wonyoung would kill you if she sees you with me.” You remind as you rest your hands against the railing. She starts to jiggle her keys on her index finger, and in surprise she never shows any reaction to your question. 

“She wouldn’t, she’s just a brat who doesn't even have the courage to pull the trigger once you’re there.” She answers while she maintains eyes at the spinning keys. “Yeji made a really bad decision when she gave Wonyoung the control of our group.”

“Why didn’t she pick you?”

She forces a frown while she shrugs at your question. “I don’t know, I’m not even worthy to be the leader of the group. I mean Gaeul is there, she’s the eldest among us. Rei can be because she knows more about Japanese cars. There’s nothing special about me, kid. Don’t force it.”

“I’m not forcing it. I’m asking because that’s what I see about you.” You argue in a calm demeanor. You manage to catch her attention with your answer, looking at you with eyes of curiosity while it maintains the non-friendly vibe. 

“I know you’re the type of person who listens carefully, someone who’s understanding deep inside. I don’t know, I can’t explain but that’s what I see about you. I mean you had the opportunity to shoot me back at your tavern, but you decided to listen to me even if I’m part of the rivalry team.”

“How can you be so confident about it?” Yujin raises an eyebrow at you, for what she assume you can’t answer until you smile and point a finger at her.

“You just listened to my words right now. You understood every word I said.”

You manage to form a pretty smile on her lips afterwards, wider and brighter that seeing it was enough to brighten you as well. She pushes your shoulder, then closes her eyes to make a deep breath. 

“You’re really ridiculous, kid.” She sighs. 

“Believe it or not it’s fine . . .” You give out your courage to place your hand over her shoulder that immediately catches her eyes. Her eyes widens for a second, but shortly accepts it. “Just remember that there’s a person who would understand you.”

The sun has settled down and the sky has begun to turn orange which Yujin watched upon. She turns around to enjoy the beautiful skylines of Seoul a few miles below the mountain, and you accompany her as well. It feels like this was a date, yet it feels illegal as well.

When the skies turned dark, it was time to leave. Even if you wished that moment should’ve been longer, you had to accept that everything comes to an end. You stand up together as she walks first closer to her car, she suddenly turns around and throws you the car’s key which you luckily catch. 

“You like my car, right?” She chuckles and motions her head. “Show me how you can handle it.”

How lucky you are, it was a dream come true. For countless times sitting on the passenger seat, wishing your hands to be on that wheel, finally she gives you the chance to feel it. You didn’t hesitate to accept it. You rush into the driver’s door until you see multiple headlights appear from the distance that seem to head your way. Yujin notices it, and she steps outside the car right away, standing beside you.

“It’s Wonyoung.” she hisses

“Fuck, we need to leave.” Your answer didn’t seem to satisfy her. When you are about to open the door, she pulls your forearm

“That wouldn’t save you from the eyes of my team.” She faces you, and swallows, taking a deep sigh before meeting your eyes. “Make out with me.”

“What?” 

It was too late for assurance and questions when she crashes her lips into yours. Your arm that was lately in the door’s handle, is now in Yujin's grasp. She pushes you hard, the hardness of the window’s visor wasn’t enough to hurt you as you only feel Yujin’s mouth that’s dominating yours. No hesitation, no what and if’s, you accept that this is happening. She dives her tongue inside yours, her hands guiding yours into her hips where you enjoy the curvature she had. And when the approaching cars seem to get louder and closer, she starts to moan between make outs. 

Now that the car has stopped right at both of you, she starts to slow down. The sound of the door opening was the cue for her to stop, looking at your lips for a while before she turns around to face them. It was indeed Wonyoung along with the other members in each car.

“Yah, am I supposed to believe what I’m seeing?” Wonyoung scoffs, a tone of disbelief can be heard in her words. Yujin places her hand against your chest.

“It wasn’t hard to convince this asshole though.” Yujin answers, glancing at you then returning at hers. “Told you everything can be handled if you do what men really wishes for”

“Assholes” Gaeul adds while she slowly starts to lean against her Fairlady Z32’s fender. “They never changed.”

Yujin gives her a smirk. Wonyoung makes a quick peek at you -in a look of disappointment that seems to criticize your whole soul within that second- then returns her eyes to Yujin. You feel your heartbeat racing when you see the gang silent all at once, there is nowhere to escape from them especially from Wonyoung who seemed displeased.

Wonyoung rests her arm over the hood of her Rx8. “Then I’m expecting good news from you, better not waste my time.”

“Chaewon is up for nothing. But she seemed to make more cars to beat the hella out of us.” Yujin answers confidently while Wonyoung returns a loud yet cute giggle.

“Right Chaewon, that girl would do anything just to prove she’s better than everyone else.” Wonyoung rolls her eyes, and starts to open her door. “I don’t care if she’s the Seoul Tempest or what, I’m pretty sure her car would die out in the amount of curves Hanseong pass has.” Just before she enters back into her car, Wonyoung gives you another look. “Hey Y/n, once I knew you snitched on us. Remember that I know where you live, you seem to have a great family with you, hopefully you don’t disappoint them.”

Everything ends with Wonyoung giving a threat to you, and somehow it was the second time of her talking to you again. Her friends start to take their cars as the Rx8 takes the lead, roaring off into the empty road as you watch the group leave the spot- though it may seem a perfect time to finally breathe in relief, not until you realize the words Wonyoung left you before she flew off.

Yujin keeps her back at you, sighing and slowly turning around to face you when she sees her team’s presence is finally gone. From that emotionless woman you had stayed with several hours ago, now seems to disappear from this world when she turns to you with slight worry in her face.

“Sorry.” She speaks out in a mixture of disappointment and relief. “I couldn’t think of any way to save you from them.”

“It’s fine’ You force a smile, and give her a light nod. “At least it worked anyways”

[itaipava]

— carlos sainz falling in love with you.

carlos always thought you were beautiful, but he truly fell in love with the beauty inside you; he slowly starts to fall in love with more than just your looks, like the way your eyes fill with so much passion and life when you talk about something you love, or the way you spend so much time clumsily baking a cake just to brighten your friend’s day, or even the way you smile at him… god, he’s so lost.

he looks at you a lot; sometimes knowing and sometimes without knowledge, because he just can’t help it, it’s like you attract him in an inexplicable way; and there’s a certain kind of warmth and purity in his eyes, like he says “i’m so lost in you, and i honestly don’t want to find myself anymore.’ but sometimes there is also a feeling of sadness in his eyes as if he senses that he is picking up on feelings for someone who may not feel the same; that you could break his heart into pieces and he would allow it. and when you playfully ask him why he’s looking at you like that, he smiles, his eyes softening before saying, “you know why”,

he protects and cares for you in little ways; he puts his arm in front of you or protects you with his body in crowded places. when it rains suddenly, he covers your head with his jacket or borrows his umbrella. he offers to accompany you to your home every nigh and, when he takes you home, he waits until you are safely inside your house before he leaves. his hand hovers over your face to shield your eyes from the sun when it gets too sunny. and to be honest, he’s too eager to let you wear his sweatshirt or jacket when you show the slightest sign of cold. he also always takes some extra snacks in case you need.

he loves touching you: putting his hand on your back while you go somewhere, putting his arm around you, gently pulling you close, holding your hand, holding your waist while you talk to him — and course he will only do these things if you feel comfortable and okay, because he respects you a lot and just wants to see you well. he loves having this moment with you; this touch and this intimacy. sometimes for you it may be something normal that any friend would do, but for him it is something he will never forget and he feels butterflies in his stomach every single time.

he subtly makes it clear that he only has his eyes for you; when others are talking about people they think are beautiful and their ideal types, he never joins the conversation, and if you’re there, he looks at you very often. if someone asks him to describe his ideal type, his mind immediately goes to you as he describes your qualities and characteristics. in a room full of people, he always wonders where you are as his eyes look around, the passionate smile on his face when you look at him from across the room, in a matter of seconds he’s coming to you to hug you.

he invites you everywhere and just wants excuses to be around you; “so it’s at a <specific time and place>, you know, just in case you change your mind and want to join us.” or “my birthday party this saturday; you will be there, right?” he says with a beam of light and a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he stands in front of you. wherever he is, he always chooses the seat next to yours, even though there are so many empty seats.

he asks you to do small favours for him. he doesn’t even think much of it; he’s just naturally drawn to you. you’re the first person he thinks of and wants to go to if he needs or wants something. and they’re usually very little favours like asking you to choose a colour for a new shirt that he’s buying or borrowing your pen when he forgets to bring one — even if others offer him, he politely refuses because it’s yours that he wants.

he loves talking to you more than anything, and even though he’s far away he still has a way to chat with you; whether through messages or calls or facetime, whenever anything happens, good or bad, you’re always the first person he thinks to tell. no matter how far away you are, you’re always completely up to date on everything that is going on in his life. you’ve never woken up without a good morning text or went to sleep without him calling you and asking about your day.

he becomes softer and more indulgent; he willingly puts up with your teasings and sass without retaliating much. if you pay just a bit of attention, you’ll see the little lingering smile on his face at your witty remarks. others find it equally frustrating and nauseatingly cute how unabashedly biased he is towards you; they’re all trying to convince him to follow them to a new restaurant and carlos puts up a good fight, saying no but the moment they mention you’ll be there, he immediately says “okay, what time?”

[thetriplets3]

hello, may i please request a fic where the reader is admiring Matt's facial hair? tysm my friend ♡

❁ smitten ❁

We’re laying under your covers watching whatever movie you ended up choosing, since I picked last time. You lie slightly propped up against your bed frame, watching the movie intently as I lie on my side with my head resting on your arm. I find myself being more fascinated by you rather than the movie. I lie there admiring every inch of your face, most importantly your stubble.

I’ve never been a fan of stubble, but you’ve changed my mind; you can make anything look good. It suits you so perfectly, enhancing your already perfect bone structure. Something about you having facial hair makes you look so much older and mature, it just makes my heart swell. I could look at you forever. Your eyes still haven’t left the tv, you’re too focused on the movie that I couldn’t care less about because I have you to look at. You are far more fascinating than any movie.

“It’s creepy to stare at someone for this long, ya know” You say with a smirk on your face.

My cheeks grow pink with embarrassment as I shift my attention to the tv letting out a small “Oh, uh, sorry”.

You pause the movie, sensing a shift in my energy. “Hey, I was just joking, you know I don’t care if you stare, it doesn't bother me,” you say as you rub your thumb over my shoulder, your voice filled with sweetness and concern that you’ve upset me.

I continue to stare at the tv, still a little embarrassed to make eye contact, “I know, it’s- it’s fine.”

“Can you look at me please? I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed. What’s on your mind? What made you zoned out earlier?” you ask as you gently grab my face to get me to look at you.

“You. I was just admiring your facial hair. I think it looks really good on you. I like the way it defines your features, you look older in a good way, more mature. It makes you even more attractive. I didn't think you could get more attractive but you did. I don’t know it’s silly but I just like looking at you, you make my heart flutter,” I quietly say, fiddling with the drawstrings on your hoodie.

“I love that even after a year and a half of being together I still give you butterflies. You give me butterflies too, everytime I look at you,” you say with love dripping from your voice.

I finally make eye contact with you and give you a shy smile. The eye contact doesn’t last long as my eyes drift to your facial hair. I bring my hand up to rub my thumb against it. I can’t help but smile as I do so, you make my heart feel full.

“I think facial hair is my favorite look on you, it suits you so well. God, I love you so much my heart is doing back flips right now,” I gush.

“I guess I can keep it for a little longer knowing how much you love it but I’m shaving it once I can’t stand it” you say.

“You’ve got a deal. You better get used to me staring at you more often. It's not my fault you look good no matter what,” I say as you pull me in closer for a kiss.

Taglist:

@im-a-matt-girl @stxrniqlo @iluvmatt @antisocialties

[crush3dmary]

I wasn't going to post about this because it felt too vulnerable, but I think that might be what I need right now. 8 years ago today I attempted suicide and came the closest I've ever come to succeeding. These are my reflections on 8 years.

On September 27th, 2016, I took a month and a half of lithium and came the closest I’ve ever been to succeeding at killing myself. At the time, I saw it as just another failure to add to my ever-increasing list of them. Now, I don’t know what I think, but I’ve learned things since that have not brought me peace.

At the time, I had been suicidal for weeks, and I had a detailed plan for how I’d finally do it. I struggled through shift after shift at my shitty, dead-end retail job where I faked a smile, wondering if anyone could tell that beneath the exterior, all I wanted was to die. But we need to take it back further than that for anyone to really understand. This is the most vulnerable I will ever let myself be.

I am a psychiatric survivor, and I am also a victim of severe abuse, primarily sexual. I choose to think of myself as a victim rather than a survivor because since the age of 14 I’ve felt like a shell of a person in ways I don’t feel regarding my medical trauma. My internal scarring is so severe my ob/gyn says I will likely never have children, and I have damage to my parietal lobe from having multiple concussions in the same area of the brain. When I finally disclosed to a psychiatrist what I had been through, she told me it was one of the most severe cases of abuse she’d ever seen. That is all I will disclose of my experiences until my abuser has left this earth.

I have been diagnosed with everything you can think of at one point or another. My medical records practically recite the DSM-V. Right now, my diagnoses are bipolar-type schizoaffective disorder, borderline personality disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder, but I don’t care what label you want to put on it, because at the end of day, I am a product of my experiences.

I grew up as the oldest of three (now four, as I have a baby half-brother now). Growing up, I didn’t understand how my two younger sisters could handle their emotions, but I couldn’t. Every single thing I felt, felt like it would drown me. I experience all my emotions as physical sensations that I can feel throughout my entire body, and it manifests as literal chronic pain. My entire childhood, it was “stop crying”, “nobody else is upset about this”, “I don’t understand what the problem is”, but that’s the theory behind borderline, isn’t it? Borderline personality disorder is what happens when you take a sensitive child with big emotions and consistently invalidate them over and over again. As such, they never learn how to deal with their strong emotions and they turn inwards on themselves. That is exactly what happened to me.

My emotions cause me literal pain. It hurts every day. When my BPD gets triggered, it feels like my veins are on fire beneath my skin, like someone is trying to claw their way under my ribs, like there’s something inside of me that feels so horrible I just want to die. I am a lifetime self harmer, because it’s the only way I am able to bring myself down in those moments - to take the emotional pain inside of me and make it physical the only way I can. I’ve accepted by now that I will never stop.

The first time I had an intrusive thought about suicide, I remember being 11 years old. It has not stopped since. That’s where the suicide-type OCD comes in - I live every day with graphic intrusive thoughts about all the ways I should kill myself. This happens even on the best days of my life, it’s there, waiting to taunt me, to tell me that I should just die and here’s how I should do it. I have thought about suicide every single day for almost 20 years. The first time I made a plan was at 11, and my first attempt was at 14. I am chronically suicidal.

The first time I died was in 2016. That September, I was so overwhelmed with all the things that had happened to me and everything I’ve spent almost my entire life having to live with that I made a plan. I thought I would never get better. On September 26th, I went to the psychiatric emergency department at St Joseph’s in Hamilton and told them I had a plan to kill myself, and that if they sent me home, I would act on it. They did not take me seriously, because why would anyone trust another manipulative, hysterical borderline? Dr. Janet Alice Patterson, who I still partially blame, told me to make an appointment with a psychiatrist, gave me a very strong dose of a sedative, and sent me home. 

When I got home, I took all the lithium I had and called 911 so that the paramedics would find my body instead of my family. I spent four days hooked up to machines, and as far as I’m aware my heart actually did stop briefly, but it’s not like I can remember most of those four days I spent in the ICU. What I do remember was waking up not knowing where I was, not even being sure if I was alive or if this was hell, because there’s no way I’d be going to the other place. Around me was a doctor and a gaggle of residents who weren’t much older than me, all looking at me like I was an animal. The doctor asked me a few questions to determine whether I was still at risk to myself, and then she turned around and talked to the residents about my medical history as if I wasn’t even in the room. I could hardly respond after having a tube down my throat. This was the lowest moment of my life, and I was a case study to them.

After that I did trauma therapy, three rounds of DBT, and CPT. I tried medication after medication, and I improved my situation. I went on to get a degree in social work and finished with a 90% average. My former diagnosis of PTSD was rescinded. I was considered “recovered”. Do you know what I learned from all of that?

I learned that no, actually, it doesn’t get better. I thought if I did all the right things my chronic emotional pain would go away, the daily (sometimes hourly, sometimes half-hourly) intrusive thoughts about killing myself would stop. I thought if I did what all the doctors told me, I’d “get better”. And I did. But I don’t like what “better” ended up looking like.

Sure, my situation improved. In fact, I pretty much have my dream life, in some ways. I have a fulfilling career and my dream job, I have a wife who loves me, I have a cat who sleeps at the foot of my bed, I have a fancy piece of paper I can put on my wall to show I graduated from college with distinction. I should be happy, but I’m not. It still hurts every day. My emotions still overwhelm me to the point of physical pain, and I still think about suicide multiple times a day. You just learn to live with it. 

And that’s the worst part. Expecting all of it to go away if you do what the doctors tell you to and you make all the right choices on your own, only to realize that when you’re royally fucked, this is just what life is going to be like. And you have to keep choosing life over and over again. You have to find reasons to keep going, even when it hurts so much you think the chronic emotional pain will kill you before you can do it with your own hands.

I’ve only ever met one person who’s understood what this is like. The only other person I’ve met who also had suicide-type OCD and BPD was my roommate when I was moved up to psychiatry in the hospital that day. Me and O fell in love very quickly, and we spent the next two years in a whirlwind of whatever you could even call our relationship until the day she killed herself. The only other person who knew what this was like - for your emotions to swallow you whole and be chronically suicidal every day of your goddamn life - and she killed herself because it hurt too much. From the day she died in 2018, I have never felt more alone.

I have been considered “in remission” since 2019. I’m one of the ones who “got better”. I don’t feel “better”, because it doesn’t get better. Your situation improves, sure, but you spend your whole life fighting that thing in your head that says you don’t deserve to be here anymore. And that’s what they don’t tell you. All the stories about recovery make it sound like it’s some hurdle you overcome. No, that hurdle never goes away. You keep fighting it until you can’t anymore.

I wish my reflection on eight years could be more positive than this, but here we are. It doesn’t get better. Sorry to be the one to say it.

[darkfictionjude]

💌

📨

📜 ➡️ 🔍 ⤵️

Hello! It's been a while since I last played We Wretched Creatures, and I instinctively hovered to the left expecting to find the back button, only to realize…it wasn't there 🙉.

Personally, I rely on it to save on save slots. I use the saves at the beginning of new episodes, for critical choices or events. The back button is when I want to see how a character reacts to a different dialogue option than what my MC would normally choose, or when I need to backtrack because this time I picked a choice that didn't reflect my character well ( non self-inserting readers will understand ). It's handy for non native speakers and for those who have trouble grasping the real meaning/ intention behind a choice or even for those who restarted the game, breezing through it, picking their usual choices and accidentally end up misclicking another, without the need to redo the episode. For example, when we got to pick a clothing style only the name of the style was listed but the actual clothes were detailed once the style chosen, I didn’t like what I ended up with and I didn’t save for a while before that so I had to restart the chapter.

Without the back button, I find myself saving at flavour/ aesthetic choices like these in addition to the beginning of an episode and at major decisions. However, the limited number of save slots means I resort to unnamed disk saves ( multiple ), which I then have to search for in my countless downloads and try each of them to end up with the one I am looking for ( run game -> load disk save -> downloads pop up -> search for the save -> wrong one -> go back to browser -> load disk save -> downloads pop up -> search for the save -> wrong one ->… ). When I could just “ turn back a page “, now I have to search for that particular page among dozens because no matter what “ the bookmarks “ always end up scattered which honestly makes what was supposed to be a leisure reading feels like a chore.

Believe me when I say horror was the last genre I thought I would end up liking, but playing 💪🥊 WWC 🥊💪 made me realize it wasn’t so bad. I was in literal tears when we had to hide from the white draped mouth blower ( the vivid description of that scene made it incredibly easy to visualize, especially the way the "ghost" breathed. I find that this applies to the whole IF, the words used to describe what's going on are as straightforward as can be, which removes nothing of the horror element. I am also fond of the ads that serve as interludes ). I still randomly get mental images of the cheese rats ? mice ? that spill blood when hurt ( instead of liquified cheese ?! ) and I have never felt more disgusted when I think of cheese. I never thought that reading horror would make me actually feel the fear and enjoy it, but you did, and I still get caught by surprise even with the back button. 

I have been meaning to continue where I left off, but just thinking about the amount of work saving and loading will require I feel discouraged. Please bring back^2 button-kun 🙊💗. Also 👀, Nia is of Algerian🇩🇿 descent ? ( glad to see some representation in IF format ).

So I’ve had this question before and I’ve said the say thing: I’m sorry but I don’t want to do that 😭 it’s a choice I made and there’s nothing I see wrong with it given many ifs have the same thing and no one says anything. I’m a non-native English speaker too so I get it but I can’t think of every problem every player can have, that’s not fair to me.

The very reason I made this choice is for the reason you stated, that there are certain critical choices I want to actually be felt. What’s the point in me making choices that I want to have an impact and not be taken back and someone can just click the back button and undo it? To me that just means the choices don’t matter and that there’s no point in me caring about what I write to get myself and you guys excited because it can be so easily undone. In video games the thrill is sometimes messing up or saving to try again, not clicking back immediately. In books main character make choices that will have consequences. IF blends these two things together. I guess maybe on the other side as a reader, you not understand what I mean but since I put so much work in this already can’t I have it matter in-game? It’s not too much to ask for. Given that I put so much work in (300,000+ words) is it awful for me to ask the readers to be slightly inconvenienced?

I hope I don’t sound offended or angry at you nonnie, I swear I’m not. It’s just when people ask me this I feel they think I did this just be an asshole and not because I had a reason. I’m trying to give my pov. You can dislike the choice but please don’t ask me to undo it because then all it ends up doing is making me feel bad and then I’ll add it against my own wishes and that will motivate me to just stop really caring about what I’m writing if it can so easily be undone and this will be just another IF that gets abandoned

Although for the clothing options I will end a return button like I did for the faking dating side quest countries section.

Thank you for your kind words on the game itself though, I tried my best to have the ROs have background not that common and I’m so happy people liked the morgue scene I was really doubting it’s potential when I wrote it 💜

[askbensolo]

Fannie said she wants to marry you

You know…I’m not so sure she does anymore.

I, uh…apologized to her for blowing up the other day, but…yeah, well…

I mean, I woke up the next morning and reread what I wrote, and I realized that I blew some stuff out of proportion and took some things personally and wasn’t very nice—okay, I was kind of mean—but isn’t that kind of normal for me?—and I told her so, and I said I was sorry, but…

She told me I was a difficult person.

My mom has said I was a difficult baby. And that I was a difficult toddler, and a difficult kid, and a difficult teenager. So is it any wonder that I grew up to be a difficult guy?

“People can choose to change, you know,” Fannie said, then shook her head kind of sadly. “But Ben…why did you say that I would always be a better person than you? I wasn’t born a better person. Choosing to make good decisions, choosing the light, is something I work at every day. And I just feel that, if you have this sort of view that I’ll always be better than you…perhaps you’re not very interested in growing as a person, and…as much as I love you—even though I love you so much, it hurts—I could never…” Twin tears rolled down her cheeks. “I could never be with someone who chooses not to grow.”

I was stunned. But also, not fully surprised. Because it was kind of insane to think that anyone would have ever loved me like that to begin with.

I looked her in the eyes. “So…love is never really unconditional,” I said. “People say it is, but…it’s not. Right?”

She sighed and wiped her face.

“Ben…I will always love you with the unconditional love that I have for all, for the Force flows through all,” Fannie said. As if she’d practiced that specific sentence a dozen times. “And of course I will always cherish you as one of my dearest friends. But…my choice to be with you—to be with you like this—is very conditional. As it ought to be.”

“You told me that you don’t believe in divorce,” I countered. “That if you ever got married, you wouldn’t end things, no matter what.”

“Which is why I must be extremely careful about who I choose to date, and who I choose to marry,” she replied.

I felt my heart rate go up. My arms started tingling. I began to feel like I was mere moments away from losing something very important.

“Fan…you started all of this,” I said. “You chose me. You knew who I was. You knew what I’m like. You said you loved me with all of my flaws. All my issues.”

“And I do. I do love you, even with all your issues. But I would not have you hold onto them and never grow out of them. It’s okay that you’re not perfect. You’ll never be. I’ll never be. But it’s important to me that you’re trying.”

“You think I don’t try?”

“You tell me,” she said softly. “Are you trying? Do you seek the light within yourself? Do you work to bring balance inside of you?”

She blinked, and bit her lip a little. And I realized she wasn’t trying to challenge me—she was actually asking. Hoping I’d have some kind of emphatic answer in the affirmative. Trying to convince herself that there was hope for me—hope for us.

I couldn’t say anything. A fathier in the headlights. Because…I knew the answer to her question, and…I knew it wasn’t good.

The silence dragged on. And each second spelled doom.

“…Well,” I said at last. My throat felt dry. “You’re right, Fan. We’ll always be friends. And, speaking as your friend…you probably shouldn’t even consider being with a loser like me.”

“Ben…that’s not what I…”

But I ended the call. Because my head was full. Because my hands were shaking. Because I was scared what she was gonna say to me. Because suddenly I was five and my parents were gonna leave me at Jedi school forever. Suddenly I was twelve and I was crying myself to sleep in the dark. Suddenly I was seventeen and Snoke had removed his presence from me and abandoned me to die. And now I was twenty-three, and everything was just the same as it had ever been, and I knew I would always be alone…

Then I tracked down Poe and convinced him to down a couple beers with me and play Podracing Simulator till 1am (which took no convincing at all, him being Poe) because I was desperately trying to rot my brain outta my skull.

So…that’s where that’s at, now.

[mittensmorgul]

There’s another post going around about this, but tumblr won’t let me reblog it but...

When I read a story written by a human being, I’m not just reading it because I want to read a coffee shop AU with a specific plot description. I’m reading it because it’s making a connection to another human storyteller and seeing a piece of them carved into the words. Storytelling is a human act of sharing joy, angst, tension, resolution, satisfaction. It’s an act of love.

Writing and reading a story isn’t just an act of creation and consumption. I hate that commercialism and AI are reducing it to that sort of transaction. Like oh, you need words on this subject and that’s the end of it. Like what we really needed was just a vending machine we can push buttons on to get a fix, as if the human creating the story wasn’t a factor. That the author’s life experience and views and feelings haven’t infused the words with their own unique touches.

I’ve read hundreds of coffee shop AU’s over the years (and thousands of fics in general). I’ve seen many similar tropes reused across stories, and just like an AI would, I’ve learned things about writing them that I will always carry with me. But unlike an AI, a human author is not just the sum total of coffee shop AU’s we’ve consumed. Even if we used the same prompt, the same sets of tropes, the same characters. I will always choose the human-crafted story over the computer generated one.

Because again, I’m not just looking for a very specific fix via a series of words. I’m looking for a human connection through story.

Unlike an AI, I have BEEN to a coffee shop. I’ve had experiences in coffee shops. I’ve had funny little meet-cutes with people. I’ve accidentally spilled coffee on myself and knocked heads with someone as we both rushed to wipe it up. I know what it FEELS like. The machine doesn’t.

I’ve also read millions of things that aren’t fanfic, or coffee shop AU’s. I’ve experienced things OTHER than going to coffee shops and having meet-cutes. And I know what all those things feel like when processed through my personal human lens of experience, which is different from every other personal human lens of experience.

All the machine can do is spit out what it THINKS a human experience is, and I honestly don’t care about that at all. Fic is not a “product” to be “generated.” It’s an art form that connects us to other people who share the same love of a thing that we do.

People who, even when all writing the same characters in the same setting to the exact same prompt, will all add something or have a viewpoint about something or bring a completely different personality and life experience to the story that no one else on the planet could. That’s what I’m actually reading.

[anaslair]

haiii! i saw your matchups so i wanted to see who you think i’d be good with!

according to online quizzes my godly parent is Dionysus (which is fair). I’m transmasc (they/he) and i don’t really have a dating preference, anyone is fine! Uh i really like to draw/write and i love photography, if you dropped me off in the woods i would entertain myself for hours and come back with millions of photos- I get really bad anxiety over social things, i struggle to order my own food or ask for things. When i worry i get bad stomach aches and sort of shut down during the day. Uhmmmmm I’m an INFJ if that helps! i despise medical offices (the dentist or the doctors) and i cannot stand needles- i will do anything and everything to get out of getting my flu shot. music is one of the most important things to me, i love physical CDs and i love making playlists on spotify for every possible mood i could be in. and finally i am 18, so aged up characters or older characters for sure!

LISTEN!! I was caught up between two people for you🫵👁️👁️ but after meticulously thinking about it, I hope you like who I ended up going with :)

For some matchups I love doing little drabbles or scenarios like this, I just cOULDNT RESIST with this one pls this was so fun to write. I hope you enjoy it anon🫶

Tysm for requesting!! Have a great day <3

I match you with…

Will Solace!!

-Disclaimer-

All of the characters were aged up to meet with the requester’s age so I could choose from all of them!!

Things had finally quieted down on camp half blood’s infirmary after the whole fighting Gaea incident

On a span of a month, the injured were all properly taken care of, which meant the worst thing Will had to deal with all day was an arrow removal from someone’s ass after the latest game of capture the flag

Usual stuff

He was honestly about to check if one of the Stoll brothers could steal him some snacks to pass the time when he heard screaming from outside the front door

Welp

So much for no work☹️

Checking the window, he saw someone- no wait. It was two people, one of them definitely being the head counselor of the Dionysus cabin, and the other a very freaked out brother of theirs

Oh this was gonna be good

Opening the door, he crossed his arms as he caught the end of the discussion the siblings were having

“…swear by the gods I’ll NEVER catch the flu, I can PROMISE you that” You pleaded to your sibling and counselor

“How can you promise not to get sick? Quit the bs and get the damn shot already, you’re the only one in the cabin who hasn’t and I swear by our father’s name that if someone gets sick because of you and your fear of needles you’re going down” Your sibling threatened as they pushed you up the few steps of the infirmary’s entrance

“No wait WAIT- I’ll do anything you want, I’ll clean the whole cabin by myself before inspection” you begged

“Not if you get sick you won’t” your sibling said

“What if I swear by the river Styx I won’t get sick?” You asked

“Are you actually insane-“ Your sibling asked

“I swear by the river Sty-“ you interrupted

“Hey, okay. Let’s stop that before you get yourself fried up over a cold” Will interrupted you this time, probably saving you from the never ending pain of breaking an oath made by the river Styx

Honestly, that actually sounded better than getting the gods damned flu shot. You weren’t kidding when you told your sibling you couldn’t do needles, you felt like throwing up

“Special delivery for ya Will, Good luck!” Your sibling yelled as they betrayed you, power walking back to y’alls cabin

Leaving a slightly shaken you with a very amused Will

Inside the infirmary, your leg bounced up and down high speed as you sat on Will’s office, waiting for him to bring back something for your stomach which was already very upset with the stress the whole situation was causing you

“Here, a sip should do the trick” Will said as he gave you a small cup of nectar, which lessened your discomfort considerably

“Thanks” you muttered, still very much anxious

“Look, I’m not going to do it against your will, but I could make it practically painless. What do you say?” Will asked, looking for some supplies

“If I gave you like, three whole dracmas, would you tell my counselor I got the shot?” You quickly asked

“What?”

“Make it four, no- five! It’s all I have on me right now-“

“Look- just, let’s just breathe a little alright? I’m not taking that weak ass bribe. That wouldn’t even get me a ride on the Gray sisters taxi, pipe down” Will finished

You scoffed out an incredulous laugh, seemed like you weren’t getting out of this one

“How about some music?” Will suddenly asked as he eyed the portable CD player you were carrying

Demigods weren’t allowed to use a phone since it was practically a monster magnet, but you didn’t mind it much seeing as you absolutely loved collecting Physical CDs of your favorite artists and bands. If you had music, you were good

You nodded, maybe that would help

Will opened a cabinet which you thought was probably packed up with medical supplies

To your surprise, it was actually completely filled with CDs and vinil records, a full on collection on display

Will was Apollo’s son after all, music was a big deal for him too. Being the best healer of the Apollo cabin made him spend a lot of time in the infirmary, so music definitely helped him get through the day

Your eyes were practically shining as you stared at the cabinet. Will seemed to be looking for something specific in it

“Here! This is my favorite-“ Will said as he took a CD out of his collection, handing it to you

“Oh what the fuck” you interrupted, taking your cd player out and pressing a button to open it, showing Will what was inside

The exact same CD Will was holding out, from the exact same band

You both smiled at each other

That was the start of HOURS of conversation, y’all only sat back down when Will had showed you everything he had on that cabinet

The conversation was so fluid that you guys ended up talking about a lot of things, getting to know each other, finding out you had more in common than you thought

Will was very appreciative of the arts in general, being an Apollo kid, it came naturally to him

Just as you were talking about your photography obsession, you both heard a few knocks at the main infirmary entrance

“Will? Uh- you guys alright in there? Did it go well?” Your head counselor inquired hesitantly

“Shit”

You and Will eyed each other, your eyes wide

Will checked the time, you had only a a few minutes before the harpies would end anybody that was out of their cabins

You both had absolutely lost track of time

And weirdly, you didnt seem to mind

“Okay, we can do this. I’ll give you the shot now okay? I’m just going to let your sibling know, I’ll be right back” Will said as he quickly made his way to the main entrance

Okay maybe now you did mind it a little bit

And that’s how you ended up with your eyes tightly shut, sweating an abnormal amount while Will applied some rubbing alcohol where he was going to stab you apply the shot

“Hey, I swear you won’t feel a thing if you give me those dracmas you promised” Will tried to lighten the mood

You didn’t respond, heart beating fast, nerves about to explode

Then you felt a warm hand in your arm

“Hey, it’s alright”

You opened your eyes to see Will’s directly in front of yours

He had lowered himself so he was at your eye level. And he was close, really close

“You’re going to be alright.” His tone was lower, softer

“Here” He put the earphones of your CD player into your ears

As your favorite song started playing loudly in your ears, Will smiled, mouthing a “Trust me”

He got up, directing himself to our side to apply the shot

Your hand tightened around the chair’s handle, you were still nervous, but way less then before

But your heart was still beating fast. Strange.

“So, on three?” You asked Will

“Already done” Will said, cleaning your arm up

What

You looked up at him, absolutely baffled

Being a son of the god of healing really had its perks

“Told you it wouldn’t hurt” He smiled, winking while at it

And there it was again, your heart beating just a little bit faster

You were still silently watching him, your eyebrows raised high

“So, you said you liked to take pictures right? The strawberry field is insane in the morning” Will started as he threw the syringe he used on you away

“Want me to show you a nice spot tomorrow?” He asked, eyeing you with a small smile

“Ah- yeah, sure” you blurted out

“Okay then, it’s a date”

[vynegar]

Analysis: Which other NXX member it would be most painful for them to see Rosa choose instead of them

Tl;dr

Luke → Artem

Artem → Marius

Vyn → Marius

Marius → Artem

(it was actually an artemsweep until the last minute but we’ll get there)

I really wanted to be able to answer this question with a perfect 1:1 assignment where each member shows up once as the worst option for another, but I just couldn't get it to work. Mostly because of Luke; I don't think he'd be the most painful option for any of the members to see, since there's really no way you can compete with the childhood-friend-reunion AND he's a secret agent who's dying. I feel like the others would have to accept that, since they'd have no chance. He’s also the person who would stay the most aloof during the early (i.e. first year of the game) squabbles among NXX for Rosa’s attention, which separates him out as seeming more secure in his relationship with Rosa because everyone knows how important they are to each other.

Luke → Artem

The same feeling of separation that makes him an impossible choice for the others also made it a bit difficult to decide who it’d be hardest for him to see Rosa with. He’s very much his own biggest obstacle when it comes to them getting together, and the way he’s been concealing his feelings for about a decade makes it feel like he’d already be halfway resigned to Rosa being with someone else. His struggles when it comes to Rosa are so internalized that the pain of seeing the other NXX members just pales in comparison.

Vyn and Marius might worry him because of the danger that their status brings (where is the Luke reaction to hearing Rosa got kidnapped in Unconcealable!!), but sticking with the prompt of what would hurt the most to see, I would go with Artem. Since Artem was also someone who hid his feelings for a long time and tried to care for her from a distance, I think seeing Artem and Rosa together might make Luke think what could have been possible for him, and regret that he hadn't tried confessing. The game generally uses parallels between relationship dynamics to strike an emotional chord, so I think it’s fitting to choose the most similar relationship as the one that would hurt Luke the most.

Marius → Artem

As much as it pains me to not pick his ultimate petty-frenemy-teacher for Marius, I kept forcing myself to stick with the prompt and go from there. The important thing was what would “hurt” the most, so I decided to reason out who would strike the insecurities of each character the hardest. I also tried to think about any recurring themes in the storyline of each character, and that led me to Artem for Marius.

One of Marius’s biggest struggles is balancing the many facets of his life and personality. In Rosa, he’s found someone who not only accepts every face that he has, but also gives him space to take off the masks and truly be himself. Rosa was even instrumental in preventing him from sacrificing his artistic identity Z, so her support for him seems even more powerful and unique. If Rosa ended up with Artem, Marius would be losing that special presence in his life to someone who’s as straightforward and uncomplicated as they come. I think seeing that happen could make Marius question once again how feasible it is for him to keep every aspect of his identity, or at least whether he could find a partner who could handle it.

Another reason why Rosa is important to Marius is that he’s always longed for someone brave enough to face every adventure head-on with him. Marius is the one who most readily accepts Rosa taking the lead on things, their interactions and investigations feel the most like they’re on equal footing, and over and over Marius sees that she can hold her own in each part of his life, business, artistic, or personal. If Rosa were to be with Artem though, they would be partners in an even truer sense because of their shared profession in upholding the law, and that’s a connection that Marius could never have with her.

Artem → Marius

When I started thinking about this question, Artem was the only one I was certain of, and even when I was stumped on the others, I didn't want to give up on this post because I HAD to speak my truth re: Artem → Marius.

I know Artem and Vyn's prickly relationship is so memorable, but since I defined the question as "which person would it hurt to see the most", I had to pick Marius. Yes, Vyn would probably annoy Artem the most, but seeing Rosa with Marius would bring up all those doubts about him not being romantic, exciting, interesting enough for her. Marius is charming and trendy and youthful and perfect for hitting Artem’s insecurity of being awkward and inexperienced.

Vyn → Marius

Up until a few days ago, I actually had Artem down for Vyn (ARTEMSWEEP!!). Then when I decided I really wanted to consider this a meta and try to base it on analysis of canon, I thought over it, once again focusing on insecurities and any recurring themes in the card stories, and went back to Marius.

There are many similarities between Vyn and Marius, but many of the major struggles Vyn might have in the relationship are things that Marius doesn’t have to deal with or is too well-adjusted to be troubled by.

Marius enjoys a high social status on par with Vyn's, but he's free of the kinds of oppressive traditions and customs that caused Vyn to leave his home country. Despite the tragedy and difficulties they've experienced, Marius also has a genuinely loving and supportive family, who also have/had loving and committed relationships. Maybe partially as a result from these factors, Marius is still a relatively optimistic and idealistic person, even while being steeped in the cutthroat world of business. Vyn on the other hand has an extremely strained relationship with his family to the point that he struggles with the idea of it, has mostly seen romance in how it ruined his father, and has become cynical after growing up amongst cruelty and ridicule.

In addition, a major theme of Vyn's second year of cards has been the building desire that he has for Rosa, and his fear of it overwhelming him. Marius is similarly proactive in his romantic pursuit of Rosa, and one of the more forward LIs when it comes to seduction, but fearing that that desire might consume and destroy them isn’t one of the obstacles in Marius’s stories. This could be seen as another issue of Vyn’s that Marius is able to effortlessly keep in check. (I consider this more of a secondary point though, since it could just as easily be a point for Artem and his glacially-paced relationship of two dense bricks. (My other reason for picking Artem would have been too OOC, which is why we couldn’t have the Artemsweep, rip.))

--

Anyway thanks for reading and feel free to let me know if there are any choices you really agree or disagree with! There’s such a gap in canon with the way we never see other the other NXX members when we’re on a certain LI’s route, so things like this are interesting to think about.

*Bonus: if the question was “who would it piss them off the most to see Rosa with?”, it would ABSOLUTELY be a vynsweep with vyn → artem. no there is no reasoning for this it’s just something you feel with your gut

[bisexualboysbroadcast]

this was unbearably difficult to choose. I have a frankly absurd amount of favourite kisses and this list is non exhaustive and completely randomised because I physically could not bring myself to choose exactly five of my fave. in kinnporsche alone I have like 15 lmao

thank you to my darling @williamrikers for the tag! you’re angelic!

I tag:

@winnysatang @sparklyeyedhimbo @respectthepetty @porschekinn @nattawinlove-andmygaytea @jflower278 @corettaroosa @pose4photoml @scarefox @blmpff @khathastrophe @threezoz @charles-edwin @kinnporsche and of course anyone else who wants to hop on! (I’m sure a lot of you have been tagged already. please feel free to ignore)

propaganda:

I’m just gonna link the gifs and or vids that show off these kisses and you guys can make that decision <3

kinnporsche : yes this link does lead to a seven minute compilation of alllllll kinn and porsche’s kisses but the one I mention is in there and really who doesn’t want to relive the insanity of these two?

taikan yoho : maybe if you were someone’s oxygen and the only reason they could breathe and survive the turmoil of every day life you would understand (speaking from a place of insane jealousy)

never let me go : the pain. the care. the tension. oh my god the way palm would do ANYTHING to see nueng happy. what if i end it all right now? what then???

3 will be free : I actually don’t even remember if they kiss in this scene (they defs do in the scenes proceeding) but there was so much goddamn tension I felt my bones being strangled so you know what I think it’s safe to include

bed friend : you ever see something so hot you develop a psychological fixation with it? yea this is how I discovered new kinks of mine. whatever I’ve always been normal about them. do you believe me?

okay I love you MWAH! BYE!

[tigreblvnc]

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP — @atsu669

Your match is...

— Isagi Yoichi

✦ Fluffy.

✦ That’s the word that comes to mind when I read your bio.

✦ Fluffy.

✦ And as I often say: not everyone can handle fluffies.

✦ Right away, I ruled out all characters that displayed excessive, toxic, or unhealthy aspects from my choices to favor those who could create a positive ++ chemistry with you.

✦ I often have two preferred choices in terms of matchups: the duo ++ like with you and Isagi, and the duo +- where the + serves to bring balance and potentially help the - become a + in turn.

✦ Honestly. Were you expecting someone else? :)

✦ I wasn’t.

✦ Isagi is perfect for this kind of tandem, very sweet, simple, and honest.

✦ (Headcanons and the one-shot are usually included in regular matchups; since you asked for just a relationship analysis, I’m leaving them out of your matchup.)

✦ Let’s go!

✦ "I see myself as a really friendly and caring person. I always want everything best for my friends and loved ones. I'm that friend who's everyone's therapist but also needs one lmao." This screams Isagi, you know? Without a doubt, I affirm that he is the healthiest and most balanced character in the entire manga. He benefits from the considerable advantage of being the main character, after all. For as many characters and dynamics as possible to revolve around him, he’s designed to be very balanced in his characteristics—those less developed being the ones subject to evolution on the field.

✦ Your relationship, therefore, is based on trust, and that’s basically how we define a healthy and steady romantic relationship. Something that seems improbable with the rest of Blue Lock's roster.

✦ "I'm an introverted dude who almost never leaves his room, it's hard to make me go somewhere." I think Isagi is very versatile in terms of relationships and can connect with both introverts and extroverts. I don’t see him as someone who pushes others, but rather someone patient and attentive, which is a great quality, giving you the time to do things at your own pace. He lets you choose when you want to go out or stay inside. It’s not a problem because he knows how to keep busy outside with football and doesn’t need to be constantly glued to you—or anyone, for that matter.

✦ … Even though we know in-game, he can develop a kind of dependency because his skills really peak when he plays with someone.

✦ "I always want people to feel safe with me, I treat them with no judgment, I'm creating a comfort space for them to open to me." :D

✦ "I'm pretty much an overthinker, I'm overthinking everything CONSTANTLY, every little detail of my interaction with someone, and it's exhausting sometimes." I could see the puzzle pieces racing in your mind like Isagi on the field. We’ll come back to this when we talk about MBTI, but being an overthinker is due to your second cognitive function, Extraverted Intuition (Ne), which gathers data in bulk and processes it constantly, without pause. That’s why you often keep thinking about a conversation long after it’s happened or wonder, "What could I have said at that moment?" You might even understand a joke years after hearing it. When you finally get it, it’s because your function has managed to connect several ideas and give you the answer you didn’t get back then.

✦ "I often find myself overreacting to the smallest problems, I'm quickly panicking. I also tend to think lowly of myself." These are among the reasons I didn’t choose another character, not even Hiori, because I find him prone to a lot of anxiety and defeatism. Isagi knows how to stay positive, get back up after a loss, and even motivate those around him. He’s naturally talented at recognizing others’ strengths and helping them bloom in the best conditions. Since he also asks a lot of questions, it makes him able to understand your thought process. It’s easier to communicate with someone who gets how you think.

✦ "I have low self-esteem and often compare myself to others in terms of appearance or skills." Isagi's ambition and pride are very contextual due to football triggering these traits in him; outside of that, we’ve seen him in more normal settings, where he’s very easygoing, accommodating, and open-minded. I see him as someone humble who knows his place and is content with simple things. Even in terms of clothing (especially in terms of clothing, actually), he’s often the most simply dressed character, reflecting someone who doesn’t feel the need to overdo it. So I think he’s great at naturally making you feel comfortable and not in competition. Some people automatically make you feel like you have to prove something, like you need to be good enough or not let them down. In my eyes, Isagi doesn’t provoke that at all in others; it’s actually the opposite. People tend to underestimate him because he doesn’t physically exude something impressive. It’s simply because he’s spent more time working on his strategies and being in his head than focusing on external appearances.

✦ I definitely see you two talking for hours about both simple and complex topics. Redoing the world together until late at night. A thought pops into your head at a random moment, and the message is sent. I imagine Isagi taking the time to carefully craft his replies, even writing long messages to explain his thoughts from A to Z. This might have scared away many of his past conversation partners, but I think you’ll particularly enjoy it because, on one hand, it reflects his depth of mind, and on the other, it stimulates your own thinking, giving you something to reflect on. It’s mental nourishment.

✦ "I love, LOVE making gifts and giving them." I believe the love language Isagi most enjoys receiving is probably words of affirmation, especially from people he holds in high regard. That’s the case with Noel Noa when he suggests that Isagi could beat him; it triggers a big reaction in Isagi. Not verbal, but very internal. His heart races, it works on him, it’s as if Noa indirectly told him he’s very good. Well, I think that’s exactly the kind of words that could greatly improve Isagi's mood—the fact that someone validates his game, his analytical skills, his rapid development since the first chapter.

✦ On his side, he naturally leans toward valuing others. It’s a natural ability he has, with acts of service (like when he cleans up for others) and quality time (the fact that he spends time thinking about others’ problems). If he were to have a more specific love language reserved just for his significant other, I think it could be physical contact (holding your hand, seeking your company, getting close to you, wrapping his arm around your waist in public…) and giving gifts. I can easily imagine him spending hours in front of stores thinking of the perfect gift for you, from the content to the wrapping, to how he’ll give it to you, where, when, how, and why. He considers every possible parameter to ensure the moment unfolds in the best possible conditions.

✦ The Wiki said: "He thinks his strong point is being able to find other people's strengths."

✦ Definitely, his other love language to receive is getting YOUR gifts, especially handmade ones. And if they’re knitted clothes? You bet he’ll wear them all the time in public!

✦ "And for the last one, I learned how to crochet! I want to make cool bags and plushies for me and my friends." Hihi.

✦ "I'm a touch-starved person." Oh my god, I’m so glad I was spot-on with this.

✦ YES.

✦ Isagi holding your hand at the bus stop, Isagi waiting for you after work, Isagi hugging you at home when he senses that’s what you need... Isagi is perceptive; he understands without words, even what isn’t said. He’s the ideal partner to approach you with tenderness without ever rushing you.

✦ "So I like when the other side also initiates physical contact." Quoting this just for the pleasure of confirming my assumptions.

✦ "I like when the other side’s patient and caring." (Again.)

✦ In terms of communication, Isagi is one of the best choices. Just because he’s an introverted temperament doesn’t mean he’s unable to express himself openly—quite the opposite, in fact. He does it better than most extroverts; it’s a very important quality that many introverts have over extroverts, by the way. The fact that you both spend so much time in your heads makes you very careful with your word choices. You like your sentences to reflect your feelings as accurately as possible. You’re typically the ones who write a message, erase it, and rewrite it until the text is as faithful as possible to your thoughts. That’s the case with Isagi, whose natural tendency is never to speak without thinking: he analyzes for a long time before drawing conclusions and verbalizing them.

✦ This type of communication can still pose another problem if you are not aware of it: the fact that his reflection takes time sometimes makes him silent for a while, the time he needs to structure his speech. From your side, it may seem like indifference or ignorance, but he will teach you that this is not the case: he simply needs time to think and come back to you with the best possible solution. Since Isagi is INFJ, this behavior is a reflection of his Introverted Intuition (Ni). This particular function needs a lot of time but constantly works in the background. It is known for suddenly bringing forth an idea out of nowhere in the middle of its user's mind.

✦ This complements users of Extraverted Intuition (Ne), whose ideas are constantly flowing and always in motion. One thought leads to another; it's like tree-branch thinking. On the other hand, for Introverted Intuition (Ni) users, these thoughts all converge towards the user themselves, leaving only the purest and most refined essence, that one idea that will eventually emerge in their mind.

✦ Quoting the Wiki on Isagi after writing all this: "He likes when he is praised or given sweets." Words of affirmation and giving gifts confirmed ;)

✦ "I'm watching anime since I was, idk, 7 or 9, and it's a big part of my life." We don't know what kind of manga Isagi reads, but we know that he does read some. Given that he's rather curious and likes to learn about other people's preferences—well, to beat them at football, but outside of that, he's genuinely interested in the person. So, I think he's open to your new discoveries and likes when you pitch him the synopses, which sometimes makes him want to dive into them too. I believe he might occasionally binge-watch on his own to come back to you with his thoughts and spark a debate, or he might watch with you under the covers, commenting out loud on what's happening on the screen.

✦ "I also love to play games like Hades or Cult of the Lamb." I don't know this video game, but we know Isagi is more interested in football games. If you like puzzle, thinking, moral choice, immersive, or story-driven games, I think it could easily captivate him as well. In fact, anything that engages his brain can absorb him for hours. Maybe you'll both start playing Inazuma Eleven together, who knows. (Wow, that’s an old reference.)

✦ "I often find myself forgetting to eat or drink when I get caught up in the game." :) I don’t need to mention that Isagi, along with Barou, is the perfect character to remind you when it’s time to eat, shower, and sleep. But I’ll say it anyway because it adds a bit more nuance and realism to your relationship: Isagi cares about your health, and even though he knows it's important to you to be on the computer for everything you love to do, he cares about your well-being and will often poke his head around the door to ask, "By the way, have you eaten?" Until one day, when he knows full well that the answer is no. So, he comes into your room with a meal tray, without saying a word, because he wants to make sure you’ve got something in your stomach.

✦ I'm canonizing Isagi as a man who knows how to cook perfectly well.

✦ And with that, I confirm that the love languages you give match well with those Isagi loves to receive, just like the ones you love to receive are naturally what he gives.

✦ (I think the physical contact moments between you will be intense.)

✦ (Like… curled up under the blankets, cuddling for hours? He’s totally up for it.)

✦ "KAISER'S HAIRCUT" :) I think it’s the first thing he noticed about you when he saw you from behind at your first meeting, and he probably looked at you suspiciously.

✦ He’s definitely handling your next haircut.

✦ (Honestly, I love that haircut too, so fight to keep it.)

✦ (I want a picture.)

✦ Last little MBTI note as promised; the INFP-INFJ couple reminds me a lot of a parent-child duo. In the sense that the INFP tends to be more influenced by their own emotions and reacts on impulse, while the INFJ naturally has the ability to absorb and process information before manifesting any kind of reaction. I think this dynamic is very present between you and Isagi, and in the long term, it’s a very healthy and close relationship that awaits you. You may have some difficulty stepping out of your comfort zones, as you are both introverted and home-loving profiles. But the major advantage is your ability to easily understand the other’s psychological workings.

A word about your match: Probably one of the sweetest matchups I've made. I love writing for Isagi; he’s underestimated too often when he’s a true gem in the midst of this bloodthirsty jungle of competitors. Take care of your Kaiser haircut and your adorable boyfriend. Go on, now!

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | SEPTEMBER ‘24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

[keytomind]

PART II

About three years ago, I wrote a piece on wants versus needs and how we confuse the two. Identifying the difference is integral to one’s growth, in my opinion, and I wish to elaborate on this as it relates to relationships.

Some people want to be wanted, and some need to be needed. There is nothing wrong with either option as long as you are being honest with yourself, but knowing oneself is half the battle.

I identify as several things in life, one of which is a Dom. This is another story for another time, if ever, but I mention this for one particular relative reason. There is a theory in D/s (Dominant/submissive) culture that suggests that submissive people want to be wanted and dominant people need to be needed. There is some truth to this, but I argue this point as being universally accepted.

Dominants largely get off on acts of service; not all of us, of course, but a large part of our identity is to care for and nurture our submissive partner in any way that we can. That being said, it makes sense that a dominant person needs to be needed. They appreciate their efforts being acknowledged, and some people may truly get off on being nothing more than the sugar daddy type that just makes sure that their partner is taken care of financially, spoiled with everything from gifts to having their rent paid. For others, this does nothing for them. I am one of those Ds whom this does absolutely nothing for me.

I don’t just need to be needed; I want to be wanted as well. I want to be chosen for me, not exclusively for what I bring to the table. When I was young, I had more friends than I could count and I was very well liked. I was one of the oldest and the biggest in every class and people were drawn to me like The Gentle Giant. I was always good to people who were good to me and I fought for those who could not fight for themselves. I also liked to have a good time and I was very resourceful. I was the first of our group to drive and I never had a problem getting alcohol when I was underage. I was invited to every party and I used to think that they wanted me, but the truth is that they needed me.

Once everyone turned 21, they no longer needed me, and I gradually stopped hearing from people. I used to always have weed as well and I never minded sharing with people. This also kept many of my “friends” in close proximity because I would always share while never asking for anything in return. Once weed became boring and they all felt the urge to upgrade to cocaine and worse, they no longer needed me, and I stopped hearing from people.

One night in my late 20’s, I got a call from one of those childhood friends, someone I once had a crush on. She asked if I wanted to go out and grab a drink. I immediately got excited to get out of the house and spend a couple hours with her at the bar. When making conversation, she shared “ya know, I called everybody and nobody else wanted to go out. I was getting ready to bag it tonight and then I thought ‘Hey! What about Jimmy?!” (By the way, not my name). My enthusiasm turned into disappointment and I couldn’t hide it. I quipped to her “that was the sweetest way that anyone ever shared that I was their last resort.” Once again, I was needed on that night to enable her to get out of the house. She didn’t want me; she wanted everybody but me.

Being a third generation funeral director, financially, I could have had it made if I chose to stay in Pennsylvania. I have done well for myself so far, but if I were to actually take over for my father, I would make more money than I would know what to do with it. A coworker of mine calls this “the gravy train.” But I lost all desire to stay here for several reasons, most notably because my father does not want me here; he just needs me. We only speak when he needs me to do something that he is incapable of doing himself. When he has a choice, he chooses other people, typically women, because they make him feel more special than I ever could. He never wanted me; he just needed me.

In relation to those childhood friends that fell out of touch with me, there is only one scenario left when they reach out to me - when someone dies, they want to know what happened. Legally and ethically, I should not be sharing this information. I often told them “go ask his/her parents.” That would shut them up fast. I changed my number when I decided to move to Montana and I only shared it with a select few. I told one of those select few not to share my number because the only time they reach out to me is when someone dies. Sure enough, a month or two later, one of our childhood friends overdosed and, once again, I was in high demand. They needed me in order to find out what happened, and they were apparently disappointed to learn that I am no longer available to them.

I share this rant in an effort to tell the world to choose yourself when no one else chooses you. Don’t settle for people only when they need you; that shit is insulting and once they no longer need you, they no longer choose you, and this is where the hurt and the disappointment manifests itself. Be content with yourself in your own space and your own choices. If they want you, let them prove it; until then, choose yourself, and set yourself free. I am more at peace today than I have ever been, and although it can be brutally lonely at times, this has been the best decision that I ever made. Always choose yourself.

[atlasdoe]

it's currently crying over Amelia Bones and Pandora Lovegood hours so here's a snippet of my Amelia fic :)

“Amelia.”

One thing could bring her back.

Pandora was standing on the pavement, a few steps away from her. The bags under her eyes were dark and her arms hung by her sides. Amelia had never seen her so defeated.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Amelia lifted up the bottle of wine.”I’m celebrating obviously.”

Pandora sighed and moved closer, sitting down next to Amelia on the curb. “You shouldn’t be drinking.”

“I can do what I want.”

Pandora shook her head as Amelia took another swig. “Not when it comes to drinking you can’t. Do you want to end up like Edgar?”

“Don’t talk to me about Edgar,” Amelia snapped. “I’m not responsible for him anymore.”

“It’s not about being responsible for him, it's about being responsible for yourself.”

“I am responsible for myself!”

“No you’re not,” Pandora breathed. “Edgar was responsible for you and you for him.”

“Edgar’s dead.”

“Exactly, so who will be responsible for you now?” she asked, taking Amelia back to the conversation she had with Basheda only hours before.

Who will take care of you?

Why did everyone keep asking her that? She didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She didn’t rely on Edgar that much. She didn’t need him that much. She could live without him.

Couldn’t she?

“I don’t need anyone to be responsible for me,” she said. “I don’t need anyone taking care of me.”

“Everyone needs someone, Amelia. Just because your person has left doesn’t mean that you can do everything alone.” Pandora sighed and carefully reached for the bottle gripped in Amelia’s hand. “Do you want me to call Jamie?”

Amelia almost flinched. “No. No, don't call Jamie. I don’t want him here.”

“You need someone.” she tried again.

“I have you.”

“You don’t have me,” Pandora said slowly. “I’m not that someone.”

“Why not?” she yelled back. “Pandora you’re my best friend, we’ve known each other since we were eleven! I – I love you! Why isn’t that enough?”

Pandora’s expression turned into something between sadness and pity. “Amelia you know I love you also –”

Amelia shook her head. “No –”

“You don’t understand,” They both said at the same time, locking eyes the moment the words left their mouths, both pleading with the other to listen.

Tell her, the voice in her mind screamed. Tell her everything. That this is more than friendship for you. That you love her the way she loves Xenophilius. Tell her every single thing your rotten mind thinks. Tell her that she’s the only reason why you’re still alive. Tell her that she’s kind and caring and beautiful. Tell her that she brightens your day just by smiling and that everytime you see her sad you feel like carving out a hole in your heart. Tell her about all the things you would do for her if only she’d give you the chance. Tell her about all of the times you fell harder and harder for her eyes. Tell her that she is loved. Tell her that you love her and that you will always love her no matter what she does. She could scream at you, she could ignore you, she could kill someone, or hurt someone, or burn the entire world to the ground and you wouldn’t even blink. Tell her that she could choose every single slytherin, every single boy over you and you would still run whenever she came calling. Tell her that no matter what she is loved, because she is Pandora Lovegood and you are Amelia Bones and there is not one universe where she is not the love of your life, even if there isn’t one where you are the love of hers.

Tell her. Tell her. Tell her.

They both opened their mouths at the same time, but Pandora got her words out first.

“I’m engaged,” she said.

Amelia’s mouth snapped shut as she swore to never open it again.