#literally flipping the bird at everything

[mywritersmind]

GETAWAY - FC43

summary : An italian weekend getaway with your favorite loving boyfriend. Filled with strawberries and hammocks.

listen up : inspired by @purinfelix ! super sweet and blue vibes

word count : 884

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I yawn, walking down the kitchen and through the doorway that’s wide open, revealing my favorite part of this house. The balcony is long and filled with a couch, hammock, and table, all overlooking the crystal blue ocean. My feet are cold against the wooden floors but the moment I step outside, the sun warms my face.

I smile softly when I see him. He’s in a chair, quietly looking at the water. I wrap my arms around my lovely boyfriend, my coffee and strawberries in my hands still.

“Morning Mi amor.” His strong arms move so his hand is resting over mine, tilting his hair back so his waves brush the side of my face.

He gets a hold of my arm and gently pulls me around him, motioning to sit on his lap. He puts down his mate and welcomes me to sit on him. I put my breakfast down and wrap my arm around him, looking up into the fact I so love.

Franco’s hand goes to my leg, smiling. “Nice shirt.” I look down at what I'm wearing. It’s his shirt actually. A blue and white striped button down paired with underwear to match.

“Thank you!” I run my hands through his hair, messing it up at bit, “I stole it from a very handsome man!”

He tilts his head a bit, kissing my cheek, “He’s a lucky man.” I rest my head on Franco's shoulder. He smells like peppermint and coffee. He snatches one of my strawberries from my bowl and pops it into his mouth.

I breathe in the fresh air, closing my eyes and smiling. “You’re a vision, mi amor.” He kisses me on my lips this time, brushing my hair back softly.

I fell in love with him because of how soft he is. He never rushed me, never yelled. Him and those big brown eyes do everything to love me.

“What are you thinking about today?” I ask, looking out at the water and birds passing ahead as his lips go to my neck, “Farmers market?”

He hums against my skin, not giving any answer. I can’t even be mad at his lack of words because his lips against me and this morning view is anything I could ever ask for.

⋆༺

Our day is slow and peaceful, his hand never leaves mine and as soon as we get back to the house we change. Franco will go along with anything I do and I may be abusing my power a bit when I see our matching pajamas.

I can’t help but giggle at Franco in the blue and white porcelain design, they’re locally made and absolutely gorgeous. I have the pants and top while he seemed far too happy that they had no other pajama top in his size.

It takes approximately twenty minutes for the two of us to get into the hammock without falling out. He wraps his arm around me as I nuzzle into his chest, looking up at the star filled sky.

“I never want to leave.” He says as jazz plays from his phone across the balcony, “Let’s stay.”

I smile and look up at him, “We have to leave. But we can come back anytime.” I kiss his jaw as his hand brushes up and down my arm.

“I love you.” It makes me smile.

“I love you too.” I wrap my arm around his middle, his shirt soft against my skin. I look back up at the stars, feeling complete peace in the cool air, my warm skin, and my boyfriend next to me.

“Those stars look like a dick.” And he ruins it all in one sentence. I groan and he starts laughing, hard, shaking the hammock.

“Franco!” I scream and hold onto him tighter as we swing, “Fran- I swear!”

He's still laughing, his chest moving up and down rapidly under my head. He holds me tighter as we both try to stay still, “I’m sorry!” He laughs, “I’m sorry! You love me! You can’t be mad!”

“You’re the wor-” I go to jokingly hit his arm but when he moves to block me, we flip.

We’re on the floor and laughing seconds later. Franco grabs my face, trying to be serious but still laughing, “Are you okay!?”

Literal tears are coming out of my eyes which he wipes away with his thumbs, still looking at me worriedly. I just laugh again and pull him closer to me, pressing my lips against mine.

He pushes his hand into my hair, “Did you hit your head?” I shake my head and kiss him again, climbing on top of him.

He laughs against my lips, moving his hands to the side of my legs. “Attempted murder!” He says as I gasp dramatically.

“You were the one who made us fall!”

“Oh no!” His hand goes to my head, “You did hit your head!” I hit his arm as he breaks into laughter again and I move back next to him, looking up at the stars from the floor.

He kisses my head and tugs me against him again, “Those stars look like a heart.”

I raise a brow, “No they don’t.”

He shushes me and points, “Just squint.”

[adoresia]

── .✦ 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒

⌗ PAIRING : Yuji Itadori x Blackfem!Reader

⌗ SYNOPSIS : Yuji Itadori has a brilliant idea: sneak off campus for a “stress-free” day of fun. The problem? His version of sneaky involves flailing like a bird, tripping over rocks, and nearly concussing himself twice. Somehow, you still agree to go with him because he’s charming, stupidly cute, and you might be a little in love with him.

⌗ CW : Fluff, humor with a sprinkle of chaos, Minor injuries (Yuji being clumsy as usual), Slight rule-breaking (sneaking off campus), Heavy doses of secondhand embarrassment, suggestive (One intense makeout session at the end)

⌗ Sia here ! : based off of this request 😚 thank you so much for requesting anon i hope you enjoy :3

It started, like most things with Yuji, absolute chaos and impulsivity.

You had been sitting on the training field, bored per usual, flipping through a textbook while Yuji lay sprawled out in the grass, fiddling with a twig zoned out and in his own world, you could say. His restless energy was almost contagious, and you could feel him gearing up to say something impulsive—his knee was bouncing, his fingers twitching. It’s like you could tell he was going to say something silly, but he’s literally yuji. Everything that comes out of his mouth is silly to be honest.

You were staring at him intensively, trying to figure out what he was going to blurt out, but it’s he’s always unpredictable and his twisted face wasn’t helping. It felt like hours went by before he finally opened his mouth to blurt out :

“Let’s sneak out!”

You blinked at him. “I beg your finest?”

Is he silly? What did you even expect from him at this point.

“Let’s sneak off campus!” He sat up like he just figured out the cure to cancer, the twig discarded in favor ultimately snapping him out of his zoned out state. “C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t wanna get out of here for a bit. Just you and me—no Gojo, no missions, no… I dunno, scary cursed wombs or whatever.”

You deadpanned. “Should I slap you? So we can both get caught? I’d rather follow the rules then have Gojo sensei peaking at us with his 6 eyes for the rest of my life.”

“Rules,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Rules are for, like, boring people. Are you boring?”

“Should I slap you times 2?” you shot back, offended.

“I’m gonna take that as a no for my own safety.” He said reluctantly while he hopped to his feet and pulled you up with him. “I promise you’ll live, let’s go cmon.”

“No, I actually won’t. We’ll get caught and it’ll most likely be because of you not gonna lie.”

“Okay not I’m offended I’m actually really stealthy if I do say so myself. We won’t get caught if we’re sneaky,” Yuji said, and the mischievous twinkle in his eye told you he was already planning the heist of the century. “Think about it: fresh air, food that doesn’t taste like Gojo’s questionable cooking experiments, freedom.”

You crossed your arms, trying to look unimpressed. “And how do you think we’re getting past Gojo?”

“I’ll think of something,” he said confidently. “He’s probably watching an 4 hour long mukbang compilation or annoying Nanami—his guard’ll be down!”

To be honest it did convince you to an extent, Gojo could watch those compliations for hours on end, not even one of his 6 eyes could divert his attention. Which gave you both time to go and come back without him even realising.

You sighed, shaking your head. “And why exactly should I go along with this?”

Yuji paused, then stepped closer, his grin softening into something a little more persuasive. “Because I want to spend time with you,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “Just us. No interruptions, no stress. You deserve that, y’know?”

Your resolve wavered instantly. He always knew exactly what to say to get you to drop your guard, and you hated how good he was at it.

“You’re such a manipulator,” you grumbled, though your lips twitched with a reluctant smile.

“Not manipulator—genius,” he corrected, pulling you toward the school gates before you could change your mind.

“Wait, you don’t even have a plan yet!” you protested, digging your heels in.

“Details, details,” Yuji said, brushing it off. “We’ll figure it out as we go!”

The plan was simple: sneak past Gojo’s barely-there supervision, hop the school wall, and spend a rare afternoon of freedom exploring the city. But nothing with Yuji Itadori was ever simple.

Thirty minutes later, you were crouched behind a bush, watching Yuji attempt to sneak past Gojo’s vaguely occupied form. He had, of course, decided that flailing like a bird was an acceptable stealth tactic, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as he tripped over a random rock, landing face-first in the grass.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh bubbling up, your shoulders shaking with the effort. Yuji popped his head up, blades of grass stuck in his hair, and shot you an exaggerated glare.

“You’re not helping,” he hissed, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a whine.

“Sorry but what are you even doing, you look like those inflatable tube men placed in front of gas stations,” you whispered back, biting your lip to keep from cackling outright.

“First of all, it was a hawk,” he corrected, brushing himself off as he crouched again. “Second of all, you could show a little support for your partner in crime, y’know! Im signaling stealth!”

“That’s not stealth, Yuji. That’s a mating dance.” You deadpanned.

“I really don’t know how we haven’t got caught because of you yet,” you muttered, shaking your head as he resumed his ridiculous flailing.

Somehow—maybe because Gojo was too busy scrolling through mukbang videos on his phone to care—you both managed to make it past the gates. As soon as you were clear, Yuji grabbed your hand and took off running, pulling you along like an excited kid.

“See?” he said, grinning over his shoulder. “Flawless execution.”

“Bro thinks he’s yeat.” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Would you prefer if I started screaming fein?,” he said, squeezing your hand.

“Enough.” You rolled your eyes again.

You rolled your eyes and darted across the courtyard, leaving him behind. His dramatic gasp of betrayal carried all the way to the gate.

Step two: jump the wall.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Yuji whispered nervously, glancing over his shoulder like Gojo might materialize out of thin air. “What if—”

“You’re a jujutsu sorcerer, Yuji,” you teased. “And also, this was your idea. What did you make this decision unconsciously? Or are you just scared of a wall?”

“I’m scared of Gojo.”

Fair.

Still, you hopped onto the wall with practiced ease, sitting on the edge to look down at him. Yuji hesitated for a moment before launching himself up with impressive force—and smacking his forehead against the top of the wall.

You burst into laughter so loud it almost echoed across campus.

“Ow! Don’t laugh!” He held his head dramatically, pretending to stagger. “I think I’m seeing the afterlife!”

“Get up here, you idiot.” You reached down to grab his hand and pulled him up. For a moment, you both perched precariously on the wall, faces inches apart. Yuji smiled at you—soft, goofy, and heart-melting. But also half concussed.

Then he promptly lost his balance and fell, unsurprisingly.

You gasped as Yuji disappeared from sight, a loud thud and an even louder groan echoing from the other side of the wall.

“Yuji!” You peeked over, half-panicked but mostly exasperated, only to find him sprawled on the ground, arms and legs splayed like a starfish.

He cracked one eye open, grinning weakly. “I’m okay!”

“You fell,” you said, staring at him incredulously.

“Did it look cool?”

“No, it didn’t.”

He sat up, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish laugh. “Well, that’s disappointing. I thought for sure the landing would redeem me.”

“Redeem you?” you said, hopping down much more gracefully. “Brother, you hit your head twice today. Do you even have a brain left?”

“Bold of you to assume there was much to begin with,” he quipped, flashing you that dumb, lopsided grin that somehow managed to melt your frustration every time.

You offered your hand, hauling him to his feet. “If you die from being clumsy, I’m never letting you live it down.”

He dusted himself off, still smiling. “Good thing I have you to keep me alive, huh?”

You sighed, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Aw, you think I’m cute?” His grin widened, and he puffed out his chest dramatically. “Admit it, you can’t resist me.”

“I take it back. I can resist just fine,” you shot back, starting to walk down the path. “But if you trip again, I’m leaving you behind.”

“Harsh,” he muttered, jogging to catch up with you.

As the two of you made your way down the hill, Yuji slipped his hand into yours again, lacing your fingers together. You glanced at him, eyebrows raised, and he shrugged with a cheeky grin.

“For balance,” he said.

“Yeah okay Yuji, just say you’re scared,” you replied, but you didn’t let go.

After Yuji’s not-so-graceful landing, you spent the next few hours wandering the city. You hit a record shop, shared a crepe at a food stand, and found yourselves laughing until your sides hurt in a Photo Booth.

“Why do my eyes look like that?” Yuji asked, squinting at one of the printed photos.

“What do you mean? They always look like that.”

“I look like I’m about to swallow you with my eyes?”

“Okay that’s an exaggeration. You look like a goldfish at most.”

“Like a very cute goldfish,” you teased, poking his cheek.

He puffed it out dramatically. “Well, you look like—”

“I know you don’t have much brain left, but think twice before you say something that might end up in you loosing your head,” you warned, narrowing your eyes.

“An angel,” he finished, grinning sheepishly.

Eventually, you found a quiet park, the golden glow of the setting sun painting the sky. The laughter had faded into something softer, more intimate, as you sat side by side on the swings.

Yuji was quiet for a moment before glancing at you. “Hey…”

“Hm?”

“I’m glad we did this.” His voice was sincere, and his eyes sparkled in the warm light. “I know it’s risky, but… I just wanted some time with you. Like, normal, everyday time. No curses, no missions. Just us.”

Your chest tightened at the sweetness in his words. “Me too, Yuji. Maybe we should break the rules more often.”

“Yeah?” He answered, his eyes were filled with something more desired than love.

He smiled, his hand brushing against yours on the swing chain. The touch sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, and when you turned to look at him, you could see the hint of nervousness in his expression.

“Can I—uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, the tips of his ears pink.

You leaned over and kissed him, cutting off his adorable stammering.

The first press of your lips was gentle, tentative. But when Yuji’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer, the kiss deepened. He kissed you like he had been waiting forever, like every moment he had spent apart from you led up to this. His lips were soft but insistent, moving with an intoxicating rhythm that left you breathless.

Your fingers tangled in his pink hair, and he made a small sound against your mouth—a mix of surprise and eagerness that made your heart race.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours for a brief pause.

“More than okay,” you whispered, pulling him back in.

The world seemed to fade away as his kisses became more fervent, his grip on your waist tightening like he never wanted to let go. Your back pressed against the cool metal of the swing, his body shielding you from the cooling breeze as his lips trailed along your jawline, then back to your mouth.

“Yuji,” you murmured between kisses, your voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His cheeks were flushed, his smile lopsided and utterly disarming.

“You’re terrible at sneaking out,” you teased, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

He laughed, resting his forehead against yours again. “And yet, totally worth it.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

[adobe-outdesign]

what do you think of the new pteri day stuff? personally i'm not a fan of the cardinal outfit mainly because something about the face just looks wrong to me, but i like the museum outfit and am glad we got a new one of those. and i think the candy pteri is so funny. i think it's cool to have a choice between a more typical-looking, but still cute, candy pet, and between using PB clothes to turn it into a peep. i've already seen people make hilarious customs with the peep pteri.

Candy: Yeah I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of this one, sorry. I do like the concept of it being based off a Peep (though admittedly most people outside of the US don't know what that is—note for non-US readers: a Peep is a vaguely bird-shaped marshmallow covered in sugar crystals sold around the holidays), and I do appreciate them doing two designs, one "outfit" that's super literal and then one that's more pet-specific, which shows a good deal of effort. Also, the outfit is pretty funny purely from a meme perspective in the same vein as the Maraquan Nimmo.

However, my problem is that we're on two ends of the extreme with both designs: one is literally straight up a Peep(TM) with nothing Pteri-like about it whatsoever, and one is a vaguely glittery Pteri with nothing particularly candy-like about it. Why not blend the two? Give us a Pteri with the same texture, but round out the claws, feathers, etc. Make the eye markings all blobby, give the head feathers and tail that signature Peep flip, make the pupils the little candy dots, and maybe even have a little bite taken out of the wing to show off the marshmallow interior. You could even still keep the same outfit for the meme if you want, but then you'd at least have a high-effort Peep-inspired Pteri instead of a Peep(TM) and a low-effort Pteri colour, which I think is an import distinction.

As a side note, I'm linking this post by @synthaphone out of obligation because it says most of the same things I just did but was published earlier:

Forest (Outfit): Once again, not a huge fan. I've never really liked these hyper-realistic animal outfits; I'm playing Neopets for the neat fantasy creatures, so for me, having an outfit that's just like, a straight-up cardinal feels pretty boring.

Putting aside personal preferences though, I also just find this really uncanny? It's a bad combo of way, way too much texturing and detailing on a very cartoonish body with eyes that really don't belong on that face. The rendering itself is at least objectively well-done with lots of nice shading, but I would've much preferred just a regular non-textured Pteri with the same colors and markings. Once again, the difference between making a Neopet inspired by something IRL and just making something that already exists IRL.

Museum (Outfit): Okay, now this one I do like a lot. I already made a review covering museum outfits and in it I mentioned wanting more that aren't just mammals. The Pteri is a welcome addition, following the same format as the other museum outfits but having the skeleton hang from suspension wires instead of it sitting on a platform like all the others. That's really nice attention to detail and works perfectly with the concept. While the rendering here is still more detailed than Neopets' art tends to be, it's not bothersome as it's not uncanny (being a skeleton) and you can still very easily tell it's a Pteri.

My only minor gripe is that the placard shows just a straight-up pterosaur, which is weird. I get that the Pteri is supposed to look a bit like a pterosaur with the head crest and everything, but just having a real-life dinosaur on there is kind of distracting. That's a very minor point though; otherwise, I'm a big fan of this one.

[cannibalhellhound]

More beach wings au

This time it's Ice carrying Mav 😼

[what-even-is-sleep]

Can’t wait for my drivers license to arrive so I can be driving legally again for the first time in 1.5 years!

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 66

Chapter; Highlights, etc. (you know the drill😂)

Aelin awoke to the scent of pine and snow, and knew she was home.

Not in Terrasen, not yet, but in the sense she would always be home, if Rowan was with her.

His steady breaths filled her right ear, the sound of the well and truly asleep, and the arm he'd draped across her middle was a solid, warm weight. Silvery light glazed the ancient stones of the ceiling.

Morning—or a cloudy day. The halls beyond the room offered shards of sound that she sorted through, piece by piece, as if she were assembling a broken mirror that might reveal the world beyond

Apparently, it had been three days since the battle. And the rest of the khagan's army, led by Prince Kashin, his third-eldest son, had arrived.

It was that tidbit that had her rising fully to consciousness, a hand sliding to Rowan's arm.

A caress of a touch, just to see how deeply the rejuvenating sleep held him. Three days, they'd slept here, unaware of the world. A dangerous, vulnerable time for any magic-wielder, when their bodies demanded a deep sleep to recover from expending so much power.

That was another sliver she'd picked up: Gavriel sat outside their door. In mountain lion form. People drew quiet when they approached, not realizing that as soon as they passed him, their whispers of That strange, terrifying cat could be detected by Fae ears.

Aelin ran a finger over the seam of Rowan's sleeve, feeling the corded muscle beneath. Clear her head, her body felt clear. Like the first icy breath inhaled on a winter's morning.

During the days they'd slept, no nightmare had shaken her awake, hunted her. A small, merciful reprieve.

Aelin swallowed, her throat dry. What had been real, what Maeve had tried to plant in her mind-did it matter, whether the pain had been true or imagined?

She had gotten out, gotten away from Maeve and Cairn. Facing the broken bits inside her would come later.

For now, it was enough to have this clarity back. Even though releasing her power, expending that mighty blow here, had not been her plan.

Aelin slid her gaze toward Rowan, his harsh face softened into handsomeness by sleep. And clean—the gore that had splattered them both was gone. Someone must have washed it away while they slept.

As if he sensed her attention, or just felt the lingering hand on his arm, Rowan's eyes cracked open. He scanned her from head to toe, deemed everything all right, and met her stare.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Aelin patted his arm. "You put on a pretty fancy display yourself, Prince."

He smiled, his tattoo crinkling. "Will that display be the last of your surprises, or are there more coming?"

She debated it-telling him, revealing it.

Maybe.

Rowan sat up, the blanket sliding from him.

Is this the sort of surprise that will end with my heart stopping dead in my chest?

She snorted, propping her head with a fist as she traced idle marks over the scratchy blanket.

"I sent a letter-when we were at that port in Wendlyn."

Rowan nodded. "To Aedion."

"To Aedion," she said, quietly enough that Gavriel couldn't hear from his spot outside the door. "And to your uncle. And to Essar." Rowan's brows rose. "Saying what?" She hummed to herself. "Saying that I was indeed imprisoned by Maeve, and that while 1 was her captive, she laid out some rather nefarious plans."

Her mate went still. "With what goal in mind?"

Aelin sat up, and picked at her nails.

"Convincing them to disband her army. Start a revolt in Doranelle. Kick Maeve off the throne. You know, small things."

Rowan just looked at her. Then scrubbed at his face. "You think a letter could do that?"

"It was strongly worded." He gaped a bit. "What sort of nefarious plans did you mention?"

"Desire to conquer the world, her complete lack of interest in sparing Fae lives in a war, her interest in Valg things." She swallowed. "I might have mentioned that she's possibly Valg."

Rowan started. Aelin shrugged. "It was a lucky guess. The best lies are always mixed with truth."

"Suggesting Maeve is Valg is a fairly outlandish lie, even for you. Even if it turned out to be true."

She waved a hand. "We'll see if anything comes of it."

"If it works, if they somehow revolt and the army turns against her..." He shook his head, laughing softly. "It'd be a boon in this war."

"I scheme and lie so grandly, and that's all the credit I get?"

Rowan flicked her nose. "You'll get credit if her army doesn't show up. Until then, we prepare as if they are. Which is highly likely." At her frown, he said, "Essar doesn't wield much power, and my uncle doesn't take many risks. Not like Enda and Sellene. For them to overthrow Maeve ... it would be monumental. If they even survived it."

Her stomach churned. "It's their choice, what they do. I only laid out the facts." Carefully worded facts and half guesses. An absolute gamble, if she was being honest.

Rowan smirked. "And other than attempting to overthrow Maeve's throne? Any other surprises I should know about?"

Her smile faded as she lay back down, Rowan doing the same beside her. "There are no more." At his raised brows, she added, "I swear it on my throne. There are no more left."

The amusement in his eyes guttered. "I don't know whether to be relieved."

"Everything I know, you know. All the cards are on the table now."

With the various armies that had gathered, with the Lock, with all of it.

"Do you think you could do it again?" he asked. "Draw up that much power?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. It required being ... contained. With the irons."

A shadow darkened his face, and he rolled onto his side, propping up his head. "I've never seen anything like it."

"You never will again." It was the truth.

"If the cost of that much power is what you endured, then I'll be glad not to."

Aelin ran a hand down the powerful muscles of his thigh, fingers snagging in the rip of fabric just above his knee. "I didn't feel you get this wound through the mating bond," she said, grazing the thick ridge of the new scar. A trophy from the battle. She made herself meet his piercing stare. Did Maeve somehow break that part of it? That part of us?

"No," he breathed, and stroked the hair from her brow. "I've realized that the bond only conveys the pain of the gravest wounds."

She touched the spot on his shoulder where Asterin Blackbeak's arrow had pierced him all those months ago. The moment she'd known what he was to her.

"It was why I didn't know what was happening to you on the beach," Rowan said roughly. Because the whipping, brutal and unbearable as it had been, hadn't brought her to the brink of death. Only into an iron coffin.

She scowled. "If you're about to tell me that you feel guilty for it—"

"We both have things to grapple with—about what happened these months."

A glance at him, and she knew he was well aware of what still clouded her soul.

And because he was the only person who saw everything she was and did not walk away from it, Aelin said, "I wanted that fire to be for Maeve."

"I know." Such simple words, and yet it meant everything-that understanding.

"I wanted it to make things ... better." She loosed a long breath. "To wipe it all away." Every memory and nightmare and lie.

"It will take a while, Aelin. To face it, work through it."

"I don't have a while."

His jaw tensed. "That remains to be seen." She didn't bother arguing. Not as she admitted, "I want it to be over."

He went wholly still, but granted her the space to think, to speak.

"I want it to be over and done with," she said hoarsely. "This war, the gods and the Wyrdgate and the Lock. All of it." She rubbed her temples, pushing past the weight, the lingering stain that no fire might cleanse. "I want to go to Terrasen, to fight, and then I want it to be over."

She'd wanted it to be over since she'd learned the true cost of forging the Lock anew.

Had wanted it to be over with each of Cairn's lashes on the beach in Eyllwe. And all he'd done to her afterward. Whatever it might bring about, however it might end, she wanted it to be over.

She didn't know who and what it made her.

Rowan remained silent for a long moment before he said, "Then we will make sure the khagan's host goes north. Then we will return to Terrasen and crush Erawan's armies." He brought her hands to his mouth for a swift kiss.

"And then, after all that, we'll see about this damned Lock." Uncompromising will filled his every breath, the air around them.

She let it be enough for both of them.

Tucked away his words, his vow, all those promises between them and extended her palm in the air between them.

She summoned the magic-the drop of water her mother's bloodline had given her.

Mab's bloodline.

A tiny ball of water took form in her hand. Over the calluses she'd so carefully rebuilt.

She let the gentle, cooling power trickle over her. Let it smooth the jagged bits inside herself and sing them to sleep. Her mother's gift.

You do not yield.

When the Lock took everything, would it claim this part as well? This most precious part of her power? She tucked away those thoughts, too.

Concentrating, gritting her teeth, Aelin commanded the ball of water to rotate in her palm.

A wobble was all she got in answer.

She snorted. "Faerie Queen of the West indeed."

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh. "Keep practicing. In a thousand years, you might actually be able to do something with it."

She whacked his arm, the droplet of water soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. "It's a wonder I learned anything from you with that sort of encouragement." She shook the wetness from her hand. Right into his face.

Rowan nipped at her nose. "I do keep a tally, Princess. Of all the horrible things that come out of your mouth."

Her toes curled, and she dragged her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the silken strands. "How shall I pay for this one?"

On the other side of the door, she could have sworn that cat-soft feet quickly padded away.

People gawked in the halls, some whispering as they passed.

The queen and her consort. Where do you think they've been these past few days?

I heard they went into the mountains and brought the wild men back with them.

I heard they've been weaving spells around the city, to protect it against Morath.

Rowan was still smirking when Aelin emerged from the communal ladies' bathing room.

"See?" She fell into step beside him as they aimed not for their room and ravishment, but for the hallway where food had been laid out.

"You're starting to like the notoriety."

Rowan arched a brow. "You think that everywhere I've gone for the past three hundred years, whispers haven't followed me?" She rolled her eyes, but he chuckled. "This is far better than Cold-hearted bastard or I heard he killed someone with a table leg."

"You did kill someone with a table leg." Rowan's smirk grew.

"And you are a cold-hearted bastard," she threw in.

Rowan snorted. "I never said those whispers were lies."

Aelin looped her arm through his. "I'm going to start a rumor about you, then. Something truly grotesque."

He groaned. "I dread the thought of what you might come up with."

She adopted a harsh whisper as they passed a group of human soldiers. "You flew back onto the battlefield to peck out the eyes of our enemies?" Her gasp echoed off the rock. "And ate those eyes?"

One of the soldiers tripped, the others whipping their heads to them. Rowan pinched her shoulder. "Thank you for that."

She inclined her head. "You're very welcome."

Aelin kept smiling as they found food and ate a quick lunch-it was midday, they'd learned-sitting side by side in a dusty, half-forgotten stairwell. Much like the days they'd spent in Mistward, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen while listening to Emrys's stories.

Though unlike those months this spring, when Aelin set down her plate between her feet, she slid her arms around Rowan's neck and his mouth instantly met hers.

No, it was certainly not at all like their time at Mistward as she crawled into Rowan's lap, not entirely caring that anyone might stride up or down the stairs, and kissed him silly.

They halted, breathless and wild-eyed, before she could decide that it really wouldn't be a bad idea…

… If Aelin was being honest with herself, she was still debating hauling him into the nearest closet when they set off to find their companions at last. One glance at Rowan's glazed eyes and she knew he was debating the same.

Yet even the desire heating her blood cooled when they entered the ancient study near the top of the keep and beheld the gathered group. Fenrys and Gavriel were already there, Chaol with them, no sign of Elide or Lorcan.

But Chaol's father, unfortunately, was present. And glowered as they entered the meeting that seemed well under way. Aelin gave him a mocking smile and sauntered up to the large desk.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood with Nesryn, Sartaq, and Hasar, handsome and brimming with a sort of impatient energy. His brown eyes were welcoming, his smile easy.

She liked him immediately.

"My brother," Hasar said, waving a hand without looking up from the map. "Kashin." The prince sketched a graceful bow.

Aelin offered one back, Rowan doing the same. "An honor," Aelin said. "Thank you for coming."

"You can actually thank my father for that. And Yrene," said Kashin, his use of their language as flawless as his siblings'.

Indeed, Aelin had much to thank the healer for.

Nesryn's sharp eyes scanned Aelin from head to toe. "You're feeling all right?"

"Just needed to rest." Aelin jerked her chin at Rowan. "He requires frequent naps in his old age."

Sartaq coughed, keeping his head down as he continued studying the map.

Fenrys, however, laughed. "Back to your good spirits, I see."

Aelin smirked at Chaol's straight-backed father. "We'll see how long it lasts."

The man said nothing.

Rowan motioned to the desk and asked the royals, "Have you decided-where you shall march now?"

Such a casual, calm question. As if the fate of Terrasen did not rest upon it.

Hasar opened her mouth, but Sartaq cut her off. "North. We shall indeed go north with you. If only to repay you for saving our army-our people."

Aelin tried not to look too relieved.

"Gratitude aside," Hasar said, not sounding very grateful at all, "Kashin's scouts have confirmed that Terrasen is where Morath is concentrating its efforts. So it is there that we shall go."

Aelin wished she had not eaten such a large lunch. "How bad is it?"

Nesryn shook her head, answering for Prince Kashin, "The details were murky. All we know is that hordes were spotted marching northward, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake."

Aelin kept her fists at her sides, avoiding the urge to rub at her face.

Chaol's father said, "I hope that power of yours can be summoned again."

Aelin let an ember of that power smolder in her eyes. "Thank you for the armor," she crooned.

"Consider it an early coronation gift," the Lord of Anielle countered with a mocking smile.

Sartaq cleared his throat. "If you and your companions are recovered, then we'll press northward as soon as we are able." No objections from Hasar at that.

"And march along the mountains?" Rowan asked, scanning the map. Aelin traced the route they'd follow. "We'd have to pass directly before the Ferian Gap. We'll barely clear the other end of this lake before we're in another battle."

"So we draw them out," Hasar said. "Trick them into emptying whatever forces wait in the Gap, then sneak up on them from behind."

"Adarlan controls the entire Avery," Chaol said, drawing an invisible line inland from Rifthold. "To pass north, we have to cross that river anyway. In picking the Gap as our battleground, we'll avoid the mess that would come with fighting in the midst of Oakwald. The ruks, at least, would be able to provide aerial coverage. Not so with the trees."

Rowan nodded. "We'd need to march the majority of the host up into the mountains, then—to come at the Gap from where they'd least expect it. It's rough terrain, though. We'll need to pick our route carefully."

Chaol's father grumbled. Aelin lifted her brows, but his son answered, "I sent out emissaries the day after the battle-into the Fangs. To contact the wild men who live there, if they might know of secret ways through the mountains to the Gap."

Ancient enemies of this city. "And?"

"They do. But at a cost."

"One that shall not be paid," the Lord of Anielle snapped.

"Let me guess: territory," Aelin said.

Chaol nodded. Hence the tension in this room.

She tapped a toot as she surveyed the Lord of Anielle. "And you won't give one sliver of land to them?"

He just glared.

"Apparently not," Fenrys muttered

Aelin shrugged, and turned to Chaol. "Well, it's settled, then."

"What is settled?" his father ground out.

Aelin ignored him, and winked at her friend. "You're the Hand to the King of Adarlan. You outrank him. You're authorized to act on Dorian's behalf." She gestured to the map. "The land might be a part of Anielle, but it belongs to Adarlan. Go ahead and barter it."

His father started. "You—"

"We are going north," Aelin said. "You will not stand in our way." She again let some of her fire kindle in her eyes, set the gold in them burning. "I halted that wave. Consider this alliance with the wild men a way to repay the favor."

"That wave destroyed half my city," the man snarled.

Fenrys let out a low, disbelieving laugh. Rowan snarled softly.

Chaol growled at his father, "You're bastard."

"Watch your tongue, boy."

Aelin nodded sympathetically to Chaol. "I see why you left."

Chaol, to his credit, winced and returned to the map. "If we can get past the Ferian Gap, then we continue northward."

Past Endovier. That path would take them right past Endovier. Aelin's stomach tightened. Rowan's hand grazed her own.

"We have to decide soon," Sartaq declared.

"Right now, we sit between the Ferian Gap and Morath. It would be very easy for Erawan to send hosts to crush us between them."

Hasar turned to Chaol. "Is Yrene anywhere near done?"

He leaned an elbow against the arm of his wheeled chair. "Even with the few survivors, there are too many of them. We'd be here weeks."

"How many injured?" Rowan asked.

Chaol shook his head. "Not injured." His jaw tightened. "Valg."

Aelin frowned. "Yrene's healing the Valg?"

Hasar grinned. "In a manner of speaking."

Aelin waved her off. "Can I see?"

They found Yrene not in the keep, but in a tent on the remnants of the battlefield, leaning over a human man thrashing upon a cot. The man had been restrained to anchors in the floor at his wrists and ankles.

Aelin took one look at those chains and had to swallow.

Rowan laid a hand on her lower back, and Fenrys stepped closer to her side.

Yrene paused, her hands wreathed in white light. Borte, sword out, lingered nearby.

"Is something wrong?" Yrene asked, the glow in her hands fading. The man sagged, going boneless as the healer's assault on the demon inside him halted.

Chaol steered his chair closer to her, the wheels equipped for rougher terrain. "Aelin and her companions want a demonstration. If you're up for it."

Yrene smoothed back the hair that had escaped her braid. "It's not really anything that you can see. What happens is beneath the skin—mind to mind."

"You go up against Valg demons directly," Fenrys said with no small amount of awe.

"They're hateful, cowardly wretches." Yrene crossed her arms and scowled at the man tied to the cot. "Utterly pathetic," she spat toward him—the demon inside him.

The man hissed. Yrene only smiled. The man—the demon-whimpered.

Aelin blinked, unsure whether to laugh or fall to her knees. "Show me. Do whatever it is you do, but show me."

Borte said, "It's not very exciting with them tied down, is it?"

Sartaq threw her an exasperated glare. As if this were a conversation they'd already had many times. "You can be on mucking duty, if you'd prefer."

Borte rolled her eyes, but turned to Aelin, looking her over with a frankness that Aelin could only appreciate. "Any other missions for me?"

Aelin grinned. "Not yet. Soon, perhaps." Borte grinned right back. "Please. Please spare me from the tedium of this."

"And you believe them?" Fenrys asked.

Hasar patted the hilt of her fine sword. "Our interrogators are skilled at retrieving the truth."

Aelin ignored the roiling in her stomach.

"So you free them," Gavriel said, silent for minutes now, "and then torture them?"

"This is war," Hasar said simply. "We leave them able to function. But we will not risk sparing their lives only to find a new army at our backs."

"Some willingly joined Erawan," Chaol said quietly. "Some willingly took the ring. Yrene can tell, when she's in there, who wanted it or not. She doesn't bother to save those who gladly knelt. So most of those she does save were either fools or taken forcibly."

"Some want to fight for us," Sartaq said.

"Those who pass our vetting process are allowed to begin training with the foot soldiers. Not many of them, but a few." Fine. Fine, and fine.

Yrene gasped, her light flaring bright enough that Aelin squinted.

Yrene slumped back, Chaol shooting out an arm to brace her. The healer only took a perch on the arm of his chair, a hand on her heaving chest.

Aelin gave her a moment to catch her breath. To manage such a feat was remarkable. To do it while pregnant ... Aelin shook her head in wonder.

Yrene said to no one in particular, "That demon didn't want to go."

"But it's gone now?" Aelin asked

Yene pointed to the man on the cot, now opening his eyes. Brown, not black, gazed upward.

"Thank you," was all the man said, his voice raw.

And human. Utterly human.

[rubyyyyxx]

i love the 90s so much u dont get it

[rum-inspector]

So tumblr has now rolled lives for my account too and reading their rules..

MIDDLE FINGER IS BANNED I REPEAT DO NOT FLIP THE BIRD on live IT IS VERY VERY BAD IT IS LITERALLY SAME AS IF YOU GOT FULLY NAKED AND WOOP WOOP HANKY PANKY BOJOINK WITH AN EQUALLY NUDE PARTNER ON THE STREAM I REPEAT HIDE YOUR MIDDLE FINGERS PUT THEM AWAY PUT THEN AWAY NOW A CHILD COULD SEE AN OBSCENE FINGER ON TUNGLR DOT COM

I realized from lot of tags and comments lot of you are unaware that the underlying issue is BIGGER than just tumblr. I even skipped the part about dress code bc its the same on every app now, nothing special unfortunately, the middle FINGER was news. you just never read the ToS and the reason is US LAWS, Credit card company monopoly, advertisers wanting everything to be "family friendly" etc and things are only going to get worse if you don't start opposing and repeling the torjan horse laws. Here, let's have someone who knows better explain it:

[sserpente]

By Chance

Synopsis: The very first time you meet Eddie the Freak Munson, it’s because you found his bracelet on the floor and decided to wear it, and he claims to have lost one just like that.

The second time you meet, he is absolutely flabbergasted because you are the only one outside of Hellfire who wants him to sign their yearbook.

The third time you meet, he’s feeding you drugs through a sloppy kiss before making you see stars.

The fourth time you meet, he is all but taken aback that you greet him with a boyfriend-and-girlfriend-kiss in plain sight of some other former Hawkins High students, thinking that you, just like all the other girls, would want nothing to do with him after one hot and high night together…

A/N: Just a couple of ideas that had been ghosting around in my head on digital paper. Enjoy!

Words: 4880 Warnings: drug use, alcohol, smut, RC has parents in this one, drunk driving

A/N: Both Eddie and RC are over the age of 21 in my stories.

The first time you met Eddie Munson, it was in the school cafeteria. You were new in town, damned to finish your high school years at a later age due to unforeseen circumstances in your past. Let’s just say it involved the military, an illegal weapon deal, you and your family being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a witness protection programme. Not exactly the funniest years of your life but here you were now, significantly older than all the other students trying to keep up with everything you had missed when one fateful day, you found a leather chain bracelet on the floor in the hallway near the boys’ bathrooms.

You figured it looked cool, so, instead of throwing it away, you decided to wear it. Little did you know it belonged to Eddie The Freak Munson himself who, as it turned out, was absolutely gutted he’d lost it. He ended up in line to get his lunch right behind you that day and of course, he instantly noticed the edgy accessory on you when you reached for a cup of chocolate pudding.

“Cool bracelet.”

You’d be lying if you said that the other students hadn’t “warned” you about him. But being old enough to legally buy alcohol, you were long past the silly idea of popularity in high school, knowing that once you were out of that building for good, no one—literally no one—cared anymore. Respectively, you turned around to smile at him.

“Thank you.”

“I had one like that too. Lost it recently,” he added a little distraught, underlining his words by throwing a single peanut in his mouth. Your eyes widened.

“Oh my god, what? I found that on the floor in the hallway the other day! It must be yours!”

And just like that, Eddie blinked and then frowned at you as if you’d just sliced the tyres of his van. “Why are you wearing it?” he asked—carefully, if not suspiciously.

“I just thought it looked cool. Here, take it back,” you announced, unclasping it from your wrist to hand it to him. “I’m glad it seems you didn’t lose it after all.”

“Yeah, uh… it was a gift from my uncle, so… it means a lot to me.”

You could have imagined it but you were pretty sure that you received something like an electrical shock when your hands touched.

“That’s sweet. Good thing I didn’t throw it away. Well, enjoy the rest of your day, Eddie. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you around too.”

And that you did. Every day. You did have a few classes together, after all, and sooner or later you realised that you kept stealing glances at him. He was fucking handsome—a classic metalhead with an affinity for fantasy novels and Dungeons & Dragons, so you soon found out, and of course, a renowned bad boy selling drugs right under the noses of all the teachers which, strangely enough… did not hinder him from finally graduating that year. It turned out that 1987 was his year and to call what he pulled off at the graduation ceremony a show would have been an understatement and you certainly couldn’t stop clapping and cheering along with his friends when he did flip the principal the bird and acted like he’d just won the gold medal instead of his diploma. That man was a chaotic rockstar in the making, you just knew it. In fact, you were more excited for him than you were for yourself even though you had barely spoken after the bracelet exchange.

Unfortunately, apart from his beloved Hellfire club as well as two freshmen called Dustin and Mike, everyone else in the school just seemed to be happy to finally be rid of him—Miss O’Donnells the most, you figured.

So when it was time to get those last few signatures in for your yearbooks and students rushed from person to person with markers in hand, Eddie was left out entirely.

You guessed that this was why nothing prepared him for the very moment you approached him and two of his friends—Jeff and Gareth, you believed—and held your yearbook out to him.

“Hey, Eddie. Care to sign my yearbook for me?”

It took him a second to process your words, you could tell. “Me? You want me to sign your yearbook?”

“Of course.” And you meant it, if anything to have an excuse to speak to him again.

Eddie took your yearbook from you with slight hesitation, flipped the front page open and then, using the red ballpoint pen he must have been using for his friends’ yearbooks, scribbled something in yours.

You couldn’t wait to read what he’d written when he handed it back to you. Another moment of silence followed.

“Do you… want me to sign yours as well?”

“Uh… yeah… if you want.” Jeff and Gareth were a lot more suspicious than Eddie was, perhaps thinking you’d write something nasty in his. In fact, he didn’t even pay attention to what you were writing in it. Instead, and you could practically feel his curious brown gaze on you, he wouldn’t stop staring like you were some sort of hallucination.

The truth was, he probably didn’t quite know what to make of you. You’d never been part of a specific clique ever since your arrival and hence socialised with whoever circumstances put you in close proximity with. They’d all seen you with Jason and the others a few times—and given how the basketball team treated Hellfire, it was not short of a miracle they all radiated a pinch of hostility toward you.

Eddie almost flinched when you shut his yearbook shut and gave it back to him. “Thanks.”

“Thanks to you as well. After your stunt on stage, I have no doubt that you’re gonna be the next Ozzy Osbourne. I wish you and your band all the best, I’m sure you’ll rock it.”

Jeff and Gareth blinked. Incredulously so. Eddie on the other hand gave you a sheepish grin. “Thanks,” he said again.

You figured there was nothing else going to come out of his mouth—and you hoped that your phone number that you had scribbled into his yearbook and which he still hadn’t noticed yet was going to give him a broad hint.

That’s why your heart almost leaped out of your chest when you suddenly heard him calling after you. “We were going to, uh… celebrate together just outside of the town centre tonight. You know… snacks, dru- I mean drinks, music… care to come?”

It was only when you turned back around that you noticed Jeff and Gareth looking downright shocked at Eddie’s invitation. The head of the Hellfire Club appeared genuine though. And with those sweet puppy eyes, how could you turn him down? You simply could not, even if you had wanted to.

“Oh, I always fancy some snacks and dru- I mean drinks.” You grinned at him. “Should I bring anything?”

“If you want. Don’t have to though. Do you have a car or… should I come pick you up?”

“If it’s not too much trouble? Here, let me give you my address.” Using your pen from before, you snatched one of the napkins from one of the tables (almost wiping an empty champagne glass from the surface in the process) to scribble your address on it.

You decided to make brownies for the occasion. They were spiced with rum to add a little bit of flavour and dressed in your edgiest outfit before Eddie came to pick you up. To say you were excited was an understatement, for despite being generally friendly with everyone, you hadn’t exactly made a ton of friends in Hawkins yet.

Funnily enough, however, you were not even in the least surprised that Eddie drove straight to the infamous Reefer Rick house near Lover’s Lake. The entirety of the Hellfire Club, excluding the two freshmen, were there, along with a couple of other friends of Rick’s you didn’t know. It wasn’t a proper party per se—although they did have music but given Eddie’s taste and looks, it was metal blasting through the speakers for the most part.

“You’re insane, Munson. Who is she again?” Rick hissed into Eddie’s hair, grabbing his upper arm as you walked past and you took in the dimly lit boathouse. The atmosphere here was great. Foldable tables held a large selection of snacks, with two massive pizzas from Surfer Boy’s Pizza taking up the majority of the space. Another table was filled to the brim with so much alcohol you feared it would all topple over if someone attempted to remove one of the glass bottles. The fishing boat swaying in the water unsurprisingly took up most of the space in the boat house. Only for the occasion it had been repurposed to a cosy-looking lounging area and covered entirely with several layers of blankets and pillows.

The most prominent feature of this small get-together, however, was the smell of weed—and you were certain that those rolled little cigarettes were the most harmless drug Rick had on offer tonight.

“You’re telling me you invited the girl who found your bracelet a few months ago to a party at my house? What if she calls the cops on us?”

“I don’t think she will.”

“I brought brownies,” you offered, holding them out to him with a smile. Both Rick and Eddie blushed when they realised you had been able to follow their conversation over the loud guitar riffs.

“Oh. Thanks. Welcome to the party then.” And that was that. You set the homemade dessert on the table and had Eddie pour you your first drink of the evening.

“You know, it took me a hot minute to figure out you’ve written your phone number in my yearbook,” Eddie admitted after a few drinks and some casual chatting.

“Oh.” You chuckled, following up with a wink. “Well, I figured I’d take my shot.” Eddie had skipped prom, of course, not buying into the whole idea of wearing a suit and awkwardly asking someone out only to dance to shitty music and drink non-alcoholic punch in the school’s stinky sports hall.

It was a shame really—you would have loved to have seen him in a suit. Besides, you figured that the real reason Eddie hadn’t been to prom was because he’d been unhopeful any girl would have wanted to show up there with the town freak who was regularly accused of satanic rituals.

Well, you would have. But you ended up going with your classmates from chemistry class who had all sworn they didn’t need a man to have a good time. Which was also true.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows slightly, offering you a sweet smile.

“Why did you invite me? We’ve barely spoken all year and Rick is not wrong.”

“Listen, sweetheart… no one—and I mean no one outside of Hellfire has ever asked me to sign their yearbook for them. It might not sound like a big deal to you but you decided to come over to me despite what everyone else must have told you about me.” Sweetheart. Now that was a reason for your heart to skip a beat. The rising alcohol level in your body did the rest, of course, but you were far from drunk yet.

As of right now, Eddie’s hair was even messier than usual from headbanging to the latest Metallica hit that had come on after Rick had yelled “To our new graduates, Jeff, Gareth and Eddie!”. He was still a little out of breath. You were resting on the boat now, watching him giggle at a filthy joke Rick had just pulled and it was then you decided there and then that tonight was going to be the night. All good things started with a kiss, right?

Eddie must have noticed you staring at his lips. He took another draw from the cigarette he was smoking and then held it out to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “Want a draw?”

“Sure. Bring it on.”

Before you could close your mouth around it though, Eddie pulled away again, making you crawl closer to him in a confused manner. “Wait a second. You’ve… smoked before, right?”

“Duh,” you gave back. “Yes, I have. Never done anything stronger than weed though.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Just making sure you don’t throw up all over the boat.” Eddie didn’t hand the cigarette over. Instead, he brought it to your lips with his fingers, watching intently as you took a draw. The taste was just as awful as you remembered but it got the job done quickly. You relaxed, feeling more daring after only minutes.

“Hey, Eddie?” You stared at him matter-of-factly. It clearly confused him. You took another draw when he offered the weed to you yet again but this time inching even closer to him. His lips parted when you didn’t move away from him. “Can I kiss you?”

The metalhead grinned like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his ringed hand to your face to stroke your cheek and then, his mouth was on yours. Eddie kissed you softly and patiently, seemingly enjoying this first taste as much as you did. After you parted, you both smiled and as the night proceeded, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other anymore.

Eddie insisted on taking you to his place instead of staying at Rick’s, and after some initial protest that he too had had alcohol and shouldn’t be behind the wheel, you agreed to slowly drive back to his place. Fortunately for the both of you, you both made it out of this risky mission alive and you soon plopped yourself down on Eddie’s bed.

His room was a complete and utter mess. Clothes and cassettes along with handwritten song lyrics on crumbled paper were scattered everywhere, along with the odd guitar pick and lone sock. The walls were plastered with posters of metal bands as well as some maps and other drawings he must have made for his D&D campaigns.

His uncle wasn’t home—Eddie claimed he was pulling night shifts and that you had the house all to yourself. Which was certainly a good thing. You weren’t exactly quiet in bed and you had no doubt that you’d make use of those condoms sitting on his nightstand tonight.

Eddie grinned, turning his back to you for a moment. Then, he got rid of his battle jacket and leather jacket almost at the same time, kicked off his shoes and joined you on the bed wearing only his ripped trousers and a washed-out band shirt.

He was quick to take the initiative now that you had made the first step. Eddie leaned down, his hair tickling your face, and lowered his lips to yours to kiss you again, without any unwanted eyes watching you both this time.

He tasted like the weed you’d been smoking and the fatty pizza you’d all been munching on. His kisses were consuming, you had learned this much quickly. You sighed when his tongue slipped between your lips, teasing yours gently all the while his right hand went on an exploration quest, repeatedly stroking over your side.

Joyful anticipation of what would happen next flooded you like a hurricane, your body all of a sudden annoyingly aware of the fact there were way too many layers separating you both still.

It was then you felt the small pill on Eddie’s tongue that he passed on to you, gently biting your lower lip before breaking the kiss. You closed your mouth with wide eyes, returning his eager grin as he hovered above you.

“It’s ketamine,” he said, still grinning, “Rick got a new batch, fancy pill form. Nothing like anything else you’ll ever experience.”

You swallowed it down. “Shit. How long does it take to kick in?”

“With how strong that dose is I’d say about fifteen minutes. Thought you’d better have your first trip safely without accidentally drowning in the boat house at Rick’s.”

You hummed.

But what was the point of waiting around for it to kick in? You wanted Eddie. Now, and regardless of the drugs. Biting your lower lip, you pulled him back down to you and crashed your lips against his, kissing him ferociously.

“You’re wearing too much,” you announced out of breath when you had to pull away for oxygen.

“I could say the same thing about you, sweetheart.”

“Hmm… we should do something about that, then.”

You both giggled like children. Eddie scrambled out of bed to get rid of his clothes, only leaving his plaid boxers on all the while you peeled yourself out of your shirt and your trousers.

“Do you know how to take off a bra?” you asked with a cheeky grin.

“You wound me, sweetheart.”

“C’me here and prove it then.”

He was on top of you again before you could blink, hands wandering behind your back as you arched it for him so he could take it off for you. He did in fact have no trouble whatsoever getting that last piece of clothing between your naked skin out of the way. When he tossed it out of bed, it landed straight on the neck of his acoustic guitar in the corner. Eddie chuckled but he soon gasped for air quietly when his brown eyes fell on your bare breasts, nipples hardening from both the sudden temperature change and your growing arousal—and perhaps the drugs, too. You could feel them kicking in now. It was like you were walking on clouds. Like everything you did was wrapped in cotton candy and each and every one of your senses was heightened.

Eddie seemed to feel the same way even though surely this wasn’t his first time on ketamine. In a haze, he cupped your breasts with his hands, kneading them gently all the while you tugged at the hem of his boxers, not failing to notice the growing bulge in them. Eddie’s erection sprung free when you pulled them down as far as you could in your current position, taking in his length. Damn. You didn’t have a lot of dicks to compare him to but you certainly liked what you saw.

Reluctantly, the metalhead let go of your breasts to reach for a condom. You moaned at the loss of them at the very same moment you started feeling like you were floating. Shit.

“I am craving ice cream right now.”

“You are?”

“Yes! I could eat three. No, six! You know what? Let’s go and have ice cream tomorrow!”

“At the mall?”

“At the mall!” you repeated, almost yelling the words. You blinked. Fuck. You were so high. Eddie grinned when he realised. You wriggled out of your knickers and tossed them out of bed with your foot. Utterly naked before him now, you watched him with your lower lip sucked between your teeth as he rolled the thin layer of latex onto his length and then positioned himself between your legs. You spread them even further for him, inviting him in.

“We can always stop, you know that, right?”

“Eddie…” You pulled him down to you, shutting him up with a sloppy kiss. The drug was really kicking in now and making out with him was like a whole new experience altogether. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. You needed him. Now.

You doubted he was still a virgin when he guided his member into you with skilled movements, slowly pushing in inch by inch without finishing instantly. You wouldn’t have minded to take a break and then try again but right now, the ketamine in your body was making you impatient for lust. Impatient for him.

“Move, Eddie, move…” you whispered, throwing your head back in the process. The metalhead obeyed. Slowly at first, he began to thrust up into you, each and every single movement eager and on the verge of madness.

You were an entanglement of sweaty limbs within a matter of minutes. Panting and kissing, you didn’t know where Eddie ended and where you started. You moved together rhythmically, your legs wrapped around his hips as he kept rutting into you.

It was the very first time you felt your arousal climbing higher and higher, that familiar knot of pleasure in your core tightening without any additional stimulation whatsoever. Surely, that was because of the drugs. It must have been because of the drugs. Eddie hit every single pleasure spot hidden deep inside of you but normally, even that was not enough for you to slip over the edge. Not so today. You could already feel your orgasm approaching, your toes curling and your cunt tightening around him.

Eddie groaned. “You going to cum, sweetheart?”

The sound that escaped your lips didn’t even remotely resemble a yes. So you nodded with your lower lip between your teeth, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You shattered underneath him like a piece of glass, breaking into a million pieces scattering across his room.

Moaning his name, you dug your nails into his naked back and pulled him even closer to you. Eddie didn’t stop. On the contrary, he sped up. His strokes were erratic now, uncontrolled. Eager for his own orgasm, as you pulsed around him times and times again, you felt him tense up and then, find his release.

After a few more thrusts he stilled, burying himself as deep inside of you as he possibly could and shot his load into the condom. You wished you could have felt it, wished you could have felt him coating your still lazily contracting walls instead. Next time. There was always next time.

And fuck… that was quite possibly the best sex you’d ever had.

When you woke up the next morning, memories of last night came flooding back to you like a tsunami. Your head rested on Eddie’s chest. He’d draped his blanket over the both of you after he’d gotten rid of the condom—or simply threw it on the floor to be precise—and then cuddled up with you to keep you warm, to keep you safe while this trip lasted. You were almost a little disappointed you had sobered up now but the aftermath lingered like the taste of a particularly sweet strawberry on your tongue.

You opened your eyes, inhaling Eddie’s scent. Cigarettes, alcohol, leather and a little bit of sweat… it made for an oddly attractive mix. Unfortunately, however, your blood ran cold as soon as you spotted the time on the watch on Eddie’s wrist.

“Eddie! Wake up! Eddie, come on!”

He grumbled—and you wanted to kiss him senseless for being so cute and sleepy—but your parents must have been worried sick by now. Besides, you felt a little nauseous. Certainly the after-effects of the ketamine. You were lucky you weren’t hugging the toilet at the moment.

“What? You okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay but I need to get home.”

“Huh?” Finally, he cracked an eye open. Another moment passed for him to take the time to wake up. You chuckled.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. Ugh, and I feel gross.” You needed a shower—and a change of clothes. “I need to get home and freshen up, and my parents are probably wondering where I am. Let’s meet at Starcourt? Around three?”

You wanted nothing more than to lazily wander into the kitchen and have a coffee and breakfast with him before doing what you did last night all over again—sober this time. But by now, his uncle was probably home too. You’d have to do that as soon as you got your own place. Then you could be fucking all day long and… you swallowed.

“Uh, yeah… sure. Three.”

“Alright.” You beamed at him. “I’ll see you there then.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before you climbed out of bed naked and gathered your clothes. Eddie grinned when you blew him one final kiss before you left the room fully dressed.

You had to admit it got a little awkward when you ended up walking straight past Wayne Munson who was at the kitchen table with a coffee and the morning paper in hand. There was absolutely no doubt the man new exactly what Eddie and you had done last night.

“Uh… morning, Mr. Munson.”

“Morning?” You didn’t need to explain. Well, Eddie did but not you, not right now. So you only gave him an apologetic smile and hurried out the door because three o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

You couldn’t stop grinning. Not when you apologised to your parents for worrying them and not calling, not when you took a shower, not even when you got some sustenance in to chase away the residue of the drugs and the alcohol in your body.

At around two thirty, you put on some make-up and then practically darted to the bus station to make it to Starcourt in time. Eddie was waiting for you already when you arrived. He leaned against a pillar near Scoops Ahoy wearing his usual attire, with one leg propped against it. His face lit up when he spotted you—only to darken only a fraction of a second later when he saw Jason and his laundry basket crew approach, instantly alert.

You paid them no mind. So you only nodded at Jason in greeting and then hurried toward Eddie, wrapping your arms around him to give him a long and passionate kiss.

“Hey…” he breathed out when you broke apart. Eddie blinked at you, incredulous at what you’d just done—almost as if you hadn’t had sex on a high last night.

“Hey. What’s… wrong? Are you alright?”

“N-nothing. I’m fine, sweetheart.” He glanced at Jason who kept on staring at you as if you’d just sacrificed a sheep to a demon. You shrugged your shoulders, interlaced Eddie’s fingers with yours and dragged him inside the ice cream shop.

“What do you want? I think chocolate chip mint is the best one but cherry sounds nice too. Pick whatever you like, it’s on me.”

Eddie quirked an eyebrow at you. “No, no, sweetheart. This is a date. I’m paying.”

“No you’re not. You can pay next time. You know how much the stuff you gave me…” You cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “…you gave me last night normally costs. I’m paying.”

Eddie smirked at you—you just wanted to kiss him all over again. “Cherry and chocolate chip mint, how about that?”

“I like the way you think.” So you ordered and then made yourself comfortable in one of the booths to munch on your ice cream. Eddie glanced behind him and then, all of a sudden, he had that unbelieving expression on his face yet again.

“Okay, what’s up? Something’s up. Did I say something? Did something happen?”

“I just… didn’t expect you to want to be in public with me.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” It was you who had incredulousness written all over your face now. Your heart dropped to your feet. “What… do you mean?”

“The girls I hooked up with before, from school… they didn’t want anything to do with me after they’d gotten laid by the freak,” he admitted. “Granted, there weren’t that many but still.” Your lips parted. Shit. That’s why he was acting all surprised. You had just snogged him in front of the entire former basketball team, after all.

Of course that raised the question of why he would invite you to that party in the first place if he’d suspected that you’d only wanted some free drugs and to be able to claim you’d fucked the freak to find out if he was just that in the sheets as well. But there was always hope. Hope that it could be different this time even if it was all subconscious. You suppressed a sigh.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I want that?” you asked so you wouldn’t pause for too long.

“Don’t know. I’m just used to it, okay?” he said with a fake smile, scooping up some of his ice cream.

Oh. And now he was overwhelmed and flattered and touched and confused and… and he didn’t know how to act. You scooted closer to him in the booth, leaning against his shoulder. “I couldn’t give a shit about what the other people think, Eddie. I was in a rush this morning because I didn’t tell my parents I’d probably spend the whole night out. And I said I felt gross because I hadn’t showered and because the remnants of the drugs made me feel all icky. Not because I regret what we did. Actually… I can’t wait to do it again.”

Eddie’s face lit up. He grinned. “With or without drugs?”

“Both.”

In other words, that cheeky metalhead was your boyfriend now. And you’d be damned if you didn’t tell the world that you were his girlfriend.

[cuubism]

Okay but piggybacking off of your the moping Dream park is close to The New Inn post

What if Hob had finished his grading early and, while walking by, happened to see his stranger sitting on a bench, looking Very Sad? Would Hob approach? Or, would Dream notice him walking by?

Suddenly very excited about an idea I hadn't thought of before aaaaaaa

Richmond Green is the moping Dream park now, we're renaming it, it's done 😂 sorry to the people of Richmond

it's entirely feasible that Hob could just be on a walk and happen to stumble on him which is hilarious to me, it's so funny that you don't have to bend RL logic in the slightest bit for that to happen. it's a bit of a walk between the two but by no means a difficult one, I mean I literally did it the other day 😂 so Hob could 100% just be out for a walk on a nice day and be like hang the FUCK on is that actually my twit of a friend moping on a bench over there?

I honestly don't think Dream would notice him first. He was very much in his own head and in his feels. he was not paying enough attention to anything else to notice Hob. but Hob would 100% approach him, I think after all those years he'd have to seize his shot. Dream would be genuinely surprised to see him and definitely didn't consciously realize he picked his moping spot to be near the White Horse 😂 it worked out for him, though.

--

Hob's out for a walk on a rare, beautiful sunny day when he nearly trips over own his feet and falls flat on his face in the middle of Richmond Green.

Only nearly. Thankfully.

He catches himself, and turns, wondering if he's hallucinating what he thought he saw at the corner of the park.

No. He didn't. He most definitely did not imagine his stranger sitting on that bench. He's hunched and shadowed, where Hob usually thinks of him as stern and proud, and he looks sad, which-- alright, that's not so unusual. But the posture is, the idleness, the listless way he's tearing apart a baguette to feed crumbs to the birds at his feet.

Hob takes a moment to just... watch him. To take advantage of this rare moment when he's alone and doesn't know he's observed. And he looks... God. He really does look crumpled. Is he always like that, when he doesn't know someone's watching?

Possibly Hob should leave him be. But he's rarely done what he should. This might be his only shot.

There's got to be a reason he's here, of all places, right?

His stranger doesn't seem to notice him until Hob's right before him. "...My friend?"

Hob's heart flips as his stranger looks up. He doesn't flee, or call Hob out for saying 'friend'. His brow furrows in confusion. "...Hob Gadling?"

"The same," Hob says, though he doesn't go by that name now.

His stranger is still confused. "What brings you here?"

He really seems like he doesn't know. How is that possible?

Then again, he may remember where the White Horse once was, and have simply not expected Hob to be there, too. Which, if he were a more reasonable man, Hob wouldn't be.

"Just out for a walk," he says. "Nice day and all?"

Bit of a hike here from the New Inn, but Hob likes walking along the riverside, even when he has to pass the sagging form of the White Horse. And the sun's out, the weather's warm, people are out on the green with their dogs, kids are laughing-- who wouldn't want to be out on such a lovely day?

Well. His stranger, maybe. He certainly doesn't look like he thinks it's a nice day.

"Perhaps," says his stranger, and looks down again at the birds at his feet.

"Mind if I sit?" Hob asks, and when his stranger doesn't say no, sits beside him. He's situated himself deep in the corner of the park, under the shadows of the trees, able to see everything but out of the way for any passersby to see him. It would make Hob laugh if it didn't make him sad.

"I live nearby," Hob says, a continuation of his explanation from before. "Got a bit attached. It's not like me, really, stick around one place for long, but." But to leave the shadow of the White Horse felt like he was also leaving the specter of his stranger.

"You are always in London at the time of our meetings," his friend says.

"Wonder why?" Hob says to the air, and then his stranger does look at him.

"Couldn't risk missing it, could I?" Hob continues, rubbing at his ear. "I haven't spent six centuries in one place, you know. But travel wasn't always as easy as it is now. Had to make sure there was a buffer zone."

"It meant so much to you?" his stranger says, and Hob raises an eyebrow.

"Did my once-a-century meetings with the man who gave me eternal life mean so much to me?"

That doesn't really capture the half of it. His stranger looks away again as if conceding the point.

"Anyway," Hob continues, "after you--" he doesn't finish the thought. "I wanted to stay by the old White Horse. Figured that was why you showed up here."

"I had no specific intention when arriving here," says his stranger, which doesn't explain why, when he could presumably appear anywhere in the fucking world using his magic, he's somehow just sitting on a bench barely a kilometer's walk from their old meeting place. Hob really doesn't know what to do with this creature. He feels increasingly certain he was right about his need for friendship, however. And his unwillingness to acknowledge it.

"Well, since you are here," Hob says, "fancy a much-belated drink?"

"Very well," intones his stranger, and follows Hob as he gets up, looking like the entire weight of the world is upon him with each step.

Hob starts to wonder if there wasn't more at play in their missed meeting than his stranger's sullenness. He certainly hasn't seemed to take offense at Hob's familiarity so far. Hasn't run off, hasn't been too proud to stay. And he's here. However unwittingly. Like a stray animal curled on a familiar doorstep where it was once fed.

Hob doesn't take him immediately to the New Inn--besides the distance, he hasn't actually broached the whole our old inn closed down, I made us another one conversation yet--they simply find seats at the pub by the green. Neutral ground, Hob thinks, even as he silently mourns the lack of history.

His stranger gazes out over the sunlit park, lost in thought, as Hob brings their drinks back from the bar. "Here you are," Hob says, sliding the pint across the table to him. "Can get something to eat too, if you like."

His stranger wraps delicate fingers around the glass. "Thank you. But I am not hungry."

Never is, as far as Hob's seen.

"Offer stands," Hob says, and takes a sip of his own drink. He wants to ask. Wants to know why his friend's shown up now, when he skipped their last meeting, disappeared for decades. But he doesn't want to scare him away.

He does ask-- "What brought you here, then?"

His stranger looks at him, gaze piercing. "You do not wish to know why I did not make our last appointment?"

Hob winces. But well, if he's going to broach the topic. "Why didn't you, then?"

But his stranger looks away. "It's a story for another time. But know that it was not intentional. And I came to... regret. Leaving a friend waiting."

A friend. Hob lights up so much he almost misses the other part of the statement--not intentional. It gives him pause. It makes him... uneasy. A instinct that something isn't right.

But asking directly has never gotten him anywhere with his s-- with his friend.

"No matter," he says, with an encouraging smile. "I'm glad you're here now. And as for regret, I regretted how I phrased things last we met. So, I'm sorry."

His stranger looks back up at him, then, with a tiny smile. It feels like being blessed.

"Hob Gadling," he says, "You've lived your life for these centuries... without any grand sense of purpose." It could almost be an insult except he looks very sincere. "How?"

"Well, you basically told me to, didn't you?" Hob points out, and his stranger blinks once, surprised. "I asked why I was immortal, if there was some purpose for it, what I was meant to do... and you said 'just live your life'. What else is there to do, anyway?"

He wonders what it's like to live his stranger's life. It must be quite, well, strange indeed.

"I've got projects and things," he continues. "Occupy myself in different ways. But to be honest... no grand plan has become apparent. Living is the grand plan."

"And you still enjoy it," his friend says.

Hob clinks their glasses together. "Of course."

"Of course," his stranger echoes.

"Look at this day," Hob says, gesturing to the sunny park, the buzzing energy around them. "What's not to enjoy?"

That tiny smile returns to his stranger's face. "Perhaps you are right."

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?" Hob adds. Now that he's sitting close to him, he thinks his stranger looks kind of... gaunt. Even more than the usual ascetic look he usually sports. "It's one of the things that makes life worth living, you know."

"Perhaps if you have a recommendation," his stranger concedes, and Hob grins.

He has less than zero idea what his stranger might like, so Hob picks up a few staples: chips, halloumi fries, even a salad because God only knows what a creature like this is meant to eat. He'd tried a variety in 1589 and got nowhere, but he's always willing to try again.

His friend studies everything with a critical eye, then delicately picks up a halloumi fry and takes a small bite. His expression doesn't change, but he keeps eating it so Hob takes it as a win.

"Will you tell me of your life this century?" his friend says, when he's finished the fry and picked up another.

"As usual?"

His stranger nods. He's eating the fries faster now, as if suddenly realizing how hungry he is.

"Don't choke yourself," Hob warns, laying a hand on his wrist to still him before he can think better of it.

His stranger goes still, looking down at where their bodies are touching. Hob almost goes to pull his hand away. He doesn't. His heart thumps once, hard, in anxiety-- worried his friend will disappear again.

He doesn't. Just studies Hob's hand for a moment, and then goes back to eating the fries. So Hob leaves his hand where it is.

"Well," he starts, ready to jump into the whole chaos of the last century-and-a-quarter, "I--"

"There you are," says a new voice, and a woman stops by their table, hands on her hips as she looks at his stranger. "I was coming to find you." Her gaze turns to Hob, unexpectedly fond considering he's never met her before. "But it seems like you already found yourself some company."

His stranger goes still, putting down a half-eaten fry.

"Don't think we've met?" Hob says, friendly but made wary by his stranger's posture.

"Not in a sense," she says, cheery, "but I do know you, Hob Gadling."

A chill runs up his spine, exactly the same as when his stranger had first approached his table in the White Horse all those years ago, and spoken Hob's name like he'd always known it.

"Consider carefully your business here, sister," warns his stranger, but the woman only snorts.

"Come off it, you know that's not why I'm here. I just wanted to check up on you. But it's sweet that you've come to care, isn't it?"

Hob hasn't the faintest idea what this is about. Sister is interesting, though. He hadn't ever really considered his stranger could have a family.

"I have not--" his stranger starts, but doesn't finish the sentence.

"Uh-huh," says the woman, and winks at Hob.

Hob still doesn't know what either of them is on about.

"Care to join us?" he asks instead, but she waves him off.

"I've work to do, I'm afraid." But she steals a fry from his stranger. "Mm! These are good!"

"...Yes," his stranger agrees, at length, looking somewhat put out about it. Now that Hob pays attention, they really do have a sibling vibe, and he'd wager his stranger is the little brother. The thought makes him grin.

"I'll come find you later," says the sister, patting his stranger on the shoulder. Then waves at Hob. "Bye, Hob!"

"Bye?" Hob says, a bit whiplashed. And then she's gone.

"Pay her no mind," says his friend with a sigh.

Hob's paying her a lot of mind, actually, but his main priority is not scaring off his friend. "I'm glad you've got someone looking out for you," he says.

"I suppose," says his stranger, looking back down at his fries.

He doesn't seem to want to talk about it, so Hob jumps into his usual spiel about everything that's gone on since they last met. When he's finished the halloumi fries, and started picking at some of the chopped vegetables in the salad as well, Hob takes him for a walk back down the Thames path, towards the New Inn. With every step he expects his stranger to disappear into shadow. But he's always there when Hob turns to check.

His stranger has always been kind of stoic, but this is taciturn even for him. Hob pauses by a bend in the river, just before the White Horse is set to come into view. "Did... something happen?" he finally asks. "Since last we met?"

His stranger considers, walking slowly beside him. "Have you ever experimented with magic, Hob?"

"Magic? Hell no. Got more than enough of a taste just being accused of it, thanks, don't need to repeat the experience."

His friend hums, seeming satisfied. "I would advise you don't, for lately it seems only to drive men to give in to their worst impulses."

"Power'll do that," Hob says. "What's this about, then?"

"It was an amateur sorcerer who kept me captive this past century," he says, and Hob stops walking.

He turns to his stranger, heart suddenly heavy in his throat. "Sorry. What?"

His stranger just looks at him evenly, as if to say, you heard what I said already. Suddenly the air seems colder, the bright afternoon sun some kind of glaring mockery instead of the lovely day it should be. His stranger's face is dappled by the shadows of overhanging trees, his hair tipped in gold, but his eyes are sad. His eyes are always so sad.

So then it wasn't spite or sulking that kept him away? It was something far more horrible? So then, he might have returned and conceded their friendship, if not for--?

Hob feels sick thinking about it. His proud stranger, imprisoned. So affected that while he may not speak much of it, it had left him sitting alone, listless, sad, in a place where he had once been offered friendship.

Hob leans in and, when his stranger doesn't lean away, pulls him into a hug.

His friend doesn't return it, exactly, but neither does he pull away, and after a moment, the tension in him seems to bleed away. He feels, well--he feels exactly like a normal person to hug. Hob doesn't know what he expected.

"An amateur sorcerer, eh?" he breathes, his friend's hair brushing his cheek.

"So he fancied himself." His voice rumbles through Hob's chest. "Though the magics he played with were very real."

"Must've been." Hob finally releases him, though reluctantly. "Does there happen to be a market for amateur sorcerer's heads nowadays?"

Now his stranger's lips curl into a smirk. "There might be, were he not already dead, and suffering eternally in Hell."

"Right. Well, that's something." No vengeance for Hob, then. Not that it was necessarily his to take.

Perhaps the force with which such violent urges rose in him should surprise him, but it doesn't. This is his old stranger, after all. Hob's stepped in to protect him before, though he didn't truly need it then.

Perhaps he needs it now.

"White Horse closed down, you know," Hob tells him, and his stranger's expression shifts in surprise. "But I've got a new place for us. Come along and I'll show you."

He offers his friend his arm, and is still surprised when he takes it. His grip is light, but steady. Hob gives him a small smile, and continues their walk along the path.

"I've banned any sorcerers from the new inn, you know," he says, and his stranger chuckles.

"Have you?"

"Well I certainly will if any show up."

His friend laughs again, a proper laugh this time. "Your defense is appreciated, my friend."

Hob can't help but beam at being called friend. He's a simple man, really. It's all he ever wanted.

"Be damned if a friend of mine ever comes to harm in my place," he declares, and his stranger just hums, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. "Now, we're about to pass the White Horse," Hob continues, "but I warn you, it's not a pretty sight--"

And like that they continue on, the river quietly meandering along beside them.

[barblaz-arts]

Fellow Chaggie shipper, here and I wanted to ask you a question. Could you please do an analysis post on the Chaggie argument from Hello Rosie. I know this will sound weird but I can't get over the level of icy anger Charlie had towards Vaggie or how despite everything going on, Charlie is more hurt from Vaggie not being honest with her. Just angst all around.

Oh yeah sure I'd love to!

I'm not sure there's a lot I can say about that argument that isn't already super obvious, so I wanna talk about Charlie's anger because of something my brother said as we watched episode 7. He loved that episode apparently because "When they're separated, it's even more obvious that Charlie is the one who's more quick to lose her cool." Which, looking back, is actually true!(To an extent)

Vaggie and Charlie are both quite quick to anger. Charlie is just better at hiding it because she's a chronic people pleaser. Although Charlie wouldn't immediately show her anger at a person being a jerk to her specifically, she's immediately summoning fire and brimstone over anyone who hurts/insults her friends or the cause she's fighting for.

Love this lil bit in "You Didn't Know". How Vaggie is the one telling Charlie to calm down, as if she knows what's about to happen. She knows that if she doesn't at least try to reel in her girl Charlie would be spitting literal fire at a goddamn seraphim.

It would seem like such a surprising role reversal, but if you look at all the times Charlie would lose it whenever Vaggie's not there to tell her "babe, chill", then it makes sense.

But then when their fallout happens, Charlie's short temper is even more apparent. She calls Alastor an asshole to his face even though she considered choosing his support over her father's. She openly glares and rolls her eyes at Rosie when she jokes that her and Alastor look like an item even though she still kept things cordial with Valentino after he licked her arm. She flips the bird at some old lady even though she didn't take visible offense at all the demons that inserted their crude and rude selves in "Happy Day in Hell." While she was cold and subdued even when upset with Vaggie, she was explosive and in ur face when she was pissed at everyone else.

Vaggie reigned in both the girl in Charlie who dreams a little too big and the demon who's waiting to lash out in flames. It really makes me wonder if there's a difference in the kind of person Charlie used to be before Vaggie. Before she had friends to be angry on behalf of and a person to calm her down. And then, in the wake of their argument, Charlie is left with a lot of anger that is easy to ignite.

But I love love love that despite all that anger, Charlie can't bring herself to deny that she loves Vaggie with all of her hurt heart.

This little moment is one of my favorite parts in the series. My brother mentioned that this episode and episode three were his favorites because he liked the beats the dialogues followed. So he looked back--

(the man literally paused the episode to check the opening credits of ep 7 and 3. I was a little annoyed because I just wanted my Chaggie dammit! We'd make terrible youtube reactors with all the pausing and discussing mid-episode that we do...)

--and was satisfied to see that it was written by the same person, Ariel Ladensohn. Apparently she's in a sapphic relationship too and projected her own experiences whenever she wrote Vaggie and Charlie, and it must have paid off because the moments she wrote with them felt so real.

Charlie expressing her fear that even Vaggie's support and love could also be part of the lies she told was understandable considering the betrayal she felt. But immediately following that she goes "Oh that's a horrible to thing to think!" which I love even more. Even when she's understandably mad she thinks about how Vaggie would feel over Charlie thinking that of her. Because although Vaggie lied about who she is, Vaggie was always sincere about how she felt for Charlie. Vaggie's past may have been a lie, but the things she did for, to, and on behalf of Charlie were very real and held dear in Charlie's heart.

I dont have anything smart to say to conclude this. Sorry, I'm not even sure where I went here. Let's all just appreciate the smile Charlie has on her face when she thinks about Vaggie even when she's under a lot of stress I guess.

[yeonzzzn]

jay au where y/n is also an idol and they have a situationship and they always do tiktok challenges together and when jay recorded a challenge with other idol y/n is like OHHHHH SO YOU *TALK* WITH OTHER GIRLS? and is sooooo jealous (literally me in my silly little delulu head cause wdym jay talks with other ppl???)

NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CONCEPT‼️‼️such a cute idea!

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

it’s just a tiktok challenge

paring: jay x afab!reader word count: 1.6k

You didn’t know what was worse:

1: Your situationship with Jay or  2: The fact that this situationship with Jay is a secret. 

You obviously didn’t understand how the world didn’t already know the two of you are more than just friends. Mostly since anytime there’s a new TikTok challenge, you were always the first person Jay called and vice versa. 

Of course, Jay used the challenges as one of the excuses to see you out in public. To drag you to whatever good spot for the challenge and have it secretly be a date afterward. 

Being idols has made it hard for the two of you to officially slap a label on whatever it is that your relationship is. Jay was your best friend and you were his, so obviously when the two of you are seen in public together or doing the TikTok challenges no one bats an eye at it. And anytime either of you has been confronted on whether it’s more than friends, you both deny everything. 

It sucked, truly. To keep the situationship such a secret.

Jay felt the same way. He hated having to find ways to sneak you into the dorms or sneak into yours just to have a quick fuck or spend as much time with you as possible in a way that the public eye wouldn’t know anything. All Jay wanted to do was scream from the rooftops about how in love with you he was. And the only way he knew how to voice that was through this situationship and the TikTok challenges. 

He’d always sneak glances at you while doing the challenge, as in a way of hoping you’d see it. Jay knew you had feelings for him too, you’ve both discussed your feelings, just not in depth. 

Both are so in love with each other but neither of you knew it. Thinking it was just a small crush mixed with friends with benefits and acting innocent when the cameras are on.

Sometimes you’d both risk getting caught, having a quick make-out session behind the stages or stairs or closet or wherever Jay was able to pin your body against him. Just to get his fix of you before having to go back to pretending. 

It’s award show season and all the idols are gathered in one place, taking selfies and videos, going on Instagram lives together, and of course; TikTok challenges. 

Jay searched the sea of idols for you, constantly checking his phone to see if you’ve texted him, but have yet to hear from you. 

Sunghoon nudges Jay’s side, teasing him about you and Jay flips him the bird, “Shut up! Don’t speak too loud.” 

Of course, his group knew about the two of you, and the same with your group. Who else was going to help film the challenges and sneak you both in and out of your company buildings and dorm rooms? 

Jay slides his hands into his pockets, releasing a sigh as he continues to search for you, only for Chaewon to pop up at his side, “Jay! Want to do our new choreography dance challenge with me? Please!” 

She clung to his arm, smiling at him. Jay shrugged, smiling back, “Sure why not! How about in the hallway? It’s got pretty good lighting.” 

Chaewon agreed, asking Sunghoon to film the challenge. Sunghoon took a smirking glance at Jay and agreed. 

Jay didn’t do challenges without you. It was always you or the members he did them with. So this was the first time since before meeting you that he’d do a challenge with another idol. 

They filmed the dance challenge, then Jay offered Chae to do their comeback title challenge too, to which she agreed. 

Your group arrived a bit late but still just in time. You smoothed out your white cropped tank top and double-checked your fishnet tights underneath your white jeaned shorts, your group was set to perform early on into the show, so you all showed up already ready. 

“He already thinks you’re sexy, YN, stop fidgeting with your outfit,” one of your elder bandmates teased, pinching your cheek, “You’re cute, he knows it.” 

You couldn’t lie and say you were just trying to make sure the outfit was okay, mostly when in reality you were hoping Jay’s jaw would drop at the sight of you. 

You released a sigh, looking out around the stage and the sea of people, trying to find him. You found his group, seeing all the boys huddled together and laughing at something Jake was showing them on his phone, but Jay wasn’t there, Sunghoon was also missing. 

You glanced more around the crowd, finally eyeing the two boys and Chaewon walking back to their seats. You watched as Jay and Sunghoon gave her a smile and nod before parting ways, reuniting with their groups, and seeing Jay pull his phone from his pocket. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you went to his messages, typing out that you could see him and comment how handsome he looked, only to be distracted by another notification on TikTok: Enhypen posted a video! 

You smiled and clicked the notification, expecting it to be something silly Jay and Sunghoon just filmed, only for your smile to slowly drop at seeing Chaewon by Jay’s side. 

As if on cue, you received a text from Jay.

Jay: Where are you? I want to see you before you perform. I bet you look so pretty :(

You locked your phone and ignored his message. 

Jealousy wasn’t a normal emotion for you. You haven’t had to ever feel it, really. Yes, there were *small* moments but it wasn’t ever anything major. Until today. 

Your group was finally called to perform, your headsets and equipment being handed to each of your group members and being escorted to the stage. 

The performance was three song lengths long, and you kept your smile the entire time, only making eye contact with Jay once, trying your best to keep your eyes everywhere but at him. 

Once the performance was over, your group headed to a changing room. You glanced down at your phone, seeing multiple texts. 

Jay: god you look so good  Jay: <3 <3 <3 <3 Jay: those fishnets are killing me YN  Jay: meet me at the stairs the moment you see these  Jay: fuck the things I want to do to you right now. 

You thinned your lips in a line, debating to either ignore him or go to him. 

You went to him. 

You had barely pushed the door open to the stairs and took two steps down before Jay had his hands on your waist, lifting you off the stairs and pinning you to the wall, his lips crashing to yours. 

His hand trailed down to your thighs, pushing his fingers between the strings of your fishnets and squeezing the plush skin, “Fuck you’re so hot,” he whispered between kisses, shoving his tongue down your throat and rocking his growing hard length against your tummy. 

You placed your hands on his shoulders, slightly pushing him back from you so you could catch your breath, resting your head against the wall. 

It took one look at your face for Jay to realize something was wrong. Normally you’d be jumping his bones at this moment, but you’re clocked out and far away from here, far from him. 

He cupped your face, resting his forehead against yours, “What’s wrong, honey?” 

You sighed, pouting your lips and moving your head away from his and his hands, “Oh, nothing.” 

Jay took a step back from you, raising a brow, “That attitude says otherwise.” 

You crossed your arms, slouching against the wall, “What reason would I have to be upset, Jongseong?” 

He stared at you, running through every possible thing that could be upsetting you and then it finally clicked. 

Jay smirks, placing both his hands on either side of your face, “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

You weren’t shocked that Jay figured it out so quickly, he knew you inside and out. 

You shrugged, looking away from him. 

Jay pressed his body back against yours, bringing his face close to yours, brushing his lips against your ear, “You’re so hot when you’re jealous.” 

He nibbles on the shell of your ear and you bite your tongue to keep from whimpering, “I am not jealous.” 

Jay traces his lips down to your neck, “Baby, it’s just a TikTok challenge.” 

You scoff, “So you talk with other girls then?” 

“You are so jealous,” he chuckles against your neck, “Chaewon and I are under the same company, I can do challenges with her.” You tried to push him away again, but his body held firm against yours. 

You pouted more and tried to hold yourself together from exploding out your emotions. 

“Baby,” he whispered, moving his face back to yours, once again cupping your face, “You’re the one that I want, okay? I love you. I want you. There’s no need to be jealous over a TikTok challenge. There’s still so much more I can do with you.” 

You stared into his brown eyes, “You love me?” 

He chuckled, “Of course I do.” 

You felt stupid for being jealous, mostly when Jay is allowed to have other friends to do challenges with. You felt stupid for being jealous when he was in love with you. How silly you felt as you curled your lips into a small. 

“There’s that smile I love,” he smiled back, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks, “Now,” he went back into a whisper, sliding his hands down to your ass, “I have about thirty minutes before my group is called to perform, let’s make it count, ya?” 

You attach your lips to his, your hands working at his belt. 

At least to say, you both made every second of that thirty minutes count.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @belowbun @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore

[spacedace]

Had a thought about the Reluctant War and made myself a bit sad and I have no idea if it'll make it into the story proper so I'm going to inflict it upon all you guys:

Dick Grayson on the streets of Gotham trying to do everything he can to help as everyone join the ghosts in fighting the GIW, suddenly has a version of the GAV barreling down towards him and for some reason he can't get out of the way in time.

He thinks he's about to join the army of the dead in a whole new way, when the tank fo a vehicle is suddenly sent flying as something massive charged it from the side. He hears a familiar bellowing and then realizes that it's Zitka, a ghost after passing away peacefully a few years before.

She wasn't apart of the army of the ghosts, wasn't brought in to fight. She's just been following her tiny human child around all these years and now that there's enough ecto in the air to do so, she's going to protect him with all her might.

Dick is emotional, so thankful to have his old friend back, but the city is still in a state of chaos. He gets onto Zitka's back and they get to work, running - flying - around helping to grab the injured and whisk them away to safety or take out other GAVs and the like.

It's absurd and freeing and wonderful all at once to be literally flying through the skies of Gotham on the ghost of his elephant best friend, and if Dick wasn't already on the side of King Phantom he is *now* and -

He gets shot off Zitka's back.

A GIW agent was aiming for the Ghost elephant but somehow *missed* and hit Dick instead. Not enough to injure him too badly, but enough to send him flying off Zitka's back and plummeting to the ground. His grapple is broken, and Zitka is diving for him but she's being shot at and she's not going to make it in time and -

A hand, reaching out to him in midair, familiar with its callouses and strong grip as he reaches out and grasps it, body suddenly swinging in a different direction and muscles acting on memory as he falls into the old, achingly familiar routine of his childhood. His mother, ethereal and bright as she smiles down at him, hanging upside down from a bar suspended from nothing but open sky as they swing and he is let go, flipping on instinct and caught by the steady strong hands of his father.

The Flying Graysons reunited in the skies above Gotham, Dick's ghostly parents determined to ensure their little bird never falls the way they did.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FOUR ━━ Caged Bird

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.9K

☆ ━ warnings: literally just outright homophobia w a slur (sorry), conversion therapy, religious guilt, dani’s just super fuckin depressed, too damn long to proofread

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: here is where you can learn more about conversion therapy. believe it or not, this is still a fucking problem in the US today, as an estimated 20,000 minors are subjected to it yearly i believe. just because instances of it are included in this does NOT by any means mean that i condone it. one of my friends actually went through something similar for a little while and it’s so fucked up. if anything, this is to bring awareness of the fact that shit like this is still happening!!!!!!

MAY 2019

DANIELLE CALLAN has never felt more content in her life. The soft morning lights spill through the blinds, casting golden stripes across her bedspread. She stretches lazily, her body still buzzing happily from last night. Everything has finally fallen into place. She and Paige finally said it—finally admitted their feelings, after all the years of hiding behind jealous stares, half-hearted jokes, and touches that lingered far too long to be deemed friendly.

Paige left earlier this morning, ready to catch her flight that’ll take her away for the rest of the summer. But even the distance can’t dampen the giddiness Dani feels, all over, almost like she’s caught some sort of illness that has her body and mind repeating Paige, Paige, Paige over and over again. She lays in bed, replaying when Paige she kissed her on the porch, when she kissed her goodnight, when she kissed her good morning, when she kissed her goodbye. Her mind glazes over as she remembers the blonde whispering “I love you” into her ear like it was a secret only they were allowed to share. It all felt so right, so natural, like they’ve always meant to be together in that way.

Dani pulls her phone from the nightstand, grinning at the last text Paige sent her, the one she’s been glancing at all morning.

Paige ❤️‍🔥

Boarding now. I love you

Can i call you when I land

Dani ❤️‍🔥

ofc you can

i love you too have a safe flight ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥!!!!!

Dani holds her phone to her chest, cheeks blooming pink, a smile spreading across her face. It’s real now. All of it. For the first time, she doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to wonder if Paige feels the same way. The uncertainty is gone, replaced by a warmth that makes her feel like she’s floating.

Reluctantly, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, knowing she has to get up. She pads over to the window, trying to pul the curtains open a bit more, eager to let the light flood in. However, it seems as though they’re jammed, and, after a poor fight on her part, Dani sighs, rolling her eyes and letting the curtains stay closed, engulfing the room in darkness.

Nevertheless, she’s still smiling as she heads downstairs, the scent of coffee wafting through her nose, the faint sound of the TV playing in the living room registering. Her dad’s probably watching his usual morning news, she figures. She feels lighter than air as she bounces down the steps, a pure happiness that’s been harder to come by recently.

But as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, something about the atmosphere seems to shift. Dani’s stomach flips anxiously; the air feels heavy all of a sudden—thick. She pauses, her hand resting on the banister as she peers into the living room. Her dad is sitting in his usual spot on the couch, but something seems different—off. He’s hunched over, elbows on his knees, his phone in his hand. The TV’s on, but the volume is low, almost as if it’s been forgotten.

Not to mention that her dad’s expression isn’t what Dani’s used to seeing. There’s no relaxed, Saturday-morning ease in the way he sits. Instead, his face is set in a rigid, tense mask, his jaw clenched so tightly Dani can see the muscles in his neck straining. His eyes are fixed on his phone, unmoving, and there’s a darkness in them that makes her want to go right back up to her room.

“Dad?” Dani’s voice is cautious, her lighthearted mood evaporating as she takes a few tentative steps forward. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at her. It’s odd. Usually, he’d greet her with some offhand remark or ask about her plans for the day. But now, there’s nothing. Just silence.

Dani’s unease grows, her inside twisting with unfamiliar dread. She steps closer, trying to get a better look at him. “Dad?”

Finally, he looks up. His eyes meet hers, and the expression on his face is enough to make her swallow thickly, unsure how to feel. He looks at her angrily, coldly, and it sends a jolt through Dani’s chest.

He says nothing at first. Instead, he simply turns his phone around, showing her the screen. At first, she can’t make out what she’s looking at—just a video, playing on a small square of the screen. But then her heart plummets into her stomach as she recognizes what exactly is being filmed. The porch. Her and Paige. Last night.

Her breath catches in her throat as she watches the footage. There Dani is, fumbling with her keys while Paige kisses her neck, whispering those three words that meant everything. The video captured it all—the giggles shared between them, the way Dani turned around and pulled Paige in for another kiss, savoring it. This moment that was meant to be just theirs, is now playing out in front of Dani’s father’s eyes.

Fuck. Dani should have realized, should have remembered. They have a Ring doorbell—it takes footage of any movement near it. But she was drunk and stupid and in love and she’d forgotten. And now, by the look on her dad’s face, she’s about to pay for that.

Her mouth goes dry, her heart hammering in her chest as she looks up at her father. He’s still holding his phone out, eyes smoldering with an anger that makes her feel like she can’t breathe.

“Dad,” she whispers, voice barely audible. “I can explain—”

“What the hell is this, Danielle?” he interrupts, his tone low, the kind he only uses when he’s really, really angry. It makes her flinch.

She opens her mouth, but words don’t come. What can she say? How can she possibly explain something she’s barely had enough time to process herself?

Her dad stands abruptly, his movements sharp and filled with barely restrained rage. “You think this is acceptable? In my house? Under my rules? I—I don’t know what happened. You’ve always been a good girl. Danielle, you have a relationship with Christ! How could you do this? How could you throw everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve done for you, everything God has done for you for… for this?” He shakes the phone in his direction, his voice rising. “For this disgusting, sinful bullshit!”

Dani recoils like she’s been slapped, the weight of his words pressing down on her. The thoughts that she’s pushed to the back burner of her mind echo quietly, agreeing with her father. It’s wrong. A girl loving another girl is wrong. Sinful. But the part of her mind that’s taken over, the one that thinks about the blonde basketball player day and night and can’t help but think about how right it felt to be with Paige in that way, fights back. “I—I can explain, I swear—” she starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Explain what?” he spits, face twisted in disgust and disappointment. “There’s nothing to explain, Danielle. I saw it. I saw you—kissing that girl. Paige.” He says her name like it’s some kind of poison, and it makes Dani’s chest constrict. “I knew something was off about that friendship. You think I haven’t noticed how you two are always together, always too close?”

Tears well up in Dani’s eyes, her whole body tensing in a panic. “It’s not like that—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps, eyes flaring. “I saw what I saw. And I won’t tolerate this… this perversion under my roof.”

The tears begin to pull over now, Dani’s chest heaving as she tries to fight the sobs that rip through her. “Dad, please—”

“You’re not seeing her again,” he cuts her off, his voice final, cold. “I don’t care how long you’ve been friends. I don’t care that you’ve known her since you were kids. I don’t care that she’s our next door neighbor. Whatever that is, it’s ended. Now.”

Dani shakes her head frantically, panicking, tears falling faster. “You can’t do that!” she shouts, voice cracking. “Please, Paige is—she’s my best friend—please—we”

“No!” he yells over her, vocals booming around the room. Dani flinches, her body trembling as she wraps her arms around herself. “You will not see her again. You won’t even go near her. Do you understand me?”

“Dad, please, just listen—”

“I said, do you understand me?” he repeats. “This is not up for discussion, Danielle. She’s a bad influence, a—” he hesitates, and then with a sneer that makes Dani’s stomach churn, he hisses, “She’s a filthy fag, and I won’t let her corrupt you any more than she already has.”

His words hang in the air like a death sentence, and Dani’s world tilts on its axis. It feels like the floor has been ripped out from beneath her. She’s never heard her father speak like this, never seen such venom in his voice. Of course she’s known he’s homophobic; he’s made off handed remarks every now and then, says things about how “those people” are disappointments to God. But this? The way he’s looking at her—it’s like she’s a complete stranger to him. Like he doesn’t even recognize his own daughter anymore.

The sobs break free through Dani’s chest and her hands shake as she covers her red-rimmed eyes with them. “Dad, please,” she begs, though she knows it’s probably useless at this point. “Please don’t do this.”

But her father’s expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it grows harder, colder. “Go to your room,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Dani looks up at him, her vision blurred with tears. “Dad—”

“I said, go to your room!” he practically roars, and the sheer force of it makes her stumble backward toward the stairs, body shaking.

Her heart is in her throat and she’s trembling uncontrollably as she turns and runs up the steps, her sobs echoing in the otherwise silent house. She barely makes it to her room before collapsing onto her bed, her face buried in her pillow as she lets her tears free fall.

Everything’s ruined. Her dad hates her. He’s seen everything—and now he hates her.

And Paige…

Dani can’t even let herself think about that. How, just hours ago, she had everything, and—within minutes—it all slipped between her fingers.

And now all Dani can feel is shame.

JUNE 2019

The camp—if that’s what you could call it—isn’t the kind of summer camp Dani expected when her father first mentioned it to her. No, this place isn’t about hikes or bonfires or s’mores. It’s something else entirely.

They call it a “church camp,” but it didn’t take long for Dani to realize what it really is. Conversion therapy, as simple as that. A way to “fix” her, to cleanse her of her sins.

The camp is deep in the woods, secluded and quiet, the kind of place where no one would hear you scream, where no one would notice if you disappeared for a few months and come back changed. The other girls and boy here are like Dani—at least, that’s what she’s been told. They’ve been sent here to be “cured,” to be saved from the deviance inside of them, the sickness that led them astray from God’s light.

At first, Dani tries to resist. She fights it, mentally at least. The idea that something so integral to her—love—could be a disease was unthinkable. She thinks of Paige, her best friend, her first love, and tries to remind herself of the warmth, the joy, the rightness of it all. Paige always made her feel seen. Safe. Loved. How can any of that be a sin?

But as the weeks drag on, the messages seep in, and, slowly but surely, Dani’s defenses erode. The camp counselors—rigid, strict men and women with eyes that seem to stare straight into your soul—speak of salvation and sin in the same breath. They quote scripture, twisting it into something Dani never heard before, making her feel like her very existence is a rebellion against God.

They say the attraction she feels for Paige is a temptation, a test from the devil himself. That her love isn’t love at all, but lust, base, and immoral. Every day, they hammer this message into her through sermons, through private “sessions,” through exercises designed to break down her spirit, to rebuild her into someone who can conform, who can be pure again. They say they’re just trying to help her.

The forest surrounding the camp becomes a symbol of her isolation. The trees loom tall, casting long shadows over the compound, as if the very earth is trying to swallow her whole. There’s no escape, no outlet. Dani’s never felt more alone in her life. She wants to cry, to scream, to run, but there’s nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

Her days become a blur of routine and control. They take everything from her. Her phone, her freedom, her identity. She isn’t allowed to speak of Paige—hell, she isn’t even allowed to think of Paige without facing repercussions. They watch her closely, scrutinizing every move, every glance, every word, looking for any sign of weakness, any sign that she hasn’t fully accepted the “truth.”

Some days are easier than others. On the good days, Dani finds herself almost numb, going through the motions, letting the words of the counselors wash over her without sinking in. But on the bad days… the bad days are hell. On the bad days, the guilt is so overwhelming that she can hardly breathe. She’ll lay in her cot at night, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts she can’t quiet. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am sick. Maybe I’m not supposed to feel this way. Maybe… maybe Paige will be better off without me. Maybe I’ll be better off without Paige.

The worst part is that she can feel herself changing. Slowly, bit by bit, the person she’s always been—Dani, the girl who loves photography, the girl who loves to write, the girl who love Paige—slips away. In her place, there’s… someone else. Someone who’s afraid. Afraid of herself. Afraid of the world. Afraid of God.

There are moments, brief as they are, when Dani finds herself alone, sitting on the edge of the lake that borders the camp. The counselors allow “reflection time” out there, a chance to sit in nature and contemplate God’s will for their lives. Dani doesn’t feel God’s presence out there, though. Instead, she feels only emptiness. The lake, still and dark, mirrors the hollow ache in her chest, the ache that started the day her father found that video and had only grown since then.

She thinks of Paige during those moments. She can’t help it. Paige’s laugh, her smile, the way her fingers would brush against Dani’s hand when they were alone together. She thought of the way Paige’s voice had cracked, just slightly, when she’d said, “I love you,” as if it had been too heavy, too important, to carry without breaking.

And then the guilt would come rushing back in like a tidal wave, drowning out the memory of Paige’s touch. This isn’t right. I’m not supposed to feel this way. The counselors make sure of that. They drill it into her head day after day until she begins to doubt every thought, every feeling, every memory she has of Paige.

The uncertainty is the worst part. At night, lying in her narrow cot, Dani closes her eyes and tries to remember how it had felt to be with Paige. How, just a few short weeks ago, her heart had been so full of love that it felt like it might burst. But now, those memories feel like they belong to someone else, like they’re fading away, replaced by a gnawing doubt that maybe—just maybe—what she felt isn’t love at all.

The isolation gnaws at her. Dani’s faith—which, despite everything, was pure before—has become tainted, almost like she’s trying to crawl away from it—or at least, trying to crawl away from the twisted version of faith that the camp preaches. They tell her that God loves her but only if she can repent, only if she can reject the “unnatural desires” that have led her down this dark path. They tell her that true salvation means giving up everything she’s ever known, including Paige.

They don’t just want her to stop loving Paige. They want her to stop being herself.

But the hardest part is, after so many weeks, Dani doesn’t really know who exactly she is anymore. She feels like a shell of herself, hollowed out and empty, filled with nothing but fear and shame. And she begins to wonder if it’s working. If they’re right. If this is how it’s supposed to be.

But still, sometimes, Dani wakes up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding, her body drenched in sweat, a sense of panic so intense that she can hardly breathe. In these moments, she presses her face into the scratchy pillow, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Because in the darkness, in the quiet, when no one else is watching, she still wants Paige. She still loves her. No matter what they say, no matter how much they try to break her down, that small, fragile piece of her heart still beats for Paige.

And that scares her more than anything.

She doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to hold on to that part of herself. It’s slipping away, little by little, with every sermon, every “counseling” session, every prayer that she shoves down her throat. She’s being worn down, and she’s afraid that one day, she’ll wake up and not feel anything at all.

And maybe… maybe that’s what they want. Maybe that’s what God wants. Maybe that’s what she deserves.

Dani doesn’t even know how long she has left at the camp, nor how long she’s been there. After the first couple weeks, time begins to lose its meaning. She’s stopped counting the days (since they don’t tell her the date), stopped waiting for it to end.

JULY 2019

Dani sits in the chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes downcast as she stares at the scuffed linoleum floor. The room is cold, sterile, and devoid of any warmth or comfort. It’s the same room she’s been sitting in for the past two months, every time she’s called in for her one-on-one “therapy” sessions. The wooden cross on the wall looms large above her, a constant reminder of the weight she’s supposed to carry, the sin she’s meant to repent for.

Across from her sits Mrs. Keating, one of the camp’s lead counselors. She’s a stern woman, always impeccably dressed, with sharp features and cold, piercing blue eyes that seem to cut through whatever walls Dani tries to put up. She’s been Dani’s assigned counselor from the start, the one tasked with guiding her back to the “right” path, the one who’s delivered the harshest sermons about the dangers of temptation and sin.

Today is supposed to be their final session—or, at least, that’s what Dani has been told. She knows the routine by now. Mrs. Keating will ask her a series of questions, probing deeper into her thoughts, her feelings, her beliefs. Dani’s learned to say what’s expected of her, to give the answers the woman wants. At first, she resisted, clinging to the hope that she could hold onto who she really is, but that hope has withered away in the weeks she’s been here.

She isn’t even really sure who she is anymore.

Mrs. Keating sits behind her desk, her fingers laced together as she regards Dani with that unreadable expression she always wears. It’s a look that makes Dani feel small, insignificant, like a child being scolded.

“So, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating begins, her voice cool and steady, “you’ve been with us for quite some time now. How are you feeling?”

Dani swallows, her throat dry. She hates these questions. They always feel like traps, no matter how carefully she answers. But she knows better now than to hesitate. She’s learned what they want to hear, and she’s learned that it’s easier to comply than to fight.

“I feel… better,” Dani answers, her voice quiet, almost mechanical. “I feel like I’ve been able to reflect on… everything.”

“Good, that’s very good,” Mrs. Keating replies, nodding approvingly. “And what have you learned in your time here?”

Dani’s fingers twitch in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. She hates herself for what she’s about to say, but she can’t stop the words from slipping out. They feel foreign, like they were coming from someone else’s mouth. But she thinks they’re right. After all this time, everything she’s gone through here, how can they not be?

“I’ve learned that… what I was feeling before… it was wrong,” Dani murmurs, her heart heavy. “That it wasn’t love. It was temptation. Sin.”

Mrs. Keating’s smile is small, satisfied. “And you understand why that is, don’t you?”

Dani nods, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “Yes. Because God doesn’t want us to… live that way. It’s against His plan.”

“And your feelings for the girl… ?”

They don’t say her name. They never say her name. And Dani’s glad. They don’t deserve to say Paige’s name. She’s too good, too full of light, for all of this. Dani’s stomach twists as the image of Paige’s face flashes through her mind—her bright eyes, her playful smile, the way her touch always feels so soft and warm. Dani’s chest aches with the memory, but she pushes it down. She can’t think about that now. She can’t think about her. It’s wrong. It’s wrong.

It’s wrong.

“I don’t… feel that way anymore,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know it was wrong. I know it wasn’t real love.”

Mrs. Keating’s eyes gleam with approval, as if she’s won some silent battle. “That’s right, Danielle. You’re starting to understand. Love, true love, is a gift from God, and it’s meant to be between a man and a woman. Anything else is a distortion, a lie from the devil.”

Dani bites the inside of her cheek, the taste of blood sharp on her tongue. She’s heard this speech so many times that she can recite it in her sleep, and each time, it chips away at her a little more, hollowing her out from the inside. She wants to believe that maybe it’s a lie—that what she felt (feels?) with Paige is real—but after weeks of being told otherwise, it’s getting harder and harder to hold on to that belief.

“And how do you feel about your future now, Danielle?” Mrs. Keating asks, her tone almost gentle, as if she’s speaking to a child in need of guidance. “Do you feel ready to live a life that honors God?”

Dani’s hands tighten in her lap. She feels the weight of the cross around her neck, its presence suffocating. She’s worn it every day since she received it from her father years ago. But ever since she’s gotten here, it’s become a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon her, of the person she’s supposed to be.

“I want to do what’s right,” Dani replies, her voice steady even as her heart stutters. “I want to live the way God wants me to live.”

Mrs. Keating leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she can sense the apprehension buried beneath Dani’s words. “And you’re willing to renounce those past feelings? Those sinful urges?”

Dani’s throat tightens, but, nevertheless, she nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” Mrs. Keating’s smile widens. “You’ve made remarkable progress, Danielle. You’ve come a long way from the confused girl who arrived here, and I’m proud of you for embracing the truth.”

Dani doesn’t feel proud. She just feels empty.

The silence in the room grows heavy, oppressive, as Mrs. Keating studies her, as if trying to gauge the depth of Dani’s conviction. After a moment, she rises from her chair and walks around the desk, coming to stand in front of Dani. She reached down, her cold fingers brushing against Dani’s skin as she presses her hand to the small silver cross hanging from Dani’s neck.

The touch makes Dani flinch, but she doesn’t move. She can’t.

Mrs. Keating’s fingers linger there for a moment, her grip firm, almost possessive. “God will forgive you for your sins,” she says softly, her voice filled with the kind of certainty that Dani can never muster. “He is a merciful God, and He wants nothing more than for you to be redeemed in His eyes.”

Dani’s pulse races beneath the surface of her skin. She wants to believe that. She wants to believe that all of this—everything she’s gone through—will lead to forgiveness, to peace. But deep down, something in her resists. Something in her whispers that maybe God won’t forgive her. Maybe she isn’t worthy of it. Maybe there’s no redemption for someone like her.

She swallows hard, her eyes stinging with the tears she refuses to shed.

Mrs. Keating releases her hold on the necklace, her hand falling back to her side. She smiles, the gesture cold and calculating, as if she’s just won a battle Dani hadn’t realized she was fighting.

“You’re almost there, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating tells her, voice smooth and placating. “You’re so close to being saved.”

Dani doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t think she trusts herself to speak.

Because in that moment, all she can think about is Paige. Paige’s face, Paige’s laugh, Paige’s love. She can feel it slipping away, the memory of it growing dimmer with every passing day. And the worst part is, she isn’t sure if she wants to hold onto it anymore. Bitterly, she doesn’t know what the point would be. What would be the point at all, if this is who she’s supposed to be now?

“Remember, Danielle,” Mrs. Keating says firmly, brows scrunched slightly, “God’s love is stronger than anything. Stronger than sin. Stronger than temptation.”

Dani nods mechanically, her mind a haze of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She’s heard this so many times, and every time, it feels like another piece of her soul is being chipped away.

But maybe that’s for the best.

AUGUST 2019

Dani’s home.

That simple fact should bring her comfort, but as she stands in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the familiar walls and the neatly made bed, nothing feels the same. The space seems smaller, suffocating almost, and everything inside her feels hollow. It doesn’t really feel like home anymore.

She doesn’t know what feels like home.

She doesn’t think she has one.

It’s strange—coming back from camp was supposed to be a relief, a return to normalcy, but nothing about this feels normal. Dani expected some kind of closure, maybe even a sense of peace after everything she’s been through, but all she can do is feel a dull, heavy weight pressing down on her chest, right under her necklace. She feels like she doesn’t even belong here anymore. And it’s not just her house; it’s her whole life.

Dani doesn’t hang out with Thaliah or Jalen anymore either. They try to reach out when she gets back—text messages, phone calls, even a couple visits—but she pushes them away. It’s not like she really wants to—it’s just easier. Easier to stay locked inside herself, easier to avoid the questions she knows they’ll ask. Easier to pretend that things can just… move on.

Because they can’t. Not after everything. Not after her.

It’s easier not to think about Paige this way. Paige is still gone, away on basketball things for the summer, and with her absence, Dani’s managed to build up walls—tall, thick ones that keep the memories at bay. She has to. Thinking about Paige, about what they shared, about how it all fell apart without the blonde even knowing, is too much. So, she doesn’t think about it. She can’t.

Her dad doesn’t bring it up either. Not directly, at least. They’ve never spoken about what happened—about the reason Dani was sent away in the first place. Instead, he acts like it never occurred, like she was just at a normal summer camp, learning life lessons, finding her footing. That suits Dani fine. The last thing she wants is to talk about her “past mistakes.”

Instead, they focus on what her father considers the right things, like Beau Hudson.

Beau is someone Dani’s known since elementary school, a boy she’s always thought is a typical jockey douchebag—the kind of guy who’ll peak in high school and will probably spend the rest of his life chasing after some sense of former glory. He’s loud, obnoxious, and has a habit of talking like he owns every room he walks into. Dani’s never liked him, never thought twice about him, except to occasionally roll her eyes when his name comes up.

But now, Beau seems to be the answer to her father’s prayers.

Apparently, Beau mentioned to his parents that he thought Dani was pretty. And apparently, her father—who happens to work with Beau’s father—thinks that’s just great. It’s perfect, actually. Perfect in the way that Dani knows her father has always envisioned for her—a respectable boy, from a respectable family, with respectable values. There’s no need to talk about her past anymore, no need to dwell on those mistakes. If she can just date Beau, everything will fall into place. She can be the daughter her father wants her to be.

So, she does it.

She begins dating Beau, and it happens so fast that she hardly has time to question it. One minute, she’s saying yes to dinner with his family, and the next, they’re officially together. It isn’t something Dani really wants, but it’s something she can tolerate. It’s easy. Beau’s world is uncomplicated, shallow in a way that’s almost comforting because it doesn’t require much from her.

She starts hanging out with his friends—people she’s never given the time of day before. Guys from the football team, girls from the cheer squad. Serena Corren, one of the cheerleaders who’s always been a bit of a bitch, turns out to be not that bad. Dani finds herself spending time with her, more than she expects. Serena’s loud and a little crass, but she isn’t mean, at least not to Dani. In fact, they get along well enough that Dani finds herself relaxing a bit around her. Serena talks about meaningless things, gossips about people at school, complains about cheer practice, and it’s a nice distraction.

Everything is a distraction at this point.

A distraction from Paige.

Paige, who’s back now.

The minute Dani opens the door and sees her standing there, everything crashes down on her. It’s like a punch to the gut. Paige looks the same and different all at once—still beautiful, still Paige, but something about her feels… distant. Or maybe it’s just Dani who’s distant. She can feel her defenses rising the moment she meets those familiar blue eyes.

“Paige,” Dani acknowledges, throat tightening.

Paige’s voice is soft, tentative. “Hey, Dan. Can we talk?”

Dani swallows hard. She shouldn’t let her in. She should shut the door, turn Paige away before it gets any harder. But she doesn’t. Instead, she steps aside, letting Paige walk into her home, into her life once again. “Sure. Come in.”

The living room is quiet, and Dani can feel the tension simmering in the air as she sits on the couch, body rigid. Paige stands a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, looking at Dani like she’s searching for something—an explanation, an apology, maybe a sign that Dani still cares.

But Dani can’t give her any of that. She can’t let herself break.

It starts with Paige asking, “What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Why didn’t you—”

And then the floodgates open between them. Dani tries to keep her face neutral during it, shutting down any emotion that threatens to spill out. She can’t afford to feel—if she lets herself feel anything, even for a moment, it’ll all come crashing down, everything wrong and bad spilling out. Her eyes stay cold, her voice flat, and every word that comes out of her mouth feels like poison she has to swallow herself. She tells herself she’s doing the right thing, that pushing Paige away is for her own good. That it’s for both of them. But God, it hurts.

Watching Paige’s face fall with every sharp word she throws at her is like watching someone chip away at a sculpture, little by little, until it’s unrecognizable. Dani sees the flickers of confusion, hurt, and then anger that spread across Paige’s features. She sees the way Paige’s shoulders tense, the way her eyes burn with disbelief. Paige has always been so expressive, her emotions right there on the surface, easy to read. And it kills Dani to know that she’s the cause of every negative expression that paints the blonde’s face.

The worst part is seeing the way Paige’s eyes gloss over, like she’s on the verge of tears but is too stubborn to let them fall. Paige isn’t the type to cry easily, but Dani knows her too well. She can feel Paige’s hurt even without seeing the tears. It’s palpable in the air between them, suffocating.

But Dani can’t break. She has to be strong, even though it’s the hardest thing she’s ever done. So, she says the words that’ll sever whatever hope Paige had left. She tells her that their kiss, that their confessions, were both mistakes. That she doesn’t want her, that it’s all just over. The words are like knives in her own chest, but she forces them out because she has no choice. If Paige knew the truth—about the camp, about her father’s threats, about everything—Paige would fight for her. She’d try to save Dani from it all. And Dani can’t let that happen. Everything would just get worse. It wouldn’t help anything.

Besides, whatever Paige and Dani have is wrong. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. Dani repeats it in her head. She fiddles with her necklace, her eyes flit to the crucifix on the wall, she thinks about how God doesn’t appreciate girls loving other girls. It’s wrong.

Nevertheless, when Paige finally leaves, when she turns her back and walks out the door, it’s like Dani’s entire world collapses in on itself. She’s built a wall around herself for weeks, convincing herself that this is what she’s needed to do. But the second the door closes behind Paige, it all comes tumbling to the ground. The numbness she’s been clinging to melts away, leaving behind raw, unbearable pain.

It’s wrong anyways, she tries to remind herself. It would’ve never worked out. God doesn’t permit it.

But that doesn’t seem to matter. Because no matter how wrong it is, it fucking hurts.

Dani presses her forehead against the door, her whole body trembling as the sobs begin to escape. She didn’t cry in front of Paige. She held it together, made sure to be strong, made sure that Paige wasn’t aware of what’s truly going on. But now, with no one watching, Dani just breaks. Her shoulders shake as the tears come hard and fast, her chest heaving as she lets it all out. The sobs are uncontrollable, wracking her body as she finally allows herself to feel everything she’s been holding back since the day she was dropped off at camp back at the beginning of June.

She cries for the years of friendship she’s just destroyed. For the love she has for Paige that she has to—and will continue to—deny. For the fact that she has to pretend not to care when every fiber of her being screams that she still does. She cries because she knows she’s just shattered Paige’s heart, and in doing so, she’s shattered her own.

Her father’s voice echoes in the back of her mind, a cruel reminder of why she’s done this. She can’t be with Paige, can’t even be her friend. Not if she wants to keep Paige safe from the consequences, not if she wants to keep them both pure in God’s eyes. Besides, if Dani even tried to slightly interact with the blonde, her father would never allow it, and Dani knows the lengths he’ll go to if he thinks Dani’s stepping out of line. The threats he made over the summer, the way he sent her to that camp to “fix” her—it isn’t something she can let Paige be part of. And it’s certainly not something she’ll let herself be subject to again.

(Besides, she has Beau. She likes Beau.) (Enough.)

But the knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make it easier to breathe through the sobs that wrack her chest. Dani feels like she’s drowning, suffocating under the weight of everything she’s just lost. Paige has been her best friend for over a decade. She’s been the one constant in Dani’s life, the person who has understood her better than anyone else. And now, Dani’s pushed her away, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to get her back.

Eventually, the sobs slow, leaving Dani feeling hollow and empty. Her tears soak through the fabric of her tank top, and her throat is raw from crying. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, leaning against the door, but it feels like an eternity. All she can think about is Paige’s face as she left, the way her eyes had looked so broken, so betrayed.

Dani did this. She has to live with it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the empty room, though the words are meant for Paige.

OCTOBER 2019 (PRESENT DAY)

Paige was right. Dani is a coward.

She knows she is. She thinks about it constantly. She thinks about that night, at the party, where she and Paige fought. She thinks about what Beau called her. She thinks about how she didn’t step in, how she didn’t defend Paige. She thinks about how she’s settled into a routine that feels like she’s merely a spectator in her own life. She thinks about how she hasn’t done anything to try and change it. She thinks, she thinks, she thinks.

She thinks a lot.

About certain things.

Certain people.

(Paige.)

She tries and tries to fight it, but her mind is rogue, a resistance that always has a mantra of Paige, Paige, Paige whether it’s in the front, the corner, or the back of her cerebrum.

She dates Beau. That doesn’t change. She knows who he is—not a good person. He’s arrogant, dismissive, and often cruel, but Dani finds herself in his company night after night. It’s not that she doesn’t recognize his red flags; she does. But there’s a twisted sense of comfort in being with someone who embodies the superficial, the expected. Beau is a mask she can wear, something to hide what’s beneath. What she doesn’t want people to see.

So, she dates Beau. She kisses him. They do other stuff a lot, too. He always initiates it, but she never stops it. It’s okay—not great, not terrible. It’s not exactly who she’d prefer to do that kind of thing with—but, who she would exhibits every single little thing that’s wrong with her. Every single little thing that she’s been trying to shake out of her, off of her, since she arrived at that camp. God doesn’t appreciate it. And so neither does Dani.

School has become her other distraction. A good one, too.

She retakes the ACT. When she gets her score back, she’s happy with it, a rare moment of relief and pride.

College applications weigh on her as well, and she’s certainly had the time to do them. She only applies to two school. Minnesota—her dad wants her to stay in-state, somewhere close. And, trust her, she knows how deluded it sounds, but—she applies to Connecticut, too. Don’t ask her. She doesn’t even really know why.

She focuses heavily on her Calc class, her AP Bio class, her AP Lit work. She focuses, she gets good grades, she makes her teachers and maybe even her father proud. She’s just doing her best, distracting herself. (Though it doesn’t help that, without fail, every single day Paige’s stare bores holes into Dani’s back in Lit. All she wants is to continue her distractions, to continue her streak of nearly perfect scores, but those baby blues burn into her skin from behind and it makes Dani’s heart race.)

She continues on with photography, too. She goes to the football games and some of the other sports—soccer, field hockey, etc.—and takes her photos for yearbook. It’s a good distraction until she spots Paige in the student section (this happens every Friday night), and Dani’s mood seems to simmer out.

Paige is everywhere. Fucking everywhere. School, games, Dani’s head. It doesn’t matter. She never leaves.

Dani wishes she would go and wishes she would stay all at once.

[teddybeartoji]

Attention please 🗣non sexual nudity with bf/bsf satoru...

ATTENTION!!!!!! ATTENTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🗣🗣🗣🗣

going skinny dipping with best friend!gojo.

it's a warm sunny day and satoru has dragged you outside. he heard about a new hidden hiking trail and he obviously wanted to check it out with you.

so, that's how you find yourself on a beautiful-beautiful forest trail. the birds are singing their little love songs above your heads as you let satoru lead you through the woods. sweat dribbles from your temples and your feet are beginning to hurt but you're not complaining.

you can't. you can't complain when satoru turns around and shows you his bashful smile, letting his dimples shine freely. his cheeks are completely flushed and his hair is starting to stick to his forehead and he just looks so fucking good.

"you gotta keep up with me! c'mon-c'mon!"

you roll your eyes at his words. "i am literally on your ass, satoru."

"ohhh, sexy!" he winks at you and laughs when you flip him off. you follow him up the little hill and you're met with gorgeous scenery. the sun is still high in the pretty blue sky with no clouds anywhere in sight and the trees paint almost a perfect circle around the shore of a lake.

"satoru! you didn't tell me we could go swimming!" you scream at him and he hears the pout in your voice.

your eyes are glued to the sight before you, making you miss the way satoru stares at you. "i didn't know! i didn't know! i didn't know!"

"wait..." you face him with a quirked brow. "what do you mean 'you didn't know'? you didn't properly look up the trail beforehand?"

he's quiet as his expression tells you everything you need to know and he earns a slap against his chest.

"what is wrong with you?! what if we got lost?!"

"it's just one trail? one road? how would we get lost?" he questions, surpressing his laughter at your fake-angry tone.

you just shake your head at him. "i hate you."

he sends you an air kiss back and you thank the sun for successfully hiding the growing tint on your cheeks. dick. you brush by him and start making your way to the wooden dock that floats in the water. satoru watches how you skip down with a smile on your lips and his heart is doing flips in his chest. he watches you drop to your knees and reach your hand in the water before turning to him with an even bigger grin.

"it's so warm!"

"yeah?"

you nod excitedly and immediately start stripping your bag and your clothes, leaving satoru staring at you like a dumb fish out of the water. "what... are you doing?"

"going swimming, duh." you rip off your shoes and your pants, only leaving you in your shirt and socks.

"but..."

you stare at him with a big grin, the corners of your eyes crinkling in the hot sun. "what? you scared?"

"wha— i'm not scared." satoru stammers back, fiddling with his fingers, clearly a little flustered. he's silly.

"get naked then."

"i—"

"or don't. i'm not pressuring you, but i am going in." you take off the socks and the shirt and satoru glues his eyes at the lake behind you. unable to hold back your laugh, you tease your best friend. "yeah, if a little skin gets too scary for you, just look at the water."

the tips of his ears grow red and he drops his bag in defeat. "i am not scared of you or your body, alright?"

"look at me then."

satoru gojo - the man with thee biggest staring problem in the world cannot hold eye contact for the life of him right now. and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

his best friend is standing a few feet from him, only clad in their underwear and well... how is he supposed to keep eye contact? it's not like he likes you or anything. it's not that at all.

"do you like me or something, satoru?"

it's not that at all.

you laugh behind your hand and watch the heat bloom on his face.

"you don't have to come in, it's okay. i'll make it quick, yeah?"

taking a step closer, satoru's breath hitches. you raise your hand to swipe over his face, closing his eyes with a giggle and he wraps his fingers around your wrist with a pout. "i wanna come too."

"yeah? you wanna come too?"

"see, sometimes i think you're just so much worse than me." satoru tugs on your hand when you try to run away, keeping you close to him. the flush on his cheeks seems to be permanent but the corners of his lips are starting to curl upwards again. "you're so much worse actually."

"oh, nooo... i'm soo terrifyingly funny.... nooo....."

the sun has nothing on your bright big smile as you blink up at him.

"are you gonna join me then?"

he nods.

his grin widens when you finally yank your hand from his grasp and take a few steps back toward the edge of the dock. "well, c'mon– get naked, stupid."

he starts by peeling off his own shirt. "you're stupid."

"i'm faster though!" without giving him another second to catch up, you pull of your underwear and jump into the lake. submerged under the refreshing water, your heart beats louder than ever, giddy from sharing this moment with satoru. you poke your head back out and push the water from your eyes with a smile that reaches back behind your ears and are met with a stumbling satoru trying to take off his socks.

"hey, you had a head start!" he's jumping from one leg to another and he looks so cute. "dick!"

laughter echoes over the lake and through the woods, a sound resembling the lovesongs of the little birds that live there. he removes his boxers and then he's already cannonballing into the water right next to you.

his soaked head of hear pops up and he's pulling in big breaths of air, making you choke on your own giggles.

"OH FUCK! THAT'S NOT WARM AT ALL." he splashes you, reveling in the smile lines that rest on your skin. "i think i lost a couple of inches."

his joke makes you actually cough and his head falls back toward the sun, eyes closed, as he bellows out a laugh.

"oh no, poor little satoru..." his head whips towards you and you take the moment to splash him back.

"what did you just call me?!"

you let out a loud shriek when he suddenly starts swimming to you and you decide to dive in order to escape his wrath. it just feels so good. the water washes off the built up sweat from the hike and gives you life.

coming up for air, you have a second to look for satoru before he's bursting out from under the water, shaking his head and hair at you like a dog.

"you're dumb."

"you're an idiot."

silence.

satoru counts the freckles on your face and you count the stars in his eyes.

"aren't you glad i dragged you here, hm?" he wiggles his brows at you, expecting another splash that never comes.

a soft little mhmm is what he gets instead. full of fondness and admiration; the scenery, the sun, the water, the boy before you —

you are glad he dragged you here.

+ thank u nonnie for this cute little idea<33333

[ventique18]

Obsessed with thoughts of first night with virginal 🐉

Warning: casual mature (reader referred to as 'you')

My guy only knows kissing from illustrated children's books. When you pry your tongue in, he was like '-$(#-(?????? Wtf????' in his mind but then melts at the dopamine rush it sends. He was already in heaven from the cartoon ass lip-to-lip kiss so this was already crazy for him.

Lilia never talked with him about the birds and the bees because he was confident in the boy's draconic instinct or whatever.

Malleus literally doesn't know what to do as a consequence. He also doesn't read smut romance books because basic romance books don't interest him.

So he just stands there stiffly as you do all the kissing. You find it a bit odd but don't say anything, because you're caught up in the heat. But while you're feeling passionate, he on the other hand is experiencing the same emotion x10 for the first time so he's so confused and constantly wondering if he'll simply implode. What is this emotion? Why am I feeling like this? He's so incredibly flustered but he's good at keeping composure, so he just stares at you and watches you as you kiss and nip marks on his torso the entire time.

When you put your mouth around his length, he jerks and freezes on the spot. What are you doing to one of his excretory organs? That is dirty? He does always wash it though, so he trusts you and sits there like an idiot. He bites his lip when you lick him. He bites his hand when you suck him. What the fuck is this sensation? It's incredible. He's never felt like this in his entire life.

When you put him in you, he feels so damn wonderful. He comes. He comes literally the first three seconds.

You're both so surprised lmao. He does know there's some other slimy liquid that comes out there but he only knows now that that's its intended purpose.

You laugh and get off him, but cuddle him sweetly to let him know that it's okay. Not like he needs reassuring because he literally doesn't know you're expected to not come that fast.

You accept that this one is done, and you go lie next to him. But he embraces you this time and kisses you again; this time doing to you what you did to him earlier. Everything that you did to him earlier.

Extra: if you're a woman, when he gets there, he stares stupidly while holding his member. Where was he supposed to stick it in again? He tried to look earlier when you put him in you, but the angle wasn't good and he has no clue. He first tries to enter the bottom one, but it rejects him easily, so it must be the other one. It slides in perfectly.

He's surprised that he doesn't immediately blow this time. He doesn't know that he's supposed to move though so he just stands there doing nothing. You only think he's trying to compose himself, but you're impatient (you didn't come the first round) so you snap your hips to get him to move.

He does and it feels incredible.

This time he really just lets his instincts take over.

He finds himself kissing you everywhere.

He holds you so tightly that sometimes you can't breathe.

You come wildly, but he doesn't relent. He doesn't know he's supposed to wait for you to calm down so he ends up overstimulating you. He forgets his strength and cracks the bed, but he just flicks a wrist to revert it and bolsters it in the process. No furniture shall disturb him.

You come again together and he gives you a smoldering kiss.

When your breathing calms down, he growls in your ear

"Again." As he flips you over.