#like music needs to move forward and be different

[majaurukalo]

Look, I get it, disability support is not as trendy as being an LGBTQ+ supporter or against racism, we might not have all that cool music and colourful parade floats, our flag has a lot of black. It’s not fashionable. No business puts the disabled flag in their logos on July.

Some of us make non-disabled people uncomfortable (to their own admission) because of how we exist in this world. Some of us slouch and drool, some of us have tics and spasms, some of us are missing limbs or parts of our faces. We might have bulky mobility aids and big and noisy equipment, some of us can’t avoid to attract attention, some of us are shaped in a “weird” way. We might walk and move too slowly or take a lot of time to express ourselves, to form thoughts and words. Some of us don’t speak. Many of us can’t fit in, can’t hide our disabilities and the way we look.

No, it’s not trendy or fashionable. I get it.

But the problem is that society has decided that there is only one standard to exist, to look, to be. The rest is abnormal, wrong, sick, broken…

It’s the mindset that needs to change. We should open up to all the different possibilities we could encounter, to the idea that what we are used to see is not necessarily the only right thing. Because there is no a “right” way to exist, to go through this World, to live, to look, to be. The more we open up to all of this, the more liberating it will feel. And it will be easier to accept the possibility of a future disability that might happen, to us and the people we love.

It’s not enough to just say “yes, disabled people deserve rights”. There should be an active step forward. Be uncomfortable. Get used to the idea of being around people who are not the “standard”. Be uncomfortable with the idea of a body and a mind that don’t work like you are used to.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 27: ~

No Hard Feelings:

And, here we are, the final chapter for season 1. Yes. You read that right. There will be a season 2, but it won't begin until after Christmas. Until then, I have another announcement and I'll be focusing on my own project as well.

I also want to thank everyone who's been following this story, and hopefully will continue to do so going forward.

The glow from the fire pit greeted Suze and Rennick. Caz waved them over as Trots and Simon began to serve everyone. Suze headed for her husband and took her spot on the steps. Rennick awkwardly sat between Gibbo and Roy, unable to look them in the eye. He wanted to be with Suze. In just ten minutes, she had become a source of comfort for him. Letting out all his feelings and washing away his 'King' façade, which was both a blessing and a curse, because now he was just Davey Rennick. But, who was Davey Rennick?

Gibbo handed him a bowl of casserole, which he took with a quiet 'thank you.' He could feel everyone's eyes on him. Soon, they all took their seats around the firepit. Small chatter filled the air. Rennick stared at his food. He didn't have the appetite. One last thing weighed on his mind. Now, it was his turn to be brave.

'I know,' everyone stopped and turned. They saw the anxiety in Rennick's eyes. Too late to go back now. 'I've been more than a shit manager to all of you. And, what I did has caused us all to be here. Because of me, you lot,' referring to the infected. 'Will never be the same again, and I can't fix that. You all had to deal with who I was for so long, and, looking back, I'm surprised you didn't throw me overboard.' An empty joke no one laughed at, but Rennick made another empty chuckle. It was his way of finding strength. 'And I'm sorry you had to deal with who I was for so long. I just...' A sigh. 'I dunno. Turned into something you all had to see.' He paused to catch his breath. 'I don't want to be that man anymore, but I don't know where to start. And-'

'And we want to apologise.'

Rennick flinched when he felt someone touch the top of his head. It was Gibbo. That surprised Rennick. He thought Gibbo would never speak to him again. The last time he did, he split his cheek and brow open.

'...F-For what?'

'For not supporting you. You got us here, and we never thanked you for it.'

'No. You don't need to-'

'We're also sorry for not noticing how you've been feeling,' Brodie interrupted. 'We're in this together, and we should have seen what you're going through.'

Rennick was stunned. He glanced to Gibbo, then to everyone else. He didn't understand. He saw their kind eyes, causing his to widen. No one's looked at him like that in a long time. He didn't know what to say.

'Ah, King Rennick,' Roy hummed, breaking the silence. 'Well, if he's officially gone, then...' He moved to grab a beer, opening and handing it to Rennick. 'I'm happy to finally meet you.'

He accepted with a small yet genuine smile. 'Let's hope this one isn't a prick, eh?' They tapped the bottom of their bottles together before taking a swig. Still weaker than piss. The robin flew and perched on Rennick's arm, softening his eyes. Everyone noticed, and seeing their manager smile, whilst different, was nice to see.

'Okay then, Davey, tell us a bit about yourself?' Trots smirked.

'What?'

'Oh God,' Caz snickered under his breath.

'We do it with anyone who joins the friend group.'

It took Rennick a moment to realise what they were saying, and he just laughed. Yet again, it was different but nice to see.

'So, we know you like to laugh,' Trots joked. 'Good to know.'

'Oh, and what about you, Campbell?'

'He's trained in ballroom dancing,' Simon answered without hesitation, causing Trots to snap his head to his lover and nudge him in the arm. Everyone except O'Connor, Mary, Gibbo, and Irene was shocked. They knew he was into classical music from the 40s, but he never told anyone that he swayed around on the dance floor.

'And you never told us,' O'Connor teased, causing Trots' face to go red, who now realised he's been played at his own game.

'So, you do have a personality outside of a Union,' Gibbo continued.

'Come on,' Addair encouraged, putting on a terrible Scottish Accent. 'Do a little jig.' For once, everyone agreed with him.

'Okay, next!' Trots yelled a little too loudly, making Simon laugh, earning another small nudge. 'You're on the naughty list,' he whispered.

'Oh, you tease,' Simon whispered back, before sneaking in a small kiss on the cheek.

'Well, actually...' Raffs got to his feet and went inside the house. Rennick didn't expect anything and just thought the young lad was going to get more drinks. Until he returned with a dart board in his hands. 'We'd like to know if you can play?'

For some reason, that got Rennick to laugh again. He didn't know where it came from. Was it nerves? Maybe. But, the man was happy, and his smile grew wider.'Got any darts?'

The crew and their families had learned three things about Davey Rennick.

One; He loved to laugh. Sometimes, it fell into a mischievous giggle, which was rather infectious.

Two: He adored the bird. A tendril was always stroking the top of the robin's head, and she didn't seem to mind. Roy, however, had a feeling he was an animal lover. The food he always gave him would quickly vanish with a clean plate, knife and fork, and seagulls loved to perch around his office.

Three: He was really good at darts, beating Brodie's score with flying colours, causing everyone to cheer and hug him. Something else for Rennick to be surprised by, freezing up his body and just allowing it to happen. His mind wandered back to the final night on the rig, when Caz confessed what he did to Billy. Although he wasn't there, he completely understood Caz's feelings and the high spirits everyone felt. It then flashed to when Brodie won the darts. Again, he understood the feeling. How wonderful it was. No wonder he was jealous. Thankfully, it wasn't a mosh pit, but he, too, had to hold back his tears again.

'Alright, get off. I need another beer.' That wasn't going to be so easy. Muir, just like he did with Brodie and Caz, lifted the man up above his head as if he was holding a cat under their arms. Rennick yelped in surprise before begging to be put down. Wish granted. He moved away from his crewmates, who were now setting the dart board up for another round, because Brodie wasn't losing his title after working so hard to get it.

With a content sigh, Rennick sat near to the firepit and watched from afar. The robin landed on his nose. A beer came into his peripheral vision. He turned. It was Caz. Rennick accepted whilst the leccy pulled reposition a chair and sat beside him.

'Thanks.'

'Nae bother.' They tapped the bottles together and took a swig. 'I see Suze got through to you.'

'Aye. You chose her well.'

'Nah. She chose me, and I nearly fucked it up.' Caz felt Rennick wrap a tendril around his shoulder for support. 'But, I think we're back on track now.' He then noticed the robin still resting. 'What's her name?'

'Still debating on that.' They watched the bird fly and nestle on the crown of his head. 'But...' Rennick didn't have any personal memories of her, but the name was fitting. 'I like the name Ruby.'

'Ruby it is then.' Another tap of their beer bottles. 'See, Rennick?'

'What?'

'Does this mean we're okay, like? No hard feelings?'

Rennick was quiet for a moment. He looked at Caz. Deep down, he expected some feelings to bubble to the surface. The hatred and anger he felt when he read the letter. That feeling of betrayal from someone he did respect. His blood boiling. How he wanted to give the leccy the same treatment he gave Billy during their 'meeting.' How he wanted to crush every bone in his body when he chased him throughout Administration. But, none of that happened. Not even the pain from transforming entered his mind. The man was content. Finally at peace. The pair turned back to watch the darts game.

'Aye. No hard feelings.'

[deiitsukki]

OMG I JUST READ SUNA’S SITUATIONSHIP DHSHD PLEASE GIVE A PART TWO OMD 😭😭

Us again | Suna R.

Sequel of Situationship.

Tw:(Y/n was slightly harassed, Fingering, F! Receiving, finger licking, Vaginal Penetration, Creampie)

The waves rolled in, steady as always, lapping against the shore of Suna Rintarō's memories. The beach he often retreated to felt different now—emptier, quieter, haunted by the absence of someone he hadn't realized he needed until you were gone. It was here, among the silvered sands and whispering tides, that he had first brought you.

The thought of your laughter as you met his family for the first time still echoed in his mind like the lingering notes of a forgotten melody.

But you had left. 

You’d vanished into the horizon without a backward glance, chasing a life you had always deserved to follow. Suna hadn’t stopped you, he didn't have the rights to, after treating you like shit, No. He hadn’t said the words that had been festering in his heart: Don’t go. I need you. He hadn’t realized how deeply he meant it until the silence you left behind filled his life.

Months passed. The ache in his chest grew heavier with every passing day. Suna had always been composed, calm, and unshaken, but now he felt like a ship adrift, rudderless. He found himself wandering back to the beach often, staring at the stars that once witnessed your presence.

“Why am I doing this to myself?” he muttered one night, sitting alone by the fire-pit you both had once shared. His voice was swallowed by the wind, offering no answers. It wasn’t like him to dwell on things he couldn’t control, but nothing else felt right anymore.

It was Atsumu who finally dragged him out of his gloom. “C’mon, Rintarō, yer a mess,” the setter declared with a clap on the back. “Yer comin’ to the party with me. It’ll do ya good to let loose a little.”

Suna scowled. “Not interested.”

“Not a question, ya loner. I’m not lettin’ ya rot away.”

And so, reluctantly, Suna found himself standing in the pulsing chaos of a massive club. The bass pounded through his chest, the crowd a sea of unfamiliar faces. It wasn’t his scene, but Atsumu had been relentless. He sipped at his drink, keeping to the edges, eyes distant.

Until they weren’t.

You were there.

In the center of the dance floor, under a kaleidoscope of neon lights, Y/N. your hair moved like silk in the dim glow, your laughter rising above the music like a siren’s song. you spun, carefree, lost in the rhythm, and for a moment, Suna thought he was imagining you.

But it was real. you were real. And you looked radiant—until his gaze darkened. A man he didn’t recognize grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you too close. your smile faltered, confusion and discomfort clouding your expression.

Suna moved before he even realized it.

“Hey,” he called, his voice low, sharp like a blade slicing through the din. “Get your hands off her.”

The man looked at him, sneering. “And who’re you supposed to be?”

Suna’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, his height and the weight of his glare sending a clear message. “The guy who’ll make sure you regret it if you don’t walk away right now.”

The man released you with a scoff and disappeared into the crowd. you swayed slightly, your drunken state evident. you blinked up at Suna, your expression a mix of surprise and recognition.

“Rin…?” you murmured, voice soft, uncertain.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said simply, slipping an arm around you to steady you.

The ride to his apartment was quiet. you leaned against him, murmuring incoherent apologies between bouts of half-asleep silence. Suna didn’t respond, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, kneeling in front of you to remove your heels. 

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” he muttered, more to himself than you.

you giggled, your words slurring. “You’re still…so bossy, Rin.”

He looked up at you then, his breath catching. Even in your disheveled state, you were still breathtaking. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed you until now, with you so close yet so far.

“You’re a mess,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“And you’re…still brooding,” you countered, your gaze locking onto his. The air between them shifted, heavy and electric.

“Why did you leave?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Your eyes glistened, tears threatening to fall. “You know why, Rin. I couldn’t stay. Not when…” you trailed off, voice cracking.

“Not when I was too blind to see what I had,” he finished for you, his voice barely above a whisper.

your lips parted to respond, but before you could, he leaned in, capturing them in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. you froze for a moment before melting into him, your hands tangling in his hair. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, a collision of longing and unspoken words.

Clothes fell away like forgotten promises as they tumbled into his room. His hands traced the familiar curves of her body, rediscovering the territory he thought he’d lost forever.

“Rin…” you whispered, his name a prayer on your lips.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

you silenced him with another kiss, your touch conveying what words couldn’t.

“Let me make it up to you, love.” the nickname rolled off on his tongue so smooth, and you forgot how long have you waited just for him to call you that.

He broke the kiss, lifting your dress up, his fingers tracing your pale legs as one of his fingers hooked on your laced thongs, he chuckels, quickly removing your underwear.

“Open your mouth” he demanded, and you obeyed, opening your mouth, he then puts his ring and middle finger in your mouth, your tongue swirling arount it.

“Still a good girl huh.” he praises you while chuckling as he removes his saliva covered fingers inside of your mouth. Without aqny warning he inserted his fingers in your pussy, slowly pumping in and out of you, you moaned at the sensation you felt.

He continues to finger you, while rubbing your clit and you moaned at every rhytym of his pace. you could feel a knot began to form inside of you, and he notices this as your toe curled, fingers clawing his arm “Oh fuck rin~” you whimpered, but he suddenly stops and you looked at him in disbelief.

“Why would you do that?” you whined “I was about to cum” you said

“Oh sorry love-” he apologizes and you noticed him stripping out of his clothes and so you did too, you slowly slipped your dress out off you, so you were both bare “I just wanted you cumming in my cock not on my fingers.” he continued as he took your legs into his broad shoulders.

He then lined his hard dick in your entrace, slowly putting it in. You sighed a moan, his pace just slow and you could feel his thick cock moving in and out of your wet pussy.

“Oh god you're so good~” he moaned out, feeling the warmth of your insides “Fuck- so fucking warm.” he curses under his breath as he continue to fuck you slow.

“Rin~” you purred in his ears as your hands snaked around his neck combing the back of his hair, you stared at his eyes pleadingly “Fuck me good, Fuck me fast” you moaned staring straight into his soul

the way you said and the way you stared at him drives him nothing but more crazier. wadting no time, he obliges, His pace picking up and becoming more faster, you could feel him trying to burry his cock deep into your tight cunt and you felt none but pure bliss.

“Oh~ Oh f-fuck” you moaned as your wine red nails dug into his broad back, he delivered a had thrust in your pussy making you rake your fingers in his back, he winces at the sting but secretly likes it 

“Oh shit- I'm gonna cum” he moaned, his thrust becomming more sloppier, cock burrying more deep, your pussy tightens around his cock making him groan “Shit- Don't squeeze me like that love” he said as he enhales a deep breath.

“Gonna cum too rin fuck-” you cried out as you can feel yourself reaching your climax “Cum on my cock love” he said, and you did. You came on his cock as you felt him emptied his loads inside of your pussy, His cock still throbbing as he burried his cock still in your pussy, you both moaned as the pleasure of reaching the climax hits you both.

In the darkness, you both found each other again, two halves of a whole that had been broken for too long.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the tangled sheets. Suna woke to find you nestled against him, your breathing soft and steady. He tightened his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Stay this time,” he whispered, his voice raw.

you stirred, eyes fluttering open. You looked up at him, your gaze soft but hesitant.

“Only if you promise to not treat me as casual again,” You said, your voice barely audible.

“I promise,” he vowed, pulling you closer.

And for the first time in months, Suna Rintarō felt whole again.

special mention to: @strwbivy @erensdickgarage @hrtfelts

[ghostlyreader09]

Crimson Thread Series: Part One

aged up damian wayne x yn

hi im just on a writing spree, let me know what you think of this one.

ps we have cool powers in this one!!!

Gotham at night was a living thing—dark, suffocating, and full of secrets. The city’s pulse thrummed in the silence between the stars, the only sounds the hiss of traffic and the hum of streetlights that never quite seemed bright enough. From the highest rooftops to the deepest alleyways, it was a place that demanded vigilance.

Tonight, however, something felt different. Not danger. Not a threat. But something else. A whisper in the wind.

And then, he saw her.

A figure, graceful as a shadow, moving through the streets with an elegance that was both unsettling and mesmerizing. She was fluid—unnaturally so—and though her cloak billowed around her like the wings of some dark bird, she made no sound. Her steps were silent, as if the very air conspired to keep her hidden. She was the kind of person who didn’t belong to Gotham, but who had nevertheless found herself tangled in its web.

Her name came to him, like an echo carried on the wind: Sanguis. The rumors were fleeting, half-spoken whispers that spoke of her power to heal. Of the strange abilities she wielded over blood and body. But no one knew her—no one had ever seen her face for more than a moment. She was a phantom in the night, an enigma wrapped in mystery.

And yet, he was drawn to her.

Damian leapt from the rooftop, his movements fluid and practiced, landing in the alley below with the grace of a predator. She didn’t notice him at first—how could she? She was too focused on the injured figure she was kneeling beside, her hands moving with precision over his wounds.

“Who are you?” he demanded, stepping into the dim light of the alleyway, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

She did not flinch, did not even glance up. Instead, her hands hovered over the man, a soft glow emanating from them. “Someone who helps,” she replied, her tone distant, indifferent to the force of his presence.

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not from here,” he said, as if that alone was enough to condemn her.

She looked up then, her face half-lit by the faint glow of her power. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, met his. “No,” she replied softly, almost as if to herself. “I’m not.”

There was something in her gaze—something that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitation. Only a calm certainty, like she was exactly where she belonged, no matter how strange or foreign it may seem.

“I don’t trust you,” Damian said, taking a step closer, his posture rigid, ready for a confrontation.

She stood, slowly, her movements precise, yet languid, like she had all the time in the world. “Trust isn’t necessary,” she murmured, her voice almost musical in its softness. “It’s just a word.”

He studied her carefully, something inside him pulling at the edges of his resolve. “I’ll make sure the people in this city know exactly what you’re capable of,” he said, his voice cold, harder now.

She raised a brow at him, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk curling at the edges of her lips. “They already do,” she said. “I don’t need their trust. Just their healing.”

Damian’s jaw clenched, frustration rising like a tide within him. He stepped forward again, his fists clenched at his sides. “You heal them,” he muttered, his voice taut. “But what do you get in return? What is the price?”

She looked at him then, her gaze softening for the briefest moment, though her words remained calm. “The price?” She repeated, her voice distant, almost wistful. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He was about to retort when the faintest flicker of movement caught his eye. The man she had been tending to stirred, his body slowly coming back to life, the blood that had pooled around him now starting to fade. The healing was swift—too swift.

Damian’s eyes locked onto hers, his expression darkening. “You’re not just healing them, are you?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl.

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned away from him, her back straightening. The man was now breathing steadily, his wounds sealed. She didn’t wait for thanks. She simply began to walk away, her dark cloak flowing behind her like smoke.

“Stay out of my way,” Damian said, his voice taut with restraint. “This city doesn’t need people like you.”

She stopped, just for a moment, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the streetlamps. Her words, when they came, were soft, as if whispered just for him. “Then why are you still here?”

The encounters became frequent. Every time he tracked her down, every time he found her—healing in the shadows, mending broken bodies and wounded souls—Damian found himself facing the same cold, quiet resolve. She never told him anything more, never gave him the answers he sought. She remained an enigma, untouchable and distant, and for that, Damian hated her.

But it was a slow-burning hatred. The kind that ate away at you, that built itself into something more, until it twisted and turned inside him, until it became… something else.

What bothered him more than her abilities, her cold aloofness, was the way she made him question his own certainty. She wasn’t like the criminals he faced, the petty thieves or power-hungry thugs. She was something more complicated, something darker. Her powers were unnatural, yes, but her reasons—her purpose—remained hidden.

Damian’s suspicions gnawed at him, consuming him. She wasn’t human. She was something else—something beyond the simple moralities he had been raised on. He had to know.

And so, he watched her, followed her, keeping to the shadows. He tracked her movements through Gotham, always staying just far enough behind to remain unseen, always watching, always waiting for a crack in the armor she so expertly wore.

But one night, when the city was thick with mist and the stars barely made their presence known, something changed.

Damian found himself cornered. Outnumbered by a gang of mercenaries, he fought tooth and nail, pushing himself to the edge of exhaustion. The blows rained down on him, his body bruised and battered. But it wasn’t until the pain of a deep cut across his abdomen caused his vision to swim, until the edges of his consciousness began to slip, that he realized how alone he truly was.

Then, in the distance, he saw her.

Sanguis.

She appeared like a shadow, moving through the mist with the same silent grace he had come to know too well. But this time, there was no coldness in her gaze. There was something else in it now. Something almost… reluctant.

She knelt beside him before he could even protest, her hands glowing softly as she placed them over his wound. Damian flinched as the heat of her power met his skin, but it wasn’t the heat that shocked him—it was the raw, unyielding energy that surged through her fingertips. The pain in his side lessened, but it wasn’t without consequence. His blood sang in his ears as his body seemed to reject her touch, a strange and dizzying exchange of energy.

“You’re mad,” Damian rasped, barely able to speak, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

Her gaze softened for a fleeting moment, but her voice remained firm. “I’m saving you.”

He gritted his teeth, his body trembling from the strain of the healing, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. “You’re insane. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Sanguis didn’t reply immediately. Her eyes were focused, unwavering, as she finished the healing process. The air around them hummed with something palpable—something heavy.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” she said quietly, her voice distant, yet grounded. “And I’m doing it for you. For Gotham.”

The weeks that followed were a silent war, waged in the quiet spaces between their encounters. Damian began to understand the price she paid for her healing—a price that was invisible to everyone but her. She was breaking herself, piece by piece, and yet she continued.

And as much as he hated to admit it, Damian could no longer look at her with the same cold contempt. There was something unspoken between them now—a shared understanding that neither could voice, but that neither could ignore.

She never gave him the answers he sought, never revealed her true nature or why she did what she did. But in the silence between them, in the fleeting moments when their eyes met across a battlefield or beneath the streetlights of Gotham’s endless night, Damian began to realize that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the enemy.

Maybe, for once, they were fighting for the same thing.

——————

The Batcave was still, as it always was. A hollow echo reverberated through the cavernous expanse, filled only by the low hum of monitors and the rhythmic tapping of fingers on keyboards. The glow of digital screens lit the faces of Gotham’s protectors, but the silence between them was thick, palpable—a tension that hung like a storm on the horizon. They had gathered here, in this dark sanctuary, trying to piece together the fragments of a puzzle that eluded them.

Damian stood apart, watching from the shadows, his presence more felt than seen. His arms were crossed tightly, his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body coiled with the same restless energy that had kept him on edge for weeks. He could feel their eyes on him, even if they said nothing. Alfred was the only one who didn’t seem to care for his silence, but even the older man’s usually comforting presence couldn’t soothe the knot that had settled in Damian’s chest.

“What do we know about her?” Bruce’s voice was low, measured, as it always was. The leader. The patriarch. But there was something different in his tone now. Concern. A subtle shift, barely perceptible, but unmistakable to those who had grown accustomed to reading his every mood.

“She’s elusive,” Tim Drake spoke up, his fingers gliding effortlessly across the keyboard, his eyes flicking between lines of code. “But that’s nothing new. Whoever she is, she knows how to stay hidden. She’s got a network of data wipes around her, almost like she’s actively erasing traces of herself.”

“Not just a criminal,” Damian muttered, his voice edged with frustration. He could hear the soft clicks of the Batcomputer as Tim continued his work. “She’s a ghost. A shadow that slips through the cracks.”

“I’ve encountered her,” Bruce said, his eyes dark with a hint of the same frustration Damian felt. “She has a strange ability to heal, yes. But we’ve only seen what she does from a distance. Her powers—there’s something more to them. I need to know what.”

“Her name is Sanguis,” Damian interjected, his voice tight as he took a step into the circle of light. “And she’s more than just a healer. I’ve seen it in her eyes—the way she takes from people. The way she absorbs their wounds. I don’t think she’s just fixing them. She’s using them.”

The room fell silent. The weight of his words hung in the air like a fog, thickening the already suffocating atmosphere of the Batcave.

“Wait,” Jason Todd, the ever-impulsive second son of the Bat, spoke up from across the room, his arms folded, leaning against the wall in that way he always did. “You’re telling me she takes on their pain? She absorbs it? That sounds like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.”

Damian’s eyes flickered to Jason, a brief flash of something darker crossing his features. “It’s not a bomb. It’s… more controlled. Calculated. But the fact remains that she’s hiding something.”

“Could be the price of her ability,” Tim suggested, his voice soft as his fingers danced over the keys, searching for answers that didn’t seem to exist. “Not a lot of data, but there’s been mention of people she’s healed—victims of accidents or injuries. The reports are conflicting. Some say they just walked away, fully healed. But others… there are no records. No follow-up. No sign of them ever being seen again.”

“Or they’ve been taken,” Damian murmured, his thoughts racing. He could feel the puzzle pieces clicking together in his mind, but none of them fit. The weight of the mystery was pressing down on him, heavy and suffocating.

“And she never stays around long enough to talk,” Bruce said with a deep sigh. “She disappears before anyone can ask questions.”

There was a brief pause, a pregnant silence that seemed to stretch on forever. In the quiet, Damian felt a flicker of something—a memory, perhaps. Something that had been gnawing at him for weeks. He saw her face in his mind—her dark, unreadable eyes. The fleeting moment when her touch had pulled the pain from his body, the agonizing sensation of his wounds closing and her own taking their place.

She had healed him. He had felt the exchange—couldn’t deny it now. But what had it cost her?

“What if she’s not… evil?” he asked, his voice quieter than before, as if testing the words in the air. The shift in tone was subtle, but unmistakable. He had never voiced such a thought aloud. It was dangerous to even entertain it.

Bruce’s gaze flickered to him, sharp and calculating, as though the words themselves were a betrayal of everything they stood for. But instead of reprimanding him, he merely tilted his head, considering. “You’re suggesting she’s… what? A vigilante?”

“I don’t know,” Damian admitted, his voice low. “But she’s doing something more than what we’ve seen. She’s healing—yes. But there’s something about her… something beneath it. She’s not like us. But that doesn’t make her a villain.”

Tim, still absorbed in his search, sighed heavily. “I wish it were that simple. She’s not giving us much to go on. Whatever she’s doing, she’s keeping her identity locked down tight. Almost like she’s afraid of being discovered.”

“Afraid of being found,” Damian corrected, his gaze distant, as if seeing something none of the others could. “Not just discovered. She’s hiding something more than just a name.”

Alfred, who had remained silent through the exchange, stepped forward, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. “Master Damian is correct in his assumption. But I believe there’s more to Miss Sanguis than mere fear or secrecy.”

“Then what is it, Alfred?” Jason asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s her game?”

Alfred’s gaze flickered to the darkened corners of the cave, as if he were searching for something that wasn’t there. “Perhaps it’s not a game at all. Perhaps she is… something else. Something different.” He paused, his voice softening. “We are all bound by the cost of our choices. Some of us carry our burdens in ways that are visible to the world. And some, like her, bear them in silence.”

Damian’s thoughts stirred, the weight of those words settling in his chest like a stone. Was she truly carrying something heavier than any of them could understand? Was she paying a price for her healing that none of them could even fathom?

The room fell quiet again, each of them caught in their own contemplation. There were no answers yet. No clear path forward.

Finally, Bruce broke the silence. “We need more information. Keep an eye on her. Track her movements, Tim. And Damian,” he turned his gaze to his son, the unspoken weight of expectation between them, “I want you to stay focused. We don’t know if she’s a friend or foe. But we’ll find out.”

Damian nodded, but something in his chest tightened. His father’s orders had always been clear-cut, but this was different. This wasn’t just a mission. Not anymore. Something inside him, something fragile, something unspoken, had begun to change.

The next night, as the moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over Gotham, Damian found himself watching from the rooftops once again. His gaze swept over the streets, the alleys, the quiet places where shadows lived.

And there she was—Sanguis.

She moved through the streets like a wraith, her cloak trailing behind her, her every step graceful and unhurried. She didn’t see him, not yet, but he was watching—watching her as she healed, as she touched the broken bodies of those who had been torn apart by Gotham’s cruelty.

Her power was a strange and wondrous thing, and he could feel it even from a distance—the way she moved, the way she shifted the very essence of life within the bodies she touched. She wasn’t just a healer. No, that was too simple.

She was a keeper of souls, a silent guardian who traded her own strength to save others.

Damian’s fingers clenched at his sides. This city didn’t need another shadow in the night. But maybe, just maybe, it needed someone who could walk between the light and the darkness. And for the first time, he wondered if he was the one who had misunderstood her.

okay so what do we think???? i like it! i can upload the next bit after i lock in for physics😢

[bandzboy]

idk if this is an upopular opinion but... i kinda hate when people say that "they don't do songs like this anymore" when it comes to a certain genre of music that was done in a specific era of music because... there are some things that should just stay in that time frame if music was the same every single year it would lack personality and things would be boring! years and decades of music have their certain and distinctive sounds of music and i think that's the beauty of it! there's no need to be consumed by nostalgia just be open to new things

[hoshifighting]

lyla….. i gotta know what car sex with svt would be like 🫦

seungcheol likes it on the backseat, your legs splayed across the leather, windows fogged up. he grinds into you, seats squeaking underneath. he’s relentless, fucking you hard against the door, his hands gripping your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. the music’s soft in the background, but all you can hear is his groaning, breathless curses tumbling from his lips. he loves it when you moan loud, one hand tangled in your hair as he takes you to the edge over and over again. his size? barely fits in the car, but he makes it work, leaning in close to whisper filthy things in your ear between thrusts.

jeonghan parks somewhere dark, secluded, with the windows cracked just enough for the cool air to sneak in so his blood pressure doesn't fall. or has you bent over the hood of the car, your hands gripping the cold metal as he kisses down your spine. the way he fucks you is almost leisurely, like he’s got all the time in the world, but it drives you insane. he chuckles every time you whimper his name, pushing back into him for more. he’ll whisper sweet nothings into your ear after, like he didn’t just ruin you on the side of the road.

joshua likes it on the front seat, hands firm as he pulls you into his lap, your knees digging into the dashboard while you ride him. the windows are rolled down, and the night air cools the heat between you. he’s not wild with his movements, but god, the way he looks at you while you move together is everything. his lips are constantly on you—your neck, your chest, your lips—soft whispers of your name mingled with his breathy moans.

junhui’s energy is through the roof, and it’s no different when things get nasty in the car. you’re in the backseat, straddling him while the music’s blasting through the speakers. the windows are cracked open, enough for the outside world to hear the way he moans your name, unashamed, unapologetic. he’s got you bouncing on his lap, his hands gripping your waist, guiding your movements like he’s choreographing your entire night. there’s no slowing down with him—it’s fast, intense, almost overwhelming, but exactly what you crave. he loves watching the way your face twists with pleasure, his lips tugging into a grin every time you get louder.

hoshi takes over the second you suggest anything risky. he’s the kind who wants to fuck you outside the car, no matter how reckless it is. he’ll have you pinned up against the side of the car, your legs wrapped around his waist while his hips snap forward relentlessly. the music's thumping from inside the car, but the only thing you’re focused on is the way he fills you up, him constantly whispering dirty things in your ear, loving the way your breath catches when he moves just right. the sounds he makes are loud and needy, almost like he can’t get enough. and honestly, he never can.

wonwoo’s the quiet type, but in the car, he’s something else. you’re in the backseat, seats reclined just enough for him to slide between your legs. the windows up, keeping everything intimate, the heat trapped inside the car. he’s not one to moan loudly, but the little sounds he makes are everything—soft, breathy grunts that makes u wet. his hand finds its way to your throat, not rough, just enough pressure to make you feel grounded, connected. you can feel the tension in his body, the way he tries to hold back but eventually lets go, his forehead pressed against yours.

woozi doesn’t do anything halfway. both of you in the front seat, the chair reclined as far back as it can go, but it’s still a tight fit. he’s hovering over you, thrusting into you at a brutal pace, his breath hot against your neck. the music’s off—he doesn’t need it—preferring the sound of your moans, the way your body responds to him. he’s not much of a talker during sex, but the way his grip tightens on your hips, the way he buries his face in your neck, says everything. his stamina is unreal, and he won’t stop until he’s sure you’re completely wrecked.

minghao + sex + you + front seat, straddling him as he sits back, his hands lazily resting on your hips. he loves watching the way you react, afraid that someone can see you through the window, but also too horny to care. the windows are cracked, and there’s soft music playing, but the real soundtrack is the way he breathes out your name every time you roll your hips just right. he’s quiet, focused, but the tension in his body says everything—he’s holding back, making sure you come undone before he even thinks about finishing.

mingyu and car sex? it’s wild, messy, and absolutely addictive. the backseat suffers on fitting with his size, but he makes it work. windows are fogged up, the car rocking slightly with the force of his thrusts. the way he moans is loud, unfiltered, mixing with your cries, you can be as loud as you want, you know the car 'walls' are going to muffle it. he would often eat you out inside the car too, before an event, before a family dinner.

seokmin is the type of funny that makes you laugh and then, on the next second, you are naked for him, laughing between gasps as he tickles your sides before pulling you into his lap. he’s vocal—really vocal—moaning and laughing all at once, telling you how good you feel, how much he loves being with you. he’s got this playful energy, even when he’s fucking you hard, every time you gasp, he grins wider, loving the way you react to him. he’ll pull you in for sloppy kisses, his breath mixing with yours as the car shakes with the force of your movements. when you both finish, he’s still giggling, pulling you close and telling you how much fun that was, like it wasn’t the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced.

seungkwan likes it because it ends up being messier than in bed. you get sweat faster, you get tired faster, the lungs burn, and the windows start to drip from being humid. he would hit his head on the car's roof zillions times, would laugh, but keep fucking you, when you're on top, he put a hand on the top of your head to prevent you to hit your head as the other circles your clit.

vernon loves it the most. love how the sex smells way faster inside the car. would have a playlist just for car sex, and would draw on the foggy windows of your car after. the quietness of the car insides, makes your moans more prominent so he can appreciate it.

chan would love to finger you while he drives. the radio is turned off, so he can hear the wetness of your pussy enveloping his fingers, the silence in the car makes him focus on it. when you two decided to make a stop, he want to fuck you outside, bent over the closed trunk leaving a stamp of your tits on it.

[misstycloud]

[Yandere.Rich man x ballerina reader]

(I don’t actually know much about ballet so forgive me if things are incorrect!)

—————

Rich. Yandere who was pestered by his friend and his wife to join them at the opera house and enjoy a performance. The couple had asked him numerous times before but he’d always declined. He was a workaholic and didn’t have any other commitments, so there was no need to break his routine. Although he would never admit it to anyone- he barely does to himself- he often find himself imagining a different life; one where he had a wife to welcome him home every evening. Perhaps a few children too. There was no sound besides himself and the staff in his home, it would be so very nice to hear the noise of running feet and happy chatter echo through the empty halls.

Rich. Yandere who is lonely above all else. His family is dead and he has next to no friends- the only one he has is married and devote all his time to keep him company. He knows that he doesn’t have the best track-record of being the kindest person in the world, and he might not be the friendliest or the most out-going, still, doesn’t he deserve some love too?

Rich. Yandere who eventually give into his friends demand and goes with them to the opera. As they took their seats- the expensive and best ones, of course- his friends wife babble on about her favourite dancer. They were regulars there and had seen many performances. He simply sighed and leaned back into his seat, waiting for the show to begin. He could only hope that it’ll be somewhat enjoyable since he doesn’t like wasting his time.

Rich. Yandere who was prepared for it to be a dreadful 3 hours, rubbing his eyes and suffering from lack of blood-flow in his legs. Oh how wrong he was. Instantly his gaze zoomed into you as soon as you stepped forward from behind the curtain. You were so beautiful and you moved your body gracefully to the music. It was magical. While he knew close to nothing about ballet, he knew that the point of it were for the women to look like they’re floating, and it’s exactly what you were doing.

Rich. Yandere who is instantly enamoured with you. As someone who’s never felt love this was all a brand new experience for him. He asked his friend and his wife if they knew who you were, since they frequent the opera so much. And turns out the wife did know who you were; you were her favourite after all. Rich. Yandere was never close with her or particularly liked her even, but he had to give it to her: she has excellent taste in performers.

Rich. Yandere who starts looking up information regarding you. It’s be your name, age, background, family, where you went to school and where you live. Everything. He also begins donating a lot of money to the opera house. In a short amount of time he’s become their nr.1 funder. The managers and owners are ecstatic at the news! They ask why he’s so generous and he simply answers that he loves culture and thinks it’s important it doesn’t disappear. Then, they wonder if there is anything they can do for him return, to which he smiles in response.

“Well, I do suppose there is one dancer I would be delighted to meet in person.”

Rich. Yandere who you feel uncomfortable around. He is so strange. You were just a normal ballerina, a dancer, no better or worse than anyone before your time. That’s why you can’t fathom the interest this wealthy man has taken in you. You two came form completely different worlds! But what can you do when your bosses not-so-gently urge you to see this man alone? You dont have any other skills and can’t apply to another job if you get fired.

Rich. Yandere who is determined to make you fall for him the way he has fallen for you. He’ll take care of you, love you and protect you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. He will do anything for his love.

“Don’t be scared, just keep on dancing, my little dancer.”

[sturniowhore]

Bf!Chris hcs

warnings: fluff, smut (nsfw section), established relationship, Chris x fem!reader, some blurbs are long

A/n: FIC #2 LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO not that proud of this one ngl

Tags: @d3axplr @mattsturnziolio

Dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

SFW

Bf!Chris who is insanely clingy. He'll always be attached to you in one way or another.

It was 11am, you have to go to work in 2 hours. You tried getting up but your boyfriend was basically smothering you. "Chris I need to get ready" You whined, trying to push him off. Instead of letting you leave like any normal person would, Chris just held you tighter against him. "Just call in sick" "Chris, you made me call in sick 2 days ago I'm gonna get fired." The boy just shrugged, not caring. "you don't need a job I buy everything for you anyway." "Chris I'm being serious I have to go." You tried sitting up, it was no use he just pushed you down. "5 more minutes" "That's what you said 15 minutes ago!"

Bf!Chris who never lets you do anything, why would you do it when he has 2 hands himself?

You and Chris were coming home from a shopping trip at the mall. His hands were filled with several of your shopping bags, and your hands were empty. Chris didn't mind, he was the one who offered to carry them. As the two of you approached the front door, your hands went inside your purse that was on your shoulder, searching for the house key. You brought out the key, twisting it on the key hole and were about to open it before Chris's hands stopped you. "i got it." He smirked down at you. You raised your eyebrows "Chris you're so sweet but your hands are literally full." He waved you off, moving in front of you to get to the door. He struggled a bit but managed to twist the handle, allowing for the door to open. He kicked the door with his foot, motioning for you to get in with his head. "After you" he grinned. You laughed at his gesture and went inside, Chris following close behind.

Bf!Chris who always pays attention, he'll see you pick up a book or a trinket you find interesting and make a mental note of buying it for you later.

The two of you were at a small bookstore. You were browsing the shelves humming to the song that was playing in the store, Chris right behind you like a lost puppy. Every so often you would pick up a book you found interesting, reading the back of it to learn what it's about then put it back where it was. When you go on to a different section of the store, Chris takes a picture of the book that was just in your hands, promising himself that he's going to buy it for you in a couple days.

Bf!Chris who buys you flowers randomly.

It was a random Thursday afternoon. You were hanging out in the living room reading a book when you heard the door opening. Nick, Matt and Chris came back home after filming a vlog for their channel. Chris came up the stairs practically sprinting towards you, his hands behind his back. "guess what?" "what?" you look up at him smiling. He reveals his hands from behind him and gives you a bouquet of pink tulips. "They reminded me of you so I had to get em." Matt rolled his eyes at the interaction "We were 2 minutes away from the house and he made me turn all the way back for just for them."

Bf!Chris who will always put your comfort above his.

You two were at a party. Chris was having a great time, laughing and catching up with his friends. You.. not so much. You had a terrible day at work, the lights were too bright, the music was too loud, so many people were bumping into you, your clothes felt itchy on your skin, and you have a terrible headache. All you wanted more than ever right now was to go home, but you couldn't tell Chris that.. he was looking forward to this party all week. So you decided to suck it up and at least pretend that you were having a good time. You were sat in the corner away from everyone else, looking down at your feet praying that no one would come up to you. Chris took notice, he met your gaze silently asking if everything was okay. Even though your eyes said yes, he knew you weren't. He walked up to you and rubbed his hands on your shoulder "hey ma.. you good?" You nodded your head quickly "yeah I just have a small headache but I'm fine! You go have fun" Chris gave you a sympathetic smile "you wanna leave?" You looked up at him, you so desperately wanted to say yes but didn't want him to feel disappointed. "no i'll be fine I promise, plus I know how you were looking forward to this I don't wanna take it away from you" He shook his head, offering you his hand "I'm not having fun if you're not having fun. c'mon lets go home." You shot him a grateful smile, taking his hand as he led you towards the door. "thank you" your voice small, He brought your hand to his lips giving it a gentle kiss "of course."

Bf!Chris who has you model for his brand.

Chris insisted for you to model for him not taking no for an answer. He loves you in his clothes especially his brand. Seeing you pose for his newest drop makes him feel giddy inside. Chris loves showing you off, he can't keep his eyes off of you. Someone from his team is telling him something but the words go in one ear and out the other, all his focus is towards you. How could he focus on anything but you? You looked flawless, you looked so good in fact that no one would believe you if you told them this was your first time modeling. Chris watches you with lit eyes and a huge smile, He truly believes that you are the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth.

Bf!Chris who can always makes you laugh even in the most serious situations.

Your period cramps were bad, your mood swings were going wild, every body in the house knew to keep their distance from you this week. Everyone but your boyfriend. You were laying in bed with a heating pad to your stomach when Chris came into the room and leaped on the bed causing your position to shift. "Chris! can you not?" You snapped at him. He didn't even flinch at the words, instead he turns towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him. "Ugh Chris please gimmie some space" You plead struggling against him. The boy started peppering kisses all over your face, at first you were annoyed but soon that annoyance turned into joy. You giggle at every kiss that tickles your face. Satisfied with himself by making you laugh he stopped and stared at you "if I turned into chicken Alfredo would you eat me or would you know it was me?" Chris asked as if this was a life or death question. You looked at him in disbelief and amusement "Chris.. what!?"

Bf!Chris who kisses your tears away.

You and Chris were watching the notebook together. You were bawling your eyes out, snot coming out of your nose and everything. You were truly a mess. Chris on the other hand was fine, the movie was sad yes but it wasn't sad enough for him to cry, honestly he thought you were being a bit dramatic. "Sh-she's gonna f-forget him" You sob, trying to wipe the tears away with a tissue, it's no use the tears keep on coming. Chris laughs at your antics, you notice and swat his arm "Stop laughing at me!" You pout, still crying. He cups your face, his eyes soften and a small smile appears on his lips. He leans down and kisses the tears running down your cheeks away. "you're cute when you cry."

Bf!Chris who always listens to you speak never interrupting you once.

The triplets invited you to do a car video with them. The four of you were having a great time, chatting and laughing. An interesting topic came up and you had a lot to say about it. As you were speaking Chris stared at you intently, not interrupting at all. Matt and Nick were shocked, usually Chris would always try to get his opinions out, not caring if someone was in the middle of saying something or not. But with you he's different, he listens to your every word. A soft smile gracing his face as he watches you talk. He loves hearing your voice, The boy is absolutely in love with you.

Bf!Chris who will never let you be embarrassed alone.

"NO WAY!" You said a bit too loudly, a few people from different tables at the restaurant glanced your way. You slumped back in your seat, embarrassed at your outburst. "YES WAY! I KNOW ITS CRAZY!" Chris matches your energy, noticing the look on your face. The few people who were staring turned back to their own conversations, not paying attention to the two of you anymore. You gave Chris a grateful smiling, silently thanking him. He reached across the table, lacing his hand with yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Bf!Chris who loves when you play with his hair.

It was a quiet night, Chris was laying on top of your thighs answering emails on his laptop. You were above him with both your hands on his scalp, gently massaging it. You got a text notification from your phone beside you. One of your hands left his hair to pick up your phone, an instant groan came out of Chris's mouth "nooo put it back" he whined as he reached behind him to try to get to your hand. "just a second geez" You laughed, quickly replying to the text you just received. You put your phone down, your hands going back to their original position on Chris's head making him let out a content sigh.

Bf!Chris who matches his nails with yours.

You both walked out of the nail salon with a fresh new set of nails. You're practically skipping to your car overjoyed that you managed to make your boyfriend agree to match with you. Chris let out a soft laugh, watching you so giddy. If he knew how happy matching nails would make you he would've done it years ago.

Bf!Chris who goes pretends to give you back shots when you bend over.

BEEP BEEP BEEP the oven rang signaling that the cupcakes were ready. You walked over to the kitchen, putting on your oven mitts and opened the oven door, the smell of the sweet treats filling the air. Bending down, you grabbed the cupcake tray from inside the warm oven and were about to place it on the counter when you felt a pair of hands on your hips keeping you in place. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" Chris slightly pushed into you, a scowl appeared across your face. Chris let go, allowing you to take the cupcakes out and placing them on the island. "Chris! You could've made me fall! My face would've burned off!" Chris scoffed at your dramatics "Sorry miss lady you just looked too good!" Chris protested his gaze now averted towards the cupcakes "ooh can I help you frost them? please?" You rolled your eyes unamused, handing him a piping bag which he excitedly took from your hands.

NSFW

Bf!Chris who always talks you through sex

"You're doin' so good f'me" Chris says from above you, his hips thrusting into you. One hand is on your waist, the other is pining your wrists above your head making sure you wont escape. "you're so pretty ma." Your moans and his words collide, his thrusts move even faster hearing the sweet sounds that escape your lips. "I love it when.. fuck- when you make those pretty sounds ma." "m'close.." your back arches as the familiar knot builds in your stomach "yeah? is my pretty girl gonna cum?" You could only respond with a whine. "please Chris.. c-can't hold it." Chris smirks down at you loving the way you melt at his touch. "Go on baby, make a mess on my cock f'me." A ring of white coated his dick, Chris looks down groaning at the sight his own release following after. He leans down, his lips attaching onto yours. "you're so pretty.. the prettiest girl ever"

Bf!Chris who tries to be soft and gentle but always ends up being rough near the end.

"Wait Chris sl-slow down" Your face was squished against a pillow with your ass in the air. At first his thrusts were slow and gentle but he couldn't hold it in anymore, Chris's hands gripped onto your hips leaving behind purple bruises and his thrusts gained speed. "s-sorry so so sorry" He apologized not slowing down "you're just so fuckin' pretty.. can't help It around you ma"

Bf!Chris who loves your tits, always staring, touching, sucking etc!

Chris's hands were kneading your breasts as you rode him. The sight of your tits bouncing on top of him made him go wild. His mouth latched on to one of your nipples, his thumb and pointer finger pinching the other. Your eyes rolled back at the immense pleasure that was being brought to you, your jaw went slack. "look at you.. that feel good ma?" Chris mumbled into your tits. The harder that Chris sucked the closer you felt, your mind was going numb. Your bounces growing slower and weak. Chris took notice, his fingers sliding down to your clit rubbing it with speed and pressure. All of your limbs gave out. You gripped the headboard of the bed for support, your tits dangling in front of your boyfriends face. He didn't mind at all, in fact he was basking in the wonderful view above him.

Bf!Chris who eats you out like there's no tomorrow.

Your moans echoed throughout the room, Chris's head between your thighs lapping his tongue around your dripping cunt. You were beyond overstimulated, your whole body shaking after reaching its 4th orgasm. "Chris pl-ease n-no more" You mewled, Your fingers tugged at his hair trying to pull him off you. Chris moans at your actions, tightening his grip on your thighs. His voice sends vibrations all around your body. "you taste so good ma.. s'all f'me.. all mine" he coos continuing to devour you like your his last meal.

Bf!Chris who makes sure to shower you with affection after sex, making sure you know that you are loved and cared for.

There was a comforting silence in the room, the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of your soft pants. Chris shuffled beside you, his eyes watched your fucked out expression. He watched as your bare chest moved up and down with your breaths, he couldn't help but think how pretty you looked like this. He could stare at you forever if you'd let him. He reached for the drawer by his bed and got out a small cloth, his hands gripped the fabric and moved above you. He gently wiped your sensitive cunt, making sure every drop was cleaned up. The rag made contact with your clit, your thighs quickly shut around his hand, eliciting a whine from you. "shh its okay I know, it'll be quick I promise." Once he was done he laid back down next to you, his arms wrapped around your lower stomach bringing you closer to him. "you're so beautiful" "I love you so much" "I wanna marry you one day" Chris whispered sweet nothings into your ear, watching you slowly drift to sleep. His head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent never wanting this feeling to end.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

almost sweet music

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, smut, thigh job, clit rubbing, brief tit play, childhood friends to lovers, kinda somnophilia?

your eyes are open, but they might as well be closed as you look at nothing but pure darkness. you shift ever so slightly, pressing further into rafes hold.

it's not the first time you've shared a bed. he's been your friend for years, and you used to have sleepovers every weekend before your bodies developed and it became awkward.

you would still occasionally fall asleep in rafes bed, usually when the movie he picked to watch was too boring, or when you were waiting around for him and ended up taking a nap enveloped in his scent.

tonight is different. even when you share a bed, rafe never cuddles so close to you like this. yeah, you'll wake up with your head on his chest or a leg slung over his, but rafe is pressed right against your back.

his chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but you can't tell for certain if he's asleep or just relaxed having you against him.

you close your eyes, relaxing back into his hold. his soft breath fans over your shoulder, barely covered by your tank top strap.

you're about to fall asleep when you feel something poking you. your eyes open again, wider this time as rafes hip press forward.

his obvious erection grinds against your ass, slow movements fooling you into believing rafe must be asleep still, body acting on its own, much like yours does when you seek him out in your sleep.

rafe let's out a soft moan, then a mumble of your name, and now you're certain he must be awake since you've never heard him sleep talk before.

his hips begin to move faster, like he's testing out how far he can take it before you wake up. how much movement will it take for you to stir, testing how much he can get away with.

you stiffen for a brief moment before relaxing again. you squeeze your eyes shut as you try to keep your breathing regular. you don't want rafe to stop. 

to others, it's been a clear (and long) game you've been playing, both pining after each other while claiming to just be best friends. this is the first time rafe has shown any clear evidence to you of his sexual attraction. what you don't see is his longing looks whenever your back is turned, or the way he's quick to go after any guy who looks at you for a little too long.

you let out a silent curse in your head. of course he's only doing this because he thinks your asleep as he moves faster against you, barriers of fabric in the way but not stopping his light moans, almost sweet music against your ears.

you wonder how long he's been pushing up against you before it woke you up. you consider your options. sit here silently, let him cum in his pants, or take action, show you're awake, and change your life forever.

you're done with the game as you reach down, startling rafe as he lets out a curse, but you simply pull your shorts down along with your underwear, revealing your bare ass as you spread your thighs, pussy on show and already starting to get wet.

you wait for rafe to continue. when it's clear he won't, you reach behind your back to pull his cock out of his pajama pants.

rafe follows your motions, taking your lead and going as far as you will allow as you rub his cock through your folds before closing your thighs around him.

“keep going.” you say. 

the words is all the encouragement rafe needs as he begins to thrust, the slick between your thighs growing as he pushes against you.

a hand that was holding you close to him travels to your pussy, rubbing you with a single finger, the pad rough against your sensitive clit.

the sound of slapping skin is a telltale sign of what is happening in the dark, as rafes hips meet your ass with every thrust.

you long for him to press into your cunt, but you know you need to have an actual discussion about what this is before allowing him to fuck you properly. the thighs will have to do.

rafe rubs faster, with a clear purpose as his cock swells. you can tell he's not far off, and the pure excitement from finally being with rafe also has your high growing.

you press further into his chest as your thighs squeeze together as tight as you can force them, letting out a moan when rafe spills, cum spurting through the gap onto the bed sheet.

he leaves his cock to soften between your legs as his finger keeps working on you, free hand coming to grab your chest over your shirt, hand possessively gripping your tits until your back arches, a strangled moan leaving your lips as you cum.

rafes hands disappear from off of you. you turn to face him, but can't see his expression.

“im-im sorry.” his words are enough for you to pinpoint where his mouth is as you lean in, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss.

“we can talk about it in the morning.” you say, tucking yourself back into his side. “we will cuddle and sleep and be in a much clearer headspace.”

rafe hesitates for a second before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a soft smile on his face as your breathing returns to normal, not allowing himself to fall asleep until he hears your gentle snores.

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[cazshmere]

12th House Sign in the Natal Chart and How you can Heal and Find Closure from Past Wounds 🩵

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER : healing is a journey, not a destination, and everyone moves at their own pace. these tips are here to give you a nudge, not to create pressure or perfection. if you’re reading this and some things resonate, that’s wonderful :) take what feels right and leave the rest. and remember, there’s no one right way to heal or find closure. it’s okay to stumble, feel lost, or take a break. trust that every small step forward, even the tiniest ones, are part of the process. be kind to yourself along the way; you’re doing the best you can 🩵

🧩 aries in the 12th house

1. you’re bold in action, but sometimes hesitant in introspection. reflect on fears you might avoid and tackle them directly, like you would any challenge.

2. pent-up frustrations weigh on your subconscious. try activities like boxing, painting, or writing letters you’ll never send.

3. give yourself time alone without needing constant action. Silence and stillness help you get in touch with buried emotions.

4. reflect on times you acted quickly and accept that growth often means making mistakes.

5. indulge in something silly, like playing a game or watching cartoons. It helps you reconnect with yourself. watching your comfort movie with your favourite snacks will surely help

HEALING TIP : try journaling with a twist : write letters to yourself from different ages, like your 5-year-old self or your future self, to see your emotions from new perspectives. this could be super cathartic for you and help you move through the hard feelings holding you back also try meditation that is targeted towards inner peace

🧩 taurus in the 12th house

1. learn to release your hold on past pain. Healing for you often means loosening your grip on comfort zones, even in memories.

2. reflect on areas where you’ve felt unappreciated, finding self-worth from within rather than external validation.

3. you resist change, so make small, gradual adjustments to your daily life that invite healing over time.

4. practice acceptance of things you cannot control or predict; even small, symbolic acts like letting go of a token can help.

5. revisit an old hobby that once brought you joy, like gardening, knitting, or cooking. it’ll remind you of your inner peace.

HEALING TIP : try a sensory grounding exercise: touch something soft, listen to calming music, and smell something grounding like lavender to soothe your mind and body. also something that can temporarily help is watching a super scary movie or just eating spicy food, it can help you distract yourself from your thoughts, at least momentarily

🧩 gemini in the 12th house

1. your mind runs fast, but your 12th house challenges you to slow down and acknowledge buried insecurities.

2. release old narratives, whether it’s past gossip, harsh words, or regrets, let go of thoughts that weigh you down. Practice rephrasing past stories with kindness.

3. try creative outlets that let you express emotions without words, like art or dance, to connect with deeper feelings.

4. when you socialize, make time for connections that feel supportive and honest, without intellectual posturing.

5. quieting your inner monologue helps you access the quiet truths below the surface. Breathing exercises can help here.

HEALING TIP : try recording voice memos on your phone when you feel overwhelmed. Sometimes saying things out loud can help you make sense of them faster than writing.

🧩 cancer in the 12th house

1. you tend to tuck away your deepest fears. Make time to reflect on past emotions without judgment or the need to ‘fix’ them.

2. address any unconscious attachment to people or situations that no longer serve you, knowing it’s okay to need change.

3. offer compassion to yourself, revisit times when you felt misunderstood or unsupported, and give your younger self the love they needed.

4. learn to let go without feeling abandoned. Spend time nurturing your sense of self apart from your relationships.

5. forgive old wounds, allow yourself to release grudges or hurts, understanding that they don’t define your future connections.

HEALING TIP : write a letter to someone from your past you’ve never fully moved on from, then release it (you don’t have to send it).

🧩 leo in the 12th house

1. step back from needing validation, explore who you are outside of praise or recognition. spend time with yourself, just being rather than performing.

2. acknowledge areas where you might have felt rejected or unappreciated. practice self-love that doesn’t rely on others’ feedback.

3. try activities where you’re a beginner. learning something new can help you find power in vulnerability.

4. let go of ego-driven fears, focus on what makes you feel genuinely fulfilled, not just admired. reframe your goals around personal joy rather than approval.

5. reclaim your authenticity by exploring what brings you joy outside of an audience, like a private creative hobby that brings you peace.

HEALING TIP : try visualising your inner child, close your eyes and picture yourself as a child full of hope and joy, and send love to that younger version of you.

🧩 virgo in the 12th house

1. acknowledge that some things don’t need fixing. practice letting go without feeling the need to control every detail.

2. practice self-compassion, allow room for mistakes and honor your efforts without focusing solely on flaws. embrace your progress, not perfection.

3. stop overanalyzing (ik it’s hard but your overthinking is what causes majority of your problems, the more you overthink the more power you’re giving to those unwanted thoughts) give your mind permission to take a break. activities like meditative gardening or painting can help soothe the inner critic.

4. connect with your intuition, trust your instincts rather than rationalizing everything. allow yourself to simply “know” without overthinking it.

5. embrace the chaos haha, let things be messy or spontaneous without judgment. Flexibility helps you grow beyond rigid expectations.

HEALING TIP : try writing a list of what you’re grateful for, it's a simple but powerful tool to shift your focus from worries to abundance.

🧩 libra in the 12th house

1. find comfort in solitude, learn to enjoy your own company, separate from others’ opinions or companionship. practice inner peace.

2. let go of past people-pleasing, allow yourself to address buried feelings of resentment that may stem from overextending for others.

3. balance your inner harmony, focus on inner alignment rather than external harmony. Journaling or meditating on your needs helps you center.

4. heal relationship wounds, reflect on past connections that left an impact. release blame, knowing each taught you something valuable.

5. set boundaries with yourself, give yourself permission to say “no” without guilt. embrace your inner balance, free from others’ demands.

HEALING TIP : you can try a heart-centered meditation to connect with self-love and release neediness for outside validation or try a balance-focused yoga routine, it can be both grounding and soothing, helping you connect with your inner equilibrium.

🧩 scorpio in the 12th house

1. embrace your emotional vulnerability, lean into your feelings without fearing loss or control. Sharing emotions helps relieve hidden weight.

2. release grudges (ik this is something hard for you but letting go is better than holding on to the things that cause you problems - forgive but don’t forget perhaps), practice forgiveness as a way of releasing old hurts that drain you.

3. face your darkest worries with courage, knowing they don’t define you. Write them down and let them go.

4. reclaim personal power, you’re literally THAT bitch don’t forget that queen, focus on how you can empower yourself from within, instead of seeking control externally.

5. trust others with your feelings when it feels right; vulnerability can be deeply healing.

HEALING TIP : you can try shadow journaling by exploring both light and dark thoughts to understand yourself more deeply or if you want something fun instead try listening to a mystery podcast or an immersive story app where you can dive into thrilling narratives. this helps you tap into your emotional depth while being entertained, offering healing through mystery and intrigue.

🧩 sagittarius in the 12th house

1. look inward for meaning, sometimes answers lie within, not in new experiences. find fulfillment in self-reflection rather than escapism.

2. explore spiritual grounding, sagittarius craves meaning, so find practices that connect you to a sense of purpose, like guided meditation.

3. release judgment and let go of self-criticism about past “mistakes.” accept that growth is a journey, not a fixed outcome.

4. embrace introspection by giving your adventurous mind permission to slow down and find contentment in stillness.

5. cultivate patience please (so so important) you may be prone to quick fixes; practice patience with yourself and your journey to healing.

HEALING TIP : start a personal travel vlog (even if it's just to document your local adventures) or use digital journaling apps to record your thoughts, dreams, and philosophical insights. It’ll allow you to process your emotions while in a fun way <3

🧩 capricorn in the 12th house

1. release pressure to always be “on”, let go of needing to achieve every moment. It’s okay to just “be” sometimes, without a goal in sight.

2. forgive your past mistakes, address any old guilt you’re holding onto. you’re allowed to grow beyond your old decisions and learn without punishment.

3. embrace vulnerability (very important) being open about your feelings doesn’t weaken you; it strengthens your ability to understand and trust yourself.

4. trust life’s timing, not everything has to be perfectly planned. lean into moments of uncertainty and find peace in simply experiencing.

5. reflect on your worth beyond productivity, spend time exploring who you are outside of what you “do” or “produce.”

HEALING TIP : try weekly self-check-ins to connect with your needs and desires, away from the hustle of daily demands.

🧩 aquarius in the 12th house

1. embrace your quirks and shadows, you have a unique mind, so allow yourself to be different even in your struggles. reflect on hidden fears and accept them.

2. let go of needing to understand everything, release the need to overanalyze or intellectualize every emotion; trust that some things are just felt, not solved.

3. balance independence with connection, don’t isolate yourself too much. healing also comes through genuine human connections.

4. explore spontaneous introspection, give yourself the freedom to meditate or journal in unconventional ways, like painting or singing.

5. lean into self-compassion, you may be hard on yourself for being “too different” or processing wounds and hurts “differently” but learn to embrace that unique perspective as your strength.

HEALING TIP : try creative expression exercises that bring your thoughts to life, like freeform art, dance, editing, posting stuff online (blogs, reels etch) or sound journaling helps too.

🧩 pisces in the 12th house

1. set healthy boundaries with emotions, your empathy can pull you into others’ feelings. spend time differentiating between your own emotions and theirs.

2. give yourself closure without finality, understand that sometimes closure isn’t perfect or neat, and let go of needing every question answered.

3. create a soothing retreat, build a healing environment, like a cozy corner or blanket fort lmao, where you can escape and connect with your inner peace.

4. release victim mentality, move beyond past hardships by reclaiming your personal power and seeing yourself as a survivor, not a sufferer.

5. TRUST. YOUR. INTUITION. you’re naturally in touch with the unseen. lean into that gift by tuning into your feelings without judgment.

HEALING TIP : create a healing playlist filled with calming music, or even soothing ASMR sounds, to help you unwind and feel safe in your own space.

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

banner & pic credits to the rightful owners <3

[julietsbody]

divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along. 

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!! 

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.   

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure. 

and he stuck true to that, until you came. 

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there. 

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car. 

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.” 

he hesitates for a second, “hi.” 

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater. 

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?” 

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way. 

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father. 

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them. 

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?” 

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church. 

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him. 

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision. 

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?” 

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow. 

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?” 

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more. 

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up. 

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying. 

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep. 

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper. 

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear. 

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him. 

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does. 

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger. 

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret. 

but he was here, and so, he prayed. 

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room. 

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy. 

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more. 

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers. 

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.” 

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.” 

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises? 

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him. 

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you. 

is it so cruel to only tease him harder? 

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.” 

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow. 

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew. 

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things. 

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind. 

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?” 

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips. 

on reaching the place, 

he said to them, “pray that you 

will not fall into temptation.” 

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs. 

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced. 

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?” 

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you. 

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together. 

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales. 

“i’m not doing anything, luke.” 

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.” 

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church. 

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.” 

“why don’t you show it to me?” 

absolution; 

formal release from guilt, 

obligation, or punishment. 

or.. 

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry. 

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read. 

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping. 

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l. 

“tell me what you want.” 

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course. 

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh. 

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation. 

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight. 

 “you’re so big,” is all you can manage out. 

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?” 

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.” 

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you. 

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate. 

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts. 

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible. 

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips. 

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.” 

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas. 

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“ 

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now. 

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on. 

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.” 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Tag list: @sh-tposter2021 @casmosmoon @hoesindifferentshows @daffodildelight @stuckinaoaktree @this-is-music @good-so @farleyis @starksdaughter20

Part 1

It has been a couple of days since your confession and Hobie was conflicted on whether he should rip the preverbal bandaid off and tell you of his secret identity, and possibly putting you at risk for potentially dangerous circumstances in the future, or keep you in the dark for a little while longer until he felt brave enough with himself and his situation to come forward; After all personal relationships -whether platonic or romantic- and Spider-Man never went well together. It was a sacrifice placed upon the shoulders of all variations who were chosen to dawn the mask of Spider-Man.

For if the legacy of being Spider-Man was a death sentence to those who are close, Hobie doesn’t want you death to be treated as his ‘canon event’ or whatever hand fisted bullshit excuse Miguel was trying to ram down everyone’s throats in order to justify in allowing a loved one of theirs to die. Hobie refuses that being the case and due to his righteous mistrust of Miguel, he kept your name out of his mouth unless it was within the presence of the few he could trust; Miles, Pavitr and Gwen.

‘So they have a crush on you.’ Pavitr began.

‘Yeah.’

‘And you have a crush on them.’ Miles jumped in.

‘Ain’t no point in hiding it.’ Hobie cooly replied because why should he bother hiding the obvious.

‘So…what’re you going to do about it?’ Gwen finishes and Hobie only shrugs in response, ‘dunno.’

Pavitr made an face of exaggerated shock and looks over at Miles and Gwen, who were already expecting this reaction from him as they exchanged looks with him, before looking back at Hobie. ‘Dunno, the person you like has expressed that they like you too-‘ ‘-it wasn’t me they were talking to Pav, it was Spider-Man, clear difference. No need to rom-com it.’ Pavitr waved his comment away and continues on his tangent, ‘they like you, you like them and your response to all that is; Dunno?!’ Hobie -again- shrugs. He really didn’t know what to do, yes the feelings between you two were mutual but that didn’t mean he was going to risk your safety over them; no matter how deeply he feels them to the point where the mere idea of you being put at risk because of him acting out of his selfishness in having you, made him physically hurt.

Hobie would rather enact upon his selfishness in a way that meant letting you go and moving on to someone who wasn’t going to be putting your life in constant danger, whilst also getting to shamelessly cling onto some part of you in the process; even if that meant just being your friend, even though he already knew that wasn’t what you wanted. ‘What do you want me to do Pavitr?’ Hobie began, ���Go up to them and be like ‘remember the talk you had with Spider-Man up on the roof? Yeah that was me and no I’m not having a laugh because I like you too.’ He made a face at this, ‘nah I’d rather them call me a nonce for the rest of my life, well that is if they still want me in their life afterwards for lying to them this entire time.’ He murmurs the last part to himself mostly and it was silent for a while as he, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles sat on what has been said.

The later three shared a look between them as Hobie looked at a picture of the two of you that he kept within the pockets of his vest, smiling softly to himself as the echos of your laughter ran in his head like a melody he could set his soul adrift to on his most sleepless of nights. It was obvious to Gwen, Pavitr and Miles that Hobie held you close to his chest, right where his heart is; Gwen in particular was aware of how much of an impact you had on Hobie from the times she spent at his place and it was obvious as to where it was that you touched as Hobie made it apparent to keep it that way. You’ve made a home for yourself within Hobie’s heart and she knew that he’d fight to keep you in his life.

‘Hobie,’ he lifted his eyes to meet theirs, ‘would you rather be afraid to tell them who you are for the rest of your life, or tell them while you still have the chance because from what you’ve already told us about y/n, they wouldn’t hate you or call you a nonce, whatever that is.’ Miles mumbled under his breath as Hobie raised his brows, ‘has it crossed your mind at all that you might just overthinking all this? Not to say the fear ain’t real, what I’m trying to get at is this; you should pursue what makes you happiest, regardless of the fears you may have because in the end isn’t it better to have love and lost then to have never have loved at all?’

Hobie mulled on Miles’ advice once he got back to his reality before finding himself standing on that very same rooftop where his conflict began, looking down as he clutched his mask between both hands in contempt, so much so that he didn’t even hear your voice call out to him until you were right next to him. ‘Hobie? Everything alright?’ He had told you prior to meet up on the rooftop of some abandoned apartment complex that you were more then camisole with at this point, but the way he said it made you feel as though there was something eating away at your best friend and you weren’t about to let him go through anything alone without you.

Upon realising how close you were to him, Hobie was slick enough to hide his mask behind his back when he addressed you, stuffing it into his back pocket so that you wouldn’t get overly curious as to his hand placement but then again you were always as observant as him when he noticed the way your eyes lingered, like you already knew what this was about; to which Hobie wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for it would make this situation a lot easier for you to process what you already knew. ‘Yeah, everything’s cool, why is it that you think somethings up?’ The raise of your brows only told Hobie that you weren’t buying it, ‘oh I think there is but it looks to me that you need a little prompting.’ and without missing a beat your hand was halfway to reaching for his back pocket when he caught your wrist, holding it there as he looked at you incredulously. ‘The hell was that for knobhead.’

You shrugged, ‘like I said, you needed prompting otherwise you wouldn’t be defending whatever’s in your back pocket so adamantly as you are now.’ You were smart, Hobie had to give you that as he lets go of your wrist and decides to quit the unnecessary prolonging and pulled out the mask from his back pocket, chucking it into your awaiting hands as he then sat himself near to the edge with his back facing you so he couldn’t see the look upon your face when you say, ‘so this is what you were hiding from me…I knew Spider-Man felt too familiar and now I know why.’ He heard your footsteps get closer before stopping all together as you sat yourself next to him.

You were both silent but it was a silence loud enough to dampen out anything else in that moment and Hobie didn’t know where this silence would lead to, and neither did you as you were now realising that you had confessed your feelings to your best friend without knowing it; which was already enough to take in but for that friend to also be spider-man was a whole other thing to unpack. Where you mad that he didn’t tell you? No, not even in the slightest but you were more worried then you could ever be mad, after all you just found out your crush and best friend was spider-man for fuck sakes so of course you’d be more worried for his well being. ‘Here,’ you tell him, holding out his mask for him to take, ‘you can have it back.’ Hobie did as you asked and took his mask back, but before it was fully in his grasp you yanked it away from his reach, causing him to look at you.

‘Give it.’ He tells you straightforwardly but you stood your ground as you pressed a finger to your cheek, ‘not until you tell me something first; did you know I had a crush on you prior.’ Hobie shrugs. ‘No, honestly it wasn’t until but you admitted that you liked me that somethings started to make sense.’ You hummed, content with his answer but you weren’t through quite yet. ‘Do you…feel the same.’ You once again asked but this time your voice wasn’t as steady and strong, it was fearful and hesitant; something Hobie never wants you to be when near him.

‘Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious when I personally dealt with those who chatted shit about you behind you back, I thought it was obvious that when I let you into my heart, that there would be no way that I was letting you go but with this,’ he gestured to the mask in your outstretched hand, ‘made it all the more harder for me to do that without putting you in danger; I was hiding this other life from you to protect you but you were always too observant for your own good but it’s one of the many things I love about you.’ Hobie admits, happy he finally got it off of his chest. After hearing all that, you gave him back his mask and rested your head against his shoulder, murmuring, ‘your such a hassle.’

Hobie smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while throughout this whole situation and slugged his arm over your shoulder before resting his head on top of yours, ‘yeah but I’m your hassle.’ He says before pressing a kiss to your head, feeling you as you snuggle into his side, smiling to yourself, ‘how unfortunate.’ You say half heartedly as Hobie joins in, ‘yeah, poor you.’

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: girl bye this whole part is just screaming n crying omg be prepared

prev next

authors note: wanted to make a little unexpected visit at the end given his character but yk 😋 let me know if u arent on the tag list yet !! interact w me thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

long story short, the group collectively agree to postpone this dinner night because of what happened. just as you left the restroom, drew was gone and were instead met by leila who told you they were leaving to eat at the pearl some other time.

you feel terrible that they had to witness what they did, and you assume they must’ve seen you and drew talking in the hallway for them to make this decision. they know something’s wrong between you two, and you almost break on the spot. it’s like the whole plan is crashing down and you don’t know what to do, how to move forward.

you and drew travel in different cars on the way home but to end off the night, the group splits up. some dress down and head back to explore the town at night or there are others who choose to stay home, just keep a respectful distance.

you rid of your clothes and step into the shower to collect your thoughts, and it takes everything in you not to cry from frustration. the steam curls around you, the hot water beating down your back like it’s trying to wash the weight of everything away—but it doesn’t.

no amount of heat or scrubbing can erase the guilt, regret, and shame that engulf you.

when you finally step out, your skin is red from the heat, and you wipe a hand over the fogged mirror, catching a glimpse of your own tired reflection. your new clothes cling to your still-damp skin, and your hair hangs heavy and wet down your back.

when you step out of the bathroom, the cool air bites at your skin, but that’s not what makes you freeze. you see him—drew—walking toward your shared room. he’s freshly showered, his hair slightly wet, and you realize he must’ve used the bathroom across the hall that gia and roman share.

for a split second, your eyes meet, and you have to bite down on your emotions, hard, before you can speak. before you can let it all flood out.

you get to the door first, quietly letting yourself in, then leaving it open so he comes in too. the air between you feels heavy—like there are words unsaid. you can hear the faint sound of music downstairs, theo’s voice talking low, maybe to leila, but it’s distant. they must be trying to let you talk without feeling like you need to worry.

you step into the room, moving toward the dresser on your side of the room. your hand rests on top of it, gripping the edge for balance, as if the solid wood can keep you grounded. your back is to him, but you can hear him enter. he stands there for a moment, probably watching you, probably waiting for you to say something.

the silence is unbearable.

“why didn’t you just tell me?”

your voice comes out quietly, almost too low for him to hear. you don’t turn around, your eyes focused on the lamp in the corner of the room, as if looking anywhere but at him will keep you from falling apart. your hand tightens on the dresser as you wait for him to answer.

you hear him shuffle behind you, his breath catching like he didn’t expect you to speak first. “i . . . i don’t know,” he says, his voice just as quiet as yours. “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

you swallow hard, blinking rapidly as the familiar burn of tears threatens again. you know he’s trying to be honest, but that answer—it’s not enough. it doesn’t fix anything.

“you didn’t want to hurt me?” your voice wavers, and you finally turn, facing him. he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you like he doesn’t know how to fix the mess he’s made. “this wasn’t even just a few days either. this has been weeks—weeks of us talking, planning, pretending . . . and the whole time, you were lying.”

as you walk over to him, he opens his mouth to respond, but you can see the guilt weighing him down, making it impossible for him to speak right away.

“not only were you lying to them,” you gesture loosely, meaning the others, everyone, “but you were lying to me.” you point to your chest as your voice cracks, weak and filled with betrayal.

his face tilts slightly to the side, and though he’s staring at you, his eyes are glossing over. you can see the weight of what he’s done finally sinking in, and it’s tearing him apart. he swallows hard, his throat tight.

“i didn’t mean to,” he whispers, his voice trembling now. “i never wanted—”

but he stops, his words catching in his throat, and you can see the tears threatening to spill. his jaw tightens as he forces himself to keep looking at you, even though it’s breaking him inside.

“no, but you did,” you tell him. “you made this decision. you created this plan when you had mila back home, drew.”

he winces at her name. you can see it. but you don’t stop.

every day, every conversation, every moment you’ve spent together, he knew. and he said nothing.

your words slow down though, and the weight of them sinks in deeper. “i had finally gotten to a point after we broke up where i felt like i was free of us,” you say, voice quieter now, but raw. “i didn’t have to worry about things like this anymore. i was finally done with us.”

drew’s lips part like he’s about to say something, but he can’t, and you don’t give him the chance. “but here i am.” you let out a short, breathless laugh, as though even you can’t believe the mess you're in. “i mean, i didn’t think agreeing to this plan was going to work out perfectly, but—”

you stop, searching for the words, your throat tight with emotion. it takes everything in you to keep from crying. you look away from him, your voice going numb, the exhaustion seeping through. “but i didn’t think i’d end up feeling like this. like none of it ever really ended.”

you stand there for a moment, letting the weight of everything hang between you two. you wipe at the corner of your eye, then shake your head slightly, more in disbelief than anything else.

“so why?” you ask, “why didn’t you just tell me? why didn’t you say something from the beginning, when we started this whole thing?"

he looks at you, his jaw clenching, but his eyes are filled with guilt. he takes a deep breath, his face turned slightly to the side like he's trying to hold himself together.

“i fell in love with you,” he says, and you scoff. oh, he’s just now fallen in love? he realizes his mistake and gets up when you start to walk away, but he grabs you by the arms, “no, no, no, y/n please, i fell in love with this life—being with you again. i didn’t want to lose that. i’m still in love with you. i always have been. i just realized it too late.”

you can’t believe him. “but you did lose it, drew.” your voice is quieter now, but no less intense. “you lost it the moment you decided to lie. you didn’t just ruin this plan, this stupid fake relationship.”

you shrug him off of you.

“i thought,” your voice cracks, “i thought telling our friends the truth would make everything worse. i was so scared they’d feel like they had to walk on eggshells around us, like it’d be awkward if they knew what happened. but you know what? i wish i’d just told them. instead of this. instead of . . . all of this.”

“and it’s not just about mila,” you say, “even when you’re supposed to be my fake boyfriend, you’re still making decisions for me. you speak for me, like you always know better, like i can’t speak for myself.” you can feel your frustration bubbling to the surface, the heat rising in your chest as you push forward. “it’s like . . . no matter what happens, you still feel like you need to control everything.”

drew’s mouth opens slightly, like he’s about to respond, but you can’t stop now. the words tumble out, each one hitting you harder than the last.

“i mean, do you know how exhausting that is?” your voice rises, and you can feel your emotions slipping, coming out faster than you can stop them. “you made up the plan, you pulled back the moment i was getting comfortable again, even our breakup was your decision.”

his expression hardens, and you can see the conflict raging behind his eyes. “i thought we agreed there wasn’t any point in keeping up something that was barely there,” he says. “we were hardly talking or communicating, y/n. i mean, trying to keep up a relationship for us that wasn’t even really there? was it . . . do you think it would’ve been better if we didn’t break up? i mean—”

“yes! yes, it was worth it! i didn’t care if we weren’t always together!” you blink, caught off guard for just a second, but the fire inside you flares back to life. “and you said there wasn’t any point; not me. we’re busy people, drew, lives like ours don’t get spent every day how these two weeks are supposed to be. you have to know that. so i’m sorry that you felt enough was enough for us but you shouldn’t have had to decide what you thought was best for both of us and make that decision on your own without telling me!”

as you speak, you notice the way his face shifts, confusion and regret flickering in his eyes.

you exhale, shutting your eyes. “trust me, i spent nights worrying about us when we were together, replaying every moment, every doubt.” your voice lowers, becoming more vulnerable, almost a whisper. “and i told myself, ‘okay, that’s normal. that’s normal maybe. so you didn’t get a fairytale relationship; grow up.’”

“but i understood that . . . no matter what, i wouldn’t have left you because i loved you,” you cry, “i stayed because that’s what you do when you love someone.”

drew’s face crumbles at your words, and his gaze drops to the floor. you take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you meet his gaze again. “look, i’m not going to say anything to anyone about mila,” you say. “but you need to figure this out, how we move on from here, and whether you’re going to tell her about this plan because i’m not gonna keep doing it if she’s not comfortable with it.”

drew nods slowly. he’s quiet, visibly processing everything. “i’ll do it,” he says, almost to himself, but you nod anyway. he takes a shuddering breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he finally speaks. “i didn’t mean to lose you,” he says, staring at the ground. “but i did. i know that now.”

you watch him for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging between you, before you turn away. your hand reaches for the door, and this time, you don’t hesitate.

“yeah, you did,” you whisper, voice broken as you open the door and hurry through, leave him standing there alone. “you did.”

drew stands there, frozen in place as the silence settles around him. he watches when you walk away until the laughter from outside fades into a distant echo, and he sinks down onto the edge of the bed, his body heavy with regret.

“—fucking—” he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible. he leans forward, elbows digging into his thighs, and cradles his head in his hands while tears spill from his eyes. in that moment, he’s completely alone, engulfed by the realization that he pushed away the one person who mattered most.

“i’m gonna be back, okay?” libby tells you. you’re sitting in her bed, her and leila feeling like it’s only reasonable for her to step up, and she would’ve no matter what.

“hey,” you say before she goes, your fingers reaching her arm. she halts, looking at you again as she settles back down on the edge of the bed. “thank you for letting me sleep here tonight.”

she gives you a knowing look. “there’s no need y/n. my job is to make sure you’re comfortable and okay. your job is to get under my covers and drool on my pillows ‘til morning.”

“shut up,” you murmur and consider whacking her in the face with one of said pillows, but she leans forward to give you a hug. it’s gentle at first, and you’re relieved to feel a warmth from someone at a time like this. you feel like you can stay there forever, but she pulls away to leave the room.

there’s a knock at the door that startles you a bit, and you wait anxiously for who’s behind it. they open it quietly and peek their head in—roman?

he lets himself inside with cautious steps, and before you can speak he shushes you.

“keep it down, stupid,” he says, and you furrow your eyebrows at him. he takes maybe two steps forward and then stops there. “i just wanted to say sorry for not saying anything before at the peel.”

“the pearl.” you nod, your lips pursed. “thanks.”

he deadpans at you. “i don’t do this very often so i’d appreciate more than just a thanks, you kn—” he pauses to rephrase his words, and you can see the gears shift in his head. he sighs. “i fully saw that you were upset and i didn’t do anything. part of it was because i didn’t know if i should’ve but the other was that the food was just really good—”

“roman,” you try to tell him to get out, but he persists.

“no,” he tells you. he tries to search for the right words before continuing, “i’m just sorry. i don’t want to make it seem like i don’t care or that you don’t have anybody to talk to. and i’m not gonna jump the gun or be all enthusiastic the next time this happens but . . . i just won’t be quiet anymore.”

you’re taken aback by roman’s unexpected display of concern. you can’t tell if you’re imagining this. this has to be the first time you’ve probably ever known him that he’s being like this. but you nod slowly, absorbing his words. “thank you, roman,” you say softly, appreciating the effort he’s making. “it means a lot that you care.”

he shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional territory but pressing on anyway. “good,” he replies, his voice a little firmer. “because i might not always show it, but i do care. just . . . don’t think you have to go through stuff alone, alright? we’re friends, i guess, even if i don’t always act like it.”

you smile faintly, still surprised that he’s even still standing there. “i get it. i appreciate you saying something.”

“goodnight, y/n,” he says. just as he’s about to leave, he glances back, a knowing look in his eyes. “and just so you know, i get that things are complicated with starkey, but it’s pretty obvious you two aren’t really together. you don’t have to pretend around me.”

your heart skips a beat, and you feel a rush of vulnerability. how much does he really know? but before you can question him further, he’s already slipping out the door.

at the same time, libby slides past him with mugs of hot cocoa, “ew, what are you doing here?” she says to roman, avoiding him like he’s her brother. “get out of here.”

she kicks the door closed behind her, and her mood switches to a smile. “what was all that about? oh my god— did he hurt you? did he infect you?” she asks, feigning concern as she plops down next to you and handing you a mug. you take the mug and just shake your head with a grin.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull

[xxbirkindoll]

coming back to you

pairings: ex!rafe x ex!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, jealousy

summary: rafe and y/n broke up and after 6 months, reader sees him at a party—except rafe isn’t alone.

words: 2.9k

The sunset over the Outer Banks was a spectacular sight—an explosion of orange and pink hues blending into the purple twilight. But tonight, as you watched the waves crash against the shore, the colors seemed muted, like they were missing something. Much like your life over the past six months.

Six months. It felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment since Rafe had broken up with you. Even now, the memory of that day still stung, etched into your heart like a scar that refused to heal.

"I just need to work on myself, Y/n," he had said, his voice thick with emotion. "My temper, my… everything. You deserve better than what I can give you right now."

You had stood there, tears blurring your vision as you tried to understand what was happening. Rafe was your world, the one constant in the chaos of your life, and suddenly, he was telling you that you needed to be apart. That you, his Y/n, deserved better than him. It was a noble reason, and you knew he meant well, but it did nothing to soothe the heartbreak that followed.

Rafe was your first love, the person who made you feel alive and safe in a world that often felt too overwhelming. You had been drawn to him, not just for his good looks or his undeniable charm, but for the way he seemed to understand you in a way no one else did. He could be reckless, yes, and his temper was legendary, but beneath it all, you had seen the softer side of him, the side that cared, that loved fiercely and deeply.

You hadn’t expected to be torn away from that side of him. But he had been right, in some ways. Rafe had demons to fight—his addiction, his anger, his own insecurities. And he needed space to do that. You understood that, but it didn’t make the pain of losing him any less real.

For months, you’d been trying to move on, to rebuild your life without him. It was hard. Every corner of the Outer Banks held memories of him. From the beach where you first kissed to the docks where he’d whispered how much he loved you as the sun set. It all haunted you, a constant reminder of what you’d lost.

But tonight was different. Tonight, you were determined to take a step forward, to finally put some distance between you and the past. That’s why you agreed to go to the party with Sarah, despite your initial hesitation.

“You need this, Y/n,” Sarah had insisted earlier that day, her tone firm but gentle. “It’s been too long since you’ve done something fun. And I promise, Rafe won’t be there. He’s… been keeping to himself lately.”

You knew Sarah meant well. As Rafe’s sister, she was caught in a tricky position—being loyal to her brother while also being your best friend. But she had always been there for you, through the highs and the lows, and you trusted her.

And so, you found yourself at the Cameron family’s beach house, the music pounding in your ears and the smell of the ocean mixed with the scent of alcohol filling the air. The party was in full swing, with people dancing, laughing, and losing themselves in the carefree atmosphere.

But as much as you tried to blend in, to lose yourself in the moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was the fact that you were at a place so closely tied to Rafe, or maybe it was the way your heart clenched every time you thought about him. Either way, you felt a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sarah’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you turned to find her watching you with concern. She was holding two drinks, one of which she handed to you. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I get it. But try to have some fun, okay? You deserve it.”

Taking a sip of the drink, you nodded again, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed your own assurances. You scanned the crowd, trying to distract yourself by observing the people around you. Most were familiar faces, locals you’d grown up with, but one person caught your eye. A girl you didn’t recognize, with short, brown hair and a confident smile.

And then you saw him. Rafe.

He was standing by the pool, laughing at something the girl had said, his hand resting casually on her waist. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t just seeing him again that hit you like a punch to the gut—it was how different he looked. His once shaggy hair was now buzzed short, and he had put on muscle, his t-shirt clinging to his toned arms and chest. He looked good, better than you’d seen him in a long time.

He looked like he was doing well. Like he was happy.

You wanted to be happy for him, you really did. But all you could feel was the sharp sting of jealousy and hurt. He had moved on. And you were still here, stuck in the same place, unable to let go of the past.

“Who’s that?” you found yourself asking, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah followed your gaze and winced slightly when she saw what—or rather, who—you were looking at. “That’s Sofia,” she said carefully. “She’s new around here. I think she’s just visiting for the summer.”

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, trying to process the information. Rafe was with someone else. Of course he was. You had no right to feel this way, but you couldn’t help it.

“He seems… different,” you murmured, not sure if you were talking to Sarah or just voicing your thoughts out loud.

Sarah sighed, her expression troubled. “He’s been trying, Y/n. He really has. But it’s been hard for him, too, you know? Breaking up with you—it wasn’t easy for him.”

“I know,” you whispered, your eyes still fixed on Rafe. “I just… I didn’t expect this. I thought that if he got better, maybe…”

“Maybe he’d come back to you?” Sarah finished gently.

You nodded, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to cry here, not now.

“Y/n, I think—” Sarah started, but before she could finish, someone bumped into you from behind, causing you to spill your drink. You turned, muttering a quick apology, but when you looked back towards the pool, Rafe and Sofia were gone.

The rest of the party passed in a blur. You tried to have fun, to talk and laugh with Sarah and the others, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could think about was Rafe. You caught glimpses of him throughout the night, but he was always with Sofia, and it hurt too much to keep watching.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed air. You needed to get away.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” you told Sarah, who looked at you with concern but didn’t try to stop you.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I just need a minute.”

She nodded, squeezing your hand before letting you go. You made your way down to the beach, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the party. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing, and you found a spot on the sand, sitting down and hugging your knees to your chest.

You let the tears fall then, the ones you’d been holding back all night. It wasn’t fair. You had waited, hoping that Rafe would come back to you when he was ready. You had believed in him, in his ability to change. And now, seeing him with someone else, it felt like all your hope had been shattered.

The worst part was, you couldn’t even be angry at him. You knew why he had broken up with you, and you knew it was the right thing for him to do. But that didn’t make it any less painful.

You stayed there for a while, letting the tears flow until there were no more left. When you finally looked up, the party was still in full swing, but you didn’t feel like going back. You just wanted to go home, to curl up in bed and pretend that tonight had never happened.

But as you stood up to leave, you saw a figure walking towards you along the shoreline. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized who it was.

Rafe.

He stopped a few feet away from you, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that had always made you weak in the knees.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves.

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself. “Rafe. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you, but another part of you just wanted to fall into his arms and forget everything else.

“I’m fine,” you said instead, though your voice wavered. “You should go back to the party. Sofia’s probably wondering where you are.”

“Sofia’s not important,” he said quickly, and the intensity in his voice made you look up at him in surprise. “She’s just someone I’ve been hanging out with, nothing more,” Rafe continued, his voice edged with urgency. “I’m not with her like that, Y/n. I’m not with anyone. I couldn’t be.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in, but you couldn’t let yourself believe them just yet. “Rafe, it’s been six months,” you said, your voice cracking. “You’ve had time to move on. And that’s okay. I don’t expect you to—”

“I haven’t moved on,” he interrupted, taking a step closer to you. “I haven’t moved on from you. God, Y/n, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to get over you, to pretend that I’m okay without you, but I’m not. I’m really not.”

You stared at him, unable to speak. His words were like a lifeline, something you had desperately needed to hear, but it only made things more confusing.

“Then why did you leave?” you finally whispered, the question that had haunted you for months slipping out. “Why did you break up with me if you still… if you still care?”

Rafe looked down, his jaw clenched tightly, as if he were fighting some internal battle. “I was scared,” he admitted after a long moment. “Scared that I was going to drag you down with me. I was a mess, baby. My temper, my addiction… I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. You deserved better. I needed to get better, for both our sakes.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t let go of the pain he had caused. “And now?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Are you better now, Rafe?”

He looked up at you then, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly broke you. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I’ve been going to therapy, working out, trying to stay clean. I’m not perfect, and I’ve still got a long way to go, but I’m trying. And the whole time… all I could think about was you.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken feelings. You wanted to believe him, wanted to run into his arms and let him hold you like he used to. But you were afraid—afraid of getting hurt again, afraid that he might leave you once more.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. “Rafe, you broke my heart. I thought you didn’t want me anymore, that I wasn’t enough.”

Rafe’s expression crumpled with guilt and regret, and he closed the distance between you, reaching out to gently cup your face in his hands. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Y/n, you are everything to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped wanting you. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. But I see now that I did anyway, and I hate myself for it. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. It broke down the walls you had built around your heart. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Rafe…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. All the pain, the longing, the love you still felt for him—it was all too much.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the remaining distance between you and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. For a moment, Rafe seemed stunned, but then his arms were around you, holding you tightly against him as if he were afraid you might disappear.

He smelled like salt and the faint scent of his cologne, the combination so achingly familiar that it made your heart ache. You felt his chin rest gently on top of your head, his breath warm against your hair as he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want to, but I did. I missed you every single day.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

For a while, neither of you moved, content to just hold each other, to feel the connection that had never really been broken despite everything that had happened. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only thing that broke the silence, a calming rhythm that matched the beat of your hearts.

But eventually, reality crept back in, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at Rafe. His face was so close to yours, his blue eyes searching your own with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Rafe,” you began, your voice unsteady, “I don’t know if we can just… go back to how things were. So much has happened.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his hands still resting on your waist. “I know we can’t just pick up where we left off. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again, Y/n. I want to be with you. I’ve never stopped wanting that.”

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he might be saying this out of guilt or obligation, but all you saw was the truth. He meant it. He still loved you, despite everything.

“I still love you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the boy you had fallen in love with all this time ago—the boy who had made you laugh, who had held you when you cried, who had loved you with everything he had.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still wanted him. You still wanted to be with him, to try again.

But there was still a part of you that was scared, that didn’t want to go through the pain again.

“I’m scared, Rafe,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared that things will go back to how they were.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression serious. “I won’t hurt you again, Y/n,” he promised, his voice firm. “I’ve been working so hard to change, to be the person you deserve. I won’t let you down this time. I swear.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust him, to let yourself be vulnerable with him again. But trust was something that had to be earned, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“I need time,” you said softly, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I need time to trust you again.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding. “I’ll give you all the time you need,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

And for the first time in six months, you felt a glimmer of hope. You didn’t know what the future held, but you were willing to take a chance on Rafe, on the love that still burned between you. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth having ever was.

As you stood there on the beach, wrapped in Rafe’s arms, you knew that this was a new beginning. A chance to rebuild what had been broken, to find your way back to each other. And this time, you would do it together.

a/n: i hate this so much! maybe bcs its too long and doesn’t have smut but ill try next time. pls give me requests!!

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Furiosa thoughts

About 48 hours after watching, I think my take on Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is coalescing into: I enjoyed it as a Mad Max movie but found it disappointing as a Fury Road prequel.

Any Mad Max movie made after Fury Road was always going to suffer the fate of being compared to Fury Road, which is the best action movie ever made. So like, compared to any other action movie you can think of, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (we'll call it FMMS going forward) is very very good! It just isn't Fury Road.

The rest is under the cut for spoilers:

The action sequences were compelling. (I was aware I was hunched forward in my seat in tension/anticipation almost the entire time.) Some of them were even brilliant. That long sequence where the Octoboss and the Mortiflyers (yes those are their names) are attacking the War Rig with all kinds of airborne contraptions? Phenomenal. I was like yes okay now we are in a Mad Max movie! Other than that one sequence, though, in which we see Furiosa and Praetorian Jack begin to trust each other, I thought they rarely achieved the kind of wordless advancement of character relationships through action beats that is the lifeblood of Fury Road. So the action was good, but it was just normal-good, not Fury Road transcendent.

I did miss John Seale's cinematography. While I thought the action choreography was great, the shot selection was just not as dynamic and interesting as in Fury Road. I also really did not vibe with so much of the musical themes being recycled from Fury Road. The Fury Road score is SO memorable and the music is such an integral part of the momentum and feeling of every scene in the movie; I can play that score and see every beat of the action unfolding in my brain now. I wanted new score that felt like it was a part of this new action that we were seeing.

I loved all the new worldbuilding details and finally getting to see inside Gastown and the Bullet Farm. Those locations and their unique features were utilized really well for the action that took place in them. Loved the new details we got about the Citadel. The grappling hooks just dipping down to yoink people's vehicles during battle? Fantastic. The hidden Citadel ledge with the little pool of water?? That was such a fanfic-ready location. Pretty sure I already wrote at least one fic set there back in like 2016.

The Green Place! Very different from what I imagined but so much worldbuilding in just a few shots.

In general I thought the new cast rose to the challenge. Alyla Browne who played little kid Furiosa I thought was phenomenal actually. That's a tough role, both emotionally and physically, for a child actor and she slayed it. Casting Indigenous model and actress Charlee Fraser to play Furiosa's mother certainly made the Stolen Generation parallels more obvious. I'll have a lot more to say about Dementus down below, but Chris Hemsworth brought a great combo of bonkers and menacing.

I never doubted that Anya Taylor-Joy could bring the emotional intensity needed to the role--she can do crazy eyes like nobody's business, and with the growl she put in her voice she really did sound like Charlize Theron a bit. I found her physicality convincing for a young Furiosa. But she is not Charlize, through no fault of her own. Charlize is tall and she has broad shoulders and she just takes up so much space when moving and fighting as Furiosa and I think it was always going to be hard to replicate that. As long as they didn't try too hard to bridge the gap between the characters I was fine with it. But that one scene at the end where she's bringing the Wives to the Rig I was very viscerally like that is NOT our Furiosa. (I almost wish they would've used Charlize's stunt double for that scene the way they popped Jacob Tomuri into Max's place.) They could have simply left a time gap--based on the "15 years" she says to Dementus and the 7,000+ days we hear about in Fury Road there should be at least a 4-year gap between the film timelines, although in terms of bridging the look of the two actors it feels like it should be more like 10 years.

If FMMS had been a self-contained movie about a character named Furiosa in the Mad Max universe, I think I would have found it very satisfying. But as a prequel to Fury Road there were a bunch of ways I thought it was lacking on a story level.

I think it's pretty clear that this is not the backstory, or at least not the complete backstory, that Charlize Theron was imagining while playing Furiosa. Which...there's nothing objectively wrong with that; word of God and what actors think about their characters doesn't supersede what's on film for determining what is canon. However, Fury Road positions Joe as Furiosa's main antagonist, and while we don't get the full story behind the incandescent rage she directs at him, we know that rage is there and is a big part of her motivation. In interviews at the time, Charlize talked about the idea that Furiosa had been stolen to be a Wife but then was discovered to be infertile and discarded, how she survived by hiding in the Citadel and eventually rose to a position of power, how she saw her actions not as saving the Wives but as stealing them, and that her motivation at least starts out as more about hurting Joe than helping these women.

We get only the tiniest suggestion of Furiosa's backstory in Fury Road ("I was taken as a child, stolen") and the rest we piece together by implication. She is a healthy full-life woman working for a man who keeps healthy full-life women as sex slaves, hoping one of them will produce a viable male heir for him. She is effectively a general in his army, projecting his power on the wasteland, a position no other woman seems to occupy. She tells Max she is seeking "redemption." Redemption for what? She doesn't say. But "whatever she has done to win a position of power within this misogynist death cult" seems like a pretty obvious answer.

And that's interesting! That's an interesting backstory that engages with some of the core themes and moral questions of the Mad Max universe. These movies deal a lot with the tension between self-preservation and human connection. Do you screw someone else over to protect yourself? Even if it means putting them in the terrible position that you yourself have clawed your way out of? Even if it means enforcing your own oppressor's power over them? Or do you take the risk of helping people and caring enough to connect with them, even though this carries an emotional and physical risk?

FMMS doesn't really engage with Furiosa's relationship to Joe like, at all. It's not like Joe comes off looking like a good guy. He's just hardly in the movie. I don't know if this would have been different if Hugh Keays-Byrne were still alive. I don't know if there was pressure from the studio to cast an A-list male lead actor alongside Anya Taylor-Joy (who's a hot commodity now but wasn't what I would call an A-lister when she was originally cast). I don't know if, once Chris Hemsworth was cast, that affected how central his character's role became, since he is certainly the biggest name attached to the film. I would have actually been fine with Chris Hemsworth or another actor of his ilk playing a younger Joe, and us getting to see some of the charisma that attracted followers to him.

But the end result is that we have Dementus, who is a perfectly fine Mad Max villain, and quite entertaining at times! But not the most compelling antagonist you could give Furiosa.

The four Mad Max movies that feature Max go through an interesting evolution. In the first two movies, the villains are people "outside" society--criminals and roving gangs--and the people Max is defending are "civilization." So we have Mad Max where Max is a very fucked-up cop, and Road Warrior where Max is the prototypical western gunslinger, riding in to town to protect the settlement from an outside threat, but ultimately unable to accept any of the comforts of civilization for himself.

Then in Thunderdome and Fury Road, the dynamic switches. Now the antagonists are warlords and dictators. They are civilization. And the people Max ends up helping are trying to escape them.

To me, Dementus feels much more like the earlier kind of Mad Max villain. If there's another Mad Max movie I can most compare FMMS to, it's the first one. Dementus is Furiosa's Toecutter. (Kills her family, gives her her signature disabling injury, movie ends with her seeking revenge on him but it doesn't feel heroic or triumphant.) The whole end of FMMS when Furiosa is implacably hunting down Dementus? Extremely Mad Max 1.

But violent revenge holds a different symbolic place in Furiosa's story than it does in Max's. The end of Mad Max is a tragedy because Max tells us it is. He explicitly states, early in the movie, that he needs to stop being a cop or he'll become no different than the violent criminals he's pursuing. So he leaves his job and goes on an extended weird vacation with his wife and child, trying to get away from the violence of a collapsing society. But that violence finds him anyway, and by the end of the movie, Max has become the exact thing he said he didn't want to be. It's a tragedy not because the people Max kills in revenge for killing his family don't deserve it, but because seeking violent sadistic revenge is damaging to Max. That is not what he needs in order to heal from the loss of his wife and child. What he needs is to take the risk of human connection again. This is what he starts groping toward in the following two movies and fully realizes in Fury Road.

But Furiosa doesn't have the same arc. Her story in Fury Road is about how a few people struggling against their oppressor can be the catalyst that brings down a whole regime. Furiosa getting to rip Joe's face off is fucking satisfying, and it's supposed to be! So it's a bit weird, then, to spend an entire movie giving her a backstory that not only is not about Joe at all, but implies that seeking and getting revenge against Dementus for killing her mother and Jack is what made her into the person we see in Fury Road.

Aside from questions of revenge, what I thought Furiosa's goal was going to be is set up in the beginning of the movie. "No matter what happens, find your way home." Very clear objective there. And then we see her try to get home like, 1.5 times. I thought we were well set up to follow the tried and true film story format of "simple goal, big obstacles, high stakes." I wanted to see her trying over and over again to get home, and being thwarted in different ways every time. I wanted to see grief and guilt over her mother's death turn her mother's last command into a mission for which she would sacrifice anything (and anyone) else. I wanted to see her justify working for Joe and accumulating power in the violent world of the Citadel as what she has to do in order to get home. I wanted to see "Have you done this before?" "Many times." But we didn't really get that either.

Ultimately, I think the least frustrating way to think about the film--which the film itself encourages--is as one of many possible Wasteland legends about a character called Furiosa. Maybe it happened this way. Maybe it didn't. Maybe this is the Furiosa we see in Fury Road. Maybe it isn't. It all depends on how much you believe of the History Man's tales.

[mygnolia]

TASTE OF LIFE. l. heeseung

THE TALE GOES...heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached. 

pair -› lee heeseung x fem!reader | trope -› horror, literally no fluff | warn -› major character death, violence, stalking | REN SAYS.. first installment! also this is shit guys im so sorry I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT ASAP ugh writing this much lowk killed me </3 | 3k words | library

---

Mediocre. Normal. Ordinary.

That’s exactly how you’d describe the house that stood before you, with your bags tightly held in both hands as you ascended the few stairs to the porch. It felt like any other house, and you’d even compare it to the old one you were in. 

The previous home was different in one major way—it added years of aging onto your parents somehow, as if something had sucked the life out of their minds. It drove them crazy to stay home, and you couldn’t help but be embarrassed every time they mumbled in public about going home. 

They looked crazy. You just had to droop your head and pretend you didn’t know them. 

Your parents’ eyes lit up when they entered through the door, with wood flooring and a color scheme that reflected on their preferences. It was almost identical to your other house, so why exactly did they choose to move to a home that was no different than the last? If anything, you were just glad they were starting to feel more comfortable within the new space. It felt breathable, and something about the old place you lived in felt dirty and plagued. 

It wasn’t much of a struggle as you began to unpack the bags of clothes and boxes of items you brought with you, considering how little you cared about accents and decorations. With furniture already there, your room felt akin to your other one, but something was off. You tried to move the desk over to the window to gauge the effectiveness of the natural lighting, and when your curtains gave way to slightly clouded rays of sunlight in your room, you hummed with some satisfaction. Good enough. 

As Halloween came around, you understood how much everyone in the local town loved to celebrate. Houses on your way to school were filled with webs, lights, and jack-o-lanterns, and it made you believe that the pumpkin farm on the outskirts of town had a smart business model. On top of having an abundance of fall flavored desserts, the Yang family held the biggest party of the year, seeing as their son went to the same high school of yours. 

You had only heard whispers of the annual Yang Halloween party, rumored to be the best party of all time, was something you were looking forward to every year, even anticipating the post-celebration news to hit you from the town over. 

The day neared, and you got more and more excited to finally get to know people ever since you arrived in town. People knew of you as the new girl, but no one reached out, all too consumed in their own cliques to introduce themselves to you. 

—

“Taste,” you told the man waiting outside. “The password is ‘taste.’ “

The windows were tinted in red as moonlight streamed through one side of the building. The rest of the house was dark, with only flashing orange, purple, and green lights strung carefully to add to the mysterious ambience. Music blasted from the speakers and shelves were lined with decorations, ones that you were careful to avoid knocking over as you slid your way between crowds. There seemed to be never ending snacks, as people with tattered black cloaks always managed to keep the drinks filled and the rows neat. 

It was obvious that the family knew what they were doing when it came to throwing parties—you hadn’t seen one person without a smile on their face. The festivities like horror rooms and games were all through-out the floor, and there was always something for everyone to do. 

You fell into conversation with a few people, cutting it short as you excused yourself to the restroom. Down the same hall was a door that was left ajar, and you went to shut it before returning to the boy who you just met. 

“Hi.” 

You jumped back, eyes darting around as you searched for someone to match the sudden voice, and you heard a small curse in the same direction. Your feet were frozen as you only looked around, your hand still on the knob of the empty restroom as you hoped someone would come to break you out of your stupor.

There was nothing, you promised yourself, and the door shut with a click. Still, your gut swirled with fear as you slowly turned, anxiously rubbing the goosebumps on your skin.

“You can hear me, huh?” 

You knew the sound was coming to your left, where the flashing lights were nowhere to be found. All you had was the phone you fished out of your back pocket before you saw a flash of something pale. You immediately turned, trying to find it once more. 

You could’ve sworn there was something. 

“Hello?” You probably looked insane to any bystander, calling out to the dark when you swore you saw something nearby. 

To both your surprise and horror, someone floats through the closet door, his limbs passing through as a grin makes his way onto his features. 

You’d think the ghost in front of you was attractive, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were experiencing something supernatural for the first time. 

Bile rose in your throat as you became disoriented looking at the figure. With a yelp that caught confused stares from only a few people nearby, you scurried out of the house, bumping into bodies as the door grew closer and closer. 

Like a bubble about to burst, the house feels stuffy and humid until you open the large doors, swallowing the cold air of the night like a lifeline. Your head spins with confusion, and you can’t seem to understand what you just saw until he seeps through the wall once more. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” You yelp at the sound of his voice, taking a few steps back as you look anywhere but his sullen face. 

The sound of your heart won triumph over anything else as you kept trying to make space between you and the creature in front of you. When he begins to glide closer, you take it as your sign to grab your small clutch and begin a brisk walk back home, no matter how dark.

“My name is Heeseung. No one’s ever seen me,” he explains, easily drifting behind you. 

“Get the fuck away from me, Heeseung.” Your voice sounded shaky as the wind rushes past your ears. You felt hopeless, unable to hear his footsteps or gauge where he could be. 

He’s right next to you, speaking directly to your profile all of a sudden. “Please, no one’s recognized me since I died. Please, you have to help me.”

The change in proximity has you jumping from being frightened, and you try to cover your ears to block out his voice. 

The worst part of it all was that Heeseung could touch you. You felt the cold of his fingertips without the pressure of his mortality in his fingertips. Effortlessly drifting next to you, he worked to pry your fingers from your ears as a plea for you to hear him out.

“I don’t care. Leave me alone.” You began speeding up, seeing your house in sight and the ghost beginning to fall back in his misery. You didn’t care about it, only wanting to go home and pretend everything was a bad dream. While the ghost wasn’t ugly by any means, the supernatural facet of his identity kept you up as you feared the creature outside your window at any moment. 

What you didn’t know was that your gut feeling was right–Heeseung wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. 

—

You didn’t know what was louder–Heeseung’s voice in your ear, or the thudding of your heartbeat. 

Your scream echoed around the empty house when he appeared for the second time, your heart dropping as the lack of sleep you got from the night before made you even more on edge now. Everytime you looked down a corridor, shivers racked your body and you were unable to go anywhere without a flashlight. You swore you saw him in the corner of the room, and if not–something was horribly wrong with you. 

There he was again, staying by the edge. “Please, get away from me, I can’t give you what you want, Heeseung.” You tried to keep your voice as steady as possible, as if you weren’t shaking from fear that you’d be joined by an intruder everytime you turned the corner.

You couldn’t shower or change without wanting to tear your hair out, and there was no way to quell the anxiety after you saw him stick an arm through your home. 

There was nothing you could do. No one who you could go to about this. You were truly all alone. 

Class felt like a blur with an ache in your head and an emptiness in your stomach. It was exhausting for you to dart around the room, waiting for him to appear. 

He was waiting for something, you knew it. 

You felt on edge constantly, like you were going insane. Every small movement triggered some sort of reaction, so much so that your classmates began to notice and snicker. 

You felt like your parents–and you had no idea how to make it stop. 

—

It was the third day of your sleepless torment. Your parents often left you alone according to their new work schedules, and you were still stuck having to hide from the apparition until you left for school. He looked torn apart, too, but you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t give you space. It got so bad to the point where you heard whispers of him in every corridor. You couldn’t stand it anymore, and your bloodshot eyes and scratched arms were a sign that something had been wrong ever since Halloween. 

There was only one person you could tell about this, and you didn’t even notice how bad your fingers had been when you went to pick at the dry skin once more. 

“Jungwon,” you mumbled as you passed him. He turned around, immediately recognizing you as someone he didn’t know much about. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concern knitting his eyebrows as you asked for him to talk with you outside. 

Something was off that day. The clouds were gray, dipped with unease. The sky was bathed in dread, and Jungwon could tell something was wrong by the way you couldn’t find the sun no matter where you looked. 

“What’s wrong, ____? You’ve been looking horrible ever since Halloween.” You flinched at the word, eyes stinging with tears as you were pushed back into thinking about that night. You never should’ve worn your black dress or added some cute cat ears. You never should’ve left the house. 

“There’s something in your house, Jungwon,” you pleaded, your gaze frantically searching for any sign that Heeseung followed you. “It’s like a spirit, something happened and it won’t—“ your words came to an abrupt halt when you heard a chuckle from the boy in front of you. 

A laugh tore through as Jungwon crossed his arms and looked at you with a pitiful grin. “You’re funny. Good prank, though,” he smiles, about to turn. 

You had no idea what came over you when you went to grab his arm. Jungwon was practically a stranger to you, but one more sleepless night without a cure would’ve made you go insane if he kept following you. You needed to get rid of Heeseung. 

“No!” Your voice rang out louder than anticipated, and the sudden shout made you wince, still holding onto Jungwon’s arm. “You don’t get it, something’s following me around, he keeps talking to me and no one else can see him—“ 

The boy yanked himself out of your grip, suddenly frustrated, and you feared the worst; Yang Jungwon would tell the whole school that you were crazy. 

“Please, Jungwon—” you tried once more, “he’s real—he’s everywhere and I can’t get rid of him—it was because of your party,” at this point, your eyes were filled with tears as you begged your only hope from leaving. “You have to help me—“ 

“I don’t have to do anything for you, ____.” He sneered, growing impatient. “I don’t know who put you up to this whole prank, but you need to stay away from me.” He spun around, paying you no attention as you crumbled to a heap on the ground and sobbed hopelessly on the pavement. 

The sky was darker than ever, and it was still afternoon.

Even as you walked down the empty dirt roads to your house, you couldn’t help but hear Heeseung’s voice ring in your ears. As you started running to push the sound out and replace it with your heavy breathing, your eyes began to shut with exhaustion. Slowing to an eventual stop in front of your house, you heaved, gasping for air that felt like it was escaping your lungs any moment as you held into the porch railing

“You’re home. What took you so long?” 

Your vision was blurring slightly in the corners, and the corners of your eyes felt puffy. You were slipping out of consciousness, but you remembered that voice anywhere. “Get away from me, please.” 

Heeseung pursed his lips, feeling slightly bad for the state that you were in. “I told you, I can help you.”

When you saw his pale shoes in front of you, your body reacted instantly, scrambling back to create some distance. You hadn’t registered that a wooden splinter from the floor cut into your palm until Heeseung saw the blood seep into the planks underneath you. The porch made no sound under his quick footsteps, and it only instilled more frustration at his lack of perceptibility. His sudden approach left you frightened as you waved a hand in the air, unable to feel the wound from the state of your body. “Go away, Heeseung!” 

He frowned angrily. “Let me help.” He kneeled next to you and reached out for your wound before you yanked your hand back, stumbling as you got back up and tried to make your way to the entrance.

“Please, stop,” you cried, taking two steps towards the railing before your legs gave out. Heeseung tried to reach out for you again. But you pushed away his hand, the slap of the force making no sound. It was almost humorous how much your torture was one sided, but you had no more energy left to defend yourself.

Heeseung went to grab your wrist, worry etched in his features as your state deteriorated in front of him. You kicked his leg, hot tears staging your cheeks as you sobbed for him to leave you alone, but the more carelessly you moved, the more the large splinter dug into your hand. He begged for you to stop–to let him help you before anything bad happened, but you couldn’t understand through the sound of your own hysterics. 

A mix of going days without sleeping, paired with your lack of appetite and delirium left you defenseless no matter how much you tried. You struggled against the ghost of Heeseung’s grip as he tried to stop you from hurting yourself even further. You felt bile in your throat when he was close, and you found the opportunity to yank your arm out of his grip. You underestimated the force, however, and your hand hit the wood behind you. Momentarily distracted, you focused on the blooming pain of the impact and the slowly trailing blood. It was out of body how you couldn’t process the sensation of your fingers tracing the messy wound, and you became a slave to your exhaustion as the boy came back.

You fought against him weakly, the blood from your wound becoming a larger problem the more you used your hands to do anything. 

“You don’t get it!” He yelled, tears of his own forming from the anger of having to go against you. 

Why couldn’t you just stop? Why did you keep pushing him away? You were selfish, trying to ignore him as if you didn’t understand his predicament. You were the only one who could’ve seen him, and he was the only one who saw you in return. “Even Jungwon doesn’t believe you,” he mumbled bitterly, seeing you slowly slip in and out. “You wouldn’t even help me, ____. It’s all your fault.” He talked as if you could hear him, the life in your eyes gone by the time he wiped his tears and finally looked at you, with your wrist going limp in his hold. 

“I don’t get it.” He wept angrily, before getting up and leaving you there on the porch steps in a heap. 

Heeseung turned to glance at you again, his semblance of a heart in pain from how things had to end up. “You seemed so nice–so promising. Jungwon swore we could've been friends.”

–

You didn’t know if it was possible to kill a ghost twice. After all, your death turned you into a floating apparition of yourself, as you watched your parents mourn their attempts to shield you from their own fate. Being a ghost wasn’t so horrible, but Heeseung was right; it was lonely. 

When a voice calls your name apologetically from where you sit on your rooftop, your gaze settles on him with fury, and the moment you rush over to him and your fingers close around his wrist, you knew that you wouldn’t stop until you properly got rid of Lee Heeseung.

No matter how long it took.

--

i swear the rest of them will be better. and shorter.

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