#like just. holy shit wow it hits the nail on the head

[newcronomicon]

josef creep so clearly has OSDD-1b and I think that's pretty awesome

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 5,818

Warning: dirty talk, language, making out, wedding duties (lol), oral sex, smutty smut

A/N: Our final part 🥹💚 wow what a journey! There will be an epilogue for our sweet beans next week! Along with the start of the Best Friend!Suguru series.I'm so sorry for the late post, I was so sick yesterday and sleepy from my medication! But better late than never! ! If you want to be included in the tag list, YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Eight

For two days, two days, you and Satoru spent most of the time in your room. Wrapped up in your sheets, him on top of you, you on top of him. You only separated for the rehearsal dinner and getting your nails done. But the second you were back in his arms, he made up for the lost time like you had been gone for years. His lips were on yours in slow, gentle kisses that became passionate.

Those same kisses would end on the futon, which probably had seen more action in the last forty-eight hours than since the inn opened. Satoru bent you in all different positions, twisting you like a pretzel, stretching you in ways you didn't even know was possible. He made it his goal to make up for the year and a half that you didn’t sleep with anyone. Gojo Satoru turned you into a mess- a withering mess.

“Oooh holy shit.” you cried out, gripping the blanket, “fuuuuck oooh fuck Satoru.”

“Yeah~? Does that feel good~?”

“S-So good~!”

“Mhmm~ good.”

Fingers moved gently, expertly making your back arch, jaw opening in a soft cry of pleasure. Satoru bit his lip, his fingers increasing the pressure against you. Cerulean eyes narrowed, focusing on your face, watching how your eyes rolled back and your face flushed.

“T-Toru~Toru.” Toes curled as you cried softly, eyes watering.

“Oooh yeah~ you gonna cum~?”

Blinking, you lift an eyebrow, watching Satoru wiggle his at you. His fingers are massaging into your sore feet, kneading away knots and easing the aching muscles. Both of you were fully clothed, sitting on the back porch overlooking the gardens. Anyone around would have assumed you both were doing the deed from how loud you were being.

“Oh my god, was I being that loud?”

“What~? No!” You relaxed a little, your feet still in his lap. Thumbs worked at a particularly sore spot, making you whine again. “I’m pretty sure Suguru heard that whine, and he's in Tokyo.”

“Ya’ know what—”

You try pulling your feet away, only to have Satoru yank them back into his lap, inadvertently pulling you closer to him. “Stop, I'm just teasing. Let me do this.” his fingers continue working, moving gently over your feet. “You were in the kitchen all morning, making a three-tier wedding cake. Then those ‘friends’ of yours make you wear heels to take pictures. And you have to wear heels for the wedding tomorrow?” Satoru shook his head, white tufts of hair swaying.

“I offered to bake the cake, the benefit of having a baker as a friend.” His thumbs hit a sore spot, making you jolt. “But the heels are torture.”

“They seem like it.”

A soft, comfortable silence filled with chirping crickets and a distant wind chime grew between you. You just sat there while Satoru rubbed at your sore feet under the blanket of glittering stars. You had one more day together here in Kyoto, then a train ride back home, and you would be back to reality. A reality that had changed drastically over the last week.

When you both retired to your room, you lay in bed staring at the ceiling in thought. You had gone from a woman who was quiet, shy, and hell-bent on not needing anyone to this giggly, joyful woman who couldn’t be any happier. Satoru had peeled away at the layers of scar tissue you had hidden yourself in. He brought a certain confidence out in you. Being with him was as easy as breathing; even when you returned home to your mundane lives, you had faith you both would continue to strive forward. To keep your relationship going strong.

Strong as the urge to stay in bed with him all day despite your fellow bridesmaids pounding on your door the next morning. Satoru grumbled in horny frustration; his cock was pressed firmly over your barely clothed core. You pulled your lips away from his neck, pushing your hair back, groaning at the sudden interruption.

“I have to go, Toru.” You pulled off of him, giggling as he threw his head back. “Hey~ don’t be like that; we’ll pick up where we left off tonight.”

“Wedding sex is the best kind of sex. Especially when you’re on a sugar rush.”

You looked over your shoulder at him, grinning ear to ear. “That sounds enticing.” Satoru sat up on his elbows, licking his lips.

“Oh, it’s gonna happen tonight,” Satoru promised with a shake of his head. “I promise you that.”

Another knock at the door, “If you don’t come out! We’re coming in! Regardless of how indecent you two are!” A series of knocks sounded from the other side of the door by several different hands from the sound of it.

”I better go before they knock down the door.” With a pout, you leaned down, kissing Satoru goodbye before heading out. “I’ll see you later!” just before you shut the door to the room, you pouted as Satoru watched, sticking his bottom lip out. “It’s just three hours, babe!”

Three hours flew by before you knew it. The excitement of getting ready for the wedding and seeing your best friend practically buzzing in anticipation fueled everyone's energy. While you were bouncing up and down eagerly waiting to see Satoru in a tailored suit. Just imagining him had you grinning as you stared out the bridal suite window, looking towards the garden decorated for the joyous event.

“So, when are you and Satoru getting married?”

”Eh!?” All of your friends surrounded you, devilish smiles gracing their faces. “I-I—we are not getting married!” At least not yet. “We’ve barely started going out.” Literally. “There’s no indication that we're even considering that!”

“Oh, please!”

“Says the girl that’s been locked in her room with said boyfriend for the last two days!”

Your face burned like a fresh sunburn. “S-So! That does not mean that we’re getting married anytime soon!” All of your friends booed in protest. “Will the whole lot of you stop? Seriously, I don’t want you guys scaring off Satoru!” The bride stepped forward in her gown and all of her glory. “Finally, Mina, will you please talk some sense into them!?” Your best friend looked amongst the other girls, all dressed in a beautiful sky blue. For a moment, you thought she might take your side. But the second a smirk at the corner of her mouth, you knew she didn’t have your back.

“I was going to ask you the same question! The man would’ve fucked you against the wall at the bar no one stopped him!”

“Oh my God!”

“I’m serious! I think I’ll hand you the bouquet when I toss it!”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, I think I will!”

“We are not getting married—not yet!”

Satoru sat off to the side, right next to your parents, as the wedding started. He watched with wide and sparkling eyes as you walked down the aisle with a groomsman. Your hair was styled beautifully, and the flowing sky-blue dress looked stunning on your figure and complimented your skin tone. His mouth felt suddenly dry as you looked at him, giving him a gentle, sweet smile. Cupid himself must have shot him through the heart at that moment because fuck, he was falling so hard for you.

“Ma’am—“ he learned next to your mother's ear, “just so you know, the next wedding we host here will be ours.”

“Huh?!”

Her reaction didn’t even seem to faze him. All he cared about was standing near the front of an outdoor arch decor with flowers of different colors—a gentle breeze brushed by you, making your hair and the dress flow. Even when the bride made her grand entrance, everyone turned to see her walking down the aisle towards her future husband. Satoru had his eyes locked on you.

You could feel his eyes, and that burning sensation had your focus transfixed on him. Was it wrong to be looking at your wedding date instead of the bride-to-be? The chances of that were very likely. But how could you not stare back? When his eyes burned holes into your very soul and left your heart racing like you had just run a marathon. It was impossible to pay attention to anyone else.

He was so handsome. Satoru was wearing a white button-down shirt with a blue tie that matched your dress. His navy blue jacket and pants were tailored to his body perfectly. You could tell by its appearance that it was expensive. It was probably more expensive than your best friend's wedding dress. You wanted to rip it off of him and let him take you right there in the garden.

Yes, he was extremely good-looking. But it wasn’t his clothes or his appearance or the fact that he had money that made you so attracted to him at that moment. The way he looked at you, eyes trailing over your body, with a soft grin, told you everything you needed to know. Satoru truly cared for you. This wasn’t just about sex, and it wasn’t the magic of the wedding to be. Chemistry, connection, and attraction were one hundred percent genuine.

After exchanging vows and rings, hundreds of pictures were taken with everyone. You were finally free from your wedding duties. The first thing you did as soon as you broke away from the rest of the group was run to Satoru’s side. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you tight to his chest. Lips pressed against the temple of your head, and you could’ve sworn he let out a little sigh of happiness to have you back in his arms.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” He cupped a strand of hair behind your ear before gently reaching down, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Is it wrong for me to say you’re even more beautiful than the bride?”

“Satoru!” you playfully punched at his shoulder, “I am not.”

“Oh, you are; that’s a god-given fact, sweetheart.” His thumbs brushed ever so lovingly over your cheek. “But there’s just one thing I would change about the outfit.”

“You and me both.” You winced, moving your arm away from the scratchy sequins top. “This material is an absolute nightmare for my underarms. I’m serious. You’ll probably have to put lotion on them for me later.”

“Oh.” Satoru deadpans. “ I wasn’t talking about the material.”

You hum in thought, looking over the dress for any flaws he may have noticed. “Oh?” When you didn’t find anything else wrong with the dress in your eyes, you tilted your head, looking up at Satoru. “Well, what would you change about it then?” His hand gently pulled your face closer to his own; he leaned down, the fresh smell of minty lemonade coaxing your nostrils.

“I’d change the color.”

“Wait, what?”

Your date says nothing for a beat of silence. “So anyways! Let’s grab our seats; I’ll get you one of the cocktails!”

He rambles on while you’re still stuck on how he would change the color of your dress. Surely, he meant he would do a different shade or maybe red instead of blue; there’s no possible way that he was talking about it to white. Yeah, he didn’t mean that at all! Your friends just put the stupid notion in your head that you guys are going to get married next. You didn’t even know what the two of you were yet. You hadn’t put a label on your relationship.

What you did know was that Satoru wanted to make your relationship work. So you knew for sure that you weren’t just another fuck buddy or client. This went deeper than that. What you both had was real, which was a lot more than other couples had. So who knew, maybe your friends were right? Perhaps Satoru had thought that white would make your dress look one million times better.

These were questions and answers for another day. You weren’t going to rush into things. Both of you wanted to take your time and get to know one another.

And you learned a lot of things about him as the party began. Like how he despised the taste of alcohol, he had mentioned it in passing when he walked you to the bachelorette party. But when he accidentally took a sip of a cocktail unintentionally, not knowing it had alcohol in it, the man sputtered and choked. His hands grabbed a cola from the bartender, chugging it like water. You learned that he was a pretty good dancer. He bumped and ground with you on the dance floor while the music blared. You learned how gentle his hands were as he slowly danced with you to one of the many love songs the DJ played.

He was so tentative to you. He’d always make sure you had a drink of some kind. He insisted that you drink plenty of water to avoid getting drunk. He even went to the room and grabbed your sandals when your high heels bothered you. God, he was everything and then some. If you hadn’t called for each other, he truly would have made this wedding a lot of fun for you. There was no doubt that he was worth every penny you were willing to spend to have a good time.

The party has toned down almost entirely, a few stragglers drunkenly laughing and drinking while others chat while eating the vanilla and raspberry compote cake you had made. Your best friend and her husband are one of two couples on the floor dancing to a slow song. The other was Satoru and the flower girl who had been smitten with his white hair and blue eyes. She was convinced he was Prince charming and begged him to dance with her. Satoru jumped at the opportunity. Gently placing her little feet on top of his shoes as he danced with her to the slow beat of the music.

Your gaze was locked on him as you nursed a cup of coffee between your hands. He was so perfect in every way, shape, and form. Satoru had made this one of the best nights of your entire life. God, you don’t think you’ve ever had so much fun at a wedding before. It was all thanks to him that you were having one of the most memorable nights of your life.

Those deep, happy thoughts are cut short when a tiny, chubby hand gently smacks your cheek. The sudden contact has you jumping, nearly spilling the hot coffee over your hands as you turn to see who has smacked you. You’re met with beautiful, big navy-colored eyes—dark tufts of hair spill over the head as the baby gently smacks your cheek again.

“Please don’t hit me, I have my kid.” a familiar voice speaks, “and don’t yell, please.”

You scoff, cocking an eyebrow up at Toji as he sits down in the chair next to you. “Are you seriously using your kid as a human shield?” Your ex shakes his head before looking over his shoulder, searching for someone.

“I cannot confirm nor deny that.” He cradles the babbling baby in his lap. “But if my wife is around, I will deny every word.”

“So you are using your child as a human shield.”

“Well, it’s working, isn’t it?”

“What do you want, Toji?”

He cradles his son in one arm, reaching into his suit jacket with his free hand. Toji pulls out a manila envelope and places it in front of you. Gingerly, taking it off the table, you open it and find the money you had left in the kitchen the other day. The money he almost ruined your relationship with Satoru over and the money you’d spent on him

He exhales deeply through his nose before clearing his throat. “What I did was wrong.” His son babbles, chubby little hands pulling the sleeve of his jacket. “I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened. I broke your heart, not once but twice. You, of all people, don’t deserve to be treated like that.” You cock an eyebrow. “And no, I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I just wanted to say that I was sorry. For breaking off our engagement the way that I did. For almost sabotaging your relationship with that brat over there.” His head jerks in Satoru’s direction.

“Yeah, you almost fucked that up for me.”

“Well, luckily, you guys worked it out.”

“Yeah, we did.” For the first time all week, you don’t feel the slightest bit of dread being near Toji. Maybe it was because you slapped the shit out of him, or perhaps it was because you felt as though your last confrontation was able to heal your wounds. “He’s a great guy.”

“Great for an escort.”

“Former escort.” You correct him with a smug smile. “Satoru sent in his resignation letter on Thursday after we talked.”

Toji’s eyes went wide before they softened with a gentle gaze that you hadn’t seen since high school. “Well shit, I guess I had him pegged wrong.” Taking another sip of your coffee, you giggle before resting your chin on your fist.

“I thought you said you were the greatest PI.”

“Nah, I’m one of the best.” Toni leans back, and in this light, you can see the slight discoloration on his face from both you and Satoru’s hits the other day. “I’m far from being the greatest. I wasn’t for you, but—“ he pressed his lips against his son’s head. “I’m trying to be a better person for this brat and my wife.”

“You always were an asshole.” Your point-blank statement had him wincing. “But if you hadn’t been an asshole, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today. So thanks for being a dick.”

Toji tilts his head, chuckling. “You’re welcome, I guess.” A squealing babble has both you and Toji glancing down at his son. He gently gums at his father’s jacket, drooling over the fabric. Toji sighs and gently lifts the baby to stare at him. When he does, those navy blue eyes glance towards his chest that's straining against the fabric. His son smacks his lips in hunger. “Fuck, I gotta find my wife; the little shits hungry again. And I’d rather not have him gnawing at my pecs.” He stands and pauses before turning his child to face you.

The tiny human gurgles at you, tilting his head. “Uhm, Toji, I can’t feed him.” Your ex rolls his eyes so hard you can almost hear it.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know, I just—“ he sighs, “this is my son, Fushiguro Megumi.” You can’t help but smile at his name; a blessing.

“Well, hello there, Megumi.” You gently pet his hair back. “It’s nice to meet you; whatever you do, don’t turn out to be like your father.”

Toji barks out a sharp laugh, nodding his head. “Yeah, that’s for sure.” Megumi laughs loudly, smacking his hands against your face.

“Toji!” Both of you turn to see a woman with dark hair waving at him.

“That’s the wife, we’re leaving.” He cradles Megumi into his side ever so gently. “I’m sorry again for all the shit I put you through in the past and well in the last week.”

“Well, all that shit led me to someone pretty great.” Your eyes drift back to Satoru, who's walking the little girl back to her parents. “All those years of putting up with you gave me some good karma.”

“For putting up with me, you deserve the world.” He scoffs hurriedly to join his wife. “Later.”

You wave goodbye to him, returning to your cup just as Satoru joins you. Two plates with cake in his hands. “Was that Toji!?” His ocean eyes meet yours, searching for any sign or tears of frustration. “The hell did he want?” He shoves the sweet cake into his mouth before offering you a bite, which you eagerly take.

“Mhm, he just wanted to give me the money he owed me.”

“What you should have given him was a knuckle sandwich.” Your soft giggle has butterflies swarming inside his stomach.

“I already gave him one, so I’ll gladly take the money this time.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He takes another bite of cake. “It would be a shame for you to bruise those knuckles again.”

You press your body against him, relishing in the warmth. “You know I don’t even care anymore. I got hurt in the past. I wallowed in my self-pity for over a year. But things are starting to look up for me now.” He hummed, turning to press a kiss against your forehead. “All thanks to my—“You hesitate, not sure if you want to be the one to put a label on your relationship.

“Boyfriend.” Satoru finishes for you, making your hearts swell with joy.

“Yes, my boyfriend.”

Satoru takes one last bite of his cake before wiping the mixture of whipped cream and buttercream off with his thumb. “Mmm, I love hearing you say that. It sounds so damn pretty rolling off your tongue.” You grinned, gently gripping his hand on your own, squeezing it as you stood.

“Wanna see what else I can do with my tongue~?”

Without hesitation, your boyfriend stands up from the table, following you down the hall. “Oooh? Is the sugar kicking in?” Satoru quickly takes the lead from you, dragging you down the hall and towards the guest rooms.

“It’s not just the sugar.” You correct him. “It’s you.”

The second you step into the room, and the door is slammed shut, Satoru’s on you, cupping your face, kissing you deeply with a guttural moan. You return the kiss, tasting the sweet, tangy remains of the cake on his tongue that worked its way into your mouth. You’re moaning, pushing his jacket off, letting it fall to the ground as you start working on the buttons of his shirt.

While you do that, Satoru runs his hands down your back, searching for a zipper or buttons, only to discover an intricate series of strings. He breaks the kiss, looking down at the saliva connecting your lips before he forces you to turn around so he can start working on the corset holding you hostage. His fingers struggle with the silky strings; he’s far too excited to sit down and take the necessary time to care for this.

“Hey, sweetheart, this isn’t a rental, is it?”

”No, I wish it was; I seriously haye the sequins, Toru.” You huff out, feeling his hands gently grip both sides of the back of the dress.

”So you wouldn’t be heartbroken if anything were to happen to it?”

”No, I guess I woul—“ RIIIP!! “Oh fuck!” You tumble as Satoru uses all of his strength to rip down the back of the dress—the thin fabric pools around your feet before Satoru turns you back to face him. The second you do, he drops to his knees in front of you and kisses down your bare chest, all the way to your lace panties. “S-Satoru~”

“Mmm, I wanna show you what I can do with my tongue.” He states flatly before tugging your panties down. “I get to eat two sweet treats tonight. Your amazing cake and your delicious pussy.”

His tongue instantly slides over your clit, making you grip his hair for support in fear that you are going to buckle over. Your hand grips the soft strands of hair, winning the softest of groans from him. While your fingers run through his hair, only make him move his tongue faster, with the sole purpose of making you cum.

Unfortunately for you, even if you were willing to hold off, Satoru is just too good at what he does. He teases your clit, going between gentle flicks, suckling on it, and writing his name against it with the tip of his tongue. His antics and techniques leave you nearly falling over, wishing you were on the futon. There was something about towering over him, though, bucking your pussy against his willing mouth that gave you a certain sense of empowerment.

You could see why men would like a woman on their knees. It was fun holding all of the power to make Satoru do what you wanted, to keep his face in place with you humping his tongue. You could have cum from just thinking of riding his face like this. Doing it though, fuck, it was so hot.

Satoru thought so, too; his jaw opened wide as he flattened his tongue, allowing you to use his mouth as you saw fit. His hand gently reached around, grabbing the fat of your ass, encouraging you to move and grind faster against him, wanting for you to cum. His squeezing you had your head falling forward, strands of your kiss-messy hair falling as you came hard, rolling your hips in time with the waves crashing over you. Satoru hummed happily, lapping up the juices you kindly offered him.

“Fuck, oooh fuck Satoru.” Your knees were buckling as he gently peppered hisses down your inner thighs. “I don’t think I can walk after that.”

”Hm? Oh, don’t worry about that.” He lifted you gently, placing you down on the futon. “I have a perfect place for you to sit.” You watched in awe as your boyfriend stripped out of his clothes and slipped on a condom before standing completely naked in front of you. “Now, what do you say,” Satoru laid down, grabbing your hips and pulling you to straddle him. “We pick up where we left off this morning before your friends rudely interrupted us.”

”Mmm, I love the sound of that.” Sitting back ever so slightly, you gently grabbed his cock, easing the thick throbbing tip inside of you. “Ah~ fuck I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how thick you are.” You cry out as you slowly begin to slide yourself down his shaft with a whimper.

”And I’ll never get over how tight and warm you are.” Large hands gently grip your hip, holding you as you sit down on him, his cock fully buried inside of you. “God, I can’t wait to feel how wet you are one of these days.” He hisses through his teeth as you slowly begin to rock back and forth on him. “Y-You fuck, sweetie, you feel so fucking good!”

“Yeah, so do you, Toru; I feel you getting bigger inside me.”

“And I can feel you clamping down.”

Knowing that he could feel just how good you were feeling was the only entice you needed to pick up your pace, your gentle rocks becoming a bit faster and harder as you gently began bouncing up and down on him. Your sudden increase in speed had Satoru choking on a raspy whine, his head tilting back as you placed your hands on his chest, steadying yourself. This position was one of your favorites. You were able to watch Satoru’s face contort with pleasure while his cock hit all the right places deep inside of you.

Satoru also loved this position because he got to see how relaxed you were, how he was able to grope your perfect tits, his thumbs brushing gently over your sensitive nipples. But his favorite thing about this position was being able to touch you. Not just your breasts, as great as those were. Running his large palms down your hips and over the top of your thighs, feeling your muscles twitch made happy, satisfied grunts leave his mouth. But it was when you interlace your fingers with his that got his heart pounding.

Your hips were moving faster, harder against him. Your smaller fingers held on to his for support, squeezing them gently as your tiny whines turned into desperate moans as your fucked yourself on him.

”Toru, oooh fuck~”

”Yeah, you close?” His fingers gave yours a gentle squeeze. “You gonna cum? Make me cum with you? I feel it coming back, god, I feel it; you’re going to make me cum so fucking hard.”

”Y-Yeah wanna make you cum, cum with me, Satoru, please I need it, need it so fucking bad.”

Satoru groaned, nodding his head as you slammed yourself up and down on him, his hips bucking up to meet you, fucking the tip of his cock directly into your cervix. You both are moaning so loud you know people will be calling the front desk to file a complaint, but you could care less about all of that. All that mattered right now was you and Satoru.

“Ooooh fuck me.” You cry out, releasing your boa constrictor grip on his hands, digging them into the bedding as you fall forward onto his chest. Your hips bounce up and down faster and harder, skin slapping against skin as your ass slams down. “Satoru, I’m gonna—“

”M-Me too, baby, holy fuck me too!” Satoru’s hands grip the sides of your hips, forcing you to move faster, which seems almost impossible. “Fuck, oooh fuck, fuck shit!” He’s gritting his teeth as you cry out into the side of his neck. “Oh, holy fuckin shit, baby! I’m cumming! Cumming inside you!”

With one final slam, both of your bodies go rigid as the orgasms hit you at the same time. Your pulsating walls have Satoru’s cock throbbing eagerly deep inside of you, filling the condom. Leaving both of you shaking, sweaty messes. Satoru recovers first, his hands gently caressing your sides as you lay all your weight on top of him. While you gently press open-mouthed kisses over his collarbone.

It isn’t until your muscles are protesting the position that you’re in that you finally move. Satoru helps you push off of him gently, laying you down next to his side. His fingers brush some of your hair back before he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You kiss him back burying yourself into his chest as his hands gently move up and down your back.

“So, how was our first date?” The gentle tone of Satoru’s voice has you happily humming.

“One of the best dates I ever had in my entire life.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with you on that one.” His hand continued to rub up and down your back gently. “I can’t wait to go on another and another, and god, I just want to go on countless dates with you.” He waits for you to respond, to say anything. When you don’t say a word, he peers down, finding you sleepily snuggled against him. Your hard work from the last few days has finally caught up to you. “Get some sleep.” He whispered, disposing of the condom before pulling the sheet over your body as he shut his eyes, too, following you into a deep sleep.

The next day was a blur at the inn. From packing your bags, checking out, and bidding farewell to your parents before you at Satoru took the train back to Tokyo. Where you both leaned against each other, still tired from the last week and the wedding from the night before. You only fully regain consciousness when the train pulls up to your stop. You grab your bags in silence as you slowly leave the train.

It didn’t feel real that the week was finally over. That tonight would be the first night you would be alone in a week. Part of you dreaded the night you were about to spend alone in your apartment. But you didn’t want to be clingy and ask Satoru to stay the night.

While your relationship had been entirely out of order, you didn’t want to ruin it right when it began. There would be another time for Satoru to spend the night with you. You are almost certain he would love to go home to his apartment and unwind.

So you stopped in front of the coffee shop where you met each other for the first time. Turning around, you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder, winning a slightly confused look from your new boyfriend. Swallowing hard, you hugged him tight before pulling back.

“Thank you again for everything.” You wet your bottom lip with your tongue. “I can’t thank you enough. Text me later. Maybe we could meet up for coffee or dinner sometime this week. Go on our second date.”

Satoru said nothing for a moment as you fiddled with the handle of your suitcase. “Hey.” He finally broke the silence, his hand gently grabbing yours. “Would now be too soon to take you on our second date?” Light shimmered in your eyes as Satoru put his sunglasses on. “I know this great spot for brunch.” You felt your heart swell as he rubbed at his slightly slushed neck. “I just—I don’t want to say goodbye yet.” Round sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, revealing his breathtaking eyes. “But if you’re too tired or busy, later this week would be fine, I gue—” You reach up, pressing your index finger gently over his lips, silencing him.

“Brunch sounds great.”

“Great!” Satoru beams gently, interlocking your hands as you make your way up to the surface. “You’re going to love it.” You gently squeezed his hand as you stepped into the bustling streets of Tokyo. A week ago, you never would have thought the man you had hired to be your wedding date would be taking you out on your second date, hopefully leading to many more.

Tag List! (AGE MUST BE IN BIO!!)

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Forever Tag:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart

[majoryeager104]

Villains

Summary: You never thought you’d run into a villain, and yet here you were realizing you were about to go on a date with one.

Dabi/Touya x gn!reader

Warnings: language

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Eggs in a pan, sizzling quietly as the sound of the news on tv blared from the living room. You didn’t pay it any attention, busy making breakfast for your siblings, who were staying with you at your apartment for the holidays. Villain attacks was all you heard, and it wasn’t something that surprised you all that much. In a hero society, there was bound to be some villains.

so you didn’t really mind. After all you had much more on your mind. Taking care of your siblings till your parents come pick them up, having that little hangout at your friends place, and lastly heading out for that dinner date with the guy you’d really hit it off with while Christmas shopping. The two of you actually spent a while hanging out and going store to store before he asked for your number, and since then you’d planned a nice date.

You didn’t mind, until you turned the corner and saw said villains on the television while your kid brothers watched.

till you saw video of the villain that was throwing large bursts of flames at authorities and heroes

till you saw the familiar face of the man you were set to go on a date on tonight.

holy shit.

he’s a villain.

you almost dropped the plates, but you quickly set them at the table and called your brothers over, and while they happily ate your eyes went straight to your phone on the counter.

you walked into the kitchen and grabbed it, going over his contact info, the texts between you, everything. How could you not have known? The news was saying he was a prominent and dangerous person, but you’d never seen him on the news before. Maybe you should have been paying attention. Maybe you should block him. Call him and ask? Fuck no, he could very well kill you. What if he realized you didn’t know and was messing with you? Toying with your emotions or preying on innocence? He didn’t seem like that kind of person when you met…

you sighed, rubbing your forehead in frustration. There was no getting out of this. If you didn’t show up for the date, he might assume you realized who he was, and from there who knows what could happen. The only thing you could think of doing was showing up and acting like you had no idea about what you saw of him this morning. But for now, you were going to focus your energy on getting your siblings home and meeting up with your friend.

——

a few hours later, after some nail biting and checking your messages to see if he texted, you dropped of your siblings and headed to your friends place. She was smiling at you from the door, something that in your mood, you could not reciprocate.

before you even realized it, you’d managed to tell her everything you’d learned about him. Needless to say she was shocked, stirring her tea with a deep frown.

“wow…this is bad.”

“really? I didn’t notice”

she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean, y/n! You really have no options but to go out with a villain…or you could lie, but-” “that could still lead him to believe that I know! I can’t risk him doing something to my family”

there was awkward silence for a moment before she finally spoke up again.

“what if the guy was just really lonely?”

“…what?”

She stood up, walking closer and sitting next to you

“you know, he could just genuinely want to go on a date with you. If that’s the case you might be able to get through the night and still turn him down. If he doesn’t know you know, but you turn him down for other reasons…”

she shrugged, but you got the picture, looking up at her “you’re right! If I go but turn him down afterwards, he won’t suspect anything. I showed up didn’t I? He’d have no reason to believe I was aware of his…criminal activity.” “Yeah, I’m sure he thinks you’re too normal to go on a date with a villain” “hey!” “It’s true! You’re decently average. Your very personality would make your unawareness make sense. You’re too sweet to date a ‘bad guy’”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you set down your tea

“alright i get the picture…guess i gotta get ready”

——

with your friends help, you got ready for the dinner date, and showed up right on place where you planned to meet. The two of you would walk to dinner, and then-

then you weren’t sure. And to make matters worse, it was quite the remote area in the city. The streets were scarily quiet, and he hadn’t shown up yet. You looked around worriedly, checking your phone.

“you lookin for me?”

That familiar gruff that you initially found so attractive now sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t help but yelp in surprise, turning around to look at him. He laughed, his scarred eyes crinkling at the corners. A look you found so interesting was now terrifying knowing what he was capable of. A villain. A killer. Your date for the evening.

Hands in his pockets, he walked closer to you, his narrow blue eyes scanning you with a smirk. “You scared me, Dabi!” You smiled awkwardly, trying to act a fool. It seemingly worked, because his smirk grew a bit wider as he tilted his head. “Yeah, this part of town is a bit shady…lots of weirdos around here” he glanced back at you, holding up an arm. You reluctantly took it, the two of you walking together as he continued to speak. “Sorry about that. We’re goin to one of my favorite spots, and it’s close by. Didn’t mean to worry you. I think you’ll like it though, it’s nice there.”

You nodded as you walked along with him, your eyes nervously darting between him and the sidewalk every so often. He didn’t seem to notice this though. In fact it seemed like he was too busy trying to impress you to notice how tense you were. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe he really was just lonely.

you shook the thought from your mind. He was still a criminal, no amount of sympathy could make his actions better, right?

The two of you made it to the restaurant. It was a small shop off the street. It seemed very traditional, run by a small family. You both ordered the same thing- cold soba. You rather liked it, and he seemed rather cheery to know that.

He was smiling and talking with you the whole time, just like the last time you two met. With how happy he seemed, you’d never know otherwise what he’d done.

“need me to walk you home? You got a ride?”

he asked you the question so quietly as you two walked out of the restaurant. You blinked up at him, reluctant to answer. “I- uh…I’ll be fine walking back” “you sure? This part of the city is dangerous at night”

his brow was furrowed so deeply he seemed genuinely worried. What the fuck was going on.

“no really, I’ll be okay” you smiled, backing away a bit. He watched you for a moment before sighing, rubbing the back of his neck before finally speaking, his words making you freeze.

“you saw me on the news this morning.”

Such a simple question phrased like a statement, because he just knew something was up. He did notice how tense you were all night, he was just hoping that your nerves were because you liked him back.

You didn’t say anything, frozen in place as you stared at him, wide eyed. He nodded, looking at the ground as he walked closer, the thud of his boots making you twitch.

“you know…I really didn’t want to scare you…but you can block me if you want, I don’t care. Do whatever…whatever makes you happy.”

He was so awkward when he spoke, barely making eye contact with you anymore. His shoulders were slumped, his gruff voice sounded defeated. He glanced back up at you as you still stayed silent, his brow raised.

“what? Ya think I’m gonna hurt ya? I’m not that crazy.”

you sighed in relief, but stayed quiet, still unsure. You watched him, how awkward he seemed now, the almost sad look on his face. You finally spoke, your voice hushed as you blinked up at him

“why…did you want to go on a date with me? I’m normal, and you’re…”

he laughed at this, a deep, hearty laugh, as he smiled down at you.

“that’s exactly why I like ya. Anyways, I gotta head out… you know, villain stuff” he winked, walking past you to leave.

“By all means, if you want to, block me. Or don’t. Your choice”

and with that, he was gone, leaving you confused, nervous, and blushing.

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[yangkitties]

bros before hoes ✰ chapter 08: 7th sense

wc: 0.7k

Sunghoon was used to loud sounds. Growing up on the rink, the rush of the howling wind as he danced was nothing. Performing at award shows and concerts in front of thousands and thousands of screaming fans? No problem.

But the thundering of his heart as he walked to the practice room was like nothing he had ever heard before. The consistent pumping of his heart drowned out his thoughts, forcing him to focus on each beat. 

His heart was so loud, he could barely hear his own thoughts. Not that he was thinking much anyway. 

He couldn’t wait to see Tsuki again, with her pretty pink hair and lovely eyes. The previous two times Sunghoon had seen her, he could barely thing. He could only focus on her and nothing else. She captivated him, with her soft voice and kind smile. 

Before he knew it, Sunghoon was standing in front of the practice room. He could feel himself smiling at the thought of seeing Tsuki again, his heart picking up speed. He took a deep breath, forcing his heart to slow down. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, the cool metal calming him down as he pushed the door open.

Before he could register anything, he registered the song on the speakers first. It was the last chorus of 7th sense, a song he’d heard over and over again during his trainee days. 

And then he saw you. 

You were in the zone, focused on your movements, Sunghoon knew you didn’t notice him come in. He watched you, observing the way you danced. 

The more we watched, the more mesmerised he became. The way you moved, so smooth and so sure of yourself, Sunghoon wondered if you were being controlled by another being. The way you hit every beat was incredibly satisfying, and the way you nailed the footwork was beyond amazing. 

He stood there in awe, jaw on the floor. As the music stops, Sunghoon begins to clap. 

‘Wow. That was… incredible…’ He whispers softly, slowly making his way closer to you. He walked in a trance, still reeling from watching you. 

You yelp in shock, stunned to see him here. ‘Sunghoon?? What the hell are you doing here???’ Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, not just from the vigorous choreography. 

‘Oh! Uh Jungwon told me Tsuki would be here???’ He says, face contorting in confusion. Your face began to mirror his, wondering why on Earth Jungwon would say that. 

‘Ah damn, you can’t even go see her now… it’s almost 5, she’ll probably have Haewonnie or Jooyeon with her.’ You shrug, secretly happy that Sunghoon was with you, and not Tsuki. 

‘Eh.. it is what it is. At least I got to watch you dance because Y/n holy SHIT??? You’re one of the best dancers I’ve seen!’ He lightly punches your arm, his smile wide and genuine. 

You can feel yourself blushing, heat prickling your skin. ‘Please, you flatter me.’ 

‘No, no I’m serious!!! But why are you practicing 7th sense of all songs?’ Sunghoon looks at you quizzically, and you can’t help but be endeared by the way he jumps from topic to topic, his enthusiasm infectious. 

‘Oh! Well award shows are coming up and I want to be in my best form you know? And 7th sense has a complex choreography, so it keeps me on my feet.’ You shrug, smiling as you grab your water bottle. Sunghoon frowns lightly, ‘But you’re already so good??’

You turn away from him, overwhelmed by his compliments. ‘Well, as they say, there’s always room for improvement! Plus, practice makes perfect, you know?’ You shrug, taking a sip of your water. 

‘In that case, want to practice 7th sense with me?’ You choke on his words, almost spilling water all over yourself. 

‘HUH?? I mean- What…?? Don’t you have other schedules?’ You ask, tapping your head before you could choke some more. 

‘Nope! We’re quite free this week, other than our individual schedules…’ It takes you almost a full minute to process what he says, distracted by the way he shakes his head, soft hair flopping side to side, reminding you of a puppy’s ears. 

‘So…? Do you want to practice together?’ He tilts his head, and instantly you are reminded of Berry, Chan’s dog. 

You laugh lightly and agree, happy to have someone accompanying you. 

You begin practicing, and it is as if you are two halves of a whole machine, and the dance comes out incredibly. You match each other’s dance styles, his fluid motions and beautiful contrast to your sharp footwork. 

The time slips by faster than you both could have expected, and soon enough you’re parting ways, tired, yet content with the outcome of you practice. 

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synopsis > with the help of fukutomi tsuki, park y/n finally gains the courage to face their long time crush, the one and only, park sunghoon. park sunghoon thinks it's love at first sight when he sees her. paired up as the new mcs of music bank, shenanigans ensue when y/n learns about sunghoon's crush...

note: this post would've come out a LOT earlier if not for a mix up between my sister's and my laptop 😭 also menace jungwon my love 😁 also i love sunoo :P

©️ yangkitties 2024 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

[junedenim]

a vision trip

part 1 part 3

one day with a familiar face in a foreign country

word count: 10.4k

It's May in Paris. The breeze is light and the air is sweet. Alex sits in a cafe, picking at his nails, waiting. He nurses a coffee, but it's too bitter, and he's too nervous to ask for sugar or cream. He debates ordering food but decides to wait for his counterpart. He's tired. Too many shows and an overwhelming amount of traveling. There isn't much keeping him awake other than the people bustling around him and the person he's awaiting.

She was supposed to be here at 12 and it's 12:10 now. He won't complain. He isn't one for punctuality either. He can't think about the show tonight. It's draining but he'll soak up every minute of it. He just doesn't want to wait. He wants to take a nap. He'll wait 10 more minutes and then leave. It's fair enough.

He's tapped out. People-watching in Paris is quite a thrill. People sitting outside are smoking and he wishes he picked a seat out there so he could at least have a cigarette keeping him awake. There's a couple across the street either arguing or just passionately talking. It's hard to tell the difference.

Then, the chair across from him screeches across the floor loudly, drawing his eyes up. All the color drains from his face, his ghostly appearance recognizing the phantom that stands before him. His heart has fallen out of him. It's lying on the floor somewhere, the blood spurting out of it. Alex is certain he has fallen and hit his head and this is the dream sequence that plays in the movie. He's lost in a circle of time. It could be minutes or seconds, he sits there with his mouth begging to catch flies.

She smiles. That same fucking smile. Bright, pearly, the kind she'd give that made him want to lean in and kiss her. She looks the exact same. Even has a bandana on, although, now it's tied around the back of her head, holding that blonde hair back. It's longer now. She's dressed in jeans and a blue-and-white pinstriped button-up. It's almost like they are matching. Could be, if they wanted to with his trousers and white button-up.

He blinks like twenty times trying to clear his vision, make sure of this sight. Confirm this is real. It stays the same. "Holy fucking shit," he finally utters.

Her smile grows wider. "Wow," she sighs, "your French has gotten much worse. You're supposed to say bonjour."

Alex finally allows a smile to crack his face, despite his certainty that this can not be real. "What—what are you doing here?" His brows furrow, still unable to take in her whole image.

She takes off the saddle bag. It's leather this time. Not her old cloth one with the pins. She sits fully down in the chair across from him. A wide smirk displays across her face as she rests her head on her left hand. "Interviewing you."

As if this interaction couldn't get crazier and his jaw could possibly hang open wider. "Seriously?"

She gives him a pleased nod. "I don't usually do music but someone at my work mentioned the Arctic Monkeys concert coming to town and the opportunity for an interview and I begged my boss."

He tries to quail his quickened heartbeat but she isn't making it simple. None of this is simple and he's gone dazed and crazed. He must have. "I can't believe you're here. You're in front of me. I feel like you're so calm and I've completely lost it."

"Well, I knew I would be seeing you again for about a month and I tried to regain my cool in front of the bathroom mirror for about 45 minutes. Do you want to go do that?" She points behind her to the toilets with a dream-inducing grin. She's proud of that joke.

"I might have to. Go in there and se branler." He motions jerking off loosely with his hand and it gets that precious fucking laughter out of her.

"You remember any French other than that?"

He gives a quick shake of his head. "No, not really." Prompting more laughter from her. He stares at her, giving her a thorough examination. "I can't fucking believe it. It's been 11 years, you know, how fucking crazy is that?"

"Don't tell me that." She rests her forehead in the palm of her hand. "I'm still trying to deal with turning 30 and that was 2 years ago."

He's amused by her. It's 11 years ago and yesterday for him. He feels they've snapped right back into place. No time has shifted and they are 21 again and this is what life would have been like if they had July in Paris. "So, you finally figured out your life," he recalls her ramblings. Revels in them.

She shrugs. "For the most part. It took a while but we're here. It was kind of, well, our day in Brussels helped point me in that direction. You probably don't remember"—he remembers everything, seriously—"but you made this compliment about how I had all these good questions or something and I thought, after you, well, told me about the whole band thing, and I figured out how big you actually were that I could do that for a living. Interview people. I don't usually do rockstars though not since you."

A thumping rings in his red-hot ears. He tries to take a deep breath and has to try several times. "What do you usually do?"

"Mainly the art section. I go to at least a dozen gallery openings every week but I love it."

"It sounds perfect for you. You helped me understand Magritte."

She smiles with pride. "You always had a keen eye. I only pointed you in the right direction."

He lets out a puff of air loudly and shakes his head. He doesn't look down at his hands but already knows they're shaking. "I'm sorry. I just can't fucking believe you're in front of me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

She giggles. "I didn't really either."

He becomes a tad solemn as he leans on his hand, closer to her. "Can I ask you something?" She nods. "Why didn't you come to the Paris show?"

She leans back in her chair and her demeanor shifts. She's remorseful-looking and toying with her hands. He supposes that habit has stayed the same. "I wanted to. I tried to be but I had got into this journalism program in Boston. I saw you there but I didn't think you'd want to see me after ditching you in Paris. I didn't really know how to get backstage or anything either. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. Why did you think I wouldn't want to see you?"

She tries to hide her face. "I swear I wasn't searching you up every night and stalking you but I saw you and your girlfriend back then, uh, Alexa. Didn't want to impose on anything because that was back when I didn't have the belief of women and men being friends."

"Like Harry Burns? I'd want to see you no matter what." He doesn't want to admit to her how hurt he was by her not showing up in Paris. How her name had been on every backstage list for the Favourite Worst Nightmare tour. Let alone that embarrassed trolling around Paris he had done. His start with Alexa, however serious that relationship ended up becoming, was rooted in getting over Lottie. He still hadn't fully dealt with that last part. Not until she sat in front of him and he realized.

"I had a different mind at 21," she explains. "I changed therapists."

He throws his head back in laughter. "What was the final straw?"

"Well." Her eyes drift away from his, looking down at her locked hands. "Moving to America was the main reason. I couldn't deal with any more defense of porn-addict boyfriend."

Alex takes a sip of his coffee, forgetting its bitterness, but enduring it to indulge in her sweetness. "She never let up on that one?"

"Not really."

Lottie orders a cappuccino and Alex, unsure of what to do, says, "You know, I have a concert later tonight."

"I know. I'm gonna go if that's alright. For the article and everything." She says it like she's informing him, rather than asking for permission.

"Well, I don't have to be at the venue for another couple of hours and I've never really gotten the chance to explore Paris." The smile that spreads across her face tells him she knows what he is thinking.

She snickers, "I should get a flat day rate for being your tour guide."

He leans forward on the little cafe table between them. "Come on, I'll give an exclusive. Complete unabridged day with a rockstar."

She giggles. "My boss would be very mad if I didn't take that."

"Perfect." He means every bit of that. His 21-year-old self's fantasies are finally coming true. Imagining life as it truly should have been. He thinks how much he has changed since then. How much he has stayed the same. She's stayed the same in his mind. A ghostly presence in his mind. An angel that came and visited for a day. She looks much of the same, especially compared to his differing appearance. Longer hair, less scrawny, light stubble regrowing post-goatie. He's grown into himself more, no longer an awkward boy under a hoodie. He's getting hot under his suit jacket. "So, what have you been up to the past 11 years?"

Lottie points a finger at him. "Aren't I supposed to be asking you questions?"

He smirks and leans back in his chair. "No, see that's part of the deal. You tell me what you've been doing for the past decade and answer all my questions and I might tell you exclusive material. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain."

She raises an eyebrow but smiles and nods. "Let's see the last 11 years. I mean, I lived in Boston for 5 years. About 5 years too many."

"Why? Did you hate it?"

She tilts her head back and forth in an indifferent gesture. "It's a nice city but I don't think I belong in America. I fell into a fantasy there. By the time I had been there 5 years, I felt I had been living a lie the whole time. You know, I didn't like my apartment or my friends or even my job and I was 26 and it was either change my shit now or live like this for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, yeah. I feel that now. I've been out in LA for about 5 years now but had never really settled until this past year. I loved it my first year. It was so different than anywhere I've ever lived but last year was the first time I had been there a full year and I think I hate it."

"America's a mess now anyway. I couldn't imagine living in LA. It doesn't seem fun."

Alex shrugs. "I like it but I think I've fallen away from it. And everywhere is a mess now anyway. Brexit's happened and England's a mess and I haven't even lived there fully since 2008 but part of me thinks I'd like it."

"When I moved back to Paris after Boston, I felt my whole body realigned and I'm not one for that energy crap but I think there has to be something to these places because I immediately felt a relief I had never felt in Boston." His head is filled with thoughts of telling her, I know exactly what you mean, I feel it right now looking at you.

"Maybe after this next tour but I don't know if me girlfriend would do it. She already moved out to LA for me. I'd feel shitty making her move to a whole other country."

"Is she American?"

He nods, even though he has a feeling she already knew that but she's trying not to seem like she already has all the answers to him already from her research. "You seeing anyone?"

Her face crosses. "Kind of." Her resolve breaks with a laugh. "God, how embarrassing is it that I'm 32 and kind of in a relationship?"

"I think you're fine. 32 is still young. You don't have to worry about that for another decade."

She leans forward with intensity, the same level she had at 21. "Except, I'm getting down to the wire here as far as having children." He throws his head back in laughter. It's nice to know that she hasn't changed a bit in 11 years. "I'm serious. And, I know, I know, science is so advanced these days and there are millions of children to adopt and blah blah blah but I don't want to be a 50-year-old pregnant woman or a single mother. I mean, I'm not opposed to it but I don't think there's anything wrong with having the fantasy of the nuclear family. Except I don't know if I really want that or that's just societal pressure I'm feeling."

It's deja vu for him of the romantic nostalgia variety that if he could package it into a pill and take it as a prescription forever, he would. "You said the same thing in Brussels."

She groans in frustration. "Great, so I'm a broken loop. I'm a woman moaning about men and babies. I put shame on all the feminist icons."

He waves his hand at her. "I think you're fine and it's nice to know how you feel about these things, even if it's the same. I feel that way right now."

"With children?"

"Yeah, I mean, most of me friends have settled. Everyone in the band has kids and I don't know if I want that. Me girlfriend wants that, I think, but I can't imagine touring and having kids at home. I still feel too young to have kids or to get married."

She groans, "Yuck. Don't even get me started on marriage."

"Don't believe in it?"

"I don't want to. I think if I was with someone who really wanted it then maybe but when I was engaged it felt like such a doomful thing."

She nonchalantly says it but he needs to know. "You were in engaged?"

Lottie gives a small head nod and sips her cappuccino. The subject is still an odd one for her. "For about 6 months in 2012. It was a disaster, to say the least, mostly on my part. He was a good guy but I was too immature to settle and he was the last thing keeping me in Boston. Once that ended, I came back to Paris."

"You were engaged to an American?" He leans forward with intrigue. It shocks him for some reason. 

She furrows her brows. "Aren't you dating an American?"

"Yeah, but it's different," Alex excuses.

"How?"

There isn't actually a difference other than bubbling jealousy but he can't admit that. So, he shrugs. "I'm a lowly Brit and you're a sophisticated French girl dating an American, let alone one from Boston."

She tilts her head in slight agreement. "He was awfully rowdy."

"Was he a big Red Sox fan?" Alex jokingly asks.

She sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. "Yuck, don't talk to me about baseball. Sports is the primary reason I left. His family had season passes and it was like the Salem Witch Trails if you didn't go to every game."

"See this is why I can't picture you engaged to an American."

"Fair point," she says. "What about your girlfriend?"

"Oh." He doesn't know why he's taken aback by the question. It makes him stir with guilt. It's not that he doesn't love his girlfriend, he has a fucking tattoo with her name, but suddenly Lottie sits down in a cafe in Paris across from him and he is thrown. 

"She's great." He stops there but then Lottie stares at him and he realizes he's being short. He stares down at his cup. "She's—she's funny, beautiful, and very lovely." The description doesn't exactly help his case.

She doesn't push him any further. In fact, she smiles, and says, "She sounds nice. I'm sure you don't deserve her."

Alex chuckles initially at the comment but it grows painful inside of him. He struggles to digest it and the words weigh heavy as it turns from a joke into the truth. He shakes it off as best he can. "Who is this 'kind of' relationship?"

She sighs loudly. "We met at this weird work function. He works as a freelance photojournalist and travels to these warzones for months at a time and then he'll be here for a month or 2 before heading off again."

"Wow," Alex utters. How can I compete with a warzone photojournalist who is kind of her boyfriend? He shakes it. You don't need to compete because you have a fucking girlfriend, you idiot. "That's cool." Idiot.

"Yeah." She displays a similar demeanor as him: outmatched with no chance of catching up. "It's—he's a good guy. He does this incredible work but I can't help but constantly feel undercut by him. It's not his intention but—no offense to you—I'm telling him about some avant-garde art show I just reviewed and he's like 'That's great, I'm photographing Syrian refugee camps.' You feel like a complete loser next to him."

"You're helping keep art alive and maybe I'm stroking me ego too much but isn't that what we need during all these shitstorms? It feels like the only thing keeping me sane at times."

She leans forward onto her hand and smiles and, fuck, he feels his heart skip a beat. He can't shake her off of his skin, off his mind, off his heart. If he was a smart guy—a good guy—he'd do the interview, and leave. Play the show and leave France. Go home to his girlfriend and leave Lottie as a fantasy in his mind for the rest of his life. But then he thinks about his 21-year-old self who swore he wouldn't let her become that to him. Someone he would lie awake at night and imagine what life would be like if he got her. She's danced in and out of his mind through the years, but he'd be lying if he didn't think about what would have happened if she showed up in Paris. She got on that London-bound train. If they exchanged fucking phone numbers. He can't lie awake and think what would have happened if he didn't shun her. "Do you want to walk around now maybe?"

"Sure." She eagerly stands up.

She opens her bag and takes out her wallet. He holds his hand out. "You have to let me pay for your coffee, at least. I never paid you back for the hotel." The thought of the hotel room sends shivers down his spine. 

Alex tosses a few bills to cover the check and then some. She giggles, "You finally have Euros."

He shrugs with a hidden smirk too shy to show him how pleased he is that she remembers. Even if it's his dorky mistake. "A little more prepared this time."

They exit the cafe into the Latin Quarter with Lottie leading the way to their next location. Their pace is the same as it was in Brussels. In step with one another through talks of one another's lives. 

"What has the last 11 years been like for you?" She returns his question to him. "I mean," she admits, "I know some of it."

Alex narrows his eyes at her. "You've been keeping tabs on me, Lottie?"

She breaks eye contact away from him and shrugs but the smile that breaks through tells him everything he needs to know. He gets too much of a kick of that. "Well, you're not the easiest to avoid. I also did get really into your music after, you know, Brussels and all."

It pleases him until a realization drops his heart into his gut. He looks for a display of any reaction on her face but she keeps steady and walks ahead. He won't say it if she doesn't. Maybe she doesn't even know. Maybe only he paid attention to that kind of thing. Maybe only he paid attention to their hotel room number.

"I mean," he exhales loudly. "Everything you know is probably the extent."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, in the last 11 years all you've done is music. That's not true."

And, sure, it's not, but it kind of is. He doesn't want to tell her about his ex-girlfriends and he doesn't need to indulge her in whatever stupid stories he has of LA. "I think it is. It sounds pretty depressing, doesn't it?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think so. You're living a pretty cool life. Unless you don't see it that way."

"No, it's just..."

"What?"

"I feel like I've been in the same place since I was 21. I'm stuck in some cycle that I can't stop. I know I've changed and I've had experiences. I mean, I lived in New York for a little and I've been in LA for a while but when you're touring for more than a year at a time for pretty much a decade, it's hard to feel significant changes."

"I feel the same way since moving back to Paris."

"Really?" It's hard to feel like anyone knows how he feels. Everyone around him has had big life changes and he feels...the same.

"Boston was a whirlwind but it was my 20s. Now, I get up and go to work every day and I go home and repeat it. I have friends and we go out for dinners but I'm not getting married, I'm not having children, and I'm not visiting Antarctica. I'm still. For years, I liked that feeling but now..."

He finishes, "You feel stuck."

"Yeah. I swear I'm not depressed. I'm not going to throw myself in the Seine or anything."

He chuckles. "No, no. I know what you mean. It's just growing pains."

"Pft," she says, "at 32 I thought that would be over with."

"I don't think it ever goes away."

"At least I'm not getting zits anymore."

"Small victories."

She points her finger out. "There's this park, the Luxembourg Gardens, down the road. It's beautiful if you'd like to go."

And just like before, where she leads, he will follow.

"My father died last year," she tells him.

He isn't sure what to say. For the first time, he touches her, places his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and shrugs. "No need. I never really knew him."

"Oh," he says, "I didn't know that." He suddenly realizes that the perception he had of Lottie for the last decade has been shaped by one day, not even a full 24 hours. A time they spent together where he didn't even know that she never knew her father. 

"Yeah, I never—I don't talk about it very much. I feel like I've finally started to work through some of the childhood trauma shit that I swept under the rug for so many years. My parents' relationship was complicated."

"In what way? I don't mean to be nosy—"

She interrupts to reassure, "Never. You never are." She smiles over at him like a sunray. "I like telling you these things. It feels like a vessel I can put it in and send out to sea. I know you'll never tell another soul, right?"

He motions locking his lips and tossing the key. It makes her giggle and he forgot the thrill he got from doing that.

"My father was married when my maman had my brother and me. Never divorced his wife. I have a half-sister I've never met. She's like 20 years older than me."

Alex doesn't mean to have a visible reaction but he can't help but utter, "Wow."

"Yeah." She slips her hands into her jeans' pockets. "I don't know. I've been trying to work my way through all of it. I think I feel grief over it but I'm not sure if I'm mourning his death or the potential relationship we could have had."

"I don't know. I've never been in that type of situation with death. You know, the finality of everything. But with people that I've drifted away from, I imagine all these what-ifs." It's hard to ignore the person he's talking about is right next to him. "What I could have done differently to make them stay or like me or whatever but I've realized that no matter what you do it doesn't change the way the other person is. With your dad, I can't imagine not wanting to know you. Something must have been wrong with him."

"Probably," she agrees before laughing. The thickness of the conversation is split in two as they both laugh lightness into the air.

"So, you just grew up with your brother and mother?" Alex asks.

Lottie pulls a face, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips. "I wish. My mom had her series of boyfriends. Some better, some worse. Nothing bad and she never married any of them but it was a weird revolving door. The longest one was the British diplomat. That's why my English is so good. Well, if I do say so myself."

"I still can't speak a lick of French so you're 1000 times better than me."

"I can't help it if I'm so fabulous," she jokes as she skips into the gardens. He's left watching her cheer from six paces behind. Mirth floods him and he feels a snap inside him like a glowstick coming to life. She's lit him up all over again. Prescribed him exactly what he needs. If he was smart, he'd leave now. He got his fix and he should go to the concert venue and leave it at that. He walks into the Luxembourg Gardens.

Alex follows her as she walks through the green parterre of gravel and lawn. The area is decently populated but the wide expansion of the park prevents any crowding. He can't stop staring at the back of her. It's not in some sexual desire way. He's not staring at her ass. He's not really focused on one area. He watches the way her trainers plant their way into the ground. The way her bandana flutters from the wind. The way her hair moves slightly side-to-side with each movement. He wonders if she takes him in this way. Noticed the way his loafers tap into one another every once in a while when he's walking. The way his hands are in his jacket to prevent the wind from blowing it around. The way he has had to keep pushing his hair behind his ears.

Then, she stops and sits in one of the metal chairs they have, Alex sits across from her, and she says, "Your hair is longer."

Witch! She must be psychic. He pushes his hair behind his ear again as if on instinct. "Yeah, that's different. It's changed a lot through the years."

"Yeah, I know. The quiff was a funny one."

"Are you mocking me?" He leans closer and teases. 

She giggles. "No, never."

"You don't look too different to me."

She scrunches her face up and scoffs, "Yeah, how plain am I."

Alex shakes his head slowly. "Not plain. You don't need to change anything about you. You were beautiful then and you're beautiful now." He's trending in territory he shouldn't but it makes her smile, like really smile. She turns her head away from him and covers her mouth with her hand.

"Whereas you still look ugly," she mocks with a smug smile.

His jaw opens dramatically. "You are mean, Lottie."

"I'm kidding," she reassures. "You've always been a charming-looking man."

"You make it sound like I'm some dandy."

Her face twists up again. "What's that?"

"A dandy?" She nods. "For once, I know something you don't."

"You know many things I don't."

"Yeah, right."

"I can't carry a tune to save my life. In fact, I should win an award for not attempting to ever play music."

"I don't know. I think if you applied yourself to it you could be good."

"Are you trying to recruit me to your music school, Mr. Turner?" It's the first time she's said his last name ever and he realizes he doesn't know hers.

"You could be a good triangle player." She punches his arm when he says that. He asks, "What's your last name?"

She smirks. "Guess."

"I don't know. Something really French."

"No. Guess."

"I don't know," he says again. "Something like Bonaparte or whatever."

"No. Guess."

"We're going to be here all day if you don't at least help me narrow it down."

She grabs hold of his face, hands on his cheeks, which are growing embarrassingly rosy. "My last name is Guess."

His face drops. "Wait. Your last name is Guess. Charlotte Guess."

"Yes and ew. Don't call me Charlotte."

He sighs loudly, "I don't know, Charlotte. You put me through a lot of trouble there."

She relinquishes her hold on his face and leans back in her chair. He's unnerved by how the cold rushes to his body as soon as she isn't close. "You'll manage."

She oozes cool, always has. She props a leg up on the chair and leans back with such freeness that wasn't there 11 years ago. She's not twisted up inside, she looks relaxed. He wants to ask her how to get there. Lately, he's felt like knots of stress. Any effort to dissipate has been met unsuccessfully because he can't put a finger on what's causing all of it.

"You know," she says, "I do have to interview you at some point."

He waves her off. "I know, I know, but I'm still adjusting to the fact that I'm seeing you right now. I want to know more about you."

That hint of a smile comes back to her cheeks. "Like what?" The tip of her shoe knocks on his shoe and he isn't sure what to make of it. Looks down and wishes he could take a photo of it.

"Do you still paint?"

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head in disbelief. "You remember that I paint?"

Alex doesn't see it as a big deal. Why wouldn't he remember all those little things? "Yeah, and you're a decent cook, right?"

"Jesus," she lets out under her breath. A quickened heart rate and a brush of pink to her cheeks. "I don't even think my mother remembers I paint. I still do it from time to time. I was never very good at it."

He shakes his head. "I doubt that."

"You never seen anything I've painted."

"I don't need to see it to believe it. If you think it's bad it's probably better than what most people, including myself—especially myself—can do."

"Well, maybe if you're lucky I show you something."

"I'd like that." He hates how much he'd like that. "What do you paint?"

She shrugs. "This. That. Abstract kind of things. I like painting faces but I'm not very good at that. I get the proportions all mixed up."

"Like Magritte or something?" He chuckles.

She shakes her head. "Not quite. More like that botched restoration of that Jesus painting."

Alex can't help but think of the two of them standing before A Stroke of Luck and the cigar, but not a cigar painting (so, screw him, he can't remember the name of it). His mind can't help but reminisce on them in the park sitting in the grass afterward. Lottie, delicate and cherubic, picking flowers to place behind his ear, and then, kissing her. If he reaches out into the memory, he can practically still feel his hands on her skin. 

"Do you want to go to another art museum?"

"What like the Louvre?"

"Sure."

She laughs. "I am not going to the Louvre."

But Alex is already standing and reaching his hand out to her. "Come on, I've never been."

She sighs and places her hand in his. It's soft like a baby's freshly washed skin. His hand feels rough against the smooth surface, callouses old and new can be felt. Alex pulls her up out of her chair and they begin to walk to the park's exit. "How have you never been to the Louvre?"

"I've never had time," he explains. "Generally when I've visited Paris it's been for a limited number of days."

"But didn't you record the album in La Frette? Couldn't come in on a day off for the Louvre?" She's still holding his hand. He's not being responsible, he knows. 

In fact, he's passed irresponsible when he leans in close to her ear and says, "I missed when you didn't know anything about me."

She giggles and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm the one taking you to the Louvre at 1 in the afternoon with no tickets. I think you can manage the sacrifice."

"You must go all the time considering your job," Alex says.

Lottie says, "Oh, I haven't been to the Louvre in over a decade," before bursting out into laughter.

"And you're shaming me for having never gone?"

She lets go of his hand and wags her finger at him. "Hey, I have at least gone. Multiple times! And the Louvre isn't exactly a place getting new and upcoming art all the time." She drops her hand back down to her side. Their hands never re-intertwined. "The last time I went I was 17 and I made out in the staircase with Alain Millardet the whole time."

"So, you really saw all the sights." He follows her directions as they cross the street.

Lottie gags from the memory alone. "He was a horrible kisser and we ended up getting caught by an employee. They told our school—our Catholic school, by the way—and it was the only time I ever got in trouble. The only thing that lessened the blow was that my maman was away with her boyfriend and never found out."

"You were a goody-two-shoes in school," Alex teases.

Lottie squishes up her face. "What does that mean?"

He grins at the way her little button nose is scrunched up, her eyes slightly squinted, the wrinkle formed between her brows. "Just means you're a rule follower."

"Oh." She giggles. "I just didn't get caught." Every inch of her intrigues him. The secrets she has buried deep within that he has an eagerness to uncover. The flip of her hair as she walks her way down the streets. Her hands clutch the brown leather strap of her bag. Those blue eyes glancing over at him as ripples of laughter echo through her.

They begin to cross over the Seine when she tells him, "This is the Pont des Arts. It used to be covered in locks, you know, the thing where couples put a lock on the bridge and throw away the key, but they had to remove it after the bridge nearly collapsed, which thank god because I had one with my ex-boyfriend on it and I couldn't bear the thought that we would be locked here together eternally."

Alex chuckles and puts his hands in his pockets. "Me first girlfriend did that with the lock she used for her locker. At the end of the school year, she wrote our names on the back and locked it to a fence. About a month after we broke up, I walked by the fence she'd put it on and it was gone. She had gone back and removed it."

"Aw," she coos, "poor girl. You probably broke her heart."

"Thanks for your lack of pity for me, Lot." She grins at the nickname. "How do you know she didn't break my heart?"

"Because only a heartbroken girl would go back and remove the lock."

"Yeah."

Alex gazes up and spots the glass pyramid, realizing they've already made their way to the Louvre. The courtyard is populated with people taking pictures of and with the structure. Someone is playing violin, likely busking, in the distance. 

As they approach the building, Lottie gasps and then begins to laugh. "What?" Alex asks with a hint of his own reactive laughter.

She gives him a funny frown. "It's Tuesday, isn't it?"

Alex confusedly responds with a dragged-out "Yeah."

She snickers. "The Louvre is closed on Tuesdays."

They both just take to laughing in the middle of all the tourists. Lottie clutches his forearm, which he reciprocates, making their arms plank over each other. Then, Lottie suddenly stops, stands up straight, and looks him in the eye, saying, "Time for me to interview you."

 Alex chuckles, "Nice try." He takes to guiding them out of the courtyard, walking ahead of her. "Where to next?"

She's right behind him. Alex can feel the edge of her bag touch his butt. "Are you trying to get me fired?"

The pleasure he gets out of taunting her should probably be illegal. "You'll get your interview," he promises. "I've already given you so much unknown information. I've never been to the Louvre, still to this day, my French is horrible, and I'm desperate to see some art so why don't you show me some of yours."

They pause at a crossing. "Are you trying to invite yourself to my apartment?" She has a habit of making him flustered easily. Her fluttering lashes flapped away at him. He swears they blow an ocean breeze his way.

He plays a tricky game. "Well, if we go to your apartment, maybe you'll finally get your interview." The light flashes green and he walks ahead.

She trails behind fighting a crooked grin. "I highly doubt that."

Alex hums.

Either way, they headed off in the direction of her place. Down the stairs to the metro where they wait for the 4 train. The platform is sparsely crowded, predictable for a Tuesday afternoon just before rush hour. 

"I have to say something." Her demeanor is coy. She's holding her hand in a fist up against her mouth. Her eyes peer up at him demurely. "I've been debating whether to say it or not but I figure out with it. No secrets, you know."

Alex nods curiously. "Okay."

"The song."

The two words make a chill go through him. Spins around his spine and hits each vertebrae. She does know. He can't help but physically react, muttering, "Oh, god," and placing his hand on his forehead in exasperation.

She giggles at his reaction. He is only calmed by the fact that she doesn't sound pissed. Still, he feels embarrassed. "It's one of your most popular songs."

Alex doesn't care. He lived up off the hope that she had somehow missed that one. Or she only ever listened to the most recent album for her work assignment. When he wrote it, it was felt under the impression he would see her again. Not under the impression that in 11 years he would be standing on a metro platform with her about to be interviewed by her. 

He re-establishes himself. He gets his footing, drops his hand from his face, and looks over at her. She's still looking amused by his reaction. The train pulls up to the station. "Which one?"

He is able to get a chuckle in when her jaw drops slightly. Feeling he has the upper hand, he hops on the train, having her dash behind him. Alex finds two empty seats and takes a seat next to the window. Lottie sits down next to him.

She seems to have composed herself. Tight jaw and curious lips. "Now, I meant 505, what are you on about?"

Alex shrugs. "Pft, who said 505 was about you?" He is staring straight ahead, calm, cool, and collected.

Her eyes are glued to him, watching his every move. "I'm not an idiot, Alex, I can read. Our hotel room was 505."

"Oh, what a weird coincidence." He is almost chuckling with pride in his humorous fibbing abilities. 

"Come on. I doubt many girls were lying on their side with their hands between their thighs for you, Alex." That memory strikes him hard. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can still trace the outline of her body in his mind, memorizing every crevice.

He chuckles with a wide grin. "It was a nice memory."

She crosses her arms in a pleased manner. "I knew it was about me."

"Yeah, well, I had a lovely time with you." His eyes are intently on hers. A knowing smile is splashed across his face. 

She returns the favour. They are in a duel with their eyes, fighting grins in their smiles. "Me too."

"Good."

She leans in closer. "Now, what's this other song about me?"

Alex looks away from her, gazing at the station they are approaching. "I think this is our stop."

He tries to stand up and she grabs his arm and yanks him back down. "Shush. You have no clue where we are even getting off."

Her hand stays gripping his forearm, keeping them steady. His gaze is resistant if ever pleasurable. His eyes trained on the doors and unsure of what to say, tossing between giving it up or burying it away. He plays with his hands, bringing them together, and then apart, and then back together. "I wrote this song, you know, in the, uh, hypothetical sense."

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, whatever that means. Out with it. You know, people are usually flattered by the thought someone would think of them enough to write a song about them. Let alone two."

"Alright," he calms. "The song isn't really all about you. I guess, you sparked the original idea."

She gestures for him to continue. "And?"

"Cornerstone."

She leans back against the train's wall. A small smirk plays on her face. "Really? You were seeing me all around town?"

He can't help but smile, although, forced to shield it behind his hands covering the surface area of his face. "Don't make me sound like a creep."

"No, no. It all feels like flattery." She looks like she wants to say something else but keeps it to herself. He's tempted to ask but she's pointing slowly to the train station and softly saying, "This is our stop."

They get up as the train stops. The doors stay closed though. "Flip the handle up," Lottie says.

He grabs hold of the door handle and follows her instructions. The door opens at a quick speed. So quick that Alex, still with his hand on the handle, nearly gets his arm yanked off. Lottie erupts in laughter behind him. He sucks in a breath and steps off the train. She places her hands on his shoulder as she follows behind him, too blind with laughter to properly guide herself. 

"You're really making a fool out of me today." Alex turns around as they ride the escalator up.

She's still emitting giggles when she says, "I'm sorry. It was too tempting though."

Her apartment is just outside the metro station. The building, Haussmann in style, is cold and dark in the stairwell. Lottie tells him to watch his step as they head to the second floor before she flips on a switch outside her door. Before she unlocks it, she turns and tells him, "I'm a messy person and you have rudely barged in on me so you can not judge."

Alex agrees and she unlocks the door. She has, of course, exaggerated the mess of the place. It's a loft of a decent size. Her bed is in the far corner, unmade with a plum-coloured mandala-printed blanket thrown over it. Clothes from this morning are strewn about the floor. Her kitchen is small and her plate from breakfast is still in the sink. In the back corner, across from her bed is a collection of canvases. They are all turned inward making him unable to look at any of them.

Lottie stands awkwardly in the kitchen, hands behind her back, bobbing on her feet. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water? Alcohol?"

He chuckles at her delivery, struck by her grace. "I'll take a tea."

"Okay." She busies herself with that as he examines the room closely. A shelf of books piled to the brim. There's a vase of flowers on a lower shelf. On the bottom: a record collection. He smiles to himself. "Can I put on a record?"

"Sure," she absentmindedly says. She's showing Alex her tea packets: black, green, mint, ginger. Black, he picks. 

She stills at the opening strings. Her heart patters at the clacking of the castanets. I found my love in Portofino...

She dips the tea bags into the hot water and turns around. She leans against the counter, staring at him at the place he has taken on her small loveseat. "You know, I got a record player because of this album."

His arms are crossed and he looks pleased with himself. "Inspiring a new generation to buy records. You know, AM is one of the best-selling vinyls of the 2010s."

She squints playfully. "Are you usually this boastful about yourself?"

"Stop, you're making me feel like a self-absorbed asshole."

Lottie crosses her arms, playing his game back to him. "What's the saying? If the shoe fits."

"Hush now. Sit." He pats the seat beside him. The air is thick and she cuts through it by walking over to him with two cups of tea. 

She prompts hopefully, "Interview time?"

Alex ignores her. "You know, I went and bought my own copy of this."

"The record?"

He nods. "God, I'm such a dweeb."

She shakes her head. "No. It's a good record."

He gazes over at her knowingly. His chin is tilted down and his eyes are blazing at her. "I didn't buy it because it was a good record."

Suddenly, she breaks. "You can't do that."

Alex gets the message, turns away, and focuses on the warm mug in his hand. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No," she reassures, calm and clear, "it's fine. I just can't sit next to you in my apartment with you saying things like that and not..."

"Not?" He tries to get more out of her.

She gazes over at him knowingly. Her chin is tilted down and her eyes are blazing at him. "You know."

He nods.

"I still have that photo of you. The one I took on that hill. It's buried deep in a drawer somewhere." She's tempting him and she knows it. She's not abandoning the topic of their romantic evening. She's not insisting on conducting an interview. She's flirting.

Alex smiles back pleased. "I probably look like a dork."

"Yeah," she dryly agrees making him laugh. "But a cute dork."

"Whenever I came to Paris, I would walk around, duck into all these cafes, and I had these visions of seeing you there. That's where Cornerstone came from," Alex confesses.

"I changed therapists because of you," Lottie confesses.

"What?"

She leans on her arm against the back of the couch. "It wasn't because I moved away. I came back from Brussels and told her about you and she said that you were a fantasy but not a realistic man. I shouldn't get my hopes up on delusions and should invest myself in some reliable man. That I was falling for a rockstar who probably did that thing all the time. The whole time she's saying this to me, I'm thinking, 'She has no fucking clue what she's talking about. Reliablity? Who has reliability at 21? My porn-addict boyfriend.'"

Alex laughs. "I still really love this porn-addict boyfriend of yours."

"Well, you and my therapist." The room goes quiet. She sinks into a corner of the couch and sighs. "So, you were the final straw."

"I've done that cafe shit every time I've been to Paris."

"What?" She sits up straighter.

"I just—I've always wanted to talk to you again. It felt weird when you didn't show up in July. I figured, or maybe hoped, something big happened for you not to be there."

She's stiff and awkward and looks down at her legs, awkwardly stiff. "I tried to be there. I wanted to. You have to know, if it weren't for the program, I would've. I mean, I still go to your shows, and listen to your records, and, for crying out loud, I harrassed my boss into letting me interview you. He probably thinks I'm some obsessive fan."

"Harrassed?" He raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Lottie looks up sheepishly with a shy smile. "Yeah, well, at this rate, I'm not even gonna have an interview."

"You'll have an interview. I'll give you the best fucking interview." There's something in the way he looks at her. The tone of his voice makes her believe he is a lion and she's the gazelle he's waiting to maul. But those eyes, soft and dreamy. Eyes she could fall asleep next to every night.

"And then you look at me like that and you think you're the soppy one. I'm falling to bits over here. I've felt crazy for 11 years but then you look at me like that."

"Why'd you feel crazy?"

"I thought I made the whole thing up in my head. Like I was some psycho who imagined a whole night with you just because I liked your song. I mean, I ruined every relationship because I was hung up on you."

"What?"

"And now I'm ruining any possible relationship with you by blabbing on about this. I can't help it, you've infected me, you've ruined me, and I sound crazy." She's messing with her hair to really emphasize this fact. "But I'm stuck on the Boston T, riding the slowest train ever, sitting next to this guy I'm about to marry, and we have nothing to talk about, and all I'm thinking is 4 years ago I got on the wrong train." 

Her breathing is heavy. Rattling and refusing to calm her heart down. She can't distinguish what his eyes mean.

Alex is quiet when he speaks. "Fucking hell, Lot."

Any move he thinks about making is interrupted when she quickly stands from the couch and separates herself from him by pacing in the kitchen. She clutches her hands around her face, cheeks turning red. She takes a deep breath and says, "I think you should leave. I'm sorry for that whole display. I'm so lost in myself and I'm crazy and I'm sorry."

Alex stands and takes a step toward her. She takes one back like they are the same side of a magnet repelling one another. "Lottie."

"I'm sorry."

He takes a moment for himself too. Runs his hands through his hair, heart pounding he puts his hand over to still it and takes a deep breath. "No," he insists. "First, you're not crazy. Second, I haven't seen you in 11 years and I have thought about you for too long to let you go—go on that other train again." Something chokes him inside. Maybe it's the guilt, the thought of his girlfriend back home. Maybe it's Lottie, who looks two steps away from crying, and all he can think about is being left on that train platform again. "Third, we have to do the interview."

"Oh, god, that stupid interview." And then he laughs. So, she laughs.

Alex attempts to step toward her again, cautiously like she's a cat he is afraid he is going to scare off. She stays in her place. He leans down and hugs her. She's hesitant but then she hugs back. Tight like they are each a moment away from slipping out of one another's grasp. 

Alex pulls away, but keeps an arm around her back, pushing them toward her front door. "So, let's go eat some lunch and do an interview."

She sniffles and then smiles over at him in a remorseful manner. "Okay."

They head to the cafe on the street corner. The conversation grew lighter and Alex joked that he still didn't get to see her paintings. She countered that she still hadn't interviewed him.

On opposite sides of the table, each holds a cigarette and chats over an ashtray. Lottie asks him questions regarding the album and Alex answers formally, which is almost too proper and comes off more jokey than serious. Nonetheless, she quotes him on it. 

He grows hot and takes his jacket off, halfway through, around the time their dishes arrive. The interview, more-or-less, ends there as they each inhale their meals and split the stack of bread. "I'll be here tomorrow too, you know."

She nods. Of course, she knows.

"We could do the Louvre then."

She smiles with amusement at him. "You're really obsessed with the Louvre."

"I'm determined to go and now to get you to go. Maybe we'll makeout in the stairway and get caught by one of the nuns." The comment is cheeky and they both laugh at it, even if it should hold more guilty weight than it does.

A woman then approaches them. She's old, enough to be someone's great-grandmother. She speaks in French to Lottie, who has grown a furrowed brow, as she repeatably says no to the woman, who holds up a necklace at her. 

"What's she saying?" Alex inquires.

Lottie sighs and says warningly, "Alex."

The woman smiles big and looks over at Alex. She speaks very broken English, but tells him, "Her neck, nothing." She gestures over to Lottie's bare neck, the way her top pulls down (notes of cleavage, but he's got to get his mind out of the gutter), accentuating the bareness of it. Alex has shameful thoughts in remembrance of kissing it. Fuck, he's screwed, if the pull of his pants says anything. The woman holds the necklace high in her hand. "For beauty. Beautiful woman needs beauty."

Lottie begins to speak in French to the woman as Alex wordlessly reaches into his wallet and pulls out a bill. The woman lights up in delight and accepts the €20 as Lottie shakes her head. "Her ears, nothing," the woman tries to push more.

Alex cheerfully says, "No, no, just the necklace. Merci beaucoup." The woman attempts again but Alex ignores her and her English is too poor to keep trying for another sale.

Lottie is staring at him. He can't decipher if it's a look of pleasure or unease. "You shouldn't have done that."

"The necklace is nice and I gave the poor woman some money. Now put it on."

She stays still for a moment but gives in and sits up to accept the necklace. It's simple. A chain with a small blue pendant on the bottom. It matches her eyes. She mutters a thank you, if for the gesture alone. After a few careful tries, she clasps the necklace. "I'll probably get some sort of infection from it."

He chuckles. "Probably."

They sit in silence with one another. They are stuck in the middle of a staring contest where fireworks spark between them. Alex breaks it and looks down at his empty plate, a flush of shyness overcoming him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Are you interviewing me now?" She giggles, pleased with her joke.

"Hey! I let you get all your questions in. It's my turn," he insists.

She relaxes back in her chair and crosses her legs. "Okay."

"What do you think would have happened if you got on the train with me? Or if you showed up to the concert?" 

It draws a rough breath out of her. "We wouldn't have worked out."

His heart stills. It's not the answer he expected. All that wishful thinking that had swirled in his mind for the last 11 years. The feeling that if he had been able to convince her or was able to find her, they'd be living happily ever after. "Really?

She shakes her head. "Are you kidding? I was a mess. I had no idea of a future for myself. I would have been in Paris or Boston and you would have been on the road all the time. I would've definitely been one of those girls who thought you were cheating on her the whole time. I probably would have convinced myself of it and not believed you when you told me the truth. I was born the product of an affair. It is my blueprint to assume every guy I'm with is getting it somewhere else."

Alex feels hungover with guilt at the thought that what he is doing right now might as well be an affair, if only emotionally. He sighs, "Yeah, I mean, I was a mess for like...forever." They both laugh. "Every time I feel like I've gotten my shit together. Something comes along to pull the rug out from under me."

"What's it this time?" She's staring at him, doe-eyed and smiling. 

He can't think of an excuse. So, he's honest. "You."

She's not offended by it. She smiles, though she does try and suppress it. "We should probably go to the venue. Right?"

Alex nods like hiding himself from the Parisian streets will get him out of this mess. Lottie insists on paying the bill, mainly because she isn't paying the bill, her work is. They could take a car over to the venue but Alex is overly enthusiastic about riding the metro over. "I have to redeem my shame. You know, in London we just have the button, so I can't be blamed for not knowing how to open the train door."

Lottie rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

At the venue, Alex gives Lottie a quick introduction to his bandmates. He says nothing more than, "This is Lottie, the journalist," but they all respond with knowing looks. Alex gives her a tour, mostly through her insistence that it would be cool for the article if she could set the scene for the reader. Alex says, "You're a painter with your words." She rolls her eyes and he gives her the tour.

"And a soundcheck, what's that like?" She asks before, you guessed it, soundcheck.

Alex shrugs. He tends to be short with answers for most interviews, but with Lottie it's different. Not once has it felt like he is being interviewed. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing. "It's...good. You know, making sure everything works. Good, fun."

She's cheery with her questions like the kid who constantly raises their hand in class but she's endearingly earnest and the way she scribbles notes in her little notepad makes it feel so much more authentic than when someone sits a tape recorder in on their conversation.

She watches soundcheck in the same way. She'll write a little note at the end of each song but then she'll rest in her chair and observe the full play out.

Backstage, Alex separates himself and Lottie from the rest of the group, which is notable. He wishes they were walking around still, escaping all their responsibilities just like they were doing in Brussels. He supposes that's growing up.

Lottie says, "It's good. Last time I was a bumbling clueless girl with no idea of her future. Now, I'm a bumbling clueless woman with no idea of her future."

"Oh, come on, you have a great job. You're interviewing me and that might be one of the hardest tasks ever and you're doing amazing," Alex reassures.

She nods. "I know. I love my job but that's all I have. It's crazy when we were in Brussels, all I wanted was to figure out what I wanted to be. I finally did that and I feel just as lost."

"In what way?"

She thinks for a moment, deciding how she wants to form her words. "I wish I was like my old self more. You know, I used to be so hopeful, so romantic about the world. About myself. About the future. Now, I just think I'm going to be alone forever." She is quick to correct herself. "And—and I don't mean I have nobody. I have a great set of friends. I love my life but when I look toward the future, I see nothing. For so long, I didn't know what I wanted but there were always possibilities. Now, I don't know." 

"I feel the same way," Alex confesses.

Lottie lifts her head in surprise. "Really?"

He nods. "It's what used to be so exciting about my life. Being in a new city every day and being able to set your own path. I still like most of that stuff but I feel behind everyone else in a way. You know, like how all the guys have kids and I don't think I'm ready for kids but should I be ready for kids? Do I want that? To be married? To have a family?"

"I don't think you're ever ready for that kind of thing. You are just ready for the feeling. You'll never be prepared enough for children that's what everyone says but I had a thought a while ago when, well, I had this pregnancy scare, which really was terrifying because the guy I was with is not a guy you want to have children with. My first thought for so long would have been 'I don't want children. I will not be birthing anything in my lifetime.' But when I had this scare, I think I liked the idea. Then, the test was negative and I breathed a huge sigh of relief." Alex chuckles at her dramatics as she talks with her hands. "But for those couple of minutes, I thought that being a mother wouldn't be so bad."

Alex smiles at her. "You'd be a great mother."

She looks up at him, all hopeful and disbelieving. "Do you really think so?" 

Alex nods. "A few anti-depressants and you'll be fine."

Lottie rolls her eyes and raises her hands and starts moving her fingers. "Say stop."

"Stop."

She stops, extending her middle fingers only, flipping him off. 

"That's good. Can I steal that?"

Lottie shrugs. "I don't have copyright on it."

A stagehand comes over and they realize how much time has escaped from them. Alex shuffles fixing his jacket as he stands, going into rockstar mode. "How'd I look?" He imitates a deep voice, gruffly and surly.

She giggles. "Like an asshole."

"You're so kind to me, Lottie."

"Maybe lose the jacket," she advises. Total professional opinion and not because he has three buttons loose on that white button-up that make her crave his skin. She's going too far, she knows, but she's a single woman. It's fine for her to observe.

Alex shakes his head and tightens his hands around the lapels. "I'm going to keep it on just to spite you." (He takes it off 4 songs in).

She walks him up the stairs to the stage but then says teasingly, "I'm going to watch from my assigned seat if that's alright with you."

He chuckles. "I'll look for you in the crowd."

She turns to leave and it's almost like she's fading from him all over again. Sure, they could get drinks after this and there's that rough plan for the Louvre tomorrow, but the image of her back to him walking away strikes something in him. "Hey, Lottie!" He calls out.

Alex catches her before she walks down the stairs. She turns around, curious eyes, curious smile. He's 21 and he's on a train to Brussels. He's 32 and he's in a cafe in Paris. No more what could have been. He knows.

"I think it would have worked out." 

Lottie looks at him from across the wing. He toys with his fingers, hopeful eyes, hopeful smile. She's 21 and she's on a train platform in Brussels. She's 32 and she's backstage at a concert in Paris. No more doubts. She knows.

"I think so too." 

*

a/n: part 3? i don't know. maybe...

[ianr36]

I will miss all of you but I think I’ve come to the conclusion that most here are bots. I really don’t get it! lol I will be deleting this app, and going old school face to face.

I’ve been nailed with requests for money looking over the fact that I’m looking for something real.

I feel sorry for all the fat short hairy guys with the little dicks that fall for this shit. You are the ones that are crying about being scammed so get to know them a bit -& ask some basic questions.

Also think with your head not your D. Not your ego. Be comfortable in your own skin. Have some discernment. The first question should be if most people in middle school have cell phones. Why do you not?

Q-Why don’t you have a mobile?

A-it broke, got stolen and the best one is it doesn’t matter. Lmfao!

(My kids have had one since 8?)

-I love you!

(Oh really? Even though we’ve never spoke)

-I’m not like the other girls.

(Yet you use the same script?) Holy wow!

Damn I imagine there are multiple call centers and as a business man I can respect that but as a human I cannot. So I cannot participate in this $hit! This is slavery and I can’t do it!

Both sides are being fed lies (bot, hooker or John) and it’s a shame that a platform that has the possibility to facilitate real change to occur, is being bulldozed by losers that don’t care about human lives.

Before you reply- please look at my previous posts regarding this and at a minimum let’s have some adult discourse

If you’ve gotten thus far, then you realize that I love humans I don’t care what gender you are. I fought for you in war multiple times.

You can say whatever you want whenever you want and I will always fight for that right for everyone.

Just don’t lie and try to play people that you don’t know- that this is a charade. it’s so easily identifiable.

Furthermore, why would you not want somebody to care for you? That’s intelligent enough to identify it if you were actually real? That’s a reasonable question right?

Let’s hear it? I want to think that a lot of you want true love, just cause I’ve been hurt before doesn’t mean I will be hurt again. That’s like someone trying to say that I tried to go in a business once and it didn’t work so I just gave up and went to slutting myself out.

If you just wanna slut yourself out there and treat yourself as a used tire-to each their own I’m all about that! Do what you do! I’m not a KIA.

But if you think for a moment that a guy who signed up to die for his country & opens doors for people and loves everyone no matter what can turn off the desire for wanting to spoil a special human, then please readiness that. Ffor anyone that is real on here and realizes that I am an open book and we could probably learn a lot from one another and grow together. I’m game for that conversation.. I feel so bad, but maybe I’m the one who needs to read more books! I’m game to talk for the next 24 hrs before I delete this app

But I have to be very upfront that I only like feminine women and that doesn’t matter what gender you were assigned to when you were born I don’t care bc I’ve dated models that are boring and numb and some girls that are amazing but I’m not desperate and I know my girl is out there.

(Sorry a lot of this was voice to text so if you have questions ask)

[the-peak-tmnt]

So Leo sees the world through Raphs or his other brothers eyes right? Does it look normal or is it like fuzzier or blurrier? Or maybe the vision isn't blurry but the comprehension of whats happening blurs in and out a little bit?? I bet Leos perspective of everything happening is so disorientating and sad. Anyway here's a drawing I did. I really like your work!

AHHHH THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!

Holy shit, I love this so much! The colors are amazing, especially with Leo and his shadow against them. And the way he’s boxed in to reflect his captivity…incredible imagery! Raph and Mikey's expressions are just so perfect, too! Just WOW dude! I’m so blown away by your visual interpretation of what Leo is seeing!!!

Thank you so much for the fan art 😭 It’s impossible to express how much it means to me when people are inspired by the story enough to create something. Seriously just so, so, SO rewarding, and it inspires me right back! THANK YOU!

Also, I love this question! I'm absolutely dying to reveal more about how the mental link between the brothers works, and how Leo experiences the world  beyond the place he’s being kept through Raph.

If things go according to plan, we will learn more about this in about 3 to 4 chapters. But I can’t help myself but give a little bit away early since you asked! If you aren’t afraid of some tiny spoilers, I’ll add more below the cut!

SPOILERS (KINDA?)

You totally hit the nail on the head! I literally have the word “disorienting” in my WIP document for a later chapter, because that’s the perfect description of how it feels for Leo at first.

As he continues to develop his skills over time, things become clearer whenever he “tags along” with Raph. He didn’t lie to Raph in Chapter 13 about not being able to hear Raph’s thoughts as clearly as he can when they’re in the dream room together. When Raph is awake and Leo is tagging along, he’s perceiving Raph’s sensory experience more so than his emotional state.

The turtles’ emotional states DO affect the “quality” of the connection, though. It’s implied that Leo’s been experiencing whatever media Raph is watching through the mind link, and that it’s clear enough that Leo can even hear dialogue. That’s because Raph is relaxed and (more or less) content when just hanging out watching YouTube or a movie.

The more unsettled, upset, or distressed Raph is, the less Leo can connect. This is why Leo tells Raph “I couldn’t feel you for a while” in Chapter 6. Raph had a panic attack/dissociative episode after speaking with Splinter, so Leo wasn’t able to connect with him at all. Leo doesn’t understand that’s what happened, though, thinking instead he maybe pushed the limits of their connection too far…

That being said, how everything works could very well change…if Raph ever decides to pick up that book again 😉

PS: I am losing my mind that you included Casey as something Leo saw! Because even though Raph/the reader doesn’t know it yet, Leo is aware that Casey has entered Raph’s life and this is IMPORTANT AHHHHHHH

[queers-gambit]

Hi, long time follower and long time lover of your fics! Like, seriously, you write for almost all of my fictional crushes and it's so perfect I found your blog.

I was just wondering, as I'm reading, you put a lot of detail into somethings. Are these personal add-ins?

Like, you for Eddie Munson, you have the stoner thing down pat which is really cool cause, no offense to anyone else, but I don't see a lot of authors getting certain details or vernacular correct. You make mention in a Tangerine fic being an equestrian and how when (excuse my vulgarity) riding dick, it came back like muscle memory. And don't get me started on your fic about a chronically ill reader and Carmy. Holy SHIT did you hit the nail on the head with that one, and yes I know not all disabilities are the same, but you really captured some of the more gritty and emotional aspects of it.

I'm just curious because I saw an interview with Paul Mescal where he said for each character he plays, he puts a little bit of "him" in it but audiences don't know *which* part of him it is and where. As I read your fics, I just can't stop thinking about that, how it feels like you embed little parts of yourself in your writing and it makes it feel that much homier. That much more real and relatable.

Sorry for rambling, I just really love your work. And I saw you answer another ask about writing your own fantasy series and oh wow - please please please do! I'd love to read it! I just think you're a very talented writer and again, happy I found your blog! 🤍

sweetheart, i love rambling messages so don't you (or anyone) ever apologize for that. not to me.

i'm so happy you found me, too. and i'm so happy i can provide any amount of entertainment to anyone! thank you so very kindly for your compliments, they mean the world to me. and about your muses - real recognizes real.

you're a doll, you know that? yes, those are all personal add-ins.

i believe in realism, right? so, i like adding in bits and pieces here and there about real experiences, real emotions, encounters, situations, reactions, etc.

that's really cool you noticed all of that 'cause those are pretty solid examples; like, i smoke a lot (do as i say not as i do: don't fucking smoke, it's horrible) and i both dated and lived with a procurer of illicit material (two different ones) so i was able to draw from those real experiences and spin it into my writing. my daddy grew up on a farm, he and all his siblings grew up horseback riding; so he got his kids into it, but it only stuck with me but i had to eventually quit due to gnarly injury. so i like to throw those little nods in too for my fellow equestrians because i miss that part of me - though it'll never die. and i've been diagnosed chronically ill for ten+ years now and only just recently has it been officially recognized (not universally, though) as a disability. however, it's still invisible at times. so i got HELLA experience in that arena; with the pain, with good and bad days, with lost relationships, how one day you look "normal" and the next, you're getting sent home from work because of how sickly you now appear; the harrowing loneliness, the imposter syndrome of not being WORTH treatment, the way people stare at you for the audacity to be / look different - and then the way people glare when you don't look like their imagined definition of "disabled", so i also know all about the way people sneer you must be lying.

what a fascinating relation; how Mr. Mescal lets bits of himself bleed into characters he plays, because that's exactly what i do. there's other little personal easter eggs through my writing that all stem from some kind of personal experience or emotion. see, i use this blog sometimes for therapy; where i can write my emotions and get them out of me, away, expelled because i refuse to let them take space in my head, heart, and soul.

"how it feels like you embed little parts of yourself in your writing and it makes it feel that much homier. That much more real and relatable." my heart is so fucking full, this is what authors strive for; for the audience to connect with the writing, with the story and details. to be seen, felt, heard, and appreciated as their souls go into writing. ah, welcome home, poppet. i'm happy you're here.

thank you for noticing. thank you for allowing me space to write and grieve and process. thank you for seeing me.

come back to ramble anytime. you're always welcome here!

👀 we'll see if i can get this novel idea off the ground! you never know, i might even announce something here in the future! but for now, i've got my silly little fics.

happy reading! all my love i can possibly muster 🖤

[enid-rhees]

AKK, OKAY SO IDK IF I ALREADY REQUESTED SUMN LIKE THIS (my memory = shit 💀✋) BUTTTT

Imagine Carl has a sleepover with Enid and reader! They paint eachothers nails, braid Carl's hair (he acts like he hates it, but lowkey loves it heh), take selfies together with a Polaroid camera they found on a run, listen to music on an ipod (they also found on a run), and get high together hehe~

Maybe they play Truth or Dare, and Carl being the lil' shit head he is, dares reader to kiss Enid (they're not dating yet, but it's more than obvious that Enid and reader are crushing HARD on eachother!).

Just some fun teen stuff with our fav holy trinity 🛐💜

(I made this for some inspo for ya' :D!)

THESE TYPES OF STORIES ARE MY FAVVVV THERES SOMETHING ABT THEM THAT ARE JUST SM FUN !!! tysm for requesting :D !!! hope you enjoy 🩷 all these pics are *chefs kiss*

warnings: weed. smoke (and drink) responsibly !!

a/n: hope you all enjoy !! 🫶🏻 got quite a bit of stories coming out within the next week so look out for those :)

music was blaring through the scuffed ipod, the sound filling your entire room. Enid was busy painting your nails while Carl sat in the corner of your bed, reading a comic.

Enid sang along to ‘Bulletproof Love’ by Pierce the Veil as she swiped the brush down onto your nails one more time. “done!” she smiled, lightly fanning your nails with her hands to dry them quicker. she painted them light purple.

“how are you so good at this? i swear i stained the shit out of your fingers.” you asked, taking her hand to compare it to yours. Enid’s skin burned under your touch.

she giggled, “maybe i’m just better than you.” your jaw dropped as you gasped dramatically. “wow, okay.”

“i’m kiddinggggg.” she dragged out, hugging you from behind. a mischievous smile made its way to her lips as she whispered something in your ear. you mirrored that smile and you looked over at Carl.

“oh, Carllll.” you sang. he looked over at the two of you, staring with uncertainty in his eyes. “what are you two planning?” he asked cautiously.

“sit.” Enid instructed, patting the space in front of you and her. “tell me what you’re doing first.” he responded. 

Enid huffed. “can we braid your hair?”

“absolutely not.” he responded, shaking his said profusely. both of you whined, “cmon! just this once, you never let us do anything with your hair.” you pouted.

he shook us head once more. “no!”

you thought for a moment, trying to think of something you could easily bribe him with. “you can have a whole joint to yourself.” you said.

“deal.” he answered immediately. you rolled your eyes playfully as he sat in front of you guys, taking a joint from the bag of the hundreds you had.

Enid started to brush through his hair as you gathered hair ties and a few clip-ins for his hair. “if you’re gonna sit in my room during a girls night, you need to commit to it!” you told Carl.

“yeah, yeah. whatever, just get it over with.” he told you. you separated his hair into three sections and started to overlap them, creating the braid pattern.

Enid nudged your shoulder, holding up a joint. you nodded as you added one butterfly clip into the top of the braid. she lit the joint and took a few hits first before she held it up to your lips.

she watched you take into your lips, take a hit while also exhaling the smoke through the other side of your mouth as you worked on Carl’s hair. a blush made it’s way to her cheeks while she watched you.

“done!” you exclaimed. “see? didn’t even take me five minutes.” you handed him a hand mirror and pushed him over to the one that hung on your wall.

Carl turned around with the mirror so he could see the braid. his eyes widened, “you added butterfly clips?!” he screeched.

you and Enid bursted into laughter, holding onto each for for stabilization. “it’s cute!” you defended through your laughter.

“you’re both evil.” he said, pointing between the two of you. you shrugged, “you agreed to do it.”

“i didn’t agree to the butterfly clips!” he retorted. “can i please take this braid out?” he whined. you and Enid turned to each other, “i don’t know. Enid… should we let him?” you asked in a teasing tone.

Enid looked up at the ceiling like she was pretending to think. “okay, listen!” he exclaimed. “i have an idea. the two of you play one round of truth or dare and i’ll come up with either one, and if you do it, you have to let me take this braid out.”

“deal.” you said at the same time. “sit on the bed.” he instructed. you both took a seat back on the bed.

“Enid, truth or dare?”

“dare.” she said immediately. a devilish smile spread across his lips. he looked between the two of you before speaking up.

“Enid, i dare you to kiss Y/N.”

your heart felt like it stopped beating as those words fell out of Carl’s lips. you’ve had a crush on Enid for too long, and Carl knew that. you would lay upside down on his bed, ranting about how cute she looked that day, how her laugh was infectious, and all you wanted was to kiss her all day and be able to call her yours.

you told him it was impossible for Enid to like you back. someone as smart, or as beautiful as her could never like someone like you.

Enid’s face flushed red as she turned to you. your heart was now about to explode. but then she smiled, and leaned in, connecting your lips with hers.

it didn’t even feel real, and it took you a moment to kiss her back. she put a hand on the back of your head, and her touch brought you back to reality.

she pulled away after a short while, smiling at you while she breathed for air.

“god! fucking finally. i only said that so i could finally stop the whining from you two! both of you just blabbering on and on about how you can’t possibly like the other. i had to put that shit to an end!” Carl suddenly yelled, taking the braid apart as he did so.

you stared at him, dumbfounded. “you… planned that the entire time?” he nodded, “yes. and my work here is done.”

you and Enid turned to each other again, not knowing what to say or think. you broke out in laughter, causing Enid to start laughing as well. she leaned in once more, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

“okay- that doesn’t give you the pass to make out in front of me, alright? i just had to stop the whining and that’s it.”

“listen i’m gonna go shower, if i come back and you’re sucking on each others faces, you’re both dead.” he warned, leaving without another word.

“so…” you trailed off, “you like me, eh?” you asked, nudging her shoulder teasingly. she blushed, “more like love, but yeah. guess we both ranted to Carl about our crush on each other.”

“poor guy. had to deal with our constant whining.” you laughed. you scooted closer to her to where your thighs touched.

“how long did you have a crush on me?” Enid asked you. “since the day we arrived in Alexandria.” you responded immediately. it was an easy question, the first time you saw her, you were entranced. “what about you?”

“the same. i can’t believe we both waited this long.” she answered. Enid leaned in once more, pressing her lips to yours.

this was the closest to heaven you’d ever get, her lips on yours.

you kissed back, tangling your fingers into her hair. you weren’t sure if it was the haziness you felt from the weed, or maybe even her kiss, but you couldn’t get enough of her. your skin ignited under her touch.

when she pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily. “i don’t think i’ll ever be able to get enough of kissing you.” you admitted. “me either.”

Enid picked up the beaten up polaroid camera from your bedside table and held it in front of you two. she suddenly kissed your cheek, and then snapped a photo. the picture slid out of the camera and she pulled it out, shaking it until the picture appeared.

“cute.” she giggled. “how much film is left in this?”

you scratched your head, “quite a bit. i found some more a while back.” she smiled, “good. cause we’re using them. wanna light two joints for us?”

you took two out of the bag and lit each of them. Enid held up the camera again as you both put the joints between your lips, and snapped the picture. she took it out of the camera and placed it on your table.

“smile.” she said suddenly, even thought you had the joint in your mouth. she took the picture and smiled to herself when it came out, “i’ll be keeping that.”

you shook your head and laughed. “what was that for?” she shrugged, “you looked cute.” she answered simply. Enid placed the camera back on your table and laid down on your bed. you laid next to her.

Enid backed up until she was completely pressed against you. you wrapped an arm over her stomach and laid your head in her neck. “god, this is so comfortable.” you groaned, “you’re staying the night. i do not care if Maggie gets mad, you’re staying here.”

she giggled, “that sounds perfect.” Enid picked up the camera once more, snapping a quick photo of the position you two are in. “we’re so cute,” she mumbled when the picture slid out.

you hummed in agreement, feeling yourself getting sleepy. you were so comfortable holding Enid like this, you decided this is what you want to do for the rest of your life.

“tired?” she asked. you nodded, and Enid turned over so she was now facing you. she laid her head in your neck, and her legs tangled with yours. “wanna sleep?”

you nodded again. Enid lifted her head up slightly and connected your lips. you sleepily kissed her back. when she pulled away, she placed one kiss on your head and laid her head back down in your neck.

“goodnight, girlfriend.”

you chuckled, bringing your head down slightly to kiss hers as well. “goodnight, girlfriend.”

after a few minutes, both of you were fast asleep. Carl walked back into your room, drying his long hair with a towel. he was about to speak until he noticed the two of you sleeping peacefully in your bed, arms and legs tangled with each other. he laughed quietly and shook his head, turning your light off before leaving your room and closing the door behind him.

[mitamicah]

Omg omg omg omg, my friend/my mutual. Omg you as jure?!?! Omg that is such a good look omg omg, it’s so insane absolutely insane logically it’s a white shirt but something makes this so insanely work, works over time wow just insane. Wow i see it right now, I see it on my device and still I can’t believe how freaking well this works it’s so insane wow this is really insane. Wow. Wow. My brain is loud and yet silent wow it’s burning and calm. Wow this was such a good look you did an insane job, absolutely insane. Holy Shit. Wow melting into a puddle. Wow wow wow. So good (we will get to häärijä too) but first kitty. Omg wow unreal. Wow I have punk kitty jure in my mind now. Lil trouble maker. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. My mind is in a loop of happiness and squealing. Running around in my head wow insane ou was all captured so well, insanely well. Quick glance and you would think wow jure looks great with green hair and he would thank you for giving me that brainrot. Wow wow wow.

Now to Häärijä omg absolutely insane the mannerism down to the cell. Wow it’s so him. Freaking love Häärijä. So cute and nice and everything. Absolutely squealing with delight and happiness. This gave me enough happiness fuel for no idea how long but defo a while wow highlight of my day and I framed and hung art a very good friend sent me today. Wow omg ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Wow so freaking well done. Yes yes omg ahhhhhhhhhhh. I want to shake your hand and hug you (with consent) and thank you for this. Ahhhhhhhhhhh

Hitting the brake for the word vomit. (Sorry if this is too much)

Ey, fellow Jure x'D (this feel so odd to say since I still see myself as Bojan when it is us two talking and Nace when I talk to Eryka - oh well x'D)

(Let me just actually reply to this before I forget again x'D)

Thank you :'3 It was honestly a bit harder than imagined to find a shirt I felt fit Jure's vibe because all the fun white shirts I have (I have one with horses on it that I for sure thought would be right up his alley) is short sleeved and when do we ever see Jure in short sleeved that is a short and not see through :'3 so yeah this plain white shirt had to do :'D so knowing it sort of worked is a relief :'D Had I only been cis or had a white binder (and a white see through shirt) I feel like I could've nailed him even more x'D but it is what it is when you spontaneously decides to throw together a cosplay x'D (also I hope you don't mind me babbling because it seems like I can't stop :'D) Punk kitty x'D I dig it x'D Good thing I also waited with cutting my hair so I could get the volume like Jure has it :'D Fun fact: I almost bought a blonde wig when I saw I'd gotten Jure x'D but since it would only be to cosplay him I decided against it :'D but maybe one day I'll give in who knows x'D Until then punk kitty have to do x'D

Häärijä timeeee :D hahahah thank you x'D I'd say it was a bit more hit and miss with getting häärijä right because I kept looking freaking angry or tired x'D but the nosewrinkle I was able to mimick for some reason so kudos to that x'D

Hugs are more than welcome :3

Thank you for all the sweet words, Jay :'D <3

[cycloptics]

This is basically a diary entry that gets dark but maybe it’s onto something? I needed it okay

Basically I’m just talking about art and being autistic and quitting my job after hitting burnout

And also some personal traumatic shit I guess

Please don’t feel inclined to read this if you don’t want to I think I just needed to put out my real fucking feelings into the world ya know?

Something really crazy has happened since I hit burnout.

I spent forever hating every piece of art I did, whether it was painting, drawing, or nail art. I’ve hated all of it, never thought I was good enough. I still don’t, of course, but I do atleast feel like I see potential during the process.

But now, since I’ve got the support of people who love my work, or love me, I’m able to look at it again (after a break of hyperfocus) and I can say “okay.. wow, that’s pretty good. I like that.” And that’s fucking HUGE! But what’s even crazier is I looked back and old work I did, work that sat in my sketchbooks abandoned forever, and I am like holy shit. I did that. And I love that.

I painted this in 2019-2020, I’m not even sure when, but I remember being in my apartment, I remember this being one of those pieces where I was desperate to make art. I desperately looked for ways to make a living doing art, just so I’d be able to paint. I bought a Wacom pen and a laptop, I was determined to learn digital art.. and I hated it. Then I bought an iPad and Apple Pencil, still didn’t love digital art. Then someone said “you should do nails” and I thought it was perfect. Then I went to school and did that. Worked my ass off. Went to the best salon in my area and worked there, killing myself and burning myself out in the process, trying to be perfect.

**TW: death, PTSD, loss of a pet, loss of a parent, hospitals**

Then my cat got sick, and even though I syringe fed him prescription food and cat pedialyte, gave him meds, and tried everything, he died.

Then a week later my dad tore his Achilles and ended up in the hospital with 2 DVTs and a PE. He then fought for 2 months to stay alive for us. I watched my dad code and survive multiple times, spent Christmas in ICU with him on a bipap to breathe, watched him lose his fucking mind, praying to god, almost fighting god, seizing, shaking, crying, desperately kissing me and my brothers heads while not being able to say anything other than beg god. I tried everything I could to bring his mind back, because it was my dads biggest fuckin fear was losing his mind. I brought pictures and showed him.. the guilt I feel for going to work while my dad was in the fucking hospital. The calls I got. The way he begged me to break him out of there, and I will always regret not doing that. I’ll never forget it the faces my dad made, the sounds he made, when delirium took over and he was so scared, and looked nothing like himself. Covered head to toe in bruises and restrained to the bed, because they tried to put a Bipap on him when he was sleeping. I’ll never forget seeing how broken my dad was, a man who was so prideful and stubborn, and whose biggest nightmare came true when his youngest daughter had to help him use the bathroom. The way my dad never wanted to seem weak, and the way my stepmom humiliated him. The way she made him sound so pathetic to the doctors that they gave him too much oxygen constantly, because she said he couldn’t do anything without almost suffocating. The way she lied and said he was on 2 liters every night, because that’s how she got her oxygen. She was on 2 liters. My dad refused to use it. The way that him getting too much oxygen made his COPD worse. How that’s what ended up being the cause of death. Not the blood clots that I was so terrified of, that it was COPD. I’ll never forget New Year’s Day and me having full blown OCD had texted everyone in my family begging them not to do laundry because it would mean my dad would die, and finding out my stepmom did laundry because she isn’t superstitious.. then that day finding out my dad was never gonna make it out. I’ll never forget moving to comfort care, and trying to make sure my dad heard all his favorite songs as we all said goodbye to him, or the fact that when it came down to it, my dad was taken off of everything and still refused to die in front of his kids. That my brother made us leave. And he died soon after we left the room. I’ll never forget falling asleep and swearing I’d hear his voice. Crying to Al green in my car. Going fully nonverbal after he died. I thought I knew death because my mom died, but I was wrong. I didn’t know death was so fucking UGLY.

Probably the worst part of death is finding out that it’s so fucking gutwrenchingly ugly. it’s so rarely peaceful. The portrayals I saw of it or heard of it, those were coping mechanisms from grieving people just hiding the reality of it.

I also can’t forgive my stepmom for cremating my dad when he had a literal plot next to my mom, with a headstone my grandfather carved (family biz was monuments) or the fact that she told everyone he didn’t want a funeral.

My dad would never have deprived his kids of the opportunity to grieve him properly.

So I don’t have his ashes, we never did any service, and I’m still pretty fucking fucked up from it.

Then two weeks later one of my best friends died, she was the same age my mom was, with kids the same ages me and my brothers were when my mom died, and she died suddenly with no warning, just like my mom. Her parents called me to tell me. Her dad a week before had reached out to see how I was doing when my dad passed. The universe really is funny that way.

Then another friend died, liver failure. Fucking what? And I couldn’t go to that funeral because I had to work, and I had already taken off too much time for all the other deaths. Couldn’t be the sad employee with all the dead friends and family members apparently. And it gnawed at me that I let work keep me from being with my dad when he was dying, that I missed a funeral because of the pressure to be at work, that I was having breakdowns during nail appointments and only heard about how fucking slow I was.

So I quit my fuckin job. And I regret nothing.

Am I broke as fuck? YES. Have I figured out how to make money for real? Nope. Have I listed anything? Nope. But I will.

Because burnout really taught me that I know what my real passion is in life and what makes me happy, and it’s fucking paint. And art supplies. And doodles. And hyper focusing on something and picking it apart for hours and not having someone over my shoulder telling me I’m too slow, or it’s not good enough.

I’m still in burnout, but if I didn’t hit it, I’d never have allowed myself to heal. I’d never have let myself focus on my actual needs, because I never let them matter. Just had to be a machine that did perfect work to make money for others while I took enough to pay my bills.

And tbh, I’m fine with only getting by, as long as I am doing something I actually enjoy.

Anyway. This started about me realizing that I don’t absolutely suck at art, but I think I really just needed to let out all of these feelings without worrying about anyone else’s. I people pleased through grief. What a dumb thing to do. Fuck masking. Fuck it. I’m done.

[aspiringsophrosyne]

Episode 7: The Fey Realm.

If high fantasy's your thing, have we got a show for you today. Cursed swordsman, mysterious faerie realms, and grappling with destiny. Just make sure to get your seat before the lights go down.

The Good.

I appreciate Keyleth's freak-out after they realized they were separated from the gnomes and Grog. Too often, when characters don't get a moment to be distraught, it makes the stakes feel lower than they should. Or makes it feel like the cast doesn't care about each other all that much. So that was refreshing. 

Also, good call to split up the group. That makes it easier for the show CRew; no need to figure out how to write and animate seven characters at once. Plus, that divides the audience's attention, making the plot easier to follow. And in smaller groups, it gives individual characters more time to shine.

Serious kudos is deserved for the design of the Fey Wild itself. Young Heller, episode director, and guest for the watch along, nailed it on the head when he described the Realm of the Fey as a character unto itself. Honestly, it comes across as even more alien and other here than it can in the game. Unless the DM wants to change things up, the game mechanics don't vary that much when you hang out there. So it can feel like only another weird area among many, depending on the story you're trying to tell.

Watching Craven Edge soak up Pike's blood from a distance while she's trying to heal, without even a wielder, is disturbing. It gives the impression that if left unchecked, this thing could turn into something even more dangerous than it already is.

Getting rid of Craven Edge was more involved in the stream, so they knew they had to make its destruction here brutal enough that it felt like death for the sword. For my money, they managed it; Grog breaking the sword had the visceral impact of a bone breaking in half. And the small ocean of blood it expels is like all its power and evil being released back into the world.

Holy shit Billy Boyd as Garmelie. He is perfect; the design and Billy's performance are just spot on what I would imagine a native fey creature to act like. Whimsical, self-interested, sort of smart ass, charming as all hell....everything about it is fantastic. I only wish we could've seen more of him. No notes. 

Well, except for Garmelie's notes which....yeah, exactly right. Absolutely accurate to the stream. What a fabulously gross, cheeky little gremlin man.

My reactions to Pike and Scanlan's song, in order:

Oh, is this the song Sam hinted at during the pre-season interviews?

Wow, Ashley and Sam sound great together. They should do more duets.

...Wait, what are those lyrics?

These ridiculous little shits. (<-affectionate)

If you know, you know. But if you don't, it's just a good song.

Don't think we didn't pick up on those nine eyes Vex saw when she was sliding into a bad trip. It's weird and ominous to think that, in this universe, that's still around. And that the person who will trigger the confrontation with that whole thing....technically isn't even born yet.

I can't say enough about how pretty the Fey Realm is. Just....so gorgeous at every point.

And, of course, Cheech Marin is Trinket. Of course, he is.

The Bad. (Or at least not great.)

One thing that bothers me is that there are two angles they tried to hit in this episode that, due to poor execution, just...don't work. One is Percy being a more ineffective guide to the Fey Realm than he thinks he is, and the other is that the Realm Does Not Like the Matron's Champion in general on life vs. death principles.

When Percy warned the half-elves that the forest they were traveling through could pick up on a poor mood, we all knew what would happen. Vax has, understandably, been in a funk for days. So it wasn't hard for the audience to guess that the negativity-detecting plants would take one look at this boy and collectively go: get his ass.

Percy wasn't wrong about the vines; Vax was never going to be able to pass through them unscathed.

Likewise, when the rest of the group seems to think Percy doesn't know where he's leading them or is lost, that idea is undercut by the fact they've just reached the upside-down waterfall. The very same waterfall from Scanlan's vision of where Fenthras was. So the visual tells the audience Percy is actually on the right track, no matter how skeptical of him the group is in-universe.

As for Vax, the encounter with the mood forest muddles the idea that the Fey Realm is against him because it doesn't like death-aligned individuals in general. 

Because Vax was initially attacked due to his emotional state, the potential takeaway was that the Fey Realm doesn't like bad vibes. And Vax is nothing but bad vibes right now.

It's another case of the script and the dialogue telling us one thing while what's actually happening tells us something contradictory. It's frustrating.

More Grog nerfing....eh. Makes a little more sense than some of the Season 1 moments, and it makes the fight in Episode 10 go even harder, but it still feels a little cheap to me. If I'm going to be nitpicky.

And that's about it. Next is a good one folks. See you there.

[mayhemproduces]

MJF vs VIOLET

As MJF walks down to the ring, he’s accompanied by the usual suspects, his Savant, Paul Heyman, and the MPW World Tag Team Champions, MJF has a mic in his hands, and he starts to speak as his music cuts off. “VIOLET, VIOLET, VIOLET, it’s been a couple years. How’ve you been? You look like shit.” 

VIOLET rolls her eyes and leans against the ropes as she tells Max to hurry up and get into the ring. Max simply waves her off as he keeps speaking. “I was doing some thinking in the back, and my buddy Syn here brought up a good point. Unlike my best friend Syn, who turns deathmatch wrestling into an artform, you need weapons because you can’t actually fucking wrestle. Paul says it’s bad for the show if the main event flops, so I’ve decided to meet you halfway, on your disgusting, dirty, gutter trash level, and throw you a bone. So tonight, VIOLET, I don’t just get to show the world that I’m Better Than You… I get to show the world that I’m a better hardcore wrestler than you too. Tonight’s main event is gonna be…. ATLAS RULES!” 

WOW! Big, big step up in stakes here from the MPW World Champion, as the MPW crew members scramble around to fill the ringside area here with weapons! Our main event tonight is going to get hyperviolent!

Doors are already positioned in the ring in opposing corners by the MPW ring hands, and as VIOLET gets into the ring from going shopping around the outside for things to beat MJF with, she brings with her a plastic storage bin, and a plastic water jug taped to the end of a broomstick, as it became clear exactly what kind of fight VIOLET was expecting here tonight. VIOLET slaps herself a couple of times as MJF approaches the ring, trying to get herself into the zone, get ready for the fight that was to come. As soon as MJF rolls into the ring, VIOLET has the broom stick water jug, raises it over her head, and nails MJF right in the head! Referee Tom Dunn calls for the bell, we’re underway quickly here! 

VIOLET rears back with the weapon again, and once again clocks MJF over the head with it, before grabbing a bopper bat with thumb tacks glued to it, slamming that over MJF’s head, stunning him again, and then grabbing the plastic storage bin, raising that up, and smashing that over MJF’s head! The hard plastic breaks as it makes contact with MJF’s head, and MJF stumbles into the ropes, blood already starting to trickle down his forehead. MJF drops, and VIOLET is quick to shove him into his back, looking for the cover!

1….2… Kickout!

MJF out at two. VIOLET waits as MJF gets back to his feet, before hitting the ropes and charging MJF, as MJF swings with the lariat, VIOLET evades and leaps onto MJF’s shoulders, before planting MJF with a Crucifix Bomb! MJF dropped right on his head! 

VIOLET gets back up and starts rearranging some furniture, grabbing one of the doors in the corner and dragging it out, before grabbing a chair, and propping that door up on the chair. She then grabs another chair, setting that up, before putting the other end of the door on that, creating a makeshift table. VIOLET tries to grab MJF, lifting him up, before looking between the top turnbuckle, and the door, before grabbing MJF by the head, and running off the ropes, looking for a rope assisted bulldog, but with VIOLET up in the air, MJF throws her off, and slams VIOLET right through the door! Holy shit! 

The door explodes underneath the impact, and VIOLET clutches her back, crying out in agony. MJF kicks the door out of the way, lifting VIOLET up, before immediately dropping VIOLET with a huge chop right to the chest! The chops of MJF were viscous, caving the chest of many a competitor here in MPW, VIOLET being the latest victim. The crowd booed as MJF took a lap around the ring, egging the crowd on, before grabbing VIOLET, lifting her up, and doing it again! Dropping VIOLET with a stiff chop! 

MJF sets up a half door in the corner, before trying to go back after VIOLET, but VIOLET catches MJF with a boot to try and get him away, and then pulls herself up to a knee, nailing MJF with a punch to the gut. MJF’s quick to shut it down with a knee right to VIOLET’s face, knocking her back over. MJF forces her into a seated position, before BLASTING VIOLET with a sharp kick right to the back! The sound echoed all throughout the building, as VIOLET groans in agony. VIOLET tries to sit back up, before MJF boots her right in the face. MJF picks VIOLET back up, before lifting her into the air, and unceremoniously slamming VIOLET right back down to the mat! MJF just toying with VIOLET at this point! 

MJF grabs the door and sets in up between the ropes so that the door is being held straight up by the ropes. MJF then grabs VIOLET again, before putting her up against the ropes and chopping her again. VIOLET wilts for a second, before answering MJF a chop with her own, VIOLET determined to go blow for blow with the Bone Collector tonight. MJF nails her with one in return, and VIOLET doesn’t back down, blasting MJF right back! MJF measures VIOLET, and delivers a palm strike right to her face, stunning VIOLET, before sending VIOLET off the ropes. MJF tries to catch her on the rebound, but VIOLET turns it around, turning the move into a headscissors, which she uses to throw MJF right through the door against the ropes, MJF breaking it as he explodes through it and crashes down to the floor! Holy shit! MJF might be out after that! 

MJF takes a nasty fall to the outside, and VIOLET manages to get back up to her feet, getting the crowd clapping, before VIOLET turns, hits the ropes, and as MJF regains his feet, VIOLET takes MJF out with a HUGE Tope Suicidia! VIOLET has managed to flip momentum in a big way!

VIOLET tosses MJF back into the ring and stands him back up, laying into him with a series of stiff forearms, backing MJF into the corner, before VIOLET charges across the ring, launches herself into MJF, and nails him with a European Uppercut, before VIOLET measures again, turns, and launches herself into MJF with a dropkick, taking Max down! VIOLET hooks the leg for the cover!

1…2…. Kickout!

MJF out at two again! VIOLET is quick to try and stay on the advantage though, grabbing a chair and dragging it over, before raising it up and nailing MJF across the body with it! VIOLET raises the chair up and does it again, blasting MJF with another big chair shot to the chest. VIOLET does it a third time, before turning the chair and using the point of it to choke MJF against the mat! VIOLET then puts the chair against MJF’s chest, before turning and heading up to the top rope, setting her feet. MJF tries to throw the chair at VIOLET, trying to knock her off the ropes, but VIOLET catches the chair, and throws it right back at MJF, knocking MJF right back down! VIOLET manages to set her feet, and launch herself, crashing down on MJF & the chair with a HUGE Swanton! VIOLET might have just done it, but she can’t capitalize right away! Landing on the chair has VIOLET clutching her back and rolling around in agony, VIOLET may have put MJF down, but she did massive damage to herself in the process!

VIOLET starts dragging herself back over to where MJF is, but it takes her almost a full minute before she’s able to drape herself over Max for the cover! 

1….2…. KICKOUT!

The precious moments of rest after such a big move had to be what allowed MJF to kick out of that, if VIOLET had managed to cover him right away, that would’ve been in. VIOLET runs her hands through her hair in frustrating, pounding the mat, knowing she had him there. VIOLET rolls out of the ring, and shes looking for something specific, because she takes almost an entire lap around the outside, digging around the ring, looking for what she needs. She eventually finds it, an entire big plastic container, and it’s filled up with Thumbtacks! VIOLET’s got a whole quart of thumbtacks! 

VIOLET rolls back into the ring, and pours the tacks out into the middle of the ring, before VIOLET manages to get Max back up, before starting to lay into MJF with a series of right hands, stunning MJF, before VIOLET grabs MJF, runs off the ropes with him, and drops him with a BIG Running Bulldog, right on the tacks! Holy shit! MJF might be done! VIOLET into the cover! 

1….2… KICKOUT!

MJF out at two again! VIOLET wastes no time though, getting up and letting out a War Cry as MJF gets back up, trying to hit the End of Everything, but MJF ducks it, and slips behind VIOLET, before throwing VIOLET overhead with a German Suplex right into the tacks! Holy shit! VIOLET had a back full of tacks as MJF picks her back up again, and tries to set VIOLET on the ropes for the Heatseeker, but suddenly, Matsumoto, who had just charged down the ramp, jumps up onto the apron, and blasts MJF with a stiff right hand! Matsumoto is here to help their partner! 

Immediately, Syn and Abigail both charge Matsumoto and start beating down on them, the two on one assault not working out so well for Matsu, but it seems Matsu didn’t come without backup either, here comes Malakai Black & Prince Devitt! Things have completely broken down here! 

Malakai on Abigail, Devitt on Syn, as we’ve broken down into an all out brawl here on the outside! Devitt shitcans Syn over the guardrail, and Malakai drops Abigail with The End! 

Unfortunately, back in the ring, Paul Heyman slides the ring across the mat to Max, as VIOLET is getting back to her feet. Max twists the ring onto his finger, and measures VIOLET as she gets back up… 

But before Max can land the punch, Malakai Black grabs MJF by the wrist! MJF gets caught! Max turns around, as Malakai wags a finger at him, before Malakai goes for the The End s on MJF…. 

BUT MJF DUCKS! MALAKAI INADVERTENTLY BLASTS VIOLET! HOLY SHIT! MJF shoves Malakai out of the ring and hooks the leg on VIOLET!

1….2…3!

MJF steals one!

“Here is your winner, the MPW World Champion, Maxwell Jacob Friedman, MJF!” 

MJF slides out of the ring and has his had raised by Heyman, MJF escaping by the skin of his teeth this time! 

[harmslength]

First off, I just want to say that I read this days ago and my apologies for not saying something sooner, but I genuinely had to gather thoughts on this one. SPOILERS BELOW!

Moth holy fucking shit. I’m saying this right now with my entire chest— I am your number one fan. Forget everyone else (ur guys are great, all jokes), I AM YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN. This was so utterly devastating, vile, horrific, nail biting, skin itchingly amazing. I have never had the need to stop reading something this strongly ever— and I mean that in entirely the best way possible.

You have combined horror and romance and grief so so so well. I am in complete awe and have so much admiration for your work.

Jonathan never thought he’d know guilt.

Already such a hard hitting line. I fucking looooove a good opener!! I feel like it’s the hardest part to write and you just nailed it.

Some nights he woke from a beautiful dream, a fantasy in which the two of you were irrevocably merged into one being. And on those nights, hot tears of disappointment and anger burned so harshly on his cheeks that he expected his sheets to sizzle where the drops fell.

Jonathan is so real in this, so entirely real. The emotion you were able to draw from this character and just to bring it to life in only like what 2.5k words?? Incredible, fucking incredible. Also just incredible prose all around, the imagery in this is powerful.

And he cried with you. God, did he cry, soaking your hair with his tears as he choked you into a blackout.

Heartbreaking, beyond heartbreaking. It was so easy to understand and sympathize with both characters here and that again is so powerful. You made him so HUMAN UGHH like I just love love love what you did with his character I can’t say that enough. I was weeping for him!!

The lobotomy set was a Christmas gift from you. A tongue-in-cheek nod to the history of the profession he chose. It was fate. It had to be.

My stomach dropped, fully dropped down to my knees, I’m picking it back up as I type this. Wow, I love the research and dedication that went into this crucial and fucking horrifying part of this story. The spinal fluid and the humming (I’ll get into that) the general knowledge on the brain, genuinely all the love for you.

It was a nonsensical melody, a mish-mash of several nursery rhymes without a title.

This line haunts me. HAUNTS ME MOTH IT HAUNTS ME. I was thinking about the realism of this scene and I was like “I’d be wailing my head off” and it just made me think, intentional or not the reader CHOSE to either hum a melody for him, for her own fleeting comfort, or for both of them. And again MAYBE that wasn’t your intention to put that behind your words, but holy fuck did it hold weight. So much of this was thought provoking and gut churning.

 But the only parasite inside of him was love. That's how it works, right? You can never truly get rid of it.

Even Jonathan wasn't immune to symbolism.

I looooove little lines like these. It feels so witty and connects to audience really well.

And in a final act of completion, he swallows it.

Gutted, trampled, spit on and tossed in a ditch left to die. One thing you can absolutely say about your work is: You sure know how to start a story and your SURE know how to end it. Perhaps I’m being a bit overdramatic about this but I don’t care, this story holds my heart and therefore so do you (pls don’t eat it).

Overall, all I can say is: wow, thank you, wow and it’s incredibly safe to say I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with this, and I so dearly hope to read more stuff like this from you! 🫶🏽💕

If There's No End

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings | DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DE*TH – Reader d*es! ANGST, HURT, NO COMFORT, CANN*BALISM, do NOT read if any of this feels too uncomfortable!! Jon is very, very delusional in this, drugging, lobotomy, established relationship, again - CANN*BALISM. (tumblr wants me to censor this :'] )

Summary | Jonathan reminisces about your shared life and the day you found out his secret.

Words | 2.7k

Notes | Don’t yell at me for this, you’ve been warned! Not proofread, please don’t beat me up.

@kiss-me-cill-me welp, this is the cannibalism fic lmao bon appetit

Jonathan never thought he’d know guilt. But now that he’s hunched over on his knees, digging through the mud with trembling hands, he suspects that this might be it. His vision is still blurry. Has been for the past few hours. The tears have turned his world into a faded, abstract mess, like a child’s chalk drawings that are in the middle of being washed away by the rain. If it had been anyone else, he would have settled for the large dump of hazardous waste behind ACE Chemicals. But not in this case. Never in this case.

Jonathan never thought he’d grow to respect another person, but you crashed into his life with an earth-shattering intensity that nearly made his knees give out as soon as you turned to greet him. Hi. Two letters, one syllable. And it affected him in such a profound way that his ears still burn at the memory. Even during that first fleeting conversation, he felt as if the edges of his person began to become cloudy. Desperate to merge with yours until there was no end and no beginning to the two of you as separate people. Until flesh and bone and viscera were a shared commodity between him and you. A fever dream with the appropriate symptoms. Some nights he woke from a beautiful dream, a fantasy in which the two of you were irrevocably merged into one being. And on those nights, hot tears of disappointment and anger burned so harshly on his cheeks that he expected his sheets to sizzle where the drops fell.

It was love. It had to be. And when the universe finally relented to the prayers and wishes he whispered until his throat became hoarse, his life exploded with color. Fleeting glances and coy small talk managed to bloom into something more, something deeper and more intimate than Jonathan’s analytical vocabulary could ever fully explain. You loved him in a way that was entirely foreign to him. Unconditional and patient. You just… got him. Without even trying to. Your gaze traveled past skin and ribs down to his very heart and soul, and you didn’t turn away. But you didn’t know everything back then. How could you? He was so secretive about everything involving his studies. Sometimes, he couldn’t resist the temptation of monologuing about fear and its shackles on humanity. But that was all he was willing to share with you. He granted you a microscopic detail of the true extend of his passion. A laughably small excerpt of his obsession.

Jonathan never thought he’d know love. But you proved him wrong with every smile, every whisper of praise, every tender touch upon his skin.

He knows how cliché it is to claim that settling down with someone never occurred to him before he met you, but it's the truth. In a life that was filled with hurt and contempt, you were the first to take a chance on him. Undeterred by his sometimes standoffish nature and cold attitude, you pressed onwards until he cracked, revealing the mush that you've managed to melt him into.

A future with you was worth everything he had endured up to that point. The plan was to graduate, find jobs and get hitched immediately. He wanted to put his last name on you, give you a part of himself that you would take wherever you went.

The first two steps were already completed with him getting a PhD and a professorship, that he quickly lost again, somewhere in the middle. Aside from a few mishaps and arguments about his attitude towards his patients at Arkham, all seemed right in paradise.

Often, the two of you would lie awake at night, talking about your future while you played with his fingers. "I'd like to get married in Spring," you said. And he just nodded, already imagining your bright smile when he'd put the ring on your finger. On those nights, the urge to become one often overtook him, and he rolled on top of you to devour you in a different way. In hindsight, he should've told you. Given you a chance to see the true extend of his rotten soul. You already knew so much about him, yet you still wanted a life with him. You often said how much you craved the mundane with him. Lazy Sunday mornings, standing in line to get groceries, gossiping about your neighbors in the quiet part in the outskirts Gotham City that you wanted to move to. He should've told you about the toxin he keeps stashed away in his office, no more than 15 feet behind the pillow you rested your pretty head on.

He didn't dare to think about what could've been. No, he made the right decision. Surely.

He still remembers your wide eyes. The way the color vanished from your complexion as you turned towards him with his mask in your hands. He remembers how wrong the burlap looked, crushed between your beautiful fingers. You asked him to explain, even though you were already tearing up just by looking at him. Jonathan was always convinced that he could read you like a book, but in that moment, he doubted himself. And he panicked. From one second to the next, he lunged at you, putting you into a headlock that constricted the blood flow to your brain, and you wheezed and wailed for him to stop, but he couldn’t. If he let go, you’d let yourself be ruled by secondary emotions. Emotions like betrayal and heartbreak that threatened to overshadow the deep, deep love you felt for him. It was an act of mercy for both of you. So, he held you until your struggling stopped, and your consciousness slipped away. It always takes longer in real life than in the movies. And he cried with you. God, did he cry, soaking your hair with his tears as he choked you into a blackout.  

You were out for ten minutes. Ten agonizing minutes which he used to prepare for what needed to be done. Your happiness was his happiness, so he had to do something to take your mind off of the situation. Or any situation for that matter. He has never done this before, but the thought of desperate measures during desperate times, didn’t give him the opportunity to hesitate. A local anesthetic and a muscle relaxant would suffice, he decided as he rushed to gather the equipment. By the time you came to, he was already straddling your torso, leaning over you with fresh tears in his eyes. As you began to silently panic, Jonathan was quick to try and shush you. Oh, how it hurt him more than it hurt you. The lobotomy set was a Christmas gift from you. A tongue-in-cheek nod to the history of the profession he chose. It was fate. It had to be.

The tip of the ice pick-like instrument felt cold against your eye socket, and he clenched his teeth at the shiver that ran down your spine. His hands were violently shaking already, and your involuntary movements didn’t make it any better.

“Shh… shh… don’t move, angel… It’ll… it’ll be so quick, I promise.”

Another sob wrecked through his body as he lifted the delicate metal hammer.

“You need to try and sing for me, okay? Or hum. Or anything. I need… I need to know when it’s deep enough. Just try, angel. Just try, okay?”

Jonathan’s voice was as shaky as the grip on the instruments. But by God, he had to do this. He had to keep you by his side. His other half, his future, his everything. The vessel of every passion and love he poured into you. You just stared up at him through watery eyes, unable to open your mouth anymore, so you settled for humming. It was a nonsensical melody, a mish-mash of several nursery rhymes without a title. The first strike of the hammer against the orbitoclast caused an incredible pressure to spread in your skull, and black spots settled in your vision as the tip of the instrument breached bone. The crack was nauseating, but you couldn’t even struggle. Jonathan’s breathing became heavy, and he wheezed out a sob that sounded like it came from a dying animal when he saw the blood that began to fill your eye. But he had to continue.

“Just like that. Just like that, angel.”

With trembling hands, he prepared himself for the second strike, but he underestimated the adrenaline that his blackened heart was pumping through his veins. Something went wrong, his sweaty hands slipped off the equipment, skewing the angle of the pick when he hit it. And he hit it hard. Immediately, your humming stopped and turned into stuttered noises. A bead of clear fluid dripped from your nose, rolling down over your lips. This wasn’t blood.

The crushing realization that he messed up caused Jonathan to freeze entirely. Cerebrospinal fluid was leaking out of your nose at a quick rate, sending him into a blind panic. He tried to pull the pick from your eye, causing even more damage to your precious brain. A brain that was meant to love, not hurt. But here you are, wasting away before his very eyes. You’re suffering beneath him like a bird that hit a window in a curious attempt to explore. And you did explore.

Back in his childhood, he once found an injured crow in the shade of the family house. The poor thing was twitching and bleeding, much like you are now. Jonathan remembered the crushing emotions that he felt when he looked at the animal. And he also remembered the feeling when his grandmother put it out of its misery by crushing the crow’s head under her shoe like it was nothing. Like it was nothing. You weren’t nothing, but you still deserved that brand of mercy.

He doesn’t remember how he did it. Whether he wrapped his hands around your throat or injected you with enough muscle relaxant to put you down. In fact, he doesn’t remember much of the first night of complete silence. When he emerged from the blur, his throat felt raw from sobbing, and his eyes were swollen and red. He had left the room that contained your body immediately, fearing that he’d catch fire from stepping into a place that had been consecrated by the death of an angel. Eventually, after he had bitten his lips bloody and used up every tear in his eyes, he dared to face you again. And God, were you still so beautiful. And as ashamed as he was for thinking this way, there was also a positive to this. A big one at that. You would always be his. No one else would ever get the privilege of seeing your eyes or hearing your voice again. You truly belonged to him in every way. And as he stepped over to kneel besides your body and take your hand in his, he actually smiled. It was just the two of you. Like you always planned.

It was a grueling process. To strip skin from flesh, and flesh from bone. But he was patient. Patient in the same way that you were with him. Patient in a tender, saccharine way that made his insides squirm as if he was infested by maggots. But the only parasite inside of him was love. That's how it works, right? You can never truly get rid of it.

Once the bones were clean, he had to step back for a while. The impending loneliness made him stumble into the bathroom to vomit into the toiled bowl. For a good 30 minutes, he sat there. Doubled over and white-knuckling the porcelain. There was no disgust involved. Just fear. God, he was terrified of being alone again. Terrified of truly losing the one thing he couldn't breathe without. And as he sat there, heaving like a dog, he found a solution.

He ate your heart first.

Every bite, every mashing of teeth against teeth was an act of love. He had to pause a few times, chuckling at himself for his choice. How cheesy it was to go for the heart first. But how could he not? Even Jonathan wasn't immune to symbolism. It wasn't about taste or texture. It was about the growing sensation of having his stomach filled. Of having his hunger satiated by forming an everlasting connection with you. You would never be wearing his wedding ring, but you'd be with him forever in a different way. You'd be his until the day that he died. And even then, he hoped, your spirits would be so entangled that there was no way of separating the two of you. Maybe you'll get reincarnated as one soul together.

Over the course of three weeks, he forced himself to consume as much of you as he possibly could, setting the table for two since you were there as well. It always started off tame. He tried to savor the feeling of becoming one, but at some point, his composure always cracked, and he ate your body like he was a starving animal trying to fill the never-ending pit inside of him. The part that hurt him more than anything, though, was crafting a story. In the process of keeping you to himself, he had to ruin your reputation.

It was easy for others to believe. Of course, you would leave Jonathan for someone else. Most people in your small circle secretly never believed that this relationship would last. It was easy to make them believe something they had already expected to happen at some point. In this crafted lie, you went off to live with someone else, far away from Gotham. But in reality, you were always here with him. Beneath his skin that now became your own.

Jonathan never thought he’d feel peace. But now, that he has finished digging this hole in Gotham Central Park, he thinks he’s gotten pretty close. It has started to rain a few minutes ago, but he’s not bothered. In his mind, it’s your doing. Your loving attempt to wash the sin and guilt from his body. Because you know the depths of his devotion, know the intend behind his actions. This isn’t the first hole he has dug since the two of you became one. But it’s the final one. Back when he was confronted with the reality of what to do with your bones, he decided to do what you would want. You always were the romantic in the relationship, so he decided to leave your remains in places that were significant to the both of you.

His hands aren’t shaking anymore, as he pulls the plastic bag that he brought closer to himself. The material shreds quickly as his fingers tear through it, and he pulls it open to reveal the last pieces of your previous body. A tender smile spreads over his face as he reaches into the bag to pull out the bones of your fingers and wrists, remembering how he tore off the flesh and skin with his teeth. Your loving touch would always be with him. Carefully, he lowers everything into the hole he dug before he turns to the final piece. Tears of relief well up in his eyes as he gazes upon the empty sockets of your lovely skull. With the caution and gentleness of a mother setting down her newborn, he places your skull into the earth, whispering promises of everlasting love under his breath. This isn’t the end. Far from it. Once he wipes his eyes with his sleeve, he notices something else. It takes a moment to dislodge one of your molars from your jawbone, but Jonathan eventually manages. The piece of ivory bone almost seems to glow in the dim light that’s being casted by a distant street lamp. It’s your tooth. You share his now, so there’s no need for it anymore. But it’s one last piece of your smile.

And in a final act of completion, he swallows it.

[m4xedout]

One Fin Wonder 2

Welcome to One Fin Wonder!

Content warning ig: mentions of brusing and blood, and headaches, Steven chapter! Kinda, reader is 14-15! Swearing?

Enjoy! :)

••••••••••

A couple days later.

*BEEP*

*BEEP*

*BEEP*

Ugh...

What?..OH SHIT WORK

"UAGH" you woke up drool dribbling down the side of your mouth and not fully awake.

"Oh...shit I'm 5 minutes late" she'll understand.

Dingdong.

You went to go take a shower, and grabbed some new clothes.

While you were taking a shower you had the thought occur to you about why the guy who basically saved your life sounded so familiar.

Why are you thinking about men in the shower?

Why do you want doritos?

I want a hamster.

Okay! Sidetracked okay okay okay

You rushed out of the door grabbing your key.

And then you back for your phone.

You rushed out and ran to the nearest bus stop and almost missed it.

While you were sitting down you were wondering about the guy from work..

Guy from work..guy in the suit..

"Holy sh-" you slapped a hand over your mouth as you sat quietly in shock as you pieced nearly everything together.

"There goes my distraction for the day."

Or you could just pick at your nails

Or...look at the bruises on your hands.

The first night you got to your flat you couldn't sleep because of the pounding headache from being slammed against the wall or the throbbing pain in your bruised hands.

You awoke from your daydream when you hit your stop, you squeezed your way off the bus as you walked the rest of the way to work.

When you got there..

There he was.

"Two fins-"

"TWO FINS! Right sorry"

His accent changed.

What the fuck.

As he looked at the time, he looked shocked?

He rushed out and nearly knocked you over, as he straightened you out he quickly said "sorry bout that! Goodbye!" And you just stood there.

What?

Okay den, this was how your day was gonna start out

Maybe half an hour later, Ms Rosie started getting frustrated with her computer, you start to wonder why

You go over to ask her and she replies

"Stupid rubbish stopped working at the time I need it most, might need to call Kevin the computer guy."

"The "computer guy"?" You asked curiously as you both snickered

"Y'know! someone to help? He's kinda tall, glasses, cute little nerd type.." She gasped under her breath as you're eyes lit up excitingly

"Ooooo!!" "No!" "Yessss"

"Hes off working someplace else, don't wanna both him."

...

"I could help fix it."

"You could?! Why didn't you say anything!"

She shoved you towards her computer and sat you next to her in a wheelie chair

"Okay! Do what you gotta do."

You got to work

And in about 9-10 minutes you got it working

You were REALLY good with computers

"Wow! Thanks y/n, now I gotta-"

"Nope! Tell me more about keviiinnn.." "stop.."

"Hurry up my times almost up I gotta leave soon" "fine fine!"

And she did, she told you about Kevin and how she liked him and how cute and and-

..well..the point is you know she likes him!

It was about 10 minutes later and you had to leave, you got your pay and headed out and saw a woman strutting the side walk furiously as she walked out of the steakhouse across the street.

Must've gotten stood up.

You walked home quickly as not to cause any trouble, and hoping not to get into any, as you walked home you..

Saw the old strange man, talking to a woman and a man.

Like they were...planning something...

....oh well! That's just teenage imagination for ya.

You walked in to your flat and saw the fish guy.

He stopped in his tracks looking at you curiously.

Does he know YOU know?

You stared at eachother for about 30 seconds until-

"Hi"

...and he walked away.

hi??HI!? You've seen him int the shop TWICE about the same issue, needing a fish with one fin, and complaining that the fish he had gotten that week later had two...maybe he DID need the fish to have one fin.

You stood there awkwardly until you walked to the elevator and pressed the 5 button

When you got to your room you jumped onto your bed and quickly got up to charge your phone and saw a notification.

"5 people found dead, no one knows how they died but we do know one thing."

What?..

These deaths are (READ MORE..)

Ugh..

You don't have time for this.

You set your phone down and went to bed.

Hopefully you don't see that little one fin wonder again.

••••••••••

And 2 is done!! Send requests for future chapters!! Bye bye!!

[avenging-fandoms]

cevans + #37 (smut) and #2 (fluff) <33

2: Oh my god, did you just say that out loud? 37: She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.

warning: use of sex toys, sub!evans

*words: 1804

tags:@operation-spot @thatoneperson5000

⇩

chris sat at the bar with his forth beer in hand, your hand on his thigh as you looked over to where he stared. he took a sip of his beer, smacking his teeth and shaking his head. “i don’t know, yn, should i try it?”

“try what, chris?” you smile and look at him, chris nodding in the direction of a girl who kept glancing at him. “try hitting on her?”

“yeah, why not? she seems nice” you shrug and finish your drink, chris biting his lip and finishing his beer, standing up and stumbling a bit. you chuckle and he looked back at you, and you looked away as you ordered a new drink. chris headed over to the girl and you slyly watched, rolling your eyes and drawing your eyes to your cup as you watched chris hand over his phone.

chris came back over and sat back down next to you, showing his screen. “wow, nice one” you said monotone, taking a sip of your drink. chris looked at you with a confused smile, putting his phone in his pocket. “seriously, congrats”

“what?” chris asked and you looked at him, shaking your head. “she’s nice, i like her. if you talked to her you’d think the same. but.. i think she’s got a secret side to her” he said softly and leaned in, his tipsy eyes catching yours. “at first, she was nice. very sweet girl. then she started to make these comments. she may seem like lollipops and rainbows.. but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips” he bit his lip and you smile, laughing in his face.

“oh my god, did you just say that out loud?” you laughed and he backed away. “chris, that girl is vanilla. she’s got no latex skill unless it’s a balloon”

“oh yeah, how would you know?” he pushed your shoulder and you side eyed him, tilting your head to the side and downing your drink. you grabbed chris’s shirt, pulling his face close to yours.

“we’re going to my place. i’ll let you crash on my couch” you smile, chris nodding slowly and following you like a lost puppy out the bar doors and to your car. he plopped himself in your passenger seat, looking over at you as you started the car, and he wondered what you had planned up your sleeve as you drove without once looking over at him.

you unlocked your front door and you and chris stepped inside, your cool ac house feeling so nice from the warm summer night. you looked back as chris and held out your hand, chris looking at your hand and then at you with a curious smirk playing on his lips. he slapped his hand into your palm, and you took him upstairs to your bedroom.

chris sat on the edge of your bed, watching as you opened your closet doors. you took a breath and spun on your heels, chuckling as you let out a breath. “i’ve only showed about 3 people what i’m about to show you. and if you don’t want to see it anymore, i understand”

“what, you’re not a serial killer, are you?” chris joked and you pulled out your cardboard box, setting it next to chris. his eyes followed the box, his fingers pulling it up and widening his eyes as he saw the contents. chris took out the tassel whip, running it over his fingers. “yn.. this is..” his sentenced trailed off and your stomach churned as you waited for his response. “this is so hot”

you smirk, picking up your head. “yeah? do you.. wanna try them out? you can say no”

“fuck yes” you smiled and stood in between his legs, kissing him slowly. the whip fell on the bed next to chris as his large hands cupped your ass. he pulled you forward and you pulled away, shaking your head. “you are mine, chris” you whisper, pulling his shirt up and picking up the whip. you run the leather tassel over his chest and on his back, smacking it onto his stomach softly. “get naked, chris. i want you laying on the bed” he nodded and stood up, pulling off his jeans and boxers. you smacked the whip against his thighs, smirking as you heard a whimper.

chris listened and laid against the pillows, and you moved the box to your desk. you grabbed the vibrator taking off your shoes. “safe word system is red, yellow and green. understand?” he nods and you hit his stomach with the tassels, chris jumping slightly. “words, pet”

“y-yes yn” you smile and turned on the vibrator, pressing it under his cock. chris gasped and trembled, closing his eyes and letting out a soft moan as the new pleasure. “yn, y-your mouth”

“my mouth, what about it? you want it on your cock, chris?” he nodded desperately, making you laugh in his face. “you have to work for that, pet. how are you feeling?”

“green” he moaned out, his cock twitching and his pre cum dripped down his shaft. you moved the vibrator down slowly, chris humming as the new wave of pleasure rushed through him, leaving a funny feeling at the pit of his stomach. “holy fuck” you wrapped your hand around chris’s cock and you pumped him slowly, the vibrator moving up and down at an awfully slow pace. “please.. please fuck me”

“you sound pathetic, chris. do you think that girl from the bar could make you tremble like this? having you begging like i do?” your mouth kissed along the bottom of his stomach, chris moving his hips up.

“no, o-only you, holy fuck” he trembled and you pulled the vibrator away, chris letting out a whine. he grabbed your hand and you looked at him, pulling it away and grabbing the handcuffs. you secure them behind his back and rolled him back over, sitting on his thighs after taking off your clothes.

your hands wrapped around his cock again, the pad of your index finger slowly rubbing around the tip. you smile and look at chris, his face flushed and lip trembling as he needed you. you grabbed the vibrator again, pressing it to your clit and shivering.

“please, yn. can i at least taste you?” he asked quietly and you let out a small chuckle, leaving the vibrator against his cock as you straddled his face. “thank you” he moaned before flicking his tongue against your clit. you let out a sigh, running your fingers through his already messy hair as you moved your hips. chris moaned against you, making you shiver.

chris's hands gripped the seats underneath him as he drank in every ounce of you. his tongue left no place untouched, and he whimpered as you gripped his hair. you pulled away and sat back on his thighs, his beard glistening with your juices.

"how bad do you want me, chris? how bad do you want your cock buried in me?" you smirk and he bit his lip softly, watching as you rubbed up and down his chest and stomach slowly.

"so bad, yn, please, i want you so bad. i want to fuck you so fucking bad, yn, please"

"spit" you held your hand to his mouth and he did, watching you closely as you stroked his cock. you held it as you sank down slowly, pulling your hips up and teasing his tip. chris uttered 'please' over and over and moaned as you sat down all the way. "fucking shit, chris" you whispered and pressed your hand against his chest, the other holding a vibrator against your clit, chris feeling it as well.

you moved your hips slowly, you and chris moaning as the pleasure washes over the both of you. you leaned forward and kissed chris slowly, chris thrusting his hips into you. you gasp softly as his thrusts hit your g-spot, holding his chin and biting his lip.

"you like my cock, yn?" he grunted and you nod, chris's tongue tickling the roof of your mouth as you opened it to moan. your hand moved to his throat, digging your nails slightly into his skin.

"you're the one handcuffed here, i don't know why you're talking to me like that" he tugged on the handcuffs and you smirked, pulling him out of you. you helped chris sit up and he knelt on the bed, and you bent over in front of him. you guided his cock into you again and you turned off the vibrator, throwing it on the rug. "be a good boy and fuck me hard, chris"

"could you take off the handcuffs? i promise i'll make you cum so hard you see stars" chris panted and you smiled, unlocking the cuffs and chris threw them to the side, gripping your hips and pounding his hips into yours.

the bed rocked against the wall you were sure the headboard was putting holes in the wall. your nails scraped up chris's thigh, chris flipping you over onto your back and throwing your legs over his shoulders.

"yes chris, fuck, right there, holy shit. such a good listener" he smiled and kissed you sloppily, the both of you moaning into each other's mouths. his fingers rubbed your clit fast, your eyes rolling as wave of pleasure rushed through your stomach. "make me cum, chris, make me cum all over your cock" you mumbled into his mouth, chris nodding and picking up the pace of his hips, repeatedly hitting you g-spot. "fuck" your back arched and you pressed your chest against his, trembling as you came around him, chris not stopping as he brought himself to an orgasm.

chris pulled out and you stroked his cock, chris whimpering and letting out a moan as his cum painted your stomach and breasts. you both sigh contently, chris kissed you and grabbed some tissues from the box on your nightstand, wiping you clean and throwing it away.

you and chris laid down against the pillows, chris grunting. he pulled the tassel whip out from under his butt, making the both of you laugh. chris threw it into the box and looked at you, brushing his thumb against your jaw. "so.. are we still friends?" you ask quietly and he laughs, nodding.

"more like friends with benefits, yn. where did you learn all of this shit?" he asked and you shrugged, scooting closer next to him. "well.. i would definitely like to learn more"

"maybe you can call that girl from the bar" you tease and he held your throat, making you look at him.

"i don't think she can make me feel as good like you just did, yln" you smirk and kiss him hungrily, chris pulling you on top of him again as your tongues pressed together, giggling into each other's mouths.