#makes me feel fake; phony; not me

[cassandralexxx]

jJudas

There is a strange duality in the guilt that comes from religion

It compounds on itself.

It is going to confession for the crime of loving another

feeling like a traitor.

Not just to yourself... your God... but to the other

You are judas.

The love you shared is like that forsaken kiss in the garden.

In that confessional, you realize that your lover is Jesus

and You are Judas

It shatters me: to know you is sin but to renounce you is hell.

[lovecoreclownz-archive]

Late night musing before I pass out because I have feelings, but I hate what cring culture has done to music. Like, if I said I liked Twenty One Pilots to most people they would straight up bully me and say I'm a "normie". Every time I bring up liking TØP I feel the need to defend myself and my interests. I literally sat here in my head trying to justify my appreciation for the band and their music by being like "oh well I don't listen to their more popular mainstream stuff I really just listen to their deep cuts" like! Why am I having to convince MYSELF that it's ok to listen to music I like?? Especially with songs that were an integral part of my coping process man! I don't really know where I'm going with this, but fuck you cringe culture and music purists.

[bitch-butter]

at long last..........it's Lala's villain season

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART 2

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

"I'm waiting for you."

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

And then, there's something called human error.

-

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

-

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

-

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

-

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

-

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

-

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

-

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[cosmicconversations]

Thoughts on Scorpio (Sun, Moon, Rising) 🦂

SCORPIO SUN

Scorpio Sun people are like poetry in human form. Whatever they say or do, there is something deeper or more complex underneath the surface. Like a great poem, you could dismiss them on a superficial level or take the time to analyze their true meaning. Yet, at the same time, they can be very frank and very raw people. Their personalities are unapologetic in their authenticity yet it is in a subtle fashion. Whether they are loud or quiet, they are always themselves. Never phony. Scorpio’s multi-dimensional nature is seen by how this sign is represented by multiple animals: the Scorpion, the Phoenix, the Eagle. Some also attribute Snake and Lizard energy to Scorpio. This reveals their various layers of expression. They can be cutthroat and lethal (Scorpion), a fierce survivor who always reinvents themselves after every failure or crisis (Phoenix) or a powerful being defined by their nobility and capacity for rising above (Eagle). Snakes, of course, shed their skins in order to grow. But, they are also known as sneaky and deadly. And the Lizard? Uh, yeah, that one has me stumped. Leave it to Scorpio to not give all the answers. Whatever their spiritual mascot of choice is depends on their level of evolution and self-mastery. Scorpio Suns can either be highly destructive (including to themselves) or remarkably empowered.

SCORPIO MOON

Who’s afraid of the dark? Well, Scorpio Moons probably were as children. But, darkness eventually becomes an old friend to those with this Moon sign. And it can be a friend that nourishes and transforms you or sabotages you. Let’s be honest. This isn’t the easiest placement as there is typically a lot of emotional trauma or childhood pain to unravel. It may not be obvious to most, either. Moon in Scorpio can spend their childhood in a seemingly stable or well-off family. But, behind closed doors? That’s a totally different story. Although their mother figure can be a turbulent or controlling or smothering influence, there can also be an intense closeness and love shared. Often times both, only further complicating things. But, Scorpio Moons were meant to be cycle breakers. Whether or not they answer that call is up to them, once again highlighting the Scorpio choice to either heal or self-destruct. While some with this placement can choose a path of profound mistrust or volatility or toxic unions, many others go the total opposite route and become soulful examples of empowerment. Not without flaw, as they will still be very at ease with their shadow self in a creative or reflective way. But, capable of showing others that you can beat the odds and transform generational trauma. No matter their lot in life, Scorpio Moons feel things very strongly, whether it’s their emotions or their intuitive nudges. They just know things, even when others try to hide from them, and this psychic power and insight makes them both wise counselors to others and a vaguely intimidating presence to some.

SCORPIO RISING

Camouflage is how a Scorpio Rising moves through the world. They are wearing some kind of “costume” in terms of their personality. This doesn’t make them fake. Far from it. They are just very private souls who aren’t eager to reveal much and tend to be more on the reserved or introverted side. Even if they seem like the total opposite. That, in and of itself, is a ruse. They tend to over-complicate things. Scorpio Rising people can be confusing, in a sense, and often need to work on their transparency or directness. They have a way of even physically sneaking up on people. Although they possess a magnetic air, you might not notice them right away. Their energy is most powerful when you really engage with them. Their intense gaze is the stuff of legend. But, it may not exactly be their eyes that are intense. It’s more so the energy they transmit (or even pick up from you) during eye contact. Their voice is either soft and silky or somewhat harsh on the ears, in tone or volume. And yes, some may give off the obvious vibes of a vampire or a witch or a goth via their style. They all feel that way on the inside but it doesn’t manifest so literally. Scorpio Risings have definitely seen some things. They either feel like a dark force maneuvering through a painfully sunny world or the opposite: a carefree Persephone constantly being pulled down to the Underworld. But, they can always shift their reality. They only remain in that place of torment if they choose to.

////////

Paid Readings

[ashipiko]

DANCE WITH ME YOU LI-IA-IAR ♡

OVERBLOT ASHI??? ANYBODY??? the ANGST that this baby can store!!! SHEESH!!!!!!! <3 I only have one post dedicated to her and liar dance lyric analysis (the post is kinda outdated in gen) BUT…… I also have an overblot monologue as a treat 🫶 I wanted to better explain her angst and so!!! BABAM!!! enjoy

ASHI’S MONOLOGUE:

Sometimes I wonder why I ended up here.

A place named “Twisted Wonderland”, and at a school named “Night Raven College”.

At first, I figured that I was the odd one out— Y’know, the Ramshackle prefect and everything. The magicless girl at the magical all boys school? Nuts, ain’t it?

I’m known for a lot of things. Things that are different from the others. The fact that I stand out is part of the Ashi charm, something I’m known for.

But… Over time I found myself sorta feeling in place here.

Because as much as I try to believe it, I can’t safely say that I’m better than anyone else here.

I’m a fake. I make conversation and lots of friends, but for what? A backup in case something goes wrong? A sense of protection for my reputation? In what case are any of those friendships something I truly want? In what case are any of these strings more than just a tool instead of a thread made of my real feelings?

Behind this, I’m no different from any other student here. Even through my individuality, my cheerfulness, my endearing oddness… I’m still a horrible person. Using people to get what I want, toying with people and their feelings in order to gain power and gain a spot the top. All to become untouchable. It’s screwed. It’s not right.

My insides are ugly. The truth of me is something I want to keep tucked away deeply, because I don’t want people to see this part of me. A brash, annoying, selfish version of me, everything people hate to see. I don’t want this side of me to be seen because people will run away— people I don’t care much about, sures, but people I love, too. I don’t want to drive them away. So I keep quiet and give them a shallow show.

I give them a source of entertainment that’s controlled by the real me, every calculated movement translating into a marionette-like response. The only show I allow you to see is one that’s so carefully crafted by the chaotic clown backstage. The one that is shunned away from the light, the strings being the only hint of the puppet’s phony existence to the foolish audience.

But suddenly, I feel as if being here has started to let this side of me come crawling back into the spotlight.

It scares me.

It scares me to be vulnerable, let all of my faults lay out on the table like playing cards. To take the risk without the protection, to gamble everything I’ve built up away just like that. But you…

You.

You make me feel safe. You make me feel as if I don’t need to hide anything. I can give you the key to my heart and you would have no malicious intent. You wouldn’t cut out the parts people don’t like. You would enjoy the performance in full, every bit of it.

You make me believe that I’m nothing special, and yet something so valuable at the same time.

It’s silly. You’re silly. And yet that’s something that’s helped me.

It’s helped me realize that that truly is just how people are.

We aren’t villains. We aren’t antagonists. We aren’t monsters.

We are nothing but people, with faults and feelings that should be valued.

I am more than just a jester, a sake of entertainment.

I’m a person who is entirely worthy of love. All of me.

It reminds me that I must’ve came here for a reason.

Because this is where I belong.

[supertrainstationh]

CHARITY CASE CHAMPION

by A. Griffin / Super Train Station H ---------------------------------

I round up with pride at the checkout for Autism Speaks, but insult adults who like "Thomas the Tank Engine", and call them freaks.

I want to help the disabled, my bumper sticker proves it, truly, but when they get older, they better not enjoy "Bluey".

I support the autistic, and buy charity merch gladly, but I harass them online over things that make them happy.

There's no way those people could be autistic in any case, because I'm normal, so how could them, and me, be in a common space?

Leading brand charities told me what to look for: kids, often pitiable, easy to be adored, typically male - if they don't look like that, they're surely faking it, without fail!

I trust groups claiming to speak for disabled folks, without a doubt, but when they speak for themselves, it proves they're acting for web clout.

I "light it up blue," so those with hardships won't be silenced, but if I meet them online, I pelt them with written violence.

If they were really autistic they wouldn't and shouldn't have mentioned it! Speaking to me is for equals, I know I'm better than them!

How dare adults speak of benefiting from therapy courses? They should feel terrible for stealing disabled children's resources!

My heart goes out for those with sensory issues, in their younger days, but when they grow up, seeing them happy makes me outraged.

God forbid an adult enjoy things rated for all ages, or draw themselves as creatures from the comic strip pages.

I sympathize with web videos of disabled kid's meltdowns, but I see an adult happily flapping online, I'll run them out of town!

Why should it be on me to stow my righteous hostility?

Those phonies are mocking the plight of children with special needs!

"Autistic adult" is clearly an oxymoron. I browsed a charity website, so I know what's really going on!

Autistic people aren't legit unless they're kids that don't talk, that means adults that use vocal speech are committing fraud.

And as for those with different brains who happen to be silent, why consider their feelings, when they belong in asylum?

Stories put forth by autistic adults, are clearly embellishments, since for disabled people, they sure seem oddly intelligent.

I'm a well-balanced person, doing what little good I can manage, so I lurk online seeking targets to hate and disparage.

Exposing the lies of those that falsely claim to be special, makes me such a good person, that I deserve a gold medal!

So pitch in this April, every penny will be spent well - the cute kids on the posters, need every bit of help.

Their lives have been stolen, only your cash can restore their dreams!

But know, they shouldn't be cared about, after they hit eighteen!

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

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[shinjisdone]

When you have an Secret Admirer - and it's not them (Pomefiore; 5)

A love letter was left at your door and now you are searching for that ‘secret admirer’ - everyone wants to help you out…but have their own reason for it.

'I've kept writing you about the things that you did that enchanted me...but without wanting to sound cliché, I also fell for your beauty...'

form of headcanons + scenario-ish

[note: reader is gender-neutral but mostly mentioned in 2. pov; a series of everyone you meet following you. headcanon will follow each char. own thoughts on the situation. mostly nervousness, slight jealousy & stubbornness]

Part 1: Heartslabyul

Part 2: Savanaclaw

Part 3: Octavinelle

Part 4: Scarabia

Part 6: Ignihyde

Part 7: Diasomnia

It's best if you stay in your room for a few days, you thought.

After faking feigning an injury after the...flower fruit fiasco to Crowley (and him letting out a speech of how gracious he is for allowing you to rest) you've let everyone know that you needed quiet. And. Silence. Even Grim left you alone.

It was calming in a way. Just you and your thoughts, as well as the four love letters lying on the desk. Until a little ring caught your attention and you opened up a message on your phone.

Letting the image sink in it was a photo of a frustrated Vil with his make-up smudged.

'guy is taking the piss hahah' - Epel wrote you.

'What's in front of him?'

You couldn't help it. The curiousity took the best of you, especially when the Vil Schönheit looked this laughably angry.

'someone won a magic mirror on an auction and its messin with everyone. says it shows everyones real beauty when looked at but it shows nothin when we stare at it. no reflec tion and its makin Vil angrier than squirrel with a nut that dont crack lololol'

The boy sent you another image and it was of Rook trying to calm Vil down, who attempted to get the mirror out of the dorm. It made you chortle.

'lol why care about some phony mirror when Pomefiore is filled with real ones'

'I can update u (Name) if you want. Funniest thing that happens in this dully stuck up place'

Epel's comment made you smile. Even when he can get a bit temperamental, which you can't blame him for since he has to live with Vil, the boy does try to cheer you up. He must have heard of everything by now and even if he didn't, Deuce probably told him of your mood. It was sweet of him.

'Sure, might be fun to watch'.

Perhaps you shouldn't have answered like that.

Epel Felmier

Epel is no idiot.

He's aware of how you must be feeling so he tries to be seldom with his calls and presence. If it weren't for all the things that had happened this month for him notice, then it was Deuce's unusual worried frown.

He was so...quiet. Almost looking depressed when he told Epel of the first letter. He tried with effort to explain what had happened but ended up unwittingly admitting his displeasure at the change. He seemed to miss you and you've become reversed yourself. It was a bit of a bummer.

Epel tried hard to play it cool. Although behind closed doors, he'd mumble profanities in the usual accent he'd hide. These rumors were true. Big, richy colleges are full of drama, just like his village said! Why do things gotta be so unnecessarily complicated??? It doesn't make any sense to him.

Epel wouldn't bat an eye at gestures of love and grand confessions (he feels still perplexed though) but all of this was for you. It was no happenstance like usual, no, you aren't just being involved due to coincidence - all of this is happening because of you and for you.

What are ya, a princess waitin' for a knight in yer tower??? It's just????

Less upset and more puzzled. But he wouldn't know how to deal with that either.

Nevertheless, he convinced you to leave your room for a while after school hours...just a small visit that shouldn't take too long...

Rook Hunt

Oh, la la~

This is quite exciting for him. Love letters and confessions are things ususally told in fairytales, so seeing all of this unfold in this very school is quite the entertainment and Rook wants to be seated at the number #1 spot to witness it.

It's less of a creepy reason and more one of fascination. This is a one-in-a-lifetime chance and he always loved romance! He wants to see what this secret admirer is capable of. What they are ready to do for love.

Although he feels...disadvantaged? Challenged? Is it rivalry? Jealousy or true fascination?

As a hunter himself, he should know best how to capture hearts yet he feels like a freshly-born scholar looking up to his teacher. And out of all hearts they are attempting to capture it is yours...

Love can hurt...but it isn't supposed to make you uncomfortable, no?

Ever since he heard the rumors - and especially after he found out they are true - he has kept an eye on you. Without your knowledge of course...

Is the hunter learning...or keeping his prey for himself?

Vil Schönheit

The fairest of them all is a bit distracted, you see.

Aside from this wretched mirror, the senior could barely believe that out of all people...you get love letters.

However, with Leona's sudden interest in anything really and Kalim's lack of cheerfulness, things have become odd - now having rumors be confirmed by Azul (he was a witness!), Vil must believe it.

Even Epel is more on his phone than ever...

Vil isn't...apalled by the idea of you getting attention. He is just the one who usually gets it! But none of his fans' determination compare to that of your admirer. It's strange.

...Thats what he deduces first. Then it becomes ridiculous at the realization of it! You??? Getting more attention than Vil???

Do not misunderstand, Vil is not excluding the possibility of you having a secret admirer but the amount they are doing for you even leaves him a bit stumped.

He isn't sure if he should congratulate you or give into his jealousy. Jealousy of you getting more attention or your attention being snatched away from him? He isn't quite certain of it either.

It's better to distract himself with some puny mirror than keep on pondering about it.

Discreetly making your way to Pomefiore, you swiftly passed by other students, ones who had long started to avoid you. It was believed that your presence alone even summons the secret admirer...so some would take shelter from their strange pranks by getting out of your way. Sure, there were some who showed sympathy, asking about your well-being or even joking when that admirer will finally capture your heart...or if they have already.

Admittedly, you did not feel like meeting either of these kinds of guys...thankfully Epel picked you up quickly, either using his shy mask or temperamental yells to get you out of any situation - and soon, you found yourself in front of that mirror. Just as Epel stopped snickering as he showed you more photos, his head would turn to you and back to that mirror...with a surprisingly soft stutter, he pointed to it.

"Er...it ain't a phony, after all..."

...Why were you able to see yourself?

'...The one who can see themselves here is the true beauty of this school.'

Epel Felmier

Uh, what???

Why are ya able to see yourself in every angle possible? How come the background changed to every possible scenery that suited you so perfectly? With you standing out so marvy too???

That can't be it...is that seriously one of those infamous 'pranks' of that secret admirer everyone's been prattlin' about?

...Your secret admirer?

That can't be it. The (Name) he knows couldn't...have something like that...but it's true.

As Epel watches your face bloom like a magnolia in May, he finally understood Deuce's troubles deeply. It's one thing to hear it from someone on the surface and something completely different when you feel it deep in your soul too.

The boy stood there, as his yelling on what kind of phony mirror that could be transformed into mumbles until he was completely silent. His face scrunched up into a frown.

You look real pretty. He now thinks how you've always been real fine and fair but your reflection seemed so picturesque right now...all because of the darn, stupid smile on your face that you couldn't just wipe away, no matter how hard ya tried.

Damnit...what is this feeling?! How's he gonna get rid of it?!?!

Even as he wonders how others are gonna be up on your case again, the sweet lil' apple grew sour as he also wondered how much that admirer person was making you all happy and gushy now...

Rook Hunt

And here in comes Rook.

Rather, he had been watching you enter so elegantly and now admire yourself in that fancy mirror! He knew something was up with it and spying on Epel's messages, it was only a matter of time before your lovely self would find out about it!

The young man long knew that this 'auction win' was something from the secret admirer - with how they always end up involving whole dorms in their quest to win your heart. Rook has quite the keen eye himself...

Oh, he needs to be there and witness it himself! How exciting! What kind of creative confession will pop up this time?! How will you react?! It's all just trés bien!

Less worried about the consequences that may follow his dorm and more intruiged on how this pursue of love will continue. A true fairytale!

That's what he keeps telling himself.

Rook is torn between watching a beautiful love story unfold before him and being very displeased at the fact that someone else is trying to capture your heart.

How...unfair it all seemed.

But all is fair in love and war, no?

Shall he listen and learn from the admirer? To outwit them in every way and capture your heart himself? Maybe he should show them that this is his hunt and that they shouldn't mess with him.

Regardless, he's hiding it all too well behind a smile. Even as you hide your beautiful face bashfully and Epel trying to keep himself together and not stare at the scenery in front of him too hard and not for too long...

Yes, he'll stay back, like a real hunter.

Vil Schönheit

He hears the noise downstairs and wow, speak of the devil. Or rather when he thought of the devil. You just wouldn't leave his mind.

There you are with little messages starting to pop up in the mirror you were staring at...

'I wanted to have you see all the beautiful things about you when reading my thoughts about you...so you can believe me and witness them yourself in the moment.'

Vil raises a brow as your lovely reflection was overwritten by a dainty message, curvy and in red.

'You don't know how wonderful you look with a smile. It made me fall for you.'

And on cue, a bashful smile appeared on your face.

Vil, as well as Epel and Rook, jumped as they saw the many flowery poems of love spread around your reflection. It almost rivaled Rook's grossly exeggerated compliments.

"Now, now," Vil tries to stay calm as he shushed the mirror and tried to find out what the meaning of this is and by the Sevens, don't let it be the secret admirer. No, no, no, no! He keeps on shooing this...thing away, even if it can't really move.

Or...it can?

The mirror shrunk in size and used it's little attached wings ("WEREN'T THOSE DECORATIONS" - Everybody thinks) to gracefully flutter after you.

Is this some kIND OF TWISTED JOKE

FIRST THE ALCHEMY NOTES, THEN THE MAGIC FLOWERS AND NOW A FLYING MIRROR THROWING POSITIVE AFFIRMATIONS AT YOU

This secret admirer must be some kind of prodigy...

Does Vil not even stand a chance...?

He's confused and irritated. Not ever did he think things would come to this but seeing how someone actually has eyes for his numbre #1 potato sends the senior into slight panic.

This isn't like him.

But the turmoil in his heart is all so real and vivid...as is his determination to not let you be swooned over by anyone but him.

[yeah, I kinda feel like the vibe got from 'tralala oh a secret admirer? classic at a school like this how cute :)' to 'WHO TF...!? WHY U HAVING CRUSH ON MY CRUSH STOP IT' Hopefully this one is just as good as the other ones...dont feel like it does. You see, Vinland Saga...might have a chokehold on me :) ]

[If you get the 'IS THIS SOME KIND OF TWISTED JOKE' joke then u r really cool :) The fluttering, positive affirmation mirror just popped up as I wrote...and I had more ideas for Rook than anyone else. Would feel like Vil would be even worse with that what he had with Neige...even after his overblot, he just gives these vibes. Epel is just...r u kidding me. how am i supposed to be okay with that]

[luffyvace]

BUGGY HEADCANONS

Wrote this on a whim when I remembered how much I liked this guy 😎

Buggy stans, assemble!!

I love buggy and I don’t talk about it enough

but like he needs more screen time

he has a decent amount I just wanna see him more :)

onto hcs!

buggy is a guy who wants to be confident but isn’t so he fakes it but you can tell

at first he’s just as phony towards you but as time goes on he opens up to you

you try to convince him he can be himself around everyone, especially his own crew he but still thinks he has to put on a show

its what he does best afterall!

buggy is subtly physical affectionate, for example, resting his hand on your waist

or putting a hand on your head

him being more flashy would be giving you a big kiss

he dips you and makes a “mmmmwah!” sound so you know it’s for show when in public

other times he does it to be playful

Another grand love gesture he does is sit you on his lap or shoulder

the man’s got some good muscle so he can hold you not matter your weight 💗

He likes make a game or show out of a lot of things you do for fun

he won’t do it if it bothers you

but he makes you laugh so much how can you not like it??

buggy doesn’t really like anyone seeing him without paint/makeup on

he gets up like really early, around 4-5 to do it

he doesn’t even want you to see very often

he says he doesn’t feel ‘buggy’ without it

ngl cabaji and mohji are wonder how buggy bagged you?? 🤨🤨

like your so fine (yes you are idc abt your opinion of yourself, You. Are. Fine.)

lowkey buggy be wondering too..😗

buggy always talks to you before bed.

he like, caresses your hair and whispers in your ear

he’s not tryna do it in a suggestive way

like in a way where he’s trying to comfort you or lull you to sleep

”how’s your day been lovely?”

“I wish I coulda been there to punch that sucker in the face. you did not deserve that.” /

“That’s good honey, why don’t you go ahead and get yourself some sleep?”

“What about me? Oh sugar don’t worry about me, you just go ahead and get some shuteye”

he kisses you atop your head as you two snuggle up and fall asleep

YOU GUYS ARE SUCH A CUTE COUPLE

just for the record it took a WHILE before buggy got that smooth 😊

like he had to get comfy in the relationship before he could even think to say any of that without cringing at himself

at first he was a lowkey stuttering, blushing mess

buggy enjoys if you help him wash his hair, especially the part where you massage his scalp 😍

he loves it,

it’s his favorite part

if you wanna do his makeup tho..😗

your gonna need the rest of the crew to pitch in on a plan to capture all of buggy’s separated limbs for that one 😋

courtesy of the straw hats for giving you that idea

he’ll grumble and frown as you wash away his old makeup and apply a fresh layer :)

he’s not mad at you tho

He’s just going to kill his men once your finished 🤗

buggy is a pirate captain so he likely has a ship cook

which be thankful for that..

becauseeee this man could probably never cook in a million years..

anyway buggy’s main love languages are physical touch

because it’s easy to display his love for you

and sometimes he would make a show out of it ;)

acts of service

because I mean he just oh so loves to serve his sweet darlin’!

he lives for it even!

he lives to bring people joy and laughter from his shows

why would that be any different, especially with you??

and gift giving too

this is mostly for if he has a more so materialistic/superficial s/o

who likes the luxurious life and being pampered

or he might just get you stuff to see that big ol’ smile of yours 💛

he may be a coward sometimes

but he’s always a man in the sense of being a gentleman

It happens a lot but he gets really upset when his crew ruins what was supposed to be a romantic date for you

like picture it: everything’s going well

your dressed up and feel confident and buggy is too

you both sit down at a private reservation to a restaurant he rented

he takes your hands and kisses them as you both giggle and stare at each other, with hearts practically in your eyes

then the waiter comes in :)

*sniff sniff* “what..can I get you?..” 😢

”CABAJI?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE WHERES THE WAITER??”

”well you said do anything possible to rent this place since we didn’t have enough money..*sniff* so we had to sell Richie” 😭😭😭

”ARE YOU SERIOUS?! SO WHERES THE STAFF??”

”well you said you were renting it out so they thought you needed it for a party or something..not for a date” *sniffles*

buggy was practically on FIRE 😂

all bro wanted was a romantic date

but instead he had to go search for a LION 🤦‍♀️

Well you spent the rest of your day tracking down the restaurant staff and richie

and trust me that was a hassle

Everyone was tired and ready to give up but cabaji kept begging and crying

eventually you found the restaurant staff!…..forming they’re own circus..with richie..who was also crying

you had to fight the staff to get richie back

and they were unexpectedly strong

yeah at the end of the day you and buggy were tired and went to be early

he keeps it in his notes never to ask his crew to help him with a date again..

LOL

another topic :)

i feel buggy would really like receiving massages

like back/shoulder ones specifically

rub some lotion in his back and that’s the ultimate way to calm a angry buggy 💗

he really appreciates when you do this

he’ll return the favor too

more likely to come in the form of gifts than another massage

but if you state that’s how you’d like to be repaid he wouldn’t mind at all

in fact he’d be quite good at giving massages

especially since he can simply separate a hand or too so he can continue to manage his crew 💖

buggy likes to put you in his acts

He teaches you everything he knows and is really proud of you when you impress the crowd or master a skill

he’s very supportive and patient in that sense

and when I say the word ‘patience’ is reserved for you I mean it

he prioritizes you a lot even if he can’t afford the L he’s about to take in order to impress you

refer back to the failed date where he couldn’t actually rent the restaurant

🤪

and don’t get me wrong buggy isn’t broke or anything

it’s just he gets expensive when pampering you

like buying you lavish resorts, cruises and any other thing you could possibly want

he thinks you higher than him, better.

And in a attempt to get you to stay he gives you reasons!

lavish dates! Comfort! Happiness and laughter!

a part of him thinks you’d leave if he didn’t do those things

that you wouldn’t love him for just him and that it must be for the show

later on in the relationship when he explains that’s how he feels and opens up to you

you’ll definitely reassure and correct him about your love for him

that you’d love him even if he was a bum, nobody and total loser

he tries not to tear up but he’s tearing up

btw if you don’t like being in the spotlight/stage

he doesn’t mind :)

will occasionally try to push you out of your shell—

“your a star baby! Your meant to shine!”

”people would love you! You should at least try!”

—but he won’t force you <3

he’ll give you a front row seat to his acts and look for you to see if your smiling/laughing during the big act/climax of the show

he definitely values your opinion way over other’s and a lot of the time even his own

even more so if your intelligent

he might ask you to at least be a volunteer for his acts even if you prefer to be in the crowd

and you accept sometimes, to make him happy 😊

or maybe you work backstage!

like on spotlight or curtains!

maybe you made the props, if your an artist you may have painted them!

He compliments you on it too!

”ya worked wonders with that spotlight baby!”

“Really all I did was move it around..😅”

“Still ya did great! You’ve got a great sense of timing!

Or it may go more like this:

“The props looked wonderful tonight hun!”

”really? Thanks! It took a while!”

”hard work shows! almost stood out more than your smilin’ face in the crowd, my dear!”

WHO KNEW I COULD WRITE FOR BUGGYYY 😍😍

I LOVE THE WAY THESE TURNED OUT!! SO PROUD OF MYSELF 💪💪

Hope you enjoyed the hcs :) I really liked this experimental style I did<3

[lambtotheslaughterr]

I Burn : Part Eight

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.6k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART SEVEN | MASTERLIST | PART NINE

            You knew what you had to do. And nothing was going to stop you.

            Siena left this morning. Everyone gathered in the lobby to see her off. You didn’t join them. You had a plan to keep to. When it came time for group session, you remained in your room. A nurse that wasn’t Nurse Carney came looking for you. She found you in bed facing the wall, the covers pulled up to your neck. She tried getting you to respond, to come join group like mandatory, but you didn’t budge. She left soon enough.

            You knew you would be left alone. You knew that Dr. Mooney would know exactly why you didn’t attend group. When he was ready, he would come looking for you. And that’s just what you wanted.

            For most of the day, you remained in your room, stewing in your anger. Dr. Mooney was a phony, a fake. He didn’t care about you or the others here. He only knew how to put on the mask of a good man & wear it convincingly. But you saw him for who he truly was. And soon, everyone else would to.

            It was around 7 when you started to get ready. And you weren’t just slipping into a clean pair of PJ’s. No, you were getting dolled up. The most crucial part of your plan would soon be coming together.

            At 7:30, the time for your one-on-one with Dr. Mooney, you sat on your bed with your hands in your lap staring blankly straight ahead. You knew he would come. After yesterday, he couldn’t let you avoid him forever. He would be forced to put on his mask of good intentions & seek you out. You depended on it.

            And like clockwork, about five minutes after your one-on-one was supposed to start, you felt the air in your room shift as someone stood in the doorway. You didn’t need to glance over to see who it was.

            “We missed you in group.” Dr. Mooney started, remaining just atop the threshold.

            You shrugged, not looking in his direction, “Did Nurse Carney miss me, too?”

            You heard Dr. Mooney inhale sharply before glancing over his shoulder. Then he stepped into your room, swinging the door so it was only half-way closed. It was a well-known policy that the only time a doctor was allowed into a patients room was in case of emergency services. He must view his exposed affair as an emergency. You smiled internally to yourself.

            “I think it’d be best if you joined me in my office.” Dr. Mooney kept his voice stoic. You didn’t buy it.

            “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” You commented, your voice louder than he would like. “You’re a creep, like I said.”

            You felt Dr. Mooney giving you a warning glare, but you didn’t care. You dared him to keep pushing you.

            “Miss. _____, I must order you to follow me to my office.”

            “Miss. _____? What happened to first name basis?” You finally looked towards him, your eyebrows raised, “What? You don’t like me anymore?”

            “Dr. Mooney.” It was the nurse from earlier. She opened the door all the way, peering between the two of you in a confused manner.

            “Nurse Graham, I’m glad you’re here. I’m trying to get _____ to join me in my office.”

            She crinkled her eyebrows, “She isn’t feeling well today, doctor.”

            “It’s okay.” You smiled innocently towards her, “Dr. Mooney always makes me feel better.”

            You didn’t miss the accusatory flash of Dr. Mooney’s eyes, nor did you miss Nurse Graham’s concerned expression due to the undertone of your comment. You stood up, adjusting the skirt of your dress. You stepped towards Dr. Mooney, “After you, doctor.”

            He sighed heavily but forced a grin, nonetheless. You followed after him as he exited your room. In the common area, you spotted Rafe, Renee, & Albert hanging around. All their eyes were on you as you crossed the room. You were quick to lower your eyes, feigning shame.

            In just a couple minutes, you found yourself in Dr. Mooney’s office. He gently closed the door behind himself as you stood in the center of the room. He passed by you to his desk, grabbing his clipboard for his notetaking. But you wouldn’t be talking about yourself this evening.

            “Take a seat, _____.”

            He sat in his usual chair across from the couch, but you remained standing. Facing him head on as you stared down at him.

            “No.”

            Dr. Mooney pressed his lips together in frustration.

            “We can talk just like this.”

            His eyes met your own, & he didn’t bother to hide the animosity there.

            “If you insist.” He cleared his throat & leaned back, “How are you feeling? Anything specific you want to talk about?”

            You chuckled darkly at that, turning your back on him as you walked the edge of his office. Alongside the wall behind the couch was built in bookshelves. All the books were expected, all regarding the field in which he worked. It was just too bad there was no books on how to hide being a hypocrite or having a moral compass. On a shelf that was eye-level was a picture frame. In the picture was your beloved doctor & who you imagined to be his wife as they smiled blissfully at the camera. Poor woman.

            You fingered the picture frame, your fingers grazing over the edges. “Let’s talk about you.”

            “_____...” He sighed behind you but you grabbed the picture frame, spinning around for him to see you holding it.

            “We can talk about her instead, if you like.” You smiled wryly, “Or Nurse Carney. I don’t know, which would you prefer?”

            Dr. Mooney narrowed his eyes towards you.

            “Or who do you prefer?”

            “I suppose there’s no dancing around this, even though it is not your business, I might add.”

            You feigned surprise, “Not my business? Maybe.”

            You rounded to the front of the couch, slowly walking towards him as you held the picture of him & his wife in your hands, “But it’s hers, right? Or at least should be.”

            He stood up then, tossing his clipboard onto the chair before ripping the picture frame out of your hands.

            “Are you threatening me, _____?”

            You batted your lashes at him, “Why would you think that? You’re the one who taught me that being honest with yourself is the first step in acknowledging your problems.”

            Dr. Mooney glared down at you, “What do you want?”

            “The same thing you ask of us every single day. To be honest.”

            He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

            “Oh, c’mon, Dr. Mooney.” You stepped closer, closing the gap between the two of you. You ran your finger down the buttons of his shirt, peering up at him, “It’s okay to admit you’re like the rest of us. Just as fucked up.”

            He snatched your hand, raising it away from his chest. You slid your hand through his grip so his hold was then on your wrist.

            “Kiss me.” You whispered, rising on your tip toes to reach him.

            Dr. Mooney ripped away from you then, staring incredulously at you.

            “What?” You glowered, “Am I not your type? Do you need to be my boss? Boss me around, then. Tell me what to do.”

            You reached for the hem of your dress, quickly raising it up & pulling it over your head.

            “_____, stop.” He demanded, his voice hard & firm.

            “Make me.” You responded just as coolly. Tucking your fingers into the waistline of your tights, you began pulling them down.

            “Quit!” He raised his voice & you froze, staring wide-eyed at him.

            “Why don’t you want me?” You felt tears begin to kiss your eyes. “Am I not pretty enough? Old enough? Fucked up enough?”

            When Dr. Mooney said nothing, you reached behind your back to unclip your bra.

            “That’s enough!” He yelled once more, grasping you by the shoulders. The sudden movement forced your feet to get tangled in the half-way pulled down tights, causing you to fall backwards & onto the couch. Dr. Mooney fell with you.

            It was then that you started crying, screaming, begging, & thrashing about. Dr. Mooney held you still as best as he could to keep your hands & limbs from hitting him.

            “No! No! Please, stop!” You cried out.

            “_____!” Dr. Mooney’s voice rivaled your own but you screamed louder.

            Then, like music to your ears, you heard the door to his office slam open. Both of you quit moving, & you spotted just over his shoulder as three pairs of eyes stared into the office mixed with horror & concern.

            “Dr. Mooney!” Dr. Frazer raced forward, but Dr. Mooney was faster at removing himself from on top of you.

            Dr. Mooney was breathing heavily, staring wild-eyed at his colleagues. Nurse Graham rushed forward, grabbing your discarded dress on the floor & covering you with it. Nurse Carney remained in the doorway, her hands over her mouth as she took in the scene.

            “Holden, it’s not what it looks like.” Dr. Mooney’s voice shook with worry as he took in being on the end of all the heated & accusatory glares.

            “Nurse Graham, please get Miss. _____ back to her room.” Dr. Frazer ordered though his eyes never strayed from Dr. Mooney.

            You winced as Nurse Graham helped you up & shielded you from the other eyes in the room as you slipped back into your dress. Tears cascaded down your cheeks as she wrapped a secure arm around your lower back & led you out of the room, sure to keep you as far away as possible from Dr. Mooney.

            As Nurse Graham led you back towards the youth wing, you continued crying, your body shaking. But inside, you felt deep & irrevocable pleasure.

             Shortly after Nurse Graham brought you back to your room, she suggested you lie down & rest & remain in there until someone came for you. But you would do none of that.

            Leaving your room, you headed down the hallway towards the rest of the rooms. It was dinner time, everyone else would be in the mess hall. The nurses were busy, their attention elsewhere. And you knew no one would come looking for you for a while.

            Near the end of the hall, you reached an open door. The chalkboard to the right of it read Cameron, R. You stepped inside. It was empty. He was likely with the rest of them. But you had time. Making yourself at home as if it was your own room, you removed the tights from your legs & sat on his bed, pushing yourself backwards until your back met the wall. He would be there soon.

            After about fifteen minutes, you heard voices in the distance & footfalls as they echoed down the hallway. One set grew closer & you waited patiently & quietly until the object of your mission appeared in the doorway.

            Rafe hadn’t noticed you at first, but when he did, he halted immediately, staring at you in mild confusion.

            “Hey.” You offered a smile, your feet dancing as they hung off the edge of his bed.

            “What are you doing?” He questioned.

            You moved off the bed, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. Rafe watched you like a hawk as you stepped right up to him. Without saying a word, you reached for the top of his jeans, gliding your hand down until you felt the button & zipper of his jeans.

            “I’m leaving tomorrow, & I wanted to give you a good-bye present.” You lied through your teeth, leaning forward to graze your lips along the column of his throat.

            “You’re leaving?”

            “Mhmm.” You kissed his neck, feeling his body shudder beneath the action. “And I don’t want to leave without rewarding myself.”

            A fierce hand found itself at the back of your neck, the fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back so he could look you in the eyes. You didn’t miss the look of suspicion in his eyes but he needn’t worry. He wasn’t your target. But you did need him.

            “What are you waiting for?” You eyed him below your hooded gaze, “Fuck me. Before you can’t.”

            His eyes studied your face, lingering on your parted lips. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t take the bait, tarnishing your plans somewhat, but then he leaned forward, & you grinned to yourself when you felt his mouth on yours.

            With no time to waste, you placed your hands on the fabric of his shirt, moving him to he had his back to the bed, then you shoved him backwards until he fell onto it. You quickly turned away, closing the door to his room, before walking back towards him.

            “You’re up to something.” He commented as you climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap.

            “Soon you will be, too.” You quipped, latching your mouth to his. Rafe returned your kiss with fervor, his hands finding your hips as you began to grind against him. He groaned hotly into your mouth as you stuck your tongue into his, massaging the inside.

            With swift & experienced skill, Rafe swung you over so you lied on the bed, easing between your thighs easily. His bulge was prominent as he ground it against your center. You welcomed it. As he began to leave a trail of hot kisses down your neck, you moaned.

            “Do you have a condom?”

            Rafe paused in his ministrations as he leaned backwards, “Really?”

            You stared at him, unwavering, “No condom, no sex.”

            He rolled his eyes at that but moved off the bed, “You know they check all our things before we get settled in here.”

            You knew, but something told you that Rafe would still manage to sneak something in. He climbed on top of the built in desk to reach above the closet. He blindly felt around until his hand finally found what he was looking for.

            “Courtesy of my dad.” Rafe commented as he climbed back down, “He knows me well, I’ll admit. And if I’m gonna be fucking some looney bins, he’d rather me not impregnate them.”

            “Thanks, Daddy Cameron.” You laughed lightly, though Rafe cringed slightly at your nickname.

            Returning to you on the bed, Rafe slipped his shirt over his head before reaching for the hem of your dress. You lifted yourself up enough for him to remove it. Then you two were back to making out as he began to unbutton his jeans & pull them off. But you were growing impatient. You knew you had some time before you had to be back in your room, but the sooner the better.

            “Forget the pants.” You breathed out, reaching between your bodies to grasp his velvet cock. Rafe bit his lip, stifling the moan that sounded in his throat.

            “Fuck me. Now.”

            Rafe was only eager to meet your requests. But when his hands reached for the top of your underwear, pulling them down, his next words surprised you.

            “You’re dry.”

            Of course you were. This wasn’t the burning you were used to. This burning was fueled by vengeance.

            “We don’t have time for you to get me there.” You commented, reaching for him, “Don’t worry, though. I’ll be wet in no time.”

            It was obvious that Rafe wanted to rebuttal, but any attempt of his was thwarted when you yanked him on top of you, pressing your exposed pussy to his leaking cock.

            “By the way,” you started, meeting his eyes as he tore the condom wrapper, “I like it rough.”

            Rafe smirked at that, “Of course, you do.” He slipped the condom on, “Slut.”

            A yelp parted your lips as he forced himself inside you. Rafe growled into your neck, not waiting for your walls to adjust to his size before he began pounding into you. He covered your mouth as you cried out, the pain from his thrusting reaching all ends of your body.

            “God, you’re fucking tight.” He breathed out harshly. And you smiled at the comment.

            “That’s surprising.” The smile fell from your face with his added observation. You would be forced to ignore it though to see your plan through.

            Rafe yanked on the back of your head so he could look you in the eyes as he fucked you into his mattress. He leaned forward, catching your lower lip with his teeth. Your lip stung from his assault on your mouth, but you felt glee when you tasted blood. When you reached to rake your nails along the length of his back, he caught your wrists, pinning them to either side of your head. His grip was bruising. You smiled to yourself.

            “Harder.” You pleaded, watching as Rafe’s eyes darkened with pleasure.

            Rafe slammed into you, & you pressed your lips together to keep from moaning or crying out. Your pussy was throbbing, burning, as Rafe fucked you mercilessly. This is what you needed. And Rafe was the only person you knew could do it.

            His movements began to get choppy, & you felt his cock swell deep inside you. So close. Rafe let go of one of your wrists then, reaching for your chin as he grabbed it harshly. Then he smothered your mouth with his. A guttural groan filled the space in the room as Rafe pressed into you with one final harsh thrust. His groans continued but grew quieter as he spilled himself into the condom.

            Thank you.

            When you felt him pull out, you lied there for only a moment longer to catch your breath. Rafe stood up, walking towards a nearby waste bin below the desk to drop the condom inside. You hurried off the bed, slipping into your underwear & dress. When he turned around, he had already rebuttoned his jeans, but he kept his eyes on you.

            “So, what are you up to?” He questioned. You knew he wasn’t stupid, but he got what he’s always wanted. That would be all he needed to know.

            You smiled but said nothing. When you made to leave though, Rafe was quick to catch your wrist, your muscles tender & sore there.

            “Hey, why are you leaving?”

            But you just shook your head, though your smile never disappeared. Leaning forward, you kissed his cheek, “Thank you.”

            Rafe let you go as you backed away towards his door. You opened it, slowly poking your head out. The hallway was clear, you’d have to leave now.

            “It was nice knowing you, Rafe Cameron.” You grinned at him as you stepped out of his room, “Thanks for the good-bye present.”

            He looked like he wanted to say something but you were already speed-walking down the hall before he could. Slipping back into your room, you were relieved there was no curious eyes in the hall. Getting undressed, you changed your underwear & got into a pair of PJ’s. Crawling into bed, you returned back to facing the wall, the same way you had been when Nurse Graham came to your room that morning.

            As you reflected on the events of the last hour, & the events that were sure to come, you finally felt the burning rage you had felt begin to simmer. Now, all you had to do was wait.

            It was a couple of hours after your good-bye tryst with Rafe that your room flooded with light, waking you from your restful sleep.

            “_____!” It was your mother.

            Hurriedly turning around in bed, you felt your practiced tears appear.

            “Mom!” You cried, reaching for her just as she gathered you in her arms. You cried into the crook of her neck, your body shaking as she held you to her. Over your shoulder, you noticed your father standing just inside the room. His eyes were red, watery, but full of fury.

            “Daddy.” He joined you & your mother then, hugging you both in his arms. After they held you for some time, your parents finally pulled away.

            Your mother ran her hands down your face, holding you gently, “What happened?”

            You sniffled, tugging the sleeves of your sweater to cover your hands. You pulled out of her grasp, bringing your knees to your chest as you looked away, crying to yourself.

            “Honey, you have to talk to us. The police are here waiting for you.”

            You winced, shaking your head. Looking at them through bleary eyes, you begged, “Please, I don’t want to talk to them. I just want to go home. Mom, please.”

            “You will, we will. We’re taking you home immediately.” Your father revealed, his voice firm but with a hint of fear.

            “But sweetie,” your mom started, catching your eyes, “you have to talk to them. You have to tell them what happened, what Dr. Frazer & the nurses walked in on.”

            “I can’t!” You exclaimed, pulling further away from her, “No one will believe me.”

            “We believe you, baby. Just tell them.”

            You continued crying, shaking your head. This is what you wanted.

            “Dr. Mooney is saying you came onto him & that he was trying to stop you.”

            You whipped your head up, staring wide-eyed at your dad, “He’s lying! I didn’t. He…he’s the one who…”

            Your mother hugged you again.

            “I told him ‘no’.” You finally said, your voice barely a whisper.

            “What, honey?” Your mother frowned, pulling away to look you in the eyes.

            You stared hard at both her & your father, tears still falling. But with an edge & hardness to your voice, you finally revealed what they needed to hear.

“Dr. Mooney raped me.”

and i oop--

alright ya'll. this was a HEAVY chapter as far as plot goes. the amount of rewrites it went through is insane but i am very pleased with the final product. as always please share your thoughts w me via commenting, reblogging w reviews, or dropping an ask. i'm seriously so eager to hear what ya'll are thinking after this.

thank you for reading!

beau<3

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[danosrosegarden]

reader that is so polite and soft spoken and he’s drawn to them because they’re like literal sunshine but then they randomly say some aggressive opinion about how a corrupt politician should die or something and edward is just like “oh, yeah?”👀

idk if this is good lmao it’s my first time suggesting something but anyway your writing is beautiful and i hope you’re having a nice day!💚

pig in a poke - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{contains: mild descriptions of violence.}

☽ "I wish these guys would just drop dead sometimes."

☽ Edward's stomach churns, drops, implodes upon your words. Mitchell's face had been branded onto his mind. His sneering smile grinned at him in his darkest dreams with sharp, blood-stained fangs. He mocked him, with his "family values" campaign. Acting as if Gotham could've ever been a clean, moral place. What a sick fucking joke.

☽ Edward thought about it constantly; how it might happen if he ever actually did it. Mitchell's screams echoed in his mind like the clicking of heels in a barren hallway. Edward could break bones. He could tear through skin. He could make someone beg for their life. You couldn't. There was no way...was there?

☽ "W-what do you mean, honey?" Edward decides to approach the possibility slowly, carefully, with no loud noises or sudden movements. You look up at him from where you were laying on his chest on the couch, taking the lies and empty promises from the news channel in. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I don't really know these guys. It's just...they seem so phony, don't they?"

☽ Yes. Yes, they do, sweetheart. You're just like me. You understand! He could've jumped off the couch and started dancing with his overflowing joy. "Phony?" he questioned.

☽ You adjusted yourself to sit up beside him and sighed, gathering your thoughts. "Phony. Yeah, I guess that's the word. So...fake. Our city's full of...rats," you spat. "The corrupt. The filthy. We're filthy, Edward, we're being run and puppeteered by dirty liars."

☽ His heart was hammering in his chest, popping in his ears as you spoke. You kept your head down. You were quiet. Your mind ran around at a million miles an hour, but you reacted little. Edward liked you because you were like him. But he'd never imagined you were like him like this.

☽ "I guess I just wish somebody had the guts to do something about it," you said, laying your head back on his chest and flipping the channel. "That's all."

☽ A rerun of The Nanny droned from the TV as Edward watched you shut your eyes and drift off towards sleep. He could barely contain a wide-spread grin as he held you close. Did you know about his plans? Did you know about the website? Did you know about it all? He could feel the butterflies slamming around his chest. Breathe, Edward, just breathe.

☽ Edward fell in love with you because you saw him. You saw his bruised hurt, his aching anger, and you loved him anyway. But maybe he had got more than he bargained for when he chose you. More than he bargained for in the best way possible.

☽ He thought of your words with a sleepy, satisfied smile. I guess I just wish somebody had the guts to do something about it. Maybe you could help each other reach that goal sometime soon...together.

[liquidstar]

wait speaking of getting isekia'd via truck, a couple weeks back me and a friend on were talking abt portal fantasy/isekai tropes (mostly bc i was infodumping abt rz again), and it made me think abt a fun concept for an ocverse. tho its possible similar things have been done obvs with just how inflated the genre is, just hear me out OK

story starts in the normal world, with a typical Nerdy Guy going about his daily life, expositing about how he feels bored and longs for adventure and magic, just like in all of his favorite media. as he's crossing the street, distracted by his mobile game, he doesn't notice The Truck(tm) coming straight towards him. except he's not hit by it- he's pushed out of the way in the last second, saved by a passing girl who gets hit in his place. this is who the story is about now.

mc gets sent to that sort of intermediary dimension that some isekai have, where she meets the Goddess Lady or whatever that was in charge of the whole isekai situation. goddess lady proceeds to freak out, because she nabbed the wrong person, and she's going to be in SO MUCH TROUBLE. she starts questioning the mc, only to find out that this kid has a good social life, does well in school, is in sports, and has barely ever played a video game. basically the opposite of the socially introverted, underachieving, repressed, genre-aware guy she was supposed to have reincarnated. for the sake of fulfilling somekinda hero prophesy or whatever. and the mc kinda bargains to be sent to the fantasy world anyway bc, well, its that or death i guess. so the two of them kinda have to team up to course-correct this mix-up.

mc is kinda given a list of tasks to do that basically mirror how a typical story like this Would Go, expected to fall in line with the tropes in order to achieve the ultimate goal, but kinda ends up failing at all of them... or not? failing backwards, maybe. doing it in a way different from how its meant to go- using the wrong formula, but somehow getting the right solution. while sort of continuing to question the insanity of the whole situation, and the nature of this whole fantasy world. just fucking up all the tropes.

but a layer i'd wanna add on top of all that is the fact that the hero prophesy (or whatever) called for a man. so upon arriving to this new world, the mc is basically put into a "gender swapped" body and... doesnt seem to mind. this isnt an uncommon isekai trope either, but i hardly see it tackled with much care to really explore whole Gender Thing beyond gags about the "mismatch" (which can be in poor taste) or the conclusion that "well because their Body is now this gender, their gender identity changes to match" which i feel is a pretty shallow and binary take-away to draw abt bodies and identity.

but i think there can be more to explore w the prospect if you actually wanna get into gender stuff. in this case, i'd particularly wanna get into the idea of imposter syndrome. the main character was not MEANT to be... the main character. seen as a phony fighting tooth and nail to meet expectations, and constantly fumbling. not a real hero, or a real man. but its meant to be an act anyway, so why does that bother her? it was like that back on earth too, trying as hard as possible to be the perfect girl. a good social life, does well in school, is in sports.... but that good girl thing always felt fake too. or desperate. what was she trying to prove? how long as this BEEN bothering her, actually? why does it feel easier to breathe in this body, despite everything? the way this whole act makes her happy is scary, because its fake isn't it? but wait, which part was fake? the before or after? is it all fake? isn't this all just a mistake?

was it really a mistake? who is more heroic; a guy too focused on a mobile game to pay attention to those around him, or the person who risked their life to save a stranger? but the hero prophesy was for a "man," right? what does that even mean?

[newskin4theoldceremony]

DARKNESS AT THE BREAK OF NOON SHADOWS EVEN THE SILVER SPOON THE HANDMADE BLADE THE CHILDS BALLON ECLIPSE BOTH THE SUN AND MOON TO UNDERSRAND YOU KNOW TOO SOON THERE IS NOW SENSE IN TRYING POINTED THREATS THEY BLUFF WITH SCORN SUICIDE REMARKS ARE TORN FROM THE FOOLS GOLD MOUTHPIECE THE HOLLOW HORN PLAYS WASTED WORDS PROVES TO WARN THAT HE NOT BUSY BEING BORN IS BUSY DYING TEMPTATIONS PAGE FLIES OUT THE DOOR YOU FOLLOW FIND YOURSELF AT WAR WATCH WATERFALLS OF PITY WAR YOU FEEL TO MOAN BUT UNLIKE BEFORE YOU’D DISCOVER THAT YOU’D JUST BE ONE MORE PERSON CRYING SO DON’T FEAR IF YOU HEAR A FORIEGN SOUND TO YOUR EAR ITS ALRIGHT MA I’M ONLY SIGHING AS SOME WARN VICTORY SOME DOWNFALL PRIVATE REASONS GREAT OR SMALL CAN BE SEEN IN THE EYES OF THOSE WHO CALL THAT MAKE ALL THAT SHOULD BE KILLED TO CRAWL WHILE OTHERS SAY DON’T HATE NOTHING AT ALL EXCEPT HATRED DISILLUSIONED WORDS LIKE BULLETS BARK AS HUMAN GODS AIM FOR THEIR MARK MAKE EVERYTHING FROM TOY GUNS THAT SPARK TO FLESH COLORED CHRISTS THAT GLOW IN THE DARK IT’S EASY TO SEE WITHOUT LOOKING TO FAR THAT NOT MUCH IS REALLY SACRED WHILE PREACHERS PREACH OF EVEIL FATES TEACHERS TEACH THAT KNOWLEDGE WAITS CAN LEAD TO HUNDRED DOLLAR PLATES GOODNESS HIDES BEHIND ITS GATES BUT EVEN THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES SOMETIMES MUST HAVE TO STAND NAKED AND ALTHOUGH THE RULES OF THE ROAD HAVE BEEN LODGED ITS ONLY PEOPLES GAMES YOU GOT TO DODGE AND ITS ALRIGHT MA I CAN MAKE IT ADVERTISING SIGNS THAT CON YOU INTO THINKING YOURE THE ONE THAT CAN DO WHATS NEVER BEEN DONE THAT CAN WIN WHATS NEVER BEEN WON MEANWHILE LIFE OUTSIDE GOES ON ALL AROUND YOU YOU LOSE YOURSELF YOU REAPPEAR YOU SUDDENLY FIND YOUVE GOT NOTHING TO FEAR ALONE YOU STAND WITH NOBODY NEAR WHEN A TREMBLING DISTANT VOICE UNCLEAR STARTLES YOUR SLEEPING EARS TO HEAR THAT SOMEBODY THINKS THEY REALLY FOUND YOU A QUESTION IN YOUR NERVES IS LIT YET YOU KNOW THERE IS NO ANSWER FIT TO SATISFY ENSURE YOU NOT TO QUIT TO KEEP IT IN YOUR MIND AND NOT FORGET THAT IT IS NOT HE OR SHE OR THEM OR IT THAT YOU BELING TO BUT THOUGH THE MASTERS MAKE THE RULES FOR THE WISE MEN AND THE FOOLS I GOT NOTHING MA TO LIVE UP TO FOR THEM THEY MUST OBEY AUTHORITY THAT THEY DO NOT RESPECT IN ANY DEGREE WHO DESPISE THEIR JOBS THEIR DESTINY SPEAK JEALOUSY OF THEM THAT ARE FREE DO WHAT THEY DO JUST TO BE NOTHING MORE THAN SOMETHING THEY INVEST IN WHILE SOME ON PRINCIPLES BAPTIZED TO STRICT PARTY PLATFORM TIES SOCAIL CLUBS IN DRAG DISGUISE OUTSIDERS THEY CAN FREELY CRITICIZE TELL NOTHING BUT WHK TO IDOLIZE AND SAY GOD BLESS HIM WHILE ONE WHO SINGS WITH HIS TONGUE ON FIRE GARGLES IN THE RAT RACE CHOIR BENT OUT OF SHAPE FROM SOCIETYS PLIERS CARES NOT TO COME UP ANY HIGHER BUT RATHER GET YOU DOWN IN THE HOLE THAT HES IN BUT I MEAN NO HARM NOR PUT FAULT ON ANYONE THAT LIVES IN A VAULT BUT ITS ALRIGHT MA IF I CAN PLEASE HIM OLD LADY JUDGES WATCH PEOPLE IN PAIRS LIMITED IN SEX THEY DARE TO PUSH FAKE MORAL INSULT AND STARE WHILE MONEY DOESNT TALK IT SWEARS OBSCENITY WHO REALLY CARES PROPAGANDA ALL IS PHONY WHILE THEM THAT DEFEND WHAT THEY CANNOT SEE WITH KILLERS PRIDE SECURITY IT BLOWS THE MIND MOST BITTERLY FOR THEM THAT THINK DEATH’S HONESTY WON’T FALL UPON ‘EM NATURALLY LIFE SOMETIMES MUST GET LONELY MY EYES COLLIDE HEAD ON WITH STUFFED GRAVEYARDS FALSE GOALS I SCUFF AT PETTINESS WHICH PLAYS SO ROUGH WALKED UPSIDE DOWN INSIDE HANDCUFFS KICK MY LEGS TO CRASH IT OFF SAY OKAY I’VE HADE ENOUGH WHAT ELSE CAN YOU SHOW ME AND IF MY THOUGHT DREAMS CAN BE SEEN THEYD PROBABLY PUT MY HEAD IN A GUILLOTINE

BUT ITS ALRIGHT MA IT’S LIFE AND LIFE ONLY

[dailyrothko]

Hi :) I was wondering about your opinions on Ex. No.7 (if you have any)! I haven't met many people with such a fascination with Rothko, so I'm hoping that you would be willing to share your two cents on this piece (and possibly the controversy around it)

This is the specific work, since it appears that another Rothko has the same title ↓

https://news.artnet.com/market/all-the-evidence-indicates-its-a-rothko-but-experts-refuse-to-authenticate-12143

I think journalists love stories like this and if there's a photo of it in the Rothko family collection that could be for many reasons, but it does make an intriguing mystery.

However, I think this is like the CIA story, journalists love a hook, love an underdog story, love to say "Here's something you have never heard about" but claims and rarely stand up to reality.

I have seen this painting for a decade. My suspicion is that David Anfam, who died last week (RIP David), didn't wish to talk about it because it looks so obviously fake.

What's "All the evidence", I don't see any, myself. Rothko sold mostly privately, who bought it from him? Apparently no one knows, but big red flag right there.

Sure the 1949 date is early enough for some experimentation in his style to go one but there are many reasons I have never considered it real.

So here it is-

1- the colors are all wrong, much too pastel for Rothko.

2- What's with the outlines around the shapes? Why are the borders huge? Rothko liked floating fields. He feathered the edges to create a feeling.

3- The application of the paint looks much more amateurish than Rothko, it's too opaque and hard. It's like panting window trim.

Maybe it is real, and yes it's true that it's hard to get authentications without provenance but I have never for a second though it was real myself. it doesn't have the look.

Even with Rothko still maturing , look at some of his work from that year and tell me if that looks like the same painter, and for me, it does not.

As for Selz, who had a long career, I am sure he was well respected by many but I know Aaron Sisskind basically said he was a phony and no one respected him and that his wife actually wrote his dissertation.

Not to slam the guy, Sisskind was one of strong opinions, but it's not a big deal to me that Selz though it was real. Either way, it doesn't look real to me.

Thanks for the question

[abeautylives]

Just Ours, Tonight

a/n: Part 2!! Read Part 1 here, and if you’ve made it this far, THANK YOU thank you thank you for reading ❤️

pairing: Joshxfemale!reader

word count: somewhere around 7.5k

summary: He’s your best friend, but that may be about to change.

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, more friendly fluff, allusions to sexual situations, graphic sexual content, oral (f. receiving, I am a slut for cunnilingus, sorry not sorry), unprotected penetrative sex

Outside, unbeknownst to anyone else, Josh had just told Jake the first secret he’d ever been successful in keeping from him. He’d also told him the only secret he’s ever kept from you.

Inside, you’re blissfully ignorant as the casual after-dinner chit chat has turned into a party. Sam and Joy are fighting for control of the music, which has created a pretty interesting playlist, and you’re feeling loose from the bottle of wine you’ve now finished. You've been dancing with Jita in the living room, switching styles to match the vibe of each song, laughing loudly at how ridiculous the mix is. Where’s Josh?

It hits you that the twins have been outside for a long time. Way too long for the smoke they’d apparently left for. You have Jita’s hand in yours, your arm wrapped around her waist, and you spin her away from you just as the current song ends.

“I’m gonna go find our boys, we need to switch up dancing partners!” She waves you off and sits to catch her breath as you move toward the back door.

You catch a glimpse of Jake’s face through a window in the living room. He’s got one of those huge smiles spread across his lips, curled up at the corners, pretty as can be. When you turn the doorknob and step over the threshold into the night air, his smile drops and a matching pair of guilty faces snap to yours.

“Whoa, what am I interrupting boys?” Your tone is playful, you haven’t imagined they’ve gotten up to anything too serious out here. Glancing at the ashtray you see they’ve gone through almost half a pack of Jake’s cigarettes. “What the fuck guys, you couldn’t invite anyone else?”

“You don’t smoke, princess. You’re a fraud, a fake, a phony if you will,” Jake offers up in reply. Josh hasn’t looked away from your face but guilt and… fear? still remain in place on his.

“What have you been doing to him, Jacob? He looks like he’s seen a ghost,” you’re still joking with them though anxiety has settled in your stomach. What have they been talking about?

“Ah, he has seen something my dear, but a specter it is not.”

“Okay Captain Jake Sparrow,” your eyes roll. “Let me guess, it was your dick. A: that’s gross, you’re brothers. B: I’ve heard from your girl that it is scary. And not scary big, scary weird.”

They both laugh out loud at your teasing but the only sound you comprehend is Josh. When he laughs, it’s loud and abrupt and when you look down to him in the chair, he finally looks normal again. The huge smile splitting his face shows all of his teeth and most of his gums and it’s definitely reached his eyes. Your anxiety quells but doesn’t disappear completely.

Jake returns fire, “I can prove to you right now that that is simply untrue, darling.” He’s moving as if he’s gonna drop his shorts right here on the deck.

“Shut up Jake,” Josh finally speaks, fixes his face into an expression resembling amusement, but he hasn’t quite achieved it. The giveaway is his mouth, his smile now looks forced, his eyes slightly narrowed in Jake's direction.

“I’m kidding, Jesus lighten up.”

“You all need to lighten up, come back inside and dance with us before I steal your girlfriend and make her mine, Jakey,” you can’t take the awkward tension out here any longer.

“Oh fuck that,” Jake says as he pushes past you to re-enter the house. You watch through the window as he makes his way through the living room to Jita, grabs both of her hands and hauls her body out of the chair and into his arms, instantly beginning a sort of swing dance with her. They’re both laughing wildly.

Left in silence on the deck, Josh hasn’t moved from his seat in the Adirondack. You step over to stand in front of him, knees bumping his.

“Hey handsome.”

He lifts his eyes to yours, his expression is strange and you have trouble placing it. “Hey princess.”

You hold a hand out to him and he reaches up and grips it tightly.

“I don’t know what’s been going on out here but… are you okay?” Your smile is soft and encouraging, your friend’s discomfort is turning into your own and you’re trying to suppress it for you both.

“Um.. yeah. Yeah I’m good.” He lifts his other hand to rub nervously across the back of his neck. You use the hand holding his to pull him up out of the chair and his body collides with yours, arms going around you, face tucking into your neck. He takes a deep breath there through his nose before mumbling against your t-shirt, “I’m great actually….” His head lifts and he pulls it back to look into your eyes. “Are your tits out? Lemme see.”

There he is.

On a laugh, with a hand slapped to the center of his chest, you giggle out, “You’re sick! But yes they are, dummy. And no you can’t see them. Now come dance with me.”

Taking a hand in yours again, you tug him along with you back into the house and through to the living room where a hip hop song that sounds vaguely familiar is playing, the beat encouraging your body to move, the boys sitting this one out. Joy bounces over to you and you dance with her, bodies pressed together, her ass pushed into your hips, your hands roaming down her ribcage to settle onto hers. All eyes are on the two of you until the song ends.

“Hot. That… was hot, get back over here,” Sam grabs Joy around the waist and pulls her back against his own body as the song transitions into one of his choosing. It bleeds out of the speakers slowly, smooth and jazzy, they sway together with it. You watch Jake pull Jita to him in a similar fashion and her arms wrap around his neck, their noses almost touching.

Turning to Josh, who had planted himself on the couch as soon as you came inside, you again extend a hand to him. “Dance partners?”

“M’not much of a dancer.”

“Bullshit, get up here.” He obeys, grabbing your hand and standing to move in close to you. You don’t give him time to hesitate, pulling him flush against you, arms thrown over his shoulders and cheek resting on one as he wraps his own arms to rest loosely around your lower back. Your chests are pressed together and he can feel the bareness of yours through the thin material of your t-shirt, but he resists tightening his hold on your body. From the outside, the two of you look like you’re sharing an affectionate but friendly hug, it’s not all that intimate and your hips aren’t even touching as you rock slowly from side to side. It’s hardly a dance, but every pair is doing their own version of the same movements. You watch over Josh’s shoulder as the actual couples steal moments alone, though you’re all in the same space. Sam is whispering into Joy’s ear, something that makes her grin and blush a little before hiding her face against his chest. Jake and Jita are completely silent, swaying softly and sharing something with each other that’s being conveyed simply through their eye contact.

Maybe that would be nice.

The thought enters your brain but confusion clouds it just as quickly, you can feel your eyebrows knit together with it. You and Josh are not together, have never even given each other the impression that this is more than it is. Ever. Josh has been pushing for a few weeks now to tell the others that you’ve been sleeping together, but only so you wouldn’t have to be so sneaky about it when you wanna get off. Right?

The song comes to an end and you can feel how your mood has shifted. Lowering your arms from his body, you take half a step back from Josh. He hasn’t released his hold from around your back yet as you meet his eyes. They’re immediately searching yours as he can tell your mood has changed too.

“I think the wine has gotten on top of me, I’m super tired all of a sudden,” you lie. “I think I’m gonna take a shower and head to bed.” He unlinks his arms from around you and watches you deliver a general “goodnight” to the room and then turn to leave it. As the bass of an upbeat tune starts to boom through the living room, he turns to say his own goodnights, that he’s gonna clean up and do the same, but no one’s paying attention.

Except Jake.

It’s not lost on him that his twin is eager to follow you, and he wonders if it’s about sex or love. Probably both. Communicating without words, as they do half the time anyway, Josh catches Jake’s eyes before turning out of the room.

Are you gonna tell her?

Josh offers only a slight shrug of his shoulders before leaving to follow you up the stairs.

You’re only a few steps ahead of him and he picks up the pace, taking two at a time to reach the landing at the top just after you. You’ve heard him following and turn to face him there, going to speak but your words are stopped behind your lips as his crash into yours, a hand already ensnared in the hair at the nape of your neck. The kiss is instantly deep and all-consuming, and you’re ready to melt into it and just make out with him there in the hallway, but he breaks it quickly.

Speaking lowly, words only for your ears though the music downstairs is loud enough to drown out any sounds from up here, he says, “Go take a shower. I’m gonna do the same, then I’ll meet you in your room. I owe you an orgasm and I will be fucking you in a bed tonight.” Even without a light on up here, you can see his devilish grin in the darkness. He doesn’t await a response, simply turns your body and pushes it away from him, toward the opposite end of the hall. You move that direction but glance back at him over your shoulder as he disappears into his own room.

You shower quickly but thoroughly, washing the residue of salt and sunscreen from your skin and letting your conditioner soak in as you scrub. When you’re done you feel like a new woman, having let some of your worry and confusion slip down the drain with the bubbly suds of your body wash. Wrapped in a towel secured around your waist, the top half of your body remains bare as you run a blow dryer over your hair for a minute, knowing you don’t want to climb into bed with it soaking wet. You don’t hear the light knocks at the bathroom door, and jump slightly when it swings open, switching the dryer off and moving an arm to cover your chest.

It’s only Josh. You drop your arm.

“You scared me, you idiot!” You’re doing the same whisper-yelling he had heard from Jake out on the back deck. He’s dressed similarly to how he has been all day, a pretty tiny pair of sleep shorts now slung lowly on his hips, no shirt to be found. He closes the door behind him, though your bathroom is an en-suite.

“They can’t hear you babe, they’re still engaging in the festivities downstairs,” he laughs as he speaks, his eyes locked onto the reflection of your naked breasts in the mirror as if seeing them for the first time. You notice how he looks a little mesmerized and keep your eyes on the reflection of his face as you set the dryer down on the counter. You watch him as he watches closely, bringing your hands to your own body and running your fingertips up from your stomach and over your ribs before cupping a breast in each hand and pushing them up attractively.

“Enjoying the view?” His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he swallows before speaking.

His voice now comes out as a near whisper, “I am… please let me touch you.” He’s already moving towards you, hands reaching.

“Oh I actually insist that you do, don’t you owe me something?” There’s a smirk on your face but he doesn’t see it, he’s directly behind you now, hands on either side of you and fingertips trailing over the skin exposed just above the towel still hanging at your waist, eyes closed and face once again pressed into your hair and breathing it in. His fingers move to the front of the towel where it’s tucked into itself at your navel, and though you’re ready for him to snatch it off of you he hesitates and speaks again.

“Need to see you, it’s been too long.”

“Josh we had sex in the shower outside, you’ve seen me.”

“Not enough… You’re so pretty right here,” he finally tugs the towel open and drops it to your feet, stares directly at your cunt in the mirror, chin now propped on your shoulder. Your gaze drops to it too. His hands connect with your hips before he moves one across the front of your body and slips it down between your thighs, tucking it there and cupping it against you. When he pulls it back, he drags his middle finger against your skin before moving both hands to knock yours away and replace them with his own over your chest. Both sets of hooded eyes follow his movements.

“Pretty here too. Gorgeous everywhere, really.” He shifts to press a kiss into the shoulder he’s been resting on, doesn’t take his eyes off of his hands on you.

“What’s with the flattery Josh? Trying to butter me up for something? Oh my god, I’ve already told you you can’t put it in my ass,” you end on a giggle and he offers you one in return, the sound makes your heart flutter.

His hands are moving again, slowly back down the front of your body before finding their home back on your hips. He uses them to push you forward, closer to the mirror, until the cool surface of the edge of the countertop meets your skin. His own hips are pressed against you, you can feel his dick, already hard and tucked into the cleft of your ass.

“I’m not convinced that I couldn’t persuade you into that, eventually, but no. No ulterior motives. Just want you to know you’re beautiful and that I’ve always appreciated it.”

“Always, huh?”

“Always.”

You turn in his arms and loop yours around his neck, the counter now pushed into the flesh at the top of your butt. He watches in the mirror as it presses into the skin there before meeting your eyes. “You’re pretty too,” you’re whispering again, not in fear of being overheard, but the words feel special and significant as they float off your tongue. He leans in to kiss you, starting at your lips then trailing them back over your jaw. When he reaches the spot hiding just behind your earlobe, he murmurs into your skin.

“Jake knows.”

You’ve heard his words but the significance escapes you. “Jake knows what?” It comes out a little airy, breathless as he continues to work his lips and now his tongue against the sensitive skin at the base of your neck. In between kisses, he answers you.

“He knows we’re sleeping together.”

Your body jerks away from his mouth and your eyes snap to his face, which he hasn’t lifted but he’s looking up at you through his eyelashes, a small guilty smirk on his lips.

“Josh, you told him? I told you I wanted to wait.”

“He sort of figured it out. He didn’t seem that surprised, honestly.”

You can’t really tell how you feel. You’re not… angry. Surprised, maybe. A little sad. This is over.

“Hey… don’t do that. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want them to know yet. He promised he wouldn’t say anything. You know he keeps his promises.” Josh watches your lips, set into a small frown, as you begin to work the bottom one in between your teeth. His hand raises to your face, cups your jaw and he uses his thumb to pull that lip free. He kisses you sweetly, soothing the bruise that threatens to bloom under the mark your teeth have left behind.

“Are you mad?”

“No. No. Not mad. I guess it’s not our secret anymore… maybe we should tell the rest of them.”

“Tomorrow. It can still be just ours, tonight.” He punctuates the sentence with a firmer caress of his lips against yours and you give into it, not wanting to linger on the uncertainty creeping up your spine. Josh can feel how tense you are in his arms though your lips are relaxed and moving against his fluidly, a dance you’ve perfected together over time. Your arms are still around his neck and he reaches up to tap one, signifying that you should hold tighter. When he feels your hand move to grip your opposite forearm, he grabs you at the waist and lifts you to sit on the counter. A hiss is sucked between your teeth as the cool granite hits your skin but he doesn’t break the kiss, instead taking the opening to slide his tongue past your lips and connect it with yours.

You’re lost to it now, thoughts of concern pushed deep down and taken over by thoughts of more, more, more. You haven’t even realized that his hands have found your thighs until they move inward and slide down between your knees to push them further apart. You spread them even wider than his hands have demanded and he hums against your mouth before pulling away to look down at what you’ve presented him with.

“Mm, have I told you how pretty your pussy is today?”

He makes you laugh, like he always does.

“You have, just recently in fact. Tell me more.”

His eyes are still on it, you both watch as he brings a hand back up your thigh toward you and slips his thumb between your folds, through the slick moisture that’s dripping from you, then up to press light circles into your clit. Your eyes close as the subdued pleasure blossoms from your core and moves through you, amplified by his next words.

“It’s perfect, really. Pink and soft, always wet for me” His ministrations against you stay soft but never waver as he continues. “Do you really just always need me that bad?”

His dirty words sound like poetry in your ears. You only nod your head and hum your approval. More.

He seems to know what you want, quite often actually, and he continues. “No matter when I call, you’re wet and waiting for me. Then you let me do whatever I want to your body, so good to me all the time.”

In truth, it’s usually you who calls, but he’s not completely wrong otherwise. You call when you’re horny, empty and needing to be filled with him. And it’s usually you telling him what you want done to your body. But you also call when you miss him, his presence is comforting and his company has always been enjoyable. He might be your favorite person.

His thumb has found its way back to your entrance, your arousal is dripping onto the granite and he gathers it and spreads it around, coating your folds with it before tucking that finger just inside you. A low moan rolls up through your throat and past your lips. More.

“Can I have a taste, princess?”

“Don’t call me that, not right now,” you’re practically panting the words. “Your brother calls me that too, ya know.”

“I could call you something different, something that’s just mine.” I could call you mine.

He pulls his thumb from your cunt and you watch as he brings it to his lips, slipping it into his mouth without hesitation, sucking the taste of you from it.

“‘Babe’ is fine, I like it when you call me that, when we’re alone.”

“Hmm but you’re sweet, like peaches, or honey. I could call you honey.”

You don’t love the way it sounds, despite his voice coating it in sugar and making it even sweeter, but you need him to keep touching you, to taste you like he’d asked to, so you agree.

“Call me whatever you want, just don’t stop.”

“Of course not honey, not gonna stop.”

With that, he drops to his knees between yours and wastes no time getting his mouth on you. No teasing, no build up, his tongue is lapping at you, his lips sucking you into his mouth. The sound is graphic and indecent and driving you wild. Both of your hands find their way to his hair, fingers laced into his curls that are now soft from his shower, keeping him close. Not that he needs assistance, he has no intention of stopping, not until you’re whimpering his name and cumming on his tongue.

Focusing his attention to your clit, he’s already got you pretty close. Alternating between flicks of the tip of his tongue to it, and sucking it past his lips to roll the flat of his tongue against it, you’re already whimpering. He has to fight against your hands to pull his face away just long enough to make a request.

“Let me hear you.. No one else can, tell me how good it is.” You pull his head back to you as you let his name escape your mouth.

“It’s so fucking good Josh, you’re so good. Please don’t stop, I’m almost there.”

He doesn’t change a thing, maintains speed and pressure, he knows exactly how you like it and he’s tailored his talents to suit you. Anything for you. He also knows you’re right there on the precipice, and he’s drawing your pleasure out as you teeter on the edge, selfishly, just so he can hear his name on your gasps and moans. When it comes out on a long drawn out whine, he knows you’re bordering overstimulation. He brings the same hand up that’s already been on and inside your cunt twice today, and taking only a moment to swirl the tips of his first two fingers through the mixture of your slick and his saliva, he plunges them into you.

“Josh,” he sucks your clit back into his mouth, hard. “JOSH!”

There she is.

He doesn’t know what he loves more, the way his name sounds when you’re screaming it or the shape of your body, the way your back arches when you cum. The combination has him straining against the soft fabric of his shorts.

His lips and fingers haven’t left you as you ride out and come down from your orgasm, and once it’s faded away he’s leaving kisses across your pussy, featherlight over your clit, as he eases his fingers from you. Your hands have dropped to your sides, your back leaned up against the mirror. The glass is cool against your hot skin. When he’s standing again, still nestled between your legs, you open your eyes.

His are dark, pupils wide and locked onto yours. His hair is unruly again, disheveled by your hands and it looks good on him. You must be in a similar state.

“You look positively fucked, honey.” The name is growing on you.

“Mm, I’d like to be.” You drop your eyes from his, trail them over the skin of his chest, then his stomach. All of it looks soft, edible, and you know that it is. When your eyes reach his shorts, they widen just slightly. He’s hard, which you’d expected, but there’s a small wet patch in the material right at the tip of his cock. You know he hasn’t cum in his pants but the size of the spot lets you know that he’s been leaking, desperate for you.

Without words, you slip off the counter and take his hand to lead him into your bedroom. Walking ahead of him, you reach the bed first but before you can climb on and turn to him, he’s pushing you gently onto it on your hands and knees. You stay in the position he’s put you in, but look back over your shoulder. His shorts are already pushed to the ground and he’s looking down at his dick in his hand, stroking it slowly with a loose grip. It looks painfully hard, the tip is red and still leaking precum. On an upward stroke he rubs his thumb across it, spreading it over himself. A tiny sound comes from his throat, a whimper.

“Josh…” You’re whispering again. The sounds from downstairs are quieter than before, the music seems to have stopped but a movie may be playing in the living room.

“Need you, babe. Come on.” You wiggle your ass, still on full display for him.

He moves forward, hand still around his cock, and kneels onto the edge of the bed behind you. Silently, he glides himself through your folds, gathering the wetness there before pressing his hips into you just enough to tuck the head of him inside.

“Jesus,” He pulls out of you completely before doing it again, this time sliding into you slowly, watching as he disappears into your cunt.

You release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding when he’s seated inside you to the hilt, unmoving.

“You can move Josh, fuck me, c’mon.”

“Yeah, yeah… I will.” His emotions are waging a war within his head. He needs to fuck you, he’s actually aching for it, but he wants to love you. Show you how he feels, if he can’t tell you.

Pulling his hips back, he watches himself retreat from your body before slamming back into you. “Yes! Keep going!” He leans over you, chest pressed to your back, supporting himself with one hand on the mattress and the other wrapped around your hip. He pulls back and thrusts sharply into you again before leaving a kiss to your shoulder, then he uses his hand on your hip and his own body weight to maneuver you off of your hands and onto your elbows, lowering your chest to the bed. You’re sure he’s going to lift himself back up and unleash on you from behind but he doesn’t. He continues to push your body down with his hands and his weight until you’re flat on your stomach, legs spread and straight out behind you. He leaves you again and does lean back long enough to push your legs together and straddle them. He hasn’t done this before and you’re a little disoriented.

“Hey… what are you…?” You let the words trail off as he grips himself and runs the tip of his dick down the crack of your ass before pressing it against the entrance of your pussy with his thumb. Pushing his hips down and forward, he slides into you slowly until he’s pressed firmly against you. Oh.

Leaning forward, he brings his body over yours, propping himself up on just one elbow. He watches his other hand smooth down the soft skin of your back before sliding it up the sheets and grabbing yours. You tangle your fingers together as he places his lips to the skin of your shoulder again and begins rocking his hips against your ass. He’s buried himself so deep inside you that you can feel him nudging your cervix, then dragging just over that one spot with every shallow backstroke. The pressure is building again slowly and it’s clear that he’s in no hurry to get you there. Your cheek is pressed to the mattress, both arms bent at your sides, one hand gripping the sheets and the other joined with his.

“J-Josh,” It comes out quietly, almost muffled by the bedsheets. It hasn’t ever felt quite like this before.

“Yeah honey..” His voice sounds strained.

“Harder.” Just a little bit.

He doesn’t respond with words but with compliance, pumping into you with just barely deeper strokes. You bend your knees, lifting your feet and crossing your ankles and they’re bouncing lightly against his ass as he moves inside you. With the leverage of your knees against the bed you arch your back, your hips lifting to meet his strokes. The sound of his hips colliding with the plushness of your backside fills the room.

“Oh god just like that,” the slight change in angle is delicious.

Voice still tight, he asks how it feels. Kisses your skin again and leaves his lips against you. He’s all around you, pushing you into the mattress and you can barely move aside from where your bodies connect. It feels amazing, but something feels different. His behavior seems off, he’s quiet.

“It’s s-so good,” a sharper thrust punches the words from your lungs on a soft moan. “Talk to me, please…”

He grunts once, twice as he pumps into you just a little harder before speaking.

“You feel like heaven, so fucking tight around me like this. Can you feel how deep it is?”

You nod your head wildly against the mattress, “Yes, fuck it’s so deep, you’re so good.. keep going.”

“M’not gonna stop, never wanna leave you ever. Could live here forever…” His voice trails off as he imagines it, his cock twitching. Suddenly he’s shifting, lifting off of your body.

“Josh?”

He pulls out of you slowly, watches himself do it, before he’s flipping you over. You assist him, propping yourself up and rolling to your back. He pushes your knees up, almost to your chest and he’s back inside you immediately with a deep thrust.

“Shit!” He’s pumping into you with more force now, eyebrows knit together but a small smile on his lips and he looks down at you.

“Cum again for me, touch yourself. I wanna watch.”

You’re smiling back up at him, hands wrapped around his wrists where his are still holding your knees. You let your eyes move down his body for a moment, there’s a sheen of sweat glistening over his chest, the muscles of his stomach are flexing as he moves, the V of muscles that lead to his dick are taut and prominent right now. This is what you’re used to, your fun and ridiculous best friend who’s also dirty and sexy and worships your body behind closed doors.

One hand drops it’s hold on his wrist and you raise it to his face, his lips already parted and waiting. Pushing two fingers past them, they land on his tongue and he swirls it around them quickly. He’s close to his own release and needs to feel yours around him before he lets go. When your fingers leave his mouth, so does, “Touch your pretty clit for me, babe. Cum with me, I’m almost there.”

Your fingers are on it before he finishes the sentence, rubbing swift circles into the sensitive flesh. A low whine slides up and out of your throat, past your lips and into the air between you.

“That’s right.. Feels. So. Good. Doesn’t it?” His words huff out of him as his hips meet the backs of your thighs, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room.

“So good- fuck Josh, I’m there I’m gonna cum, cum with me please!”

He opens his mouth to ask, but you’re already answering. “Inside, wanna feel it inside.”

You almost always say that, but he loves it every time.

He feels your cunt squeezing him, tighter, tighter, he watches in what feels like slow motion as it hits you and your back arches off the bed, head thrown back. When you scream his name this time, it sounds muffled in his ears, his head is buzzing with the curses that follow it. His hips stutter and he cums, still fucking into you, pushing it deep. He drops his chin to his chest, eyes closed as he slows to a stop and you both drift down from the high. When he opens them your body is relaxed again, limp on the mattress and he lets your legs fall around him.

He stays inside you, softening but not ready to leave. Your arms are weak but they lift and reach for him, he leans into them easily, settling his weight over you again.

After a quick kiss to your lips he tucks his head into your neck and kisses you there too. Both of you are breathing heavily still, the sound of it is all you can hear and you realize it’s gone quiet downstairs. Shit, they definitely heard that.

You lay in silence for a few moments, arms around his back, fingertips tracing circles and swirling down his spine until he speaks quietly into the hollow where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Jake knows everything.”

Okay?

“I know, you already told me.”

He shakes his head against you. “He knows more than you do, he knows everything.”

You push yourself up to your elbows and he moves with you, propping himself up to look at your face. “You’re not making sense. What are you talking about?”

His eyes scan your face, take in what he can see of your fresh freckles in the dark, lit by the moonlight coming in from the window. He can make out the small scar on your forehead that you’ve had since you were three. There’s a tiny, almost invisible hole in the side of your nostril from where you’d worn a hoop that you had when the two of you met, but you’d soon decided the look wasn’t for you. He had liked it though. He meets your eyes again.

“I told him the truth. The whole truth.”

“And nothing but the truth?” You chuckle, the seriousness in his tone is making you nervous.

“I told him that I’m in love with you.”

You freeze with the shock of it for a moment, his eyes haven’t left yours and he watched as they’d opened wide, as your jaw dropped just slightly. You realize you’re just staring at each other and he’d just said… There’s no way.

Scrambling, you sit up further and push him away from you, out of you. He moves to sit back and tucks one leg up and underneath himself, the other flat on the bed. He looks so casual but you can feel yourself on the verge of freaking out. Before you can move too far away, he reaches out and grabs one of your hands.

“Please don’t run away. Not yet…”

He’s pleading with you, but there's no fear in his voice. The relief of saying it out loud for a second time has him feeling weightless, free, and he trusts that you’ll hear him out. You’re his best friend.

His hold on your hand is tight, and he tugs it lightly asking you again to stay. You settle onto the mattress, legs folded beneath you and you wait for him to say something. When he doesn’t right away, you whisper, “Josh what are you talking about?”

Before he answers he reaches his other hand out to grab your free one, now holding both of yours in his. He rubs soft circles into the backs of yours with his thumbs and watches the movement for a second before looking back into your eyes. The eye contact is intense and you almost look away but he squeezes your hands lightly.

“I love you, Y/N. I always have though, you’re honestly my best friend.” He pauses, in case you have anything to say but you remain silent so he continues. “But things… changed, for me.”

“When?” You say it without thinking, but you figure it has to be recent. Maybe that’s why he’s been pushing you to tell the others, because he’s been feeling something more. He doesn’t answer you, just smiles softly and shakes his head.

“When.” You repeat yourself, but it’s more of a demand than a question.

“The party we threw, at my parents’ house…” he starts, but it tells you nothing. You’ve known each other since you were nineteen, you’d thrown countless parties, celebrations of birthdays and after parties when they’d wrapped up a bar gig, parties for no reason just because their parents were gone. When the band started to gain traction and they started traveling, there was a party every time they came home. You’re still flipping through the events in your mind, trying to pinpoint a moment you may have missed.

“Our birthday,” he says in reference to his shared birthday with Jake, and you think he’s probably referring to three months ago. It would make sense. You’d already been sneaking around awhile, stealing kisses around corners and fucking almost every time you found yourselves alone.

“You pulled me aside to give me my present. I don’t know if you were embarrassed or you thought I would be embarrassed that you were giving me jewelry,” he laughs but your throat is tight. “But it was my favorite thing that I got that year. Because it was from you.” It was a necklace, just a pendant on a simple chain but it had reminded you of him when you saw it.

“Josh.. that was thr-“

“Three years ago,” he interrupts and drops his face to look back down at your joined hands. “Three years, three months, and four days ago.”

“You’re not serious.” You’re struck with disbelief but you know he wouldn’t lie to you, he never has in the past. But he has been hiding things from you.

“I have probably not ever been more serious, honey.” The name feels like what it is, sticky and overly sweet. You can taste it on your tongue and feel it creep down your throat and coat the inside of your stomach. It covers the wings of the nervous butterflies that have been fluttering there, calming them. He lifts his gaze back to yours, whispers, “Say something.”

“I- just… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well… I mean, we’d known you for less than a year at that point. But you were always around, hanging out with us. I loved knowing you, you were already one of my closest friends. I liked you better than Jake.” You both laugh, it’s always been easy.

“I didn’t want to ruin it. And believe me, when I made a joke about fucking a rockstar, even what, two and a half years later, it was still in my head that you’d run screaming from the house and never come back.” He’s smiling, remembering how you’d laughed when he said it but he’d watched you turn it over in your mind, consider the possibilities.

“I still can’t believe you went upstairs with me that night. I was fucking nervous, felt like my first time all over again.”

“It didn’t seem like it,” you chime in. “I was impressed. Why do you think I kept coming back for more?”

“Yeah I couldn't believe that shit either, trust me. Things stayed the same after that first time, and I was so fucking relieved. After the second time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get enough of you. That’s why I called you and asked you to come over… the third time. And, well, here we are.” He gestures to the room with his hands.

“Here we are…” You’re not sure what to say, or where you go from here. You’d literally just accepted the idea of revealing that you’d been having sex with him.

“Y/N… I love you. I have loved you, for a long time. If you tell me now that this is done, then it’s done. If you tell me this is just sex, fine. I’ll do whatever you want. Just promise me you won’t leave us.” Now he does sound worried, but the thought of leaving them behind hadn’t even crossed your mind.

You think for a moment before your next words. “Ya know, when we were dancing earlier? I was watching them. Sam and Joy, Jake and Jita. And I thought to myself, that could be me right now. We could have that. I don’t even know where the thought came from, I hadn’t considered it before.”

His expression drops a little, sadness clouding his features at your admission that you hadn’t even thought of him that way.

“Don’t do that, please. Let me finish.”

“I always let you finish. Unless you force me not to.” He raises his eyebrows in reprimand, referring to the shower stall, but then he’s smiling again.

“When you’re right, you’re absolutely right. Josh, I hadn’t consciously considered it before… but I think I had wanted it. Deep down, with you. I love being with you, I always have.”

“But you’re not in love with me.”

“No, you can’t do that to me, that’s not fair. I can’t change the way things have happened, the way I felt.”

He doesn’t offer a reply, because you’re right. Maybe if he’d had the balls to tell you sooner, even before you started hooking up, this would be different. He’d been hoping that if everyone knew what you’d been doing, if he could show you how he cared for you in the open, you’d start to feel the same for him.

“But we’re here now. You’ve just told your best friend you’re in love with her, and she didn’t flee into the night. I’m here. How do you feel?”

His hands haven’t left yours this entire time, but he releases them now to bring his up to your face. Cupping either side of it, running his thumbs across your cheekbones, you’re both moving in slowly, matching smiles stretching across your lips. Before they meet, he tells you, “I feel really fucking good about this.”

Me too.

You laid in bed together, ending the conversation there for now and just kissing and giggling about nothing for a long while until Josh asked if you wanted to go out on the deck and “fuck under the stars again”. The rest of the group had long since gone quiet, you assume they’d gone to sleep, so you agreed.

He slept with you in your bed afterwards.

The sun beating through your window wakes you up in the morning, and the first thing you sense is Josh still wrapped around you, an arm around your waist and one leg tangled with yours. He’s already awake and he presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder as you turn your head to face him.

“Mm, morning handsome.”

“Good morning babe.” His voice isn’t laced with sleep, he’s been awake for some time.

“Not ‘honey’? I was starting to like it.”

“Oh yeah? I will definitely keep that in mind… Should we get up? Greet the day and all that?”

You groan, “Ugh, five more minutes.”

“Whatever you want, princess. We should tell them today… like, sooner rather than later…” He wants them to know that you’re, whatever you are. He wants what they have, the freedom to touch and kiss you whenever he wants.

“We will, I promise. I want it too.”

When your five more minutes have turned into ten, you drag yourselves from the bed and get ready to head downstairs. Together.

At the top of the stairs you can hear voices and smell food cooking, and you’re not sure why you’re nervous.

Josh grabs your hand and squeezes it. “They’re not gonna care Y/N, it’s fine. Plus, Jake already knows and who gives a fuck about what Sam thinks?” Your favorite thing about him is the way he never fails to make you laugh. He takes the steps ahead of you and doesn’t let go of your hand. When you turn the corner into the kitchen, all heads turn in your direction.

Except Jake’s.

He’s standing at the stove cooking scrambled eggs, and he’s been expecting this. Waiting for it actually.

Sam is the first to speak. “What the fuck is this?!” You’ve known him since he was barely sixteen, and he hasn’t changed all that much.

Josh turns his head to look at you, letting you know with his eyes that he’ll say it, if it makes it easier for you.

“And good morning to you too Samuel. Um, just to get this over with and clear the air, Y/N and I-“

“Josh and I have been fucking each other. For a while,” you blurt out. Everyone’s eyes go wide. Josh just laughs, he laughs until tears are rolling down his cheeks while you stand there embarrassed and mortified at your delivery. The rest of them join in and Jake just keeps cooking and plating eggs, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles to himself.

When Josh catches his breath and wipes his tears, he grabs you by both sides of your face and places a smacking kiss to your lips, shaking you out of your stupor.

“I was going to say that we’ve been sleeping together and have decided to make things official, sort of.” Jake turns around at that, looking over his shoulder with his eyebrows raised, huge smile on his face. “I’m also hopelessly in love with her and would like her to return those affections at some point, so I need the rest of you to behave and not scare her away.”

Plating the last of the eggs, Jake sets his spatula down and leaves the stove. He comes around the island to stand in front of you and Josh, then pulls you both into his arms. With his face between yours in this group hug, he says quietly enough for only the two of you to hear, “I’m happy for you, I love you guys.”

He pulls back and announces to the room, “But I will never behave. Fuck that. Who wants a Bloody Mary?”

Part 3

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[maygrcnt]

Your post about the loft is so true but also it hit me that this is another thing that made me pause when Tommy actually LIKED the loft in 7x04. He clocked it as expensive and appreciated the big empty nature of it. Which is interesting if we apply it to perception of homes and people needing to match.

im hijacking this ask to talk about something else but i promise its related and ill circle back to what you said bc ohhh anon your mind i LOVE this. it relates so completely perfectly to a meta i was talking about the other day with @treasurehuntbuck that has to do with the phrase “fake mouth static”

official disclaimer: it’s called meta because it digs into the meta textual implications of on screen elements that aren’t explained explicitly. i’m not grasping at straws, it’s just a personal analysis so pls, preemptively shut up about how unfounded this is because: that’s the point

anyway, i was mentally stuck on “fake mouth static” for a while because idk its such an important turn of phrase and moment in the bt relationship and a phrase that was not only said but repeated a few times in that pivotal first kiss scene. and now maybe im just fresh off my hispanic literary analysis course but i seem to remember that repetition in storytelling is basically just pointing a big red neon sign at a concept and saying THERES SOMETHING MORE HERE to the reader.

first the word fake, exactly what’s there. pointing to phony, dummy, not real. it may feel new and exciting but it’s not quite the real thing that we know buck is searching for. fake also makes me think of “i guess” because… if it feels like a lie to the viewers, if tommy was surprised by the fact… well maybe it was fake?

and then static rly gets me because what is static but the absence of content right? when a radio isn’t tuned to a station there’s static. when the tv is on a dead channel there’s static. it’s placeholder fuzz for something that should be entertainment. so take with that what you will.

and i bring THAT personal analysis up because it fits very well with the idea you bring up about the loft. tommy likes the loft; the void, the static, the fake. tommy being interested in the loft seems like one more to add to my growing pile of reasons they seem to be more of a fascade than a relationship. what they represent is more than what they are.