#maybe i SHOULD get into biographies.......

[mifhortunach]

wrt lrb, just bc i felt weird leaving my thoughts all in the tags of that other post, this goes on for ages, sorry—

anyway, agree w op wholeheartedly! there’s no argument being made, there’s no apocryphal stuff being 'corrected'; it’s a run through of the guys life. as w most biogs, unless it’s something you’re already into, you won’t get too much out of it necessarily, but it’s a breeze to read, and it really really does have his voice. i did genuinely like it a lot!

that said, still managed to make me feel the same way i often do with these things. the stuff that’s being elided & eluded is much more juicy than anything that really gets put down lmao— kaylan seems to have a tendency to like, imply or state that he felt a way about something, but then refuse to actually get into that at all? eg, he says that he spent a lot of time by himself as a kid, and much much later says that he kinda projected parental/paternal roles[1] on a couple of guys who managed them (as the turtles) or worked with him (zappa) etc//, but beyond that it's not a text that explores that really - imo at least

as op says that you get a good idea of what he’s like — “smart, a bit obnoxious” etc — which is true!! it reads like you’re literally talking to the guy. but, i also kinda began to run into the idea that he’s not necessarily the most emotionally self-aware (or wasnt), and that he’s probs a lot moodier (or at least used to be) than he’s really talking about.

(eg; the repetition of ‘i was confused’ throughout, esp wrt some of his relationships, or the vague references to points of depression; tho tbf! those are very career focused, lol.) (throughout he also repeats, “i was an asshole.” or “what a jerk!”, which feels very like.. a little, bruh-off-y, like acknowledging so that you can move on, but i ended up reading in one interview/review where he was basically like, ‘yeah, i hadn’t gone thru those diaries since then, and all those refrains are sincere! id forgotten what a dickhead i was’—idk, interesting)

dude also cried a fair bit

i actually ended up reading it in part bc i ran into old forum threads about it, which themselves mentioned how he talks about volman - or more accurately he **doesnt** talk about volman - despite the working together for the majority of the last 50yrs (i was kinda expecting him to be mentioned less actually, given how down they were about it, lol). it is funny how he’s almost always there on the periphery, or literally working with the guy!, but beyond the relatively objective there’s not too much mention. i do think that people often romanticise that aspect of being in a band: the intense relationships & dyke drama of it all, (where’s that insane ed robinson quote when you need it….)[^2] forgetting that ultimately a lot of the time that all ends up being boiled away to coworkerdom[^3] ( :/ )

enjoyable read tho!! will leave you impressed with how many marriages he managed to get through, as well as the sheer amount of name-dropping, but i can’t help but look forward to when someone puts out something more cutting in like 20yrs, or if the diaries ever get published posthumously 🤷‍♀️

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

gets mentioned in this interview too ↩︎ 

ed bnl has the wildest quote about stevie p, in an interview i can't find (around the time of the divorce, lol), basically saying that 'you've not in a band, you just wouldnt get it'

seems a little chilly between them ngl, not /bad/ necessarily but yk - from the forums: (x) (x) - there's also a bit in the 90s where kaylan moves out of california, & mentions that volman's wife supposedly rang him & basically was like, 'dude's not happy with you', so idk

4. just including this bc i've been calling them, 'the litigious turtles' in my head all week, but check out the fuckin copyright page on it, omfg

[gorillaxyz]

my bff who cant stop drawing lbj faved all of my nixon badge posts

[cicadaland]

I made a spacehey page and I'm going to set it up :) it's spacehey.com/houg

[fideidefenswhore]

I think the reason the "evil Lady Rochford" story has lasted so long is that it... makes sense? If you think about how much planning and secrecy must've gone into sneaking Culpeper around, what sort of character she had to think that was not just moral, but safe to do, it's easy to put her into AB's fall too. I haven't read Julia Fox but Jane's wiki is almost all based on it. I kind of assumed the whole "Jane rehab" fashion was saying she never testified against AB, but if the wiki is right, JF says she did, but it's still not her fault and we should not blame her? Like how? But I can't bring myself to like her. She served one queen she knew was falsely accused and killed, so what the hell was she doing actually trying to set up adultery for KH? How was this a good idea? And that time she tried to leave them alone and KH called her back, like KH wanted a chaperone to make the meeting legit, but Jane wanted to leave, like encouraging them to go further, really doesn't sit right with me. I just don't feel she deserves this "she never did anything wrong" sympathy she gets.

I mean, you can't judge the book only on the summary, I would say read it even if you don't agree with the summary. You have to know what exactly you're arguing against.

Respectfully I'm going to agree to disagree with most of this, but I would say that I rec James Taffe's book about her to you, I think you'd enjoy it; he has a similar view of her character (although my personal opinion, if JF's was something of an Overcorrection, JT's was an Overcorrection of the Overcorrection, and as I said earlier, while I fall somewhere in between their views, I fall closer to Fox's).

I don't really think her conduct with KH was the best, although I don't agree with you entirely, but the 'she never did anything wrong' resonated because... idk, I'm a trans man so I have a different perspective on the way in which Tudor women are discussed than most, ig? And this thing (not limited to JB but she's certainly an example) of All Women Had To Do Exactly What They Were Asked By Their Betters Without Exception At All Times Or Else And Had No Room to Maneuever And Had No Choice E v e r is so.... especially when we are talking about aristocratic women?? Aristocratic women that were considered, by their standards, and ours, adults? Women with relative freedom for their time? Imagine how tired we are.

[the-busy-ghost]

“Ok so the other bookshelf hasn’t arrived yet but why don’t I start organising my books, it will be a fun activity and useful!”

What nobody tells you about said fun activity is that you have to make Choices about how to organise and it’s all very confusing

[nulfaga]

theres a quote going round about how the writer engages with books, pirates them as pdfs and then decides which ones he'd like to be physically present with him after the fact (like a kind of courtship)...i didn't bother saving it but it does have me thinking what books i want on my physical shelf when (inshallah) i have space and money...

[kikizoshi]

I headcanon that writing Nikolai should (almost) always be exceedingly fun. And if it isn't, there's something deeply wrong with your story.

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr. Gaiman, hope you're well!

I'm a younger fan with an assignment to write a biography of a person I admire, so I thought of trying my luck getting some information directly from the source!

I would love to hear how you introduce yourself professionally to a room of people who hear of you for the first time, or maybe just the works and achievements you are most proud of that you think I should mention.

I don't think copy-pasting your wiki page would do your legacy justice.

Thank you!

"Hi, I'm Neil. I um write stuff."

[euthymiya]

redemption for the suffering ft. wriothesley

contains: written with female reader in mind (use of milady as a petname), reader works at the fortress, fluff, minor angst and references to violence (wrio’s past), established relationship, banter and teasing

wriothesley has an impressive collection of scars. some say it’s only proof he’s a fighter—you think it only means the world had turned its back to an undeserving kid.

but the scars are still pretty, despite it all. the world is ugly and so are its people, but never wriothesley. he’s pretty where the smooth skin meets the raised, and he’s pretty laid on your chest with his arms caging you.

he’s also pretty in other ways. (ways in which only you get to see him, and you’d like to keep it that way. the world doesn’t need to see every pretty part of him.)

“you’re staring holes into my head, sweetheart,” he mumbles, face still buried into your chest. you roll your eyes, giving him a scoff and a nudge to the back of his head for the sake of routine.

you can feel his grin through your shirt.

“how would you know that? i could’ve been staring at anything,” you huff indignantly.

“i have eyes everywhere around these parts,” he says smoothly, lifting his head up as he gives you a smug grin. it’s a charming little thing, rough and a tiny bit lopsided, far from perfect but free of any flaws.

wriothesley works in funny ways like that.

“is that so,” you challenge, clasping both hands over his cheeks and giving an affectionate squeeze. (he pretends to be greatly inconvenienced by the forced pucker of his lips from your actions, and you give them a small peck as a reward while you giggle. he’s valiant, after all, in soldiering through your whims.)

“yes, of course.” his voice is a muffled reply, courtesy of the persistent squeeze on his cheeks by your hands. “i see and hear all that goes on in these quarters.”

“i’m sure,” you chuckle. your thumb brushes over the small scar under his eye, delicately tracing the harsh edge of discolored skin.

you don’t know a lot about wriothesley. it’s a rather complicated phenomenon—you’re certain you know more than anyone, but you’re hardly confident you really know much at all. it’s not so much that he doesn’t want to tell you, but more so that you never know how to ask.

you think maybe you should. maybe you should chalk up the courage and ask him how the rips and tears of flesh have come to be. ask him how long the new, healed skin has lived across his body and become a part of him, tethering the past to the present.

so you do.

quietly, carefully, with the gentleness of a dewdrop on a fresh blade of grass, you ask him, “who gave you this?”

he hums, closing his eyes as your thumb strokes over the scar thoughtfully.

“this old thing? ah, well, it was from a battle with a treacherous beast, you see. i was protecting the fortress like any good duke would.”

you snort, and he grins wider. it’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, but it’s a sweet moment all the same—he dodges but he never runs away. you know he’d never run away because he leans closer into your touch, eyes fluttering open as he stares at you fondly.

“wrio,” you whine, “are you always so unserious?”

“on the contrary, milady, i’m afraid i have to be rather serious with a job like mine,” he chuckles. and then, with a gentle sigh, his voice softens as he adds, “i got it when i was a teenager. while i was out on the streets.”

of course, as always, it’s up to you to make sense of the very little he offers, and it’s up to you to ask for more. you don’t think he’d deny you, though. not if it’s you.

“wow, anymore details and i could probably write a biography on the fortresses warden himself for all of fontaine to read,” you say sarcastically, pulling a snort from him.

he gives you an amused squeeze before delicately trailing his hand under your shirt, tracing the skin of your belly in slow circles of his thumb. maybe, if you hadn’t learned to read him so well, you’d think it was to be affectionate. but you know him—even if you looked in blindness, you’d know him. all of him.

you know it’s from the trace of his thumb across your skin, from the presence of your touch under him, that he soothes himself. keeps himself grounded. gives himself a semblance of peace.

“well if you want to be nosy,” he huffs with no bite at all, “i got it in a fight. it’s not uncommon to be a target of robbery when you’re homeless,” he murmurs.

you’ve always known bits and pieces of his story. you knew before you came down to the fortress for work, and you know even more as you slowly get to know him, as you begin pushing past the limit of friends and crossing the threshold of lovers. running away from his parents so young couldn’t have left him with the most ideal of living circumstances—you’d always known that.

but still, hearing him say it out loud fills you up with a certain wave of emotion. you don’t like to imagine him so young, so vulnerable. so failed by the world around him.

“did you win?” you ask softly, running your hand slowly along his back.

“no,” he laughs softly, “no, i uh…i lost. pretty bad, actually. he was way bigger than me—i don’t know what i was thinking.”

sometimes, it’s easy to forget that wriothesley was a child once. just like you. just like anyone. sometimes, when you look at the tall, muscular form of a handsome man, one that seems to carry himself likes he’s always one step ahead, it slips your mind that underneath it all was once an innocent child. one who lost his battles and fell every once in a while. maybe more often than that, in fact.

you hum, tracing the letters of your name along his shoulder blade with the tip of your finger as his thumb circles the patch of skin above your hip.

“at least you were brave,” you offer, “a little dense, maybe. but still brave.”

“oh a lot more than a little dense,” he grins at you. “it was pretty stupid. i quickly learned the hard way to choose my battles wisely.”

“maybe not stupid,” you say thoughtfully, “maybe you were just a kid. a kid shouldn’t know any better—not about fighting on the streets, especially.”

he stays silent at that, breathing slowly as your palm glides over the planes of muscle along his back. firm, broad, quick witted, strong. wriothesley is all of those things now—but you wonder how much of him became this way because he had to be. because he wasn’t before and it cost him until he was.

it leaves a dull ache somewhere in your ribcage, somewhere suspiciously close to your beating heart.

“i knew better. well, eventually,” he adds that last part a little bitterly.

wriothesley is good at taking care of himself. he can throw a punch without breaking his thumb, and he can certainly dodge if a punch is coming his way instead. but you wonder if he’s ever been taken care of outside of that. if outside of quick witted survival and a firm hand to throw, he’s known anything else. anything more giving and less taking.

anything soft and honest outside of the usual harsh and deceitful.

“baby?” you ask quietly, making him hum in response, “you weren’t stupid,” you tell him. because he deserves to know—even if it’s years too late, he should hear it.

he chuckles, lifting his head from your chest as he stares at you with a quirked brow, a mix of amusement and wonder written on his face.

“yeah? you think so?”

“i know so,” you nod seriously, cupping his cheeks, “i mean it wriothesley.”

“you’re that serious, huh? the full name means we’re talking business,” he sighs.

and you know him—even with unfilled blanks and unanswered questions, you know him. always. you know the tight smile and carefully crafted confidence that hides away the delicate child underneath.

you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, to the scar under his eye, to the corner of his lip—delicately on every part of him because none of him deserves to know roughness.

“you were just a baby,” you murmur.

“i was a young man,” he pouts. you smile fondly, shaking your head.

“you’re still a bit of a baby now,” you hum, pinching the flesh of his cheek teasingly, “the chubby cheeks never outgrew you.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, “don’t push it, now.”

despite it all, he slumps himself onto your chest once more, hand finding yours as he laces your fingers.

he squeezes. you squeeze back.

something in him heals at that—something young and sheltered away for so long, he forgot it existed.

“you’d win now, right?” you ask with a yawn, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he breathes in the scent of you through your shirt. “if you fought him?”

“oh yeah,” he chuckles, “he wouldn’t stand a chance now.”

“good,” you grin, “i’m glad.”

when you remember that he was literally canonically a homeless child who learned that sleep made you vulnerable and susceptible to robbery 🥲 hoyoverse did not come to play with his backstory

[it-was-summer]

The Very First... Second... Third Night

A/N: Hey guys, happy fall!!! Fun fact about me, I love Season one reid so much it's not even funny. That's pookie!!!!! Anyways, enjoy this little fluffy cute thing I wrote in a romance-infused haze (I saw that photo of MGG in that pumpkin sweater at knott's berry farms and I needed Spencer in a Halloween way). MAYBE some porn coming soon idk man. Love you all!!-Em <3

Link to the Ao3: The Very First... Second... Third Night ->Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Can't remember if I use any female pronouns for reader, but warning just incase. Season one reid, MENTION OF JEID, SPENCELLE, AND bisexual Reid, Spencer reid being critical of himself, Spencer's POV for the most part, jello mentioned guys, Overstimulated Spencer Reid at a football game, mention of a cemetery, mention of Nosferatu (1922). Kind of proofread, yippie!!!

Genre: Fluffy meet cutes. Pairing: Season One! Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Plot: Spencer runs into you twice before but only manages to get your name (and number) the third time.

Word Count: 3,863

First Meeting

Spencer can’t remember the last time this bookstore was so crowded. Personally, he tried to go on early Sunday mornings to avoid the crowds– if any– that came into the shop. Maybe he was being overdramatic. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people in the store with him. But it was still twenty too many. He softly apologizes to the elderly woman as he squeezes past her in the narrow nonfiction aisle. 

Most of the crowd seemed to be hovering around the fiction area, which was fine with him– the further away, the better. With his head turned to watch the small crowd bustle about the store, he didn’t notice the person standing just inches from him in the aisle. 

You stared at him with a confused expression for a second, thinking surely this man would move eventually. But the moment never came. He was tall with brown hair and long eyelashes. He had the fashion sense of a teacher– correction, teacher’s assistant. You clear your throat softly, hardcover clutched in hand as you watch the man’s head snap over to you, his cheeks flushing red. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you. Not that you’re hard to miss– I mean in a good way, you’re–” He closes his mouth and swallows hard, looking into your gentle eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

You would have felt a little agitated if he hadn’t seemed so earnest, but this man oozes social anxiety, and your heart takes pity on him. Your lips move to a slow smile, and you whisper a sweet, “That’s alright,” 

Spencer’s sure he’s never seen kinder eyes, “It’s just so busy today. I was looking at the crowd,” 

Your head turns at that, allowing Spencer to take in your features. A light sweater to accommodate the cool air this early-October morning, some Halloween earrings that make Spencer smile, and stunning eyes. “Book signing pop-up, it’ll be crazy until three. At least that's what the stock girl told me.” You’re soft-spoken, too. Spencer can appreciate that.

He nods slightly, looking down at the hardcover in your hand and then over at the crowd again, “Are you not here for the book signing?” 

“Afraid not,” You sigh as you hold up a historical fiction novel, “Me and my historical fiction novel were going to take a gander at some biographies.” 

He can’t help his peaked interest as he licks his lips, “Regarding?” He’s a fan of history himself and is always happy to interact with someone who also shares a love for it. He feels slightly less anxious talking about something he knows.

You twist your lips to the side like you’re silently debating whether or not you should tell him. You look away for a second, your eyes scanning the bookshelves on either side of you. “Salem Witch Trials.” You answer him bluntly. 

Spencer nods like he understands precisely what you mean, “Ah, the more humane witch trials.” It's a funny joke… to him, at least. 

But then your lips twitch upwards as you let out a quiet chuckle, “No burning for us, just rope and intense torture.” 

He feels electric, which is stupid because he shouldn’t feel excited over something as simple as someone joking with him, but he does. He’s been working on it upon Derek’s sarcastic request, and he can’t help but wonder if it is finally paying off now. 

Spencer feels the overwhelming urge to partake in what Garcia describes as ‘info-dumping ,’ but he bites his tongue as he settles on a simple question, “How come?” 

You shrug slightly as you look up at him. The bookstore light keeps making his eyes a soft amber, and you’re having a hard time looking away now. “Halloween tradition.” You watch his eyebrow furrow, raising a hand to explain yourself quickly. “My best friend and I each pick a historical event that is relatively macabre, and then we base our costumes around it and throw a party with a related theme. It’s... It’s stupid.” You say with a smile and a wave of your hand dismissively. 

Meanwhile, Spencer’s too busy thinking you’re the most extraordinary girl he’s ever interacted with. For the first time in his life, he’s desperate for an invite to a stranger’s party—a pretty stranger who has yet to tell him her name. 

“That’s not-” 

A woman’s voice cuts him off as she barrels down the aisle with a grin, “There you are, oh…” Her blue eyes look Spencer up and down carefully, studying him. “Hello, there.” She’s direct and forward and speaks in a tone that tells Spencer to leave you the hell alone. 

He nods curtly, waving slightly at your friend. You sigh out with mock annoyance as you say, “He’s a friendly, put your gun away.” 

“I don’t believe in guns.” 

“They’re very real, trust me.” Is your sarcastic reply before looking at Spencer again. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.” And just like that… you’re gone. 

Second Meeting

Spencer is sure he’ll never see you again, but here he is a week later, still thinking about you on a case. Or rather, he’s thinking about every woman ever and that he’ll never have a chance with any of them… ever. He’s feeling rather lonely, or maybe his self-esteem is taking a certain nose-dive this fine San Diego day. 

It’s not because it’s his birthday. He doesn’t hate his birthday like Elle hates hers– that’s what she told him once—the day started off great: the trick candles, the big birthday hat, his embarrassing crush on JJ. And now, they’re discussing the case, a routine he enjoys. 

His mind, always full of helpful information, quickly recognized the ballad from the 17th century– betwixt death and a lady. After his comment regarding what people could find by typing the word ‘death’ in the search engine, Derek’s laughing, “Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

It sticks on him; he would love to let it slide off his back, but he’s not familiar with that kind of territory– dating, that is– so it hits a nerve. A nerve that Spencer didn’t know was so exposed. The worst part is that Derek’s not wrong. Spencer can’t seem to get a date. Not with the pretty intellectual at the bookstore, JJ, or Elle– though that last one feels strange to admit to himself. 

He’s too awkward, speaks too fast, and, according to Gideon, needs to relax more. He’s sure… he’s cute, actually, he doesn’t know if he is. All he knows is that his mind is brilliant, his skills involving women… not so much. 

He’s silently mulling it over as he approaches one of the bulletin boards, muttering lines of the ballad softly when JJ walks up beside him, “Creepy, huh?” Her voice makes him look at her, hesitating as he replies. 

“Actually, uh, conversations between death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout the Renaissance.” He’s staring at the bulletin for a second before glancing her away, and his cheeks feel hot when he sees the way JJ is looking at him– disinterest. “But, yeah, creepy.” 

He feels like a teenager, and all those years spent in college and not high school are coming back to bite him. He liked girls and boys, too. He should be better at this, he has an IQ of 187 and five degrees to prove it. Spencer walks away from the conversation quickly, his feet carrying him away from the embarrassing moment as quickly as possible. He needs to focus on the case. 

And focus he does. He’s happy to analyze the meaning of the ballads at the crime scenes, his anxiety calming as he settles into the sweet caress of facts. Feelings, beauty, and tastes were all subjective. The objective was his comfort zone.

So it stands to reason that he feels lighter after conversing with Gideon about why the UnSub would start to use the ballad if it wasn’t a part of his signature. However, after the team delivers the profile, his lightness returns to his ruminating thoughts surrounding his lack of social skills. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the icy breath of repressed memories breathing down his neck. A jammed locker, missing gym clothes, a dark bathroom bolted shut. As the team waits for the UnSub’s suspected phone call to the tip line, he reaches for his bag to pull out a Rubix cube. 

His fingers quickly twist and turn it aimlessly until he feels like it’s mixed around enough for him to solve it again. Elle is sitting in a desk chair in front of him as he solves it. He wants to ask her if she’d ever consider dating him, if she thinks JJ would, or if she feels any self-respecting woman would. He doesn’t, though, the question sounding too desperate in his head to say it out loud. 

Instead, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” His eyes don’t stray away from the cube for too long as he asks it, scared of what Elle’s gaze might tell him. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when she chuckles and says, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” 

Spencer feels insecure when he speaks again, but he has to know the answer, “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” He looks up at her now, waiting for the brutal blow, which is her answer. 

Elle looks slightly amused. “You ever ask anyone out?” She smiles a little, seeing the genius look genuinely dumbfounded for a second as he thinks about it. 

He never had the confidence to walk up to someone he found attractive and say something interesting enough to warrant a ‘yes’ if he asked them on a date. “No,” 

She gives him a slight shrug of her shoulders, “That’s why you can't get a date.” And Spencer seems to nod at that, and his lips tighten for a second as he nods before he looks away from her again. His focus is pulled back to the case when the UnSub calls, and for a little while, he feels better. 

On the flight home, he’s almost completely forgotten about his spiral as he plays chess with Gideon. When he hands Spencer a small present, a little smile plays on his lips as he says, “But you don’t give birthday presents.” When he finally gets the present open, he feels a little confused as he thanks Gideon for the generous gift– two VIP box seat Redskin tickets. 

He’s excited, nonetheless, to experience something new with Gideon, and Spencer believes him when he says that Spencer will love it. 

“We are. You’re coming with me, right?” Spencer asks with a slight grin.

Gideon smiles, “No.” he doesn’t let Spencer’s confusion build for long as he quickly adds, “Someone else on the plane is a huge skins fan.” 

“Who?” 

“Only person in the world who calls you Spence.” 

Speaking of the only person in the world that calls him Spence, the date was going terribly. She had invited Penelope; she thought it was a group thing. He begged Hotch and Gideon for some pointers, anything. They reminded him she was already his friend, but that wasn’t very helpful. He knew how to talk to her on a typical day. On a date? Not so much.

Then, she invited Penelope. Now he’s stuck on a date where only one person in the group knows it was supposed to be a date, and he feels nauseous. He’s trying to keep a conversation going, but every time it picks up for a second, he feels himself fumble the metaphorical ball, and it dies again. 

Eventually, he excuses himself to get some air. He’s debating calling Gideon and updating him on how it’s going. His feet pace on the concrete stadium floor. He’s near the elevators, and he can barely hear himself– it’s auditory overload hell. He shuts his eyes tight, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he covers his ears, leaning against the cool wall beside the elevators. 

It’s all muffled, barely helping, but the feeling of the cool wall on his back through his clothes helps relax him slightly. His shoulders relax briefly before he feels two fingers lightly tapping his shoulders, and he’s rigid again. 

Rigid until his eyes snap open to see that it’s you. You from the bookstore, with that same kind smile, same dazzling smile, it is you. You’re yelling over the shouting, but he can barely hear you. You laugh. He can only tell by your facial expression as all the sound falls deaf to his ears over the crowd's yelling. 

Once it calms down, you repeat yourself, “Are you alright?” 

He nods, then you’re giving him a skeptical look, and he slowly shakes his head. 

“Is it the noise?” 

A part of him wants to tell you that it’s everything he is experiencing today, but instead, he whispers a soft “Yes.” 

You twist your lips to the side, looking upset for him. Your empathy is so sweet and pure for him that he feels the knot in his chest unraveling slowly. “Let me buy you a water?” You offer, motioning to a concession stand a few steps away. 

He doesn’t remember saying yes, but you’re grinning as you walk with him to the stand and buy the two of you a bottle. After a sip or two, you say, “I’m not the biggest fan of football games either. My dad loves em’.”

He nods along silently, feeling so socially overwhelmed that he barely has the energy for more conversation. You seem happy to fill the gap: “I ran into you at that bookstore on 8th, right?” 

Spencer’s beaming as he pulls the bottle away from his lips, nodding, speaking for the first time in a while. “Yes.” 

You let out a happy hum, “Small world,” And Spencer agrees with you silently. 

It's the most comfortable he’s felt all week, and he wonders if maybe this failed date of his was a strange blessing in disguise. He’s about to ask for your name when Penelope approaches the two of you, blinking starstruck at Spencer and you as she introduces herself when the crowd begins to cheer again. Any noise he can hear is drowned out, frowning as you shake Penelope’s hand and say your name– a name he cannot hear. Some more words follow, but it's all small talk until you excuse yourself to return to your father in the stands. 

Then he’s the one being dragged away from you, convinced once more that he’ll never see his pretty stranger ever again. 

Third Meeting

It’s the night before Halloween. Ask anyone who knows Spencer; they will tell you he genuinely loves Halloween. It’s a part of him, always has been. He likes that you can dress up as anyone you want to be without judgment. He loves the build-up, the history, and the scents that fill the air. 

So, when he manages to get the night off, he’s quick to try and convince someone from the team to head over to a cemetery not too far from headquarters. Even when he explains how it is for a classic horror movie showing on the graveyard’s lands, everyone declines. 

Now, he’s setting up an oversized quilt on the soft grass, smoothing out the edges of the oversized quilt with his hands before sitting down on it. His hands move to his bag, pulling out a few of his favorite snacks, drinks, and so on as he watches the cemetery slowly fill up with people. 

He’s happy. He feels a little strange at the thought, but he’s happy– even if it is in the middle of a cemetery. 

A gentle voice cuts through the soft quiet of the graveyard, “I knew I was going to run into you sooner or later,” 

He turns his head to look at you, picnic basket and blanket in hand. You smile down at him. He trips over himself as he stands, his cheeks flushing as you laugh at the sight. He rubs his suddenly sweating hands on his button-up as he reluctantly offers you his hand to shake, only to realize that you don’t have a hand available. 

“Can I—” he says softly, “Would it be alright if I—" he swallows hard, his voice cracking lightly. Do you need help with your things?” 

You glance down at your hands, smiling slightly as you shake your head politely. “I’m sure I can find a good spot soon. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“You’re not, honest. I’m, uh, I’m here alone, and it doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.” You silently debate his offer, and then Spencer feels a wave of confidence surge through him, “You can always sit with me if you’d like. I promise I’ll try to be quiet.” 

You seem to think that’s funny as you nod, “Well, it is a silent film.” 

“You don’t have to say yes. I just have a big blanket, and I’m in a good spot to see the screen and–”

“I’ll sit with you,” You cut him off softly, bending down to gently get the picnic basket on the edge of his quilt. Spencer moves out of your way, awkwardly shuffling for a second before he decides this might be a good time to introduce himself. 

“I’m Spencer.” 

You glance up at him as you move to sit on the blanket, smiling as you tell him your name. He licks his lips nervously, nodding as he sits beside you. His nervous eyes dance over your figure as you set your blanket, which he now sees has little cartoon ghosts all over it, to the side of your basket. 

You’re frowning slightly as you reach into the basket, pulling out a small cup of jello and a spoon. “I’m sorry. If I had known I was sharing a blanket with someone, I would have brought another cup.” 

Spencer finds it funny as he leans over to his satchel and pulls out his own cup of jello and spoon, “No need,” 

You laugh lightly as you raise your jello cup to his. “Cheers, then. " Spencer smiles lightly as the two of you tap the edges together for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence while eating jello. 

Spencer’s spoon digs into the jello, and he asks, “Is this your first time seeing Nosferatu ?”

You let out a soft hum as you pull your spoon out of your mouth and quickly nod, “Yes!” You say after swallowing, “What about you?” 

“Third.” 

“Didn’t remember it well enough the first two times?” 

He lets out a shy laugh at that— it feels strange for someone to be unaware of his eidetic memory, and he wonders how long that’ll last. “Not exactly. I guess just like Halloween.” 

“A man of good taste,” You quip back softly, taking a smiling bite of jello. 

Spencer laughs as his eyes watch your lips close around your spoon before he pulls them away to look into your eye, hoping you don’t notice as he stutters lightly. “That’s debatable.” 

You’re looking down at your half-eaten Jello cup. “I’m the judge here. I deem it a fact that you are a man of good taste. You’re wearing a cardigan. That’s how the judicial system works, don’t you know?” You look back at him with a smirk, and Spencer can’t help the chortle that escapes his throat. 

“That is not how the United States judicial system works, but thank you.” 

“Yeah, you look like someone who would know all the inner workings of the judicial system.” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks getting red at how your voice sounds—teasing and a little flirty. Oh my god, were you flirting with him? He’s sure he’s all smiles and red cheeks as he looks at you, changing the topic. “None of your friends wanted to come with you tonight?”

“No, not their scene. It’s okay, though. I’m making a new friend right now.” 

Spencer’s finishing off his Jello as he steals a glance at you again, stars in his eyes. “You don’t even know me.” 

“Sure I do. Your name is Spencer. You like jello, nonfiction, Halloween, and dressing like a teacher’s assistant.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to say you’re wrong, even though he knows you’re just being nice, but he doesn’t want to spend another week without seeing you. He wants to be your friend— he’ll be anything you want him to be. “Could I–” He licks his lips, eyes searching yours nervously. 

You watch him carefully, tilting your head to the side as you look into his brown eyes. The sun is gone now, but the rising moon is shining down on him. He seems so… gentle, like a deer in a quiet forest.  A part of you just wants to scoop him up and bring him home with you, as inappropriate as that is. 

“You wouldn’t have to– It’s alright if you say no. I was just thinking I could give you my number sometime, maybe.” He manages with a gentle huff of air. 

You nod a little, “Sometime, maybe.” You repeat with a slight grin forming on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the projector starting to play the movie, and a hush falls over the cemetery’s lawn. 

Spencer’s voice is a little too loud as he rushes to say, “I mean, now. Would it be alright if I–” A shush cuts him off, and his back straightens quickly as he shuts his mouth. His eyes meet yours for a second before darting over to the projection. 

You’re watching him again, how he’s staring at the screen like his life depends on it. You scoot closer to him, grabbing your folded-up blanket in the process. Once you reach his side, you drape the folded blanket around his shoulders carefully before doing the same to your own. 

His fingers gingerly grab one of the blanket's edges, casting you an apologetic glance for a second as your pants graze against his. You seem unbothered as you lean toward him. “I would love your number after this, " you whisper, looking up into his doe-like eyes before turning your head to watch the film. 

He’s beaming now as he stares at you, and his chest tightens slightly when you lean close to him again. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, the scent tangling with the sweet smell of crisp fall air. “You like costume parties?” Your voice is barely audible. 

He signals that he does silently, his head moving up and down quickly. The sight makes you grin as you mouth a silent, ‘Perfect’ at him before your attention is fully pulled back to the movie. 

Spencer feels warm all over for the rest of the night, and three months from now, he’ll start to believe three is a lucky number as he picks you up for your third date with him and just how perfect everything feels when he kisses you. 

[flowerxbunnie]

can you pls pls write about shy reader she and chris are a recent couple and one day he founds out that she likes dirty talk and tries that with her

Dirty Secret

Chris x Fem reader

Warnings: SMUTTYYY smut, lots of dirty talk, degradation/praise

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

Tags: @lustfulslxt

Chris’s POV

I can’t wipe the dumb smile off my face as I peek at Y/n’s nightstand, multiple tubes of chapstick covering the surface along with notebooks, pens, scrunchies, and lots of half empty water bottles. Her personality shows in her room so clearly, methodic but carefree.

These past four months have made me nothing but happy. We’ve done a good job at keeping our relationship out of the public eye after agreeing she didn’t want to handle any kickback from my fans yet. I hate that I can’t show her off, but it’s for the best, at least at this point.

I roam around her room with no ultimate goal, just waiting for her to get back from her nail appointment and I got bored. I scan her makeup table, brushes and random products strewn about as evidence that she’d been here hours before. Her jackets and hats hang on a hook behind her door and I run my fingers across the different fabrics, moving closer to inhale the vanilla scent that floods my mind with images of her. Fairly lights twinkle above her bed, something I’ve definitely taken notice of during all our nights tangled in her sheets.

I move to her bookshelf and look at all the spines of her books, some neatly lined up and some thrown haphazardly into piles. There’s collectible figures of the things she likes, crystals, and random little trinkets littering the shelves. I can’t help but reach out and touch the book that’s lying on the shelf at my eye level, running my fingers along all the multicolored sticky notes she’s placed into her favorite pages.

I guess it was a little too close to the edge, because even my light touch caused it to topple over and fall open, landing face down on the carpet below. I breathe out a curse and lean down to pick it up and put it exactly how I found it. I don’t want Y/n to think I’ve been snooping, because I haven’t. I’m just admiring all the little things that make her room feel like home to her.

I close the book and bring it back up to the shelf, turning it around to glance at the cover. Priest by Sierra Simone. I know a lot about Y/n already, but I didn’t know she was into religion. Sounds like a biography from the summary on the back. Something about a priest breaking their vow of celibacy and needing to confess. My interest is growing, I didn’t think she would enjoy this kind of book, maybe I should take a peek?

I pick the first sticky note my fingers brush across, knowing Y/n highlighted it for a reason. An audible gasp falls out of my mouth as a skim across the words on the page.

“Stay the fuck still, or I’m going to come before I want to, and if that happens, then I will take you over my knee and spank your ass until you learn how to listen.”

“What the fuck?” I question out loud.

I flip through multiple pages, each sticky note highlighting incredibly filthy words. It’s a fucking sex book. My cheeks burn at the thought of her reading these while she’s alone in her room, wondering what she looks like as she’s turning the pages and writhing with anticipation. I grab onto a pink sticky note and pull on it, flipping it to the page and reading what she had highlighted.

“But I won’t lie. It makes me hard as fuck knowing that I was the first man to taste you.”

This sticky note has her own handwriting smeared across it. I squint to make out the words.

If Chris would have said that to me…

Ouch, I think?

I’m not a vanilla guy by any means, but I’m not the weird fuck from 50 Shades of Grey either. I think our sex life is great, it’s more than enough to keep me satisfied. We’ve made love in the car, fucked while she was bent over her dining room table, stolen kisses in restaurant bathrooms after we snuck away from our friends. It’s all been so exciting to me, and even better because it’s with her.

I continue flying through the pages, my eyes widening at every line she made a point to come back to. This dude talks so much while he’s fucking this chick.

“No, don’t touch yourself, sweetheart. We’re going to get there together.”

Remind Chris to be more vocal!

It all clicks in my bird brain. I’m a fucking idiot. She’s highlighted almost all dialogue. She wants me to talk more during sex. I’ll admit, I’m not the best at speaking my mind while she’s bouncing on me or sprawled out below me. But why hasn’t she told me yet? I hope she hasn’t been disappointed with how things have been going.

I put the book back and angle it as best as I can remember, moving to lay down on top of her comforter. I stretch my back out and throw my arms behind my head, thinking about what I’m going to do when she gets home.

Y/n’s POV

I take my keys out of the door and lock it behind me, smiling as I see Chris’s sneakers sitting on the shoe rack in my entryway. My nails took way longer than I expected and I’m just so excited to be able to waste the rest of my day away with him. I make my way down the hall after placing my shoes next to his and creep into my bedroom, sprinting and jumping to lay beside Chris who’s stretched across my bed.

“Hiiii baby, I missed youuu!” I singsong before pressing a kiss against his stubbly cheek.

“Mmm, missed you more.” he mumbles into my neck as he turns and molds his body into mine.

His arms encircle me and the smell of his cologne floods my senses, washing a wave of comfort over me. I could lay like this forever.

“Let’s see the nails,” he says as he breaks away from me, suddenly sitting up and grabbing my hands.

I sit up beside him and watch as his large hands hold my own, moving my fingers around and watching the duo chrome polish shift colors in the light. His smile spreads from ear to ear as he takes notice of the “C” I asked the nail tech to paint onto my ring finger.

“Aren’t they so cute??” I squeal, so ecstatic at the way they turned out.

“So cute,” he coos, bringing them to his lips to place a tender kiss on each finger. “I think they’d look even cuter wrapped around my cock.” He says in a low growl as he brings my hand down to his lap, shoving my palm onto the fabric of his sweatpants.

I feel his erection through the layers of clothing, rock hard and throbbing. I can’t help but gasp at his words, I’ve never heard him speak like this before. I watch as his pupils dilate, the black overtaking the blue of his iris as he flickers his eyes to my lips.

“Nothing to say, sweetheart?” He asks almost in a belittling tone.

“N-no I just.. I’ve never heard you say something like that,” I squeak out as he pushes my hand down with more force.

“What, you don’t like it?” He says with a smirk.

“I don’t know.. I th-think so..” I stammer.

“When were you gonna tell me, hm? Such an innocent girl reading such filthy books. Does it turn you on?” His hand leaves mine against his hard on and comes up to caress my cheek.

“Huh, what are you talking about?” I spit out at him, my cheeks igniting red with visible embarrassment.

Has he snooped through my room?

“I saw it all, baby. And it’s okay. It’s okay if you need me to tell you how dirty of a girl you are, or how good you make me feel. You have to let me know these things..” he trails off as his thumb brushes against my lip, smearing my peppermint chapstick onto the corner of my mouth.

“I-I’m sorry, Chris. I don’t… I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want you to think I was weird.” I look down, intimidated by his cold gaze, and he tilts my head back up, his eyes serious.

“It’s not weird. Do you touch yourself to those books baby? Reading about a man talking to a woman like that.. does it make you feel good?” He whispers the last sentence and his free hand finds my inner thigh, caressing and warming my skin.

I nod sheepishly, afraid to speak my thoughts out loud to Chris.

“Use your words. Do you ever imagine it’s me saying those things?”

“Y-yes… every single time.” I say as I release a breath.

He groans and pushes my hair behind my ear, inching closer to me and ghosting his lips over my ear. “Such a naughty girl.”

Shivers fall down my spine as he places a kiss onto the sensitive skin between my ear and jaw, his lips lingering and sucking lightly. He slides the hand on my cheek to the back of my neck, lacing his fingers into my hair and pulling down, my neck exposed to him.

“Look at the way your body reacts to me.” He whispers, placing a finger onto my jugular, and I feel it pulsing mercilessly beneath his touch.

He moves his hand to grip around my throat, his thumb and fingers pressed firmly against both pulse points of my neck. My head begins to tingle, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. His lips pepper wet kisses along my jaw, every one of them seeping into my skin and heightened from the constricted blood flow.

“You like that, my hand around your throat? I could squeeze as hard as I want.” he says before constricting his grip.

My core begins to throb hearing his inner thoughts spill from his mouth. My field of vision starts to shrink, a black vignette closing in.

“I’d never hurt you like that, sweetheart. But don’t you like the risk?” He suddenly releases his hold on my throat and all my blood rushes back up into my head. I’m dizzy and completely aroused for him.

I nod furiously before his lips crash against mine, low growls seeping out of his throat and being released into my mouth. He bites and tugs at my bottom lip before pulling away and licking a hot stripe up my chin and back up to my mouth. His lips meet mine again, his mouth open and begging for my tongue. I push it into his mouth only to be dominated, not standing a chance as his hunger grows.

Chris’s hands latch onto my hips, lifting me off the mattress and into his lap, his erection poking at my core. He breaks the kiss and grabs the hem of my shirt, sliding his hands up along with the fabric. I help him get it off, discarding it somewhere in my room. His eyes burn holes into my chest, examining the bralette covering the skin. He grabs the bottom and slides it up, my breasts bouncing as they fall out in front of him. He pushes the excess fabric up to rest on the plate of my chest.

“Fuck, Y/n. If I died with my face in your tits I’d be happy.”

He begins ravaging my breasts, nipping and licking and leaving red and purple marks across the skin. He sucks my nipples while looking so deep into my eyes I start to think he can see the back of my skull. The line of pain and pleasure is completely blurred when he takes one of my swollen nipples between his teeth and tugs on it.

“F-fuck, Chris..” I cry out, bucking my hips instinctively and pressing down onto his throbbing dick.

He lets out a deep moan, gripping my waist and prompting me to stop my movements. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

I let out a little grin and begin to rock back and forth again, his head falling against the headboard with his eyes squeezed shut. His cock rubs against my clit through the multiple layers of clothing, but the pressure and friction still causes both of us to pant and moan in unison. He brings his head back up and grips my hips tighter this time, my body unable to move.

“Such a dirty girl. Can’t listen to simple instructions.”

He removes his shirt, a layer of sweat starting to form on his skin, then brings my bra over my head, not bothering with the clasp. He throws it across the room and then lifts my legs to remove my shorts before lifting me up and sliding his sweatpants off, all of which meet the same fate as the rest of the discarded clothes. He presses a hand against my chest, my back hitting the bed as he pushes me down. He comes to hover over me, his eyes dark and half lidded. His knee is pressed inbetween my thighs touching my core with a teasing amount of pressure.

“You’ve already made such a mess, baby..” he says with false concern, referring to the wetness that has seeped through my panties and is touching his skin.

“I’m s-sorry..” I whine, fighting the urge to grind against his knee.

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. I’ll help you out.”

Chris trails kisses down my chest and stomach, randomly sucking marks into my skin on the way down. He circles his tongue around my navel before licking across it, a trace amount of his warm saliva dripping in. He traces his tongue along the lace hem of my panties, his breath burning against my skin as he grips it with his teeth.

“Please, Chris..” I whine and push him closer to the place I need him most.

His eyes show his grin as he dips his face down, flattening his tongue across the fabric covering my core. He licks and sucks at it, humming and closing his eyes as he spreads my legs apart.

“So sweet,” He whispers as he flicks his tongue up and down.

He hooks his fingers into the band of my panties and pulls, his mouth only disconnecting for a brief second to slide them down my legs before his tongue finally connects with my bare pussy. I arch my back off the bed and cry out as his tongue works against my heat. I’m a mess under him- gripping the sheets, tugging on his brown waves, grabbing my own breasts, doing whatever I can to release some of the tension building up in my body.

“You like the way my tongue feels on you, princess?” He asks in a raspy voice as he wipes his wet mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yes.. fuck please keep going..” I pant, not wanting to lose momentum as my climax has started inching its way to the top.

“How about you do what you need? Use my face and get yourself off.”

He leans back down and presses his tongue against me, holding still as he keeps eye contact. I start circling my hips, feeling the way his tongue remains in place as I grind against it. I grip onto his face and pull it closer, moving my hips down so his nose rubs my clit and his tongue rubs up and down my folds. I buck up and down in complete control and he hums against me to the point I feel like my intestines are vibrating. I speed up and increase the pressure as my stomach begins to ache with a familiar feeling.

I nearly scream, tensing up as my body burns through my climax. He remains still just letting me use him as I ride through it and come down, my grip on his hair relaxing and my body falling slack on the bed.

“Taste yourself baby. Let me show you what you did, all for me.” He whispers against my lips after he climbs to hover over me.

I’m still trying to catch my breath as his lips collide onto mine. I taste my own juices on his tongue, sweet and tangy. He presses his hips down onto my stomach and reminds me of his need, humping forward a few times and moaning into my mouth.

“Now are you gonna bend over or just sit there and look pretty?” He growls as he swiftly stands up and pulls his boxers down.

His pink tip is swollen and leaking precum. His grips his hand around his base and squeezes until his knuckles turn white, his head falling back out of pleasure or maybe the throbbing pain, there’s no way to tell. His eyes lock onto mine and he starts pumping up and down on his dick, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

I pull myself to my feet as quick as I can and limp to the end of the bed, my legs like jelly after tensing up so hard.

“That’s cute. Can’t wait to carry you to the shower after this one.” he smirks and licks his lips.

My breath hitches as I turn around and bend over the footboard of the bed. His hands run up and down my ass, jiggling it before giving me a light smack with both hands. I gasp, jumping forward and my ribs hit the wood I’m bent over.

“So fucking hot, can’t believe this is all mine,” he coos, running his fingers down my folds before wiping my juices onto my lower back.

I feel his head against my clit, slick with warm precum. He soaks himself in my juices as he swipes it across my entrance, barely dipping in as he grips my hip with one hand.

“Chris.. oh my god. P-please just fuck me.” I whine, my legs already shaking and twitching.

“Mmm I plan on it, baby.” he whispers before slowly pushing forward.

He slowly gives me inch by delicious inch, my walls stretching around his thickness as we moan out together. He starts slow and stays deep inside me, barely pumping in and out. He runs his hands up and down my spine as he rocks into me, his breathing slow and controlled. My pussy clenches around him as his tip brushes repeatedly over a sensitive spot.

“P-please Chris go faster,” I draw out in a moan.

He listens. His thrusts become rough and rapid, my ribs slamming against the wood with each stroke but my brain seems to tune it out. He keeps his grip on my waist with one hand and reaches around to my face with the other, shoving two fingers in my mouth. I suck on them hard, swirling and lapping my tongue around them.

“Such a fucking slut, so willing to have all your holes filled, aren’t you?” He pants as he hooks his fingers onto the corner of my mouth and pulls back.

“Nhgnh.. fuck..” is all I can manage through his manipulation of my mouth.

“What? Am I fucking you dumb? Can’t even get your words out.”

I moan in response and feel my pussy throbbing around him, my lower abdomen on fire as I climb to my next release.

“S-so close..” I mumble as drool drips down my chin.

He lets go of my mouth and grips my waist, his thumbs pressing into the dimples on my back.

“You need me to cum in you, don’t you? I know you wanna be filled up, so full your eyes start to float.” He pumps as deep as he can go, my eyes rolling back into my head and words failing to form. “Answer me.” He spits with a smack on my ass.

“Please… p-please cum in me. Need it.. s-so bad Chris!”

With that he shoves his hips against me and shoots his hot load into my pussy, coating my walls as I fall over the edge with him. I’m screaming his name as he moans mine, pure ecstasy echoing through my room. I feel his cum leaking down my legs, such a big load that it has nowhere else to go. His thrusts slow down before they come to a halt, his dick still twitching inside me.

He pulls out and hums as he backs up and takes in the sight in front of him. I have no energy to stand, my muscles aching and tired.

“Look at that. God I wish I could burn this into my brain.”

He walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my torso and lifts me, my legs helping very little to hold me up. He hooks an arm under my thighs and picks me up to hold me bridal style. I’m so tired that my head can only manage to flop against his chest, and I hear his rapid heartbeat in my ear.

He starts to walk towards my bathroom but first places a lingering kiss on my forehead. I can feel the smile on his lips.

“Told you I’d have to carry you to the shower.”

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley doesn't hear from you after the first game, he thinks that's it. But you got his heart pounding and made him smile, and he wants to see you again. The realization that maybe something that perfect should be left as a one night stand hits him hard, but he wants to know if there could be more.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst and smut (18+)

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was laying in bed on Saturday morning with the New York times app open on his phone, scrolling to find your article. When his eyes settled on your name below the title, he tapped on it. The app took him to your full biography and a picture of you in front of Wrigley Field. 

You even looked beautiful in your stock photo image. He was tempted to save it to his photo gallery, but instead he skimmed your bio. You'd lived all over the country and played every sport imaginable as a child. You had graduated first in your class from Syracuse University, and you were undefeated at sports trivia.

The smile on his lips grew as he read the article that you must have submitted before your deadline last night. Your writing style was fun and entertaining, and you had even mentioned the comment he made about the catcher for the Angels. Bradley groaned and tossed his phone aside. He wanted to see you again.

But as he got out of bed and headed for his bathroom, he reminded himself that last night had one night stand written all over it. You were in California for work. You both said that hooking up like that wasn't something you normally did. He was sure you just did it for a bit of fun. Bradley was an idiot for catching feelings after a few hours with you, but it felt like he already knew you. Talking to you in person felt like reading your articles, because your writing matched your personality so well. Witty, intelligent, funny and charming.

"Chill the fuck out," Bradley told himself in the bathroom mirror. "It's done."

Then he spent the day trying to think about anything that wasn't sports related. He even took a ten mile run up along the beach to kill some time. And when Nat asked him if he was going to the Hard Deck, he decided that would help. 

But everyone there was wearing Padres gear and talking about that game one victory. And Bradley swallowed hard when he saw that Shannon was working behind the bar. He hadn't thought about her much recently, and she definitely hadn't crossed his mind at all when he'd been with you. But nevertheless, Bradley smiled when she greeted him.

"Hey, Rooster," she said with that grin that he was so used to. And she poured him a beer before he even asked for one. "You think you'll stick around for last call?" 

He watched her hand as she slid the beer across the bartop. "I'll let you know?" he asked, barely able to meet her eyes. 

"Sounds good. I'll start a tab for you."

He just nodded and turned to find the other aviators. Sleeping with Shannon tonight might help Bradley get you off his mind. But did he want to? He kind of liked the way warm thoughts of your voice and your smile kept bubbling to the surface. He could hear you asking him if he'd write back to a text from you. Honestly, he had been low key hoping you'd contact him today, and then he could have proven that he'd write back immediately, just like he promised. 

But he'd heard nothing. No text. No call. You hadn't done anything with his phone number. 

"What's your problem?" Nat asked, pinching his arm until he snapped out of it. "I asked you three times if you wanted to play pool with me."

"I'm not in the mood," he groaned, rubbing his arm as the TV screen caught his attention. They were playing World Series highlights and talking about tomorrow night's game. 

"Why are you pouting?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nat, I'm not pouting."

"You are. Is this because Bagman is flirting with Shannon?"

Bradley glanced over his shoulder and saw that Nat was correct. Jake was leaning on the bar, trying his hardest to get Shannon to smile. "Nah. I told you, that's just casual. Doesn't mean anything." He sipped his beer.

"Well whatever is bothering you, either tell me about it or get over it, because I want to beat Javy and Reuben at pool for once."

Bradley closed his eyes and told her, "I met someone at the game last night."

"No!" she gasped. "Tell me everything."

After he hesitated for a beat, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on your name in the NYT app before handing it to her. He watched Nat as she skimmed the screen and examined your photo.

"Oh! You met her? Oh, shit....you hooked up with her!"

"Yeah," he grunted, glad that his best friend didn't need much help to figure out exactly what was going on with him. She never did. 

"You like her! Why can I so easily picture you happily married to a sports writer? You could have six kids, and each one would play a different sport. One would play softball, one would be a kickass hockey player, one would play soccer, you'd probably have a ballerina-"

"Nat," he said, cutting her off with a laugh. "I'm not going to see her again. I gave her my number, but I haven't heard from her." He turned back to the bar to find that Shannon was alone again. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if he stayed until last call.

"Bradley. She's probably covering game two! You could go back to Petco Park tomorrow."

"Yeah," he grunted. "She's definitely covering game two. She told me she was. Right after I gave her my number which she hasn't used. It was just a hookup, Nat."

"I'll buy you a ticket," she said, fishing out her own phone. "An early Christmas present."

"Don't you dare. The resale price is up to almost a thousand bucks for the nosebleed seats."

She sighed and said, "Fine. But you should still think about going."

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

After you spent most of your weekend in your hotel room doing research and writing, you decided to take a few hours off on Sunday afternoon. And it was during this time, when you went for a walk through Balboa Park, that you let yourself accept the fact that you'd been working like a maniac all weekend to try to keep your mind off of Bradley.  

Your hotel room smelled like his cologne or aftershave or maybe his laundry detergent. It was nice. Kind of comforting. You wanted to lay in bed with him until you smelled like it, too. But on Saturday morning, when you had thrown away the rogue condom wrapper, you decided it was better to throw away his phone number, too. You tried to rip that sheet out of your notebook since you no longer needed those stats, but you couldn't do it. Instead it was tucked away with your other work items, and you hoped you wouldn't cave and contact him.

After you took a shower, you grabbed your bag and your media pass and headed out early so you would have time to get some food when you got there. You liked that the ballparks usually served up local treats, and you'd get there in time to actually enjoy some fish tacos or a poke bowl tonight. You even thought about grabbing a local beer and drinking it on the main concourse before heading up to the box. You decided to go up and set down your computer and then find the beer cart.

But when you approached the narrow stairs that would take you up to the press box, you froze.

"Ace."

He was standing there, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, an earnest look on his handsome face.

"Bradley," you gasped as your heart thudded with excitement. "What are you doing here? Did you win another contest?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I bought a ticket."

You knew the tickets were reselling at a premium price, and as he pushed away from the wall and dropped his arms to his sides, you asked, "Really? You're that much of a Padres fan?"

He shrugged and kind of shook his head, but your breath caught in your throat when he said, "You never texted me, Ace. I haven't stopped thinking about you for a single second, but you didn't text or call me."

He was close enough now that you could smell him, and you almost whimpered as your eyes fluttered closed. "You really wanted me to use your number?" you asked, meeting his eyes once again.

"Of course. That's why I wrote it down," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Shit, I shouldn't have come here to see you." He was blushing profusely and looking at the floor. "You wanted that to be a one time thing, didn't you?" he asked, glancing up at your eyes with a slight grimace on his face. 

Well now you weren't so sure. You thought he had just written his number down as a tactic. It wouldn't have been the first time you had a guy see how far he could get you to go while making you feel like you had some sort of safety net. Making you think he was really into you. But maybe Bradley actually was?  

"Bradley, I-"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "In an effort to not completely ruin the perfection of Friday night in my mind, I'm gonna go."

You watched him turn, and he made it about ten steps before you ran to him, reaching for his bicep. "Bradley, wait." When he stopped, you bumped into him, but he steadied you. You swallowed hard. He was so attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about him all weekend. Inviting him back to your hotel room again had been a fun fantasy you'd indulged in since late Friday night. "Do you want to sit with me again? In the box?"

He looked surprised now. "Yeah."

"Okay." You linked your fingers with his and led him back to the stairs. He still looked a little tentative as you added, "Let's go."

When you used your card to open the door, you made it halfway up the stairs before you paused and turned to look at him. He was one step below you, and your height just about matched up with his. He still looked a little surprised, but there was a soft smile on his lips now, and you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around his.

"To be clear, did you buy a one thousand dollar ticket so you could stand at the bottom of these stairs and try to see me again tonight?"

"Yes," he said clearly and without hesitation. You shook your fingers free from his and wrapped both of your hands around the back of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. Your nose brushed along the side of his as you felt the prickle of his mustache against your skin. And then his hands were on your waist as he welcomed you into his arms. He parted his lips for you as you dragged your fingers up into his hair. Then he broke the kiss long enough to rasp, "I like you, Ace."

You kissed his lips once more before running your lips along his mustache. He squeezed your waist a little tighter as the door opened behind him. When you saw that it was Raya, another sports writer, you took Bradley by the hand again and led him all the way into the box.

"Don't get into any trouble today," you whispered, pushing him down into the same stool he had occupied on Friday night. "I got you in with my pass."

"I'll be so good," he promised, looking up at you with eyes far too innocent for the rest of his smirking face. And somehow you doubted it.

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

Bradley couldn't keep his hands off you as you worked. He kept finding ways to trace little circles along your back. The pace of game two seemed to be a lot faster as the Angels got into a better groove against the Padres, and you were frantically keeping your stats as you typed away. 

"You want something else to eat?" he asked you between innings as you scribbled out some notes that he supposed must have made sense to you.

"Yes, please," you said, turning to smile at him. You watched Bradley stand, and he headed to the table lined with food. You seemed surprised that he had been sincere when he said he wanted you to text him. Yeah, he'd been joking around a little bit when he wrote his number down in your notebook, but he was kind of crushed when he hadn't heard from you. 

When Bradley turned to take the food back to that little spot you and he were sharing in the last row, he saw the reporter in front of you turn around and start giving you a hard time.

"You gonna bring your boyfriend to each game, New York?"

Bradley wanted to punch this asshole in the face, because who even made comments like that? But instead he watched you sigh dramatically and say, "At least I can get laid, Quincy. You're such a hater. Now turn around, I'm busy."

But Bradley did shoot Quincy a glare for good measure, and he didn't take his eyes off him until he had turned around. "More food," Bradley told you, setting the plate down where you could reach it without it being in your way. Then he settled onto his stool and draped his arm across the back of yours while you picked at the food. 

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Thanks," just as the Padres hit a home run. Bradley desperately wanted to cheer, but nobody cheered in the press box, apparently. So he sat quietly while you updated your stat sheet and ate a taco. 

"Which team do you cheer for, Ace?" he asked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. "You know, when you're not working and allowed to cheer."

Your lips parted in silence before you pressed them together, and then you said, "I never tell anyone my favorite teams."

Bradley examined your face for a beat. "You want to tell me, don't you?"

"Oh my god," you moaned, head tipped back. "Yeah, I actually do."

As Bradley shook from the laughter he was trying to hold in, you leaned in close to him. "You can tell me," he said, grinning. "I'll keep your secret."

You let your palm come to rest on his abs before sliding it along to his waist as you pressed your lips to his ear. "You can't tell anyone. Ever."

The feel of your lips on him, about to divulge something so important to your career had him pulling you closer. You laughed softly as your lips bumped his ear, and Bradley stifled a moan. 

"I won't say a word about it," he promised.

"My favorite team is the Toronto Blue Jays."

That was about to become Bradley's favorite team, too. Maybe he could go to a game with you when you were allowed to cheer. 

"Do you know what their mascot is named?" you asked as you eased yourself back into your seat. When he shook his head, you picked up your pencil and wrote in the margin of your stat sheet.

Ace.

Bradley laughed again. You had him smiling or laughing nonstop right now, and he couldn't believe it was already the eighth inning. It was getting late in the game now, but you were still writing. 

Do you want to come back to my hotel with me again?

And then he realized that this was the first time he'd thought about fucking you all day. 

Bradley leaned in close and kissed your neck a few times before he said, "Only if you save my number in your phone." Because as much as he'd been thinking yesterday about how good it felt to have sex with you, he wanted to hear from you when it wasn't a game day. He wanted to keep talking to you.

During the break at the end of the inning, you pulled your phone out and made a show of flipping to the previous page in your notebook and entering his phone number into your contacts list. Then you turned your phone screen away from him and typed something out, and he just waited to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. When he did, he looked at his messages and saw that you had sent him a photo of you with the Toronto Blue Jays mascot. And you captioned it with: Be honest, which Ace do you think is cuter?

He typed out to you, I'm not sure if you knew this, but I'm wildly attracted to blue feathers.

When you looked at your phone again, your laughter was loud enough to have Quincy turning around and earning another glare from Bradley. And just as the ninth inning started, you texted Bradley one more time. I hope you replaced your wallet condom, Boy Scout Bradley. 

Truthfully, he had not. Getting lucky hadn't been his primary thought when he was just wanting to see you again. He muttered, "We're gonna need more than one, Ace."

And as your hand came to rest on his thigh, you tapped your lips with your pencil eraser. "I saw them for sale in the hotel lobby."

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

You couldn't remember feeling this way ever before. At least not with someone you barely knew. Bradley had your bag on his shoulder and he was practically carrying you across the parking lot as you laughed. You liked him a lot. He came back to see you again today. He was so funny and sweet, and you should have texted him on Saturday. 

"You seem very eager," you whispered against his cheek as you kissed him at the crosswalk. You were running your hands all over his shoulders and dipping your hands inside his Padres jersey. 

He picked you up to carry you across the street with the crowd of other pedestrians. "I'm hoping you'll show me your blue feathers tonight," he rasped, making you laugh even more. 

"I knew you liked the other Ace better!"

He kissed your neck, and once he had you inside the hotel lobby, he said, "No, you're my favorite."

"Condoms," you whispered, pointing toward the small convenience shop next to the front desk. Bradley set you down and grabbed up all ten double packs of condoms and dumped them in front of the young guy who was working at the front desk.

"Is that all you needed, sir?"

Bradley pulled out his credit card and handed it to him, looking at you while he said, "Well no, that's not all I need." His gaze was openly needy as he looked at your face, lingering on your lips. You felt warm all over, and when Bradley had all twenty condoms in his hands again, you hooked your fingers though the belt loop of his jeans and pulled him toward the elevators. 

"Let's go, Boy Scout."

Bradley groaned as the elevator door opened and you pulled him inside. He stood before you with your computer bag, so many packs of condoms and an erection that you could plainly see behind his zipper. You giggled and ran your thumbnail up and down his zipper as you said, "You're adorable."

He swallowed hard as you led him out on the top floor and down the corridor toward your room. "Ace? Baby?"

"Yeah?" you asked, unlocking the door as he stood behind you and let you feel him pressed to your lower back.

"Maybe you should finish writing your article first? I don't want you to get too close to your deadline again."

You opened the door and backed into the room, pulling him in with you. "No," you whispered before you kissed him hard. "I want you right now."

You grabbed one of the double packs of condoms from his hands, and he let the rest of them fall to the floor. The smile that you and he shared had your tummy doing somersaults as he gently set down your computer bag. You continued to back up slowly to the bed as he followed you. When you toed off your shoes, you watched him pause to pull his off as well. And then you were holding up the condoms and walking backwards across the bed on your knees until you reached the middle. 

Bradley was frozen, just staring at you with a crooked smile on his face and his hands on his zipper. "I'm waiting," you whispered. And then you weren't waiting anymore at all, because Bradley was on top of you, wrapping his arms around you as his weight pushed you down into the bedding.

You moaned into his kisses as you ran your fingers through his hair. He already felt, smelled and sounded familiar to you. He tugged on your shirt until he was kissing you through your bra.

"You don't taste like beer today," he murmured against your skin, teasing you with his mustache. 

"No, you managed not to spill," you replied, pulling your own shirt off as he unhooked your bra. His mouth was all over your breasts once he tossed your bra on the floor, and you were arching your back up against him. "You feel good."

He groaned into your skin while you felt him grind against your core through way too much fabric. "Ace." His hands were cupping your breasts as he let his lips drift down your belly until he was kissing along the top of your jeans. You unbuttoned and unzipped your pants and let him pull them down your legs. And then he was still fully clothed, giving you head just like two nights ago.

He was good at it, too. But when you started to touch your own breasts, he got distracted, lips grazing your clit as he watched you. When he lazily brought the pad of his thumb up along your slit and started teasing you, the sounds you made were so needy. You thought he could probably get you off like this if you wanted him to. 

But you sat up and made quick work of his jersey buttons while he slipped his index finger inside you. "Bradley," you moaned softly as he kissed your neck and finger fucked you. He just seemed to want to make you feel good, and your hands stalled as you pushed his jersey down off both of his shoulders. Your palms came to rest on his warm biceps, and you could feel his arm muscles working as he fingered you. 

"Tell me what you want, Ace," he grunted, stroking your clit with his thumb. He'd said that on Friday as well. 

"I want you naked and inside me."

He let you undress him then, and you took his cock in both of your hands. You watched him roll onto his back as you teased him with your fingers, running your nails down along his thighs. The veins in his neck were strained, and his cheeks were flushed as his eyes darted from your face down to your hands and back up. He was glorious. Huge everywhere. Tan and muscular and perfect. So hard and eager to please. 

When you straddled his hips and planted your hands on his shoulders, he pulled you to him, kissing your lips until you were laying flat on him. His length was gliding through your soaked pussy, and you moaned at the feel of him rubbing slowly against your clit. You mumbled his name, but he just kissed your lips harder, wrapping those big hands around your hips. 

With each little movement of your hips grinding against him, you were closer to fucking him, so you gasped, "Condom." 

"Mmhmm," he hummed, one big hand at the middle of your back while he reached blindly around the bedding in search of the small package. His lips were still soft and perfect on yours, unhurried as he handed you the condoms. You pressed your forehead to his as you fumbled trying to open one of them, and then you were sitting up between his legs, rolling it down his length, ready to go.

You guided yourself down around his cock, and he felt incredible, just like before. "Oh god," you whined softly, taking every inch of him while he grasped your thighs hard. 

"So pretty," he whispered, watching you fucking him. Soon you were riding him fast and rough, bracing your hands on his abs. You couldn't even talk or formulate words as you whimpered, because he was hitting that sweet spot inside you. With every movement you were getting closer, and Bradley looked like he was struggling to keep it together. 

You took his right hand, and brought it up to your mouth, sucking on his index and middle fingers to get them wet. "Baby, it feels too good," he groaned, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Then you guided his hand down to your clit, and you started cumming almost instantly. You held onto his wrist, rubbing your clit against his fingers with each stroke of your pussy along his cock.

Loud, incoherent noises filled the room as you came, riding him without finesse, head tipped back. And then Bradley was sitting up, right arm wrapped around your waist while he braced himself with his left palm on the bed. He whispered praise against your skin, pausing to kiss you as he thrust his hips up to fuck you as you came down from your high. "You're so hot. So good."

He sucked on your neck before his movements became jerky, and then he was chanting Ace! as he came too. He collapsed back against the bed with you held tightly to his chest, and you ran your fingers along his sweaty neck and up to stroke his jaw.

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

Bradley had nearly fallen asleep with your warm body draped over his and his soft cock still buried inside you. And then your phone alarm went off, and you were instantly scrambling to find your jeans amongst the pile of clothing on the floor.

"Shit," you muttered, glancing at him as you silenced your phone and checked the time. "I need to finish writing and submit my piece."

Bradley nodded and rolled onto his side and reached for a tissue to take care of the used condom. The last thing he wanted to do was go home now, but you had work to do, and he needed to be on base in the morning. He stood as you scooped his jersey up off the floor, but instead of handing it to him, you slipped it on. It fit you like a cute, little dress. 

"My article is almost done," you murmured, retrieving your bag from near the door where he had set it down earlier. He smiled as you stepped around all the other packs of condoms. "I just need to add in my stats and proofread everything."

"Okay," he whispered, unwilling to break the spell that he felt like he was under when he was in your presence. "I can head out." He started to reach for his undershirt and boxer briefs, figuring you could just keep his jersey if you wanted to wear it. 

But Bradley found himself wanting to ask if he could see you again. You saved his phone number this time, and while you were going up to Los Angeles for game three, he was hoping you'd be back in San Diego again. He was almost pissed now that the Padres were up two games to none in the World Series, because the more games that these two teams played, the longer you'd be in California. And LA was a hell of a lot closer to San Diego than New York City was.

As he held his clothes in his hand, you bit your lip and looked at him while your computer booted up. "You can stay. If you want?"

He froze, trying to process what you meant. "Stay?"

"Yeah," you whispered, taking him by the hand. "While I write."

He instantly dropped everything back to the floor as you pulled him to the desk chair. He sat down and then you sat on his naked thigh, entering your impressively long password and pulling up your mostly completed article. You flipped through your notebook to your stats sheet, and Bradley let his hand come to rest on your leg. 

"You wanna help me?" you asked, typing away. "Tell me when Soto was on third."

Bradley skimmed the sheet and found the information. "Bottom of the sixth inning. Right before Grisham hit a double." He leaned in and kissed your neck as you murmured thanks. 

"And when did Hill replace Darvish?"

Bradley read your sloppy notes and smiled. "Halfway through the seventh inning."

"Perfect," you whispered, and Bradley held you quietly as you scrolled to the top of your article and read it out loud. Your voice was captivating, and you somehow made the game he had seen in person even more interesting. He chuckled at the part where you mentioned how the Angels' coach had tripped coming out of the bullpen, and you smiled at him over your shoulder before you finished reading. 

"Damn, Ace," he muttered as you saved it one last time and logged in to submit the article. "That was brilliant." Bradley was getting hard again. Some sort of combination of what you said and how you said it turned him on. 

You closed your computer and laughed softly, nudging his erection with your knee as you turned in his arms. You glanced down at his cock, standing at attention for you, and Bradley could feel himself blushing. "Oh," you gasped, running your fingernails along his length as you grinned. "Eager again."

Bradley groaned and let his head tip back as you kissed his neck. "I think I'm always going to be eager for you. Talking about sports and wearing my Padres jersey are certainly helping."

Your laughter was his undoing as your lips met his warm cheek, and then Bradley watched your face as your pussy cradled his cock so that he was gently throbbing against your clit. "How many more condoms do we have?" you asked, fingers in his chest hair. 

"Nineteen," he replied, voice deep and raspy with need. 

"I'll be right back," you promised, kissing his lips before you stood and grabbed the unused condom from the bed. His jersey was open, offering him a peek here and there of your tits and belly as you moved. Then you were rolling this condom into place and straddling his hips on the chair.

Bradley pulled the jersey open wider so he could watch you sink around his cock. You felt like perfection, and the way your body looked as you took him was making him dizzy.

"You know," you sighed as he bottomed out inside you, "if the Angels start a different pitcher for game three, it could really throw off the Padres plans."

"Yeah?" he asked, stroking the soft skin of your waist as you rolled your hips. "Tell me more."

"Mmm, well, they've been following the same plan the whole season, right?" you asked, your lips grazing his as you spoke. 

"Yeah, they have," Bradley agreed, already ridiculously close as you fed him this brand of dirty talk.

"I think they should try something new and start Hermans instead," you whined, kissing him hard as you rode him.

"Are you trying to turn me on right now, Ace?"

"Yeah," you gasped as you fucked him harder. "Is it working?"

"You know it is, Baby," he groaned, grinding his hips up to meet yours. "Fuck, you already know how to make me wild."

Then you were gasping out pitching stats, your voice breaking as you rode him so well. Bradley was barely keeping it together, and then your fingers were in his hair, tugging at the roots. He knew what to do now; he licked his fingers and brought them to your tight clit, and your eyes went wide. 

"Yes!" you gasped, seemingly surprised that he had you cumming almost instantly. And the sight of your tits bouncing in his face was the last thing he saw before he sucked on your nipples and came hard.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as his breathing evened out. He was trying to focus on your words, because they sounded very important. "If the Padres sweep the Angels, then I won't be back in San Diego. But if they go to a game six scenario, maybe we can see each other again?"

Yes, your words were very, very important. He wanted you to come back to San Diego, but he was determined to see you even if you didn't. "I could come up to LA. Get a ticket for game three. If you want."

You pulled away from him, and then Bradley was looking up into your surprised eyes. "Yeah?" you asked softly. 

"Sure, Ace," he mumbled, running his knuckles along the soft valley between your breasts. "I'd love to. But it's up to you."

Your voice was soft. "Okay."

Then Bradley kissed your lips and said what was on his mind. "We should keep doing this. Me and you. Until the World Series ends. Until you have to leave California."

He could feel your pussy squeeze his soft cock as you started kissing him and running your fingers through his hair. And a few minutes later, he had you in your hotel room bed, snuggling up with your back pressed to the front of his body as you both fell asleep. 

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

Bradley is out there dropping a cool grand just to try to verify if that was actually a one night stand or not. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a bit of drunk!reader and drunk!eddie, a lil angst

summary: steve is by your side at a last minute party 

CHAPTER FIVE | ❝𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒘, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔❞

Fall Semester 2015

Would either of us even remember any of this tomorrow? 

The music was too loud to outwardly verbalize that question, and it was forgotten after a second too, which probably only proved it to be true. 

Instead, your mind shifted into thinking about what led you and Eddie to this current moment— a last-second canceled date, your abrupt suggestion to go to a frat party to celebrate the end of finals and also to cheer Eddie up, and his immediate yes. 

The two of you drank cup after cup of some random mix of God knows what. It tasted absolutely horrible but it did its job— barely an hour into being at the party and you were effectively drunk, and so was Eddie; maybe even more than you. You had a feeling that had something to do with Chrissy and her canceling their date.

The number of people crammed into the house was probably a fire hazard at this point and it was starting to feel way too hot.

You were leaning back against a wall, because it was the only thing keeping you steady, and Eddie was in front of you. “We should leave.” 

The music blasting through the speakers in the huge living room was so loud that you could barely even hear the words leave your mouth. 

Eddie heard something, though, or attempted to read your lips in the shitty lighting, because he was shaking his head. “No, we should leave.”

You could only laugh in response at first. 

“That’s what I said,” You told him, that time making your voice louder, matching his.

“Oh,” He said and smiled, a perfect drunken smile that made you smile back at him. 

You wondered what he thought you had just said and you were about to ask him exactly that, but then someone was bumping into him from behind, which pushed him much closer to you, and the thought of saying anything was pushed away. His hands instinctively found your hips to steady himself as he let out a breath of a laugh and didn’t immediately step back away from you.  

There was no reason for you to lean in a little more, but you did. It was an impulsive decision that was made solely by your heart because your head was in an entirely different place. Your thoughts were cloudy and all rational thinking was tossed to the side. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, this actually felt like the right thing to do. And even if your best friend would’ve rejected you in that moment— pulled away and said that this wasn’t at all a good idea— you probably wouldn’t have been too fazed about it right then. 

But, Eddie wasn't pulling away. Instead, he was meeting you halfway and closing the final bit of space between you two. You didn’t even have time to be surprised about it before his lips were on yours and your already muddled mind became even more blank. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

“If either of you would like to suddenly become really good at Physics and explain this velocity formula to me, that would be awesome.”  

You looked up from the book you were reading, a biography about a random British author from the 1800s that was assigned for one of your classes, when you heard Robin’s words.

She pushed the textbook she had opened over to your and Eddie’s side of the table that the three of you were sitting at in the library.

Everything you learned in your high school Physics class had pretty much went in one ear and out the other, so looking at what she was pointing at in her textbook unsurprisingly made no sense to you. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Eddie took the quickest look at the opened page and shook his head before sliding the textbook back over to her. “I still don’t get why you decided to take that class.” 

“I have to finally get a science course out of the way and this was the only one available this semester,” Robin quickly explained and then sighed. “I truly, truly regret it now.”

She took another look at the page before simply closing the textbook and picking up her phone.

When you all studied or decided to collectively work on your respective assignments together it was always agreed that the first floor of the library was the perfect place to do it because of the idea that being in a library meant that you were being more productive. But, that really was just an idea because the first floor of the library was a free-for-all all for noise and you guys never went to any other floor, so your “study nights” almost always turned into you rarely doing any actual studying after the first hour. 

“Oh, anyway, look at this video I took of you and Steve during game night,” Robin abruptly said and handed her phone over to you. “I meant to show you yesterday, but it completely slipped my mind.” 

It was during the Mario Kart tournament; you were quickly able to tell that because the video started with the camera focused on the TV screen when you were seconds away from getting in first place for the final race. The camera turned to you and Steve sitting next to each other on the small loveseat when you won; you smiling in victory and him pulling you in for a celebratory hug and pressing a kiss against your cheek. You were glad to see that in the video you actually couldn’t tell how, even though the entire night you had tried your hardest to make everything seem believable and comfortable between you two, in that moment you were inwardly tensing up because of how unexpected the action was.

“The fanfare makes a lot of sense. That was the only game we won that night,” You said once the video ended and you passed the phone back over to Robin.

“I actually like him,” She told you with a smile. “I vote to keep bringing him around.” 

Eddie nodded. “Sure, keep bringing him around, but I need you back on my team for game night. We’re always killer at charades.” 

“Yeah, if you guys are a team again you won’t cheat at charades like you and Talia did,” Robin said. 

“That never happened,” He immediately responded, which made Robin roll her eyes and you only laughed. 

Your phone began vibrating on the table right as Eddie shifted the conversation and went into talking about band stuff; a gig that he and the guys had on Friday at a bar across town. 

Steve’s name popped up on your screen and when Robin noticed she let out a laugh. “Woah, did I kinda accidentally manifest him?” 

“Now you should try to manifest a good grade on your Physics test,” Eddie joked.

“Good idea!”

You grabbed your phone and then stood up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

You headed down a random empty aisle and then answered the call. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Steve started. “So I told my parents about us and they want to meet you, so a dinner is set up for Sunday.” 

You took a second to process everything he had just said— which wasn’t a lot but it also kind of was— and then you were nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “Oh. Oh, wow, okay.”

“I can change it to a different day if Sunday’s not good.” 

“No, Sunday’s fine,” You told him, which was technically true because you had nothing going on that night, but you didn’t expect this to happen so fast so things didn’t feel entirely fine. Even though the quickness made a lot of sense because things were meant to happen fast— you and Steve were only doing this whole fake dating thing for a month. “Just please tell me it’s not gonna be at some way too fancy restaurant.”

“No, don’t worry, I convinced them to just do it at the house,” He said, which placated your worries just for a second, but then you weren't sure if meeting his family in his childhood home sounded much better either. However, it was only Wednesday, and you were quickly telling yourself not to stress about any of this until, at least, Friday.

“Okay,” You said instead of anything else. 

Things were quiet for a second and you were half-reading some of the spines of the books on the shelf in front of you before mindlessly speaking. 

“So, how’s your week been so far?”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

Both your and Steve’s words were said at the same time and then after the briefest of pauses with neither of you saying anything, it was as if you both wanted to immediately follow up and respond to each other. But as he was responding with, “Oh, it’s been good so far,” you were saying, “Okay, yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Another beat of silence hit and you kind of just wanted to end the call right there, but you stopped yourself. You hadn’t talked to him since game night and you were still trying to figure out what the dynamic between you two was aside from fake dating each other, and you were starting to think that maybe there really was nothing else to it. And maybe these kinds of moments only proved that. 

“How’s your week been?” Steve asked, and you were a little surprised that he actually wasn’t trying to end the conversation, and you honestly didn’t mind the mundane question being tossed onto you. 

“Good,” You answered, leaning back against the shelf behind you, and then started rambling a bit. “I had a test yesterday, which went fine, and Wednesdays are usually easy for me because that’s my least busy day so it’s been good so far too.”

“Nice.”

“Also, you got rave reviews from everyone after game night, by the way,” You said and then shook your head at yourself. “I don’t know why I randomly decided to mention that, but yeah.”

“I told you that I’m good at making people like me.”

“Even though that’s actually true, there’s something about you saying that statement that makes me want to hit you.” 

“Wow, ouch,” Steve said, but you could also hear him laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna hang up now.” 

“See you Sunday,” You responded. “We can talk about it more later.” 

“Yeah, see you Sunday.” 

You hung up then and pocketed your phone in the back of your jeans as you headed back over to Robin and Eddie. 

Robin looked up at you. “Are you ditching us to go hang with Steve?” 

“No,” You answered, shaking your head and sitting back in your seat next to Eddie. “He just called to ask about doing something Sunday, so I’m seeing him then.”

There was no way that you were going to explain further and tell them that you were actually going to be meeting Steve’s parents; you knew exactly how insane it would sound if you did. 

“Okay, good because we need your vote.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

“For what we should do tonight. Should we be boring and rot away on the couch, like we almost always do, or go to a party that Vickie just texted about that one of her Art major friends is throwing?” 

“It’s a Wednesday and you have a test tomorrow,” You reminded her.

“Yes, but this would be fun.”

“I think rotting away on the couch would be very fun too.”

Robin groaned at your words and Eddie smiled at you.

“Thank you for agreeing,” He said.

“Okay, don’t get too happy yet,” Robin said to both of you. “Talia still has to vote and now she’s the tiebreaker.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Apparently, this night was one of the rare moments where Talia was in the mood for a party, so you and Eddie were ultimately outvoted and by nine o’clock, you all were headed to a house that was on a completely different side of town. 

Robin and Vickie broke off from the group pretty much immediately, and Talia was pulled into a conversation with someone she knew from a class, and you and Eddie were left with each other; which was something that happened more often than not. You two usually always stuck together at parties, and then after the Chrissy breakup, that became even more of an always thing. 

This night, you first both grabbed a drink and then walked around the small and too-packed house before settling in a random spot. After an hour, you wouldn’t say that you were drunk, but you definitely were comfortably tipsy, and that made the game that you and Eddie were playing ten times better; which was a weird mix between rock, paper, scissors and a staring contest. It was entirely childish and dumb and barely made sense, but what else was there to do? 

“I still don’t fully understand the rules of this game,” Eddie said, laughing a bit. 

You nodded, laughing too. “Me neither, but I’m pretty sure I’m winning, though.” 

“Okay, I don’t think that’s true.” 

You could tell he was about to say something else but then his gaze was focusing on someone behind you who he waved at after a moment. You turned around and saw Steve maneuvering through the crowd and walking over to you and Eddie.

It was Robin's idea for you to ask Steve to come to the party; although it probably should’ve been yours because it was a perfect opportunity to play up your “relationship.” However, you did tell him that you knew exactly how short notice this party invite was, so if he didn’t want to come, you’d be completely okay with it. But, he said that he had no problem with coming and turning on the fake dating charm for the night. His exact words were, “If you’re going to have to suffer through a dinner with my parents, I can easily go to a party for you,” which didn’t help ease any of your worries about what Sunday would be like, but, at least, he was coming tonight. 

“Hey,” Steve said, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

You were suddenly glad for your slight tipsiness because it actually made it feel easy to lean into Steve’s touch and feel entirely okay about him kissing you. 

“Hi,” You looked up at him. “We’re currently in the middle of playing a game that doesn’t make any sense, but I’m winning.”

Eddie shook his head, laughing a little. “She’s definitely not winning. If anything, we’re tied.”

“If it makes you feel better to say that, fine,” You said with a shrug and only laughed when he rolled his eyes at you. 

“Can I know the rules of the game?” Steve asked. 

“It’s basically a mix between rock, paper, scissors and a staring contest,” Eddie started explaining and then stopped abruptly. “Hold on, Talia’s giving the signal. I’ll go help her out.” 

You nodded at his words as you looked at Talia and saw that she was, in fact, doing the very subtle wave in your guys’ direction. 

“Signal?” Steve asked you as Eddie walked away. He dropped his arm from your shoulders and went to simply holding your hand instead. 

“Talia is always hardcore flirted with at parties like this— Art majors are always so obsessed with her “vibe” for some reason. So we swoop in whenever she wants to get out of a conversation. It’s also something we all do, if needed,” You briefly explained. You looked over at her again and saw Eddie jumping into the conversation that she was having with some random guy. You had no idea what Eddie was saying, but he was moving his arms around excitedly, which made you smile. He always did something similar to that when saving someone from a conversation; an attempt to scare the random person away with his overdramatic antics. 

“Your friend group is so interesting,” Steve said and when you looked back at him, you noticed the amused smile on his face. “Also, you’re surprisingly chill right now. How much did you drink?”

“Only two cups of whatever punch was in the kitchen,” You answered, remembering just how bad it had tasted. “Did you just get here? I almost thought you weren’t coming anymore.”

“Yeah, the drive took a lot longer than I thought it would,” He said and you nodded. “I texted you.”

“Oh, I think my phone’s dead,” You responded, pulling it out of your jacket pocket to check, but it slipped out of your hand and hit the ground instead. You immediately reached down to grab it, and as you stood back up, you got hit with a wave of dizziness. “Woah, shit.”

Steve was grabbing your arm to steady you when you stumbled a bit. “I thought you said you only had two drinks.”

“Yeah, I did. I just stood back up too fast and got a little dizzy.”

“You wanna go outside for a second?” He asked, and suddenly the thought of getting some fresh air sounded really good to you. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

His hand found yours again and he led you to the backyard. There was nothing in the small yard aside from a rusty old lawn chair that was sitting under a tree in the farthest part of the backyard, but it was luckily just long enough to fit both of you.

“Be honest,” You started, turning to look at Steve. “How bad is Sunday night gonna be?”

He was quiet for a second and then shook his head. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

“Oh, God. I’ll take that as very bad.” 

He bypassed your statement. “You want me to go grab you some water or something?”

“Nice job at changing the subject. I’m okay, though,” You said. “Do you want me to get you something? I can also be a chivalrous and considerate fake girlfriend.”

Steve laughed a little. “No, I’m fine.”

You noticed the sliding doors that led to the backyard open and then saw Eddie walk out. You let your hand slowly find Steve’s and then you pushed yourself closer to him, closing the final bit of distance between you two on the patio chair. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, and you realized how weird your previous actions probably seemed out of context. 

“Yeah, it’s just that Eddie’s walking over to us right now, so we should play it up,” You said and then gave Eddie a quick wave with your free hand.

“Oh, smart,” Steve said, seeing him and waving too. “You’re getting good at this.” 

You smiled at him. “I learned from the best serial dater.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” 

“You should,” You told him and then proceeded to say something that would’ve probably taken a lot more courage to say if you weren’t tipsy. “I wish I was more like you, I think. I wish I didn’t care about relationships and feelings because if I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with one of the most important people in my life.” 

“It’s not hopeless,” Steve said, making his voice lower because Eddie was only a few feet away. 

You didn’t get the chance to think about saying anything in response to that before your best friend was standing in front of you and Steve.

“Hey,” Eddie started, eyes on you. “Talia wants to leave, so I’m gonna head out with her too. Do you wanna come with us or are you staying?”

Any other time, the answer would’ve been an obvious yes— in fact, he wouldn’t have even asked the question because he already knew your answer— you’d always leave with him. But this case was different because of Steve sitting right next to you, and a girl that “really liked a guy” would stay at a party with him, right? Your slightly inebriated brain was assuming the answer was yes.

“Staying with Steve,” You ultimately answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.”

“Okay,” He said to you with a nod, and then looked at Steve. “Get her home safe, Harrington.” 

It was such a subtle statement, but it still warmed your heart all the same. 

Steve nodded. “Of course.”

Eddie looked at you one more time, giving you a final small smile which you returned before heading off. 

“It’s not hopeless,” Steve told you again, and that time, you felt a little bit closer to believing him. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for u-h-h-g-h behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . wait, actually, is he gonna have to start reading biographies and historical stuff? He’s a dad now. The other dads are gonna expect him to know stuff about the Civil War and World War II and, like, lawnmowers and how to grill, aren’t they. His dad didn’t even grill, Mom did! Dad always got distracted by his book or something and let the hot dogs burn! 

Billy is not optimistic about his capacity to mow a lawn, though at least they’re in an apartment. Like–probably somebody handles that, right? That’s gotta be a thing, doesn’t it? 

. . . he should check with Batman about that, maybe. 

. . . . . . and also figure out what the wisdom of Solomon knows about how grilling works. 

Or, uh–work on the focus thing, maybe. Definitely the focus thing. It’s just–it all feels like so much, and Billy doesn’t wanna mess up and wreck Lynn’s whole entire life and make him miserable forever or ever make him feel like any of those foster “families” and social workers ever made him and just about all the other kids he knew in the system feel or– 

Billy wonders if he could maybe find a god to talk to about asking to borrow, like, the forethought of Apollo or the precision of Arachne or the strategy of Ariadne or something sometime (though definitely not the concentration of Atalanta, because one golden apple and he’d be right back where he started). Like if he could maybe swap it out with the stamina of Atlas or the courage of Achilles when he needs to, that’s all. Just when it’s, like, situationally useful or whatever. 

. . . he’s really not doing a good job with this focus thing at all, yeah. Which he’s pretty sure he’s thought a few times now already, too, just–

He’s just really nervous, still. He’s really glad Lynn doesn’t hate him or think he’s lame, but he could still totally do something that’d make Lynn hate him or think he’s lame and–

Focus. 

“Want me to serve?” Billy offers, pointing at the plates. “I mean I know I don’t know how much you need to eat yet, but neither do you, and I’ve seen a lot more people eat than you have, sooo . . .” 

“. . . you’ve seen Superman eat?” Lynn asks, looking–uncomfortable, briefly, and looking down at the plates in his hands. Billy’s gonna have to start finding stuff for him to look at instead of people, he’s pretty sure. Like, little puzzles Lynn can be messing around with or little crafts he can be doing or something, so people just figure that’s why he’s not making eye contact with them and not, like, him being antisocial or something. 

“Oh, yeah, tons of times,” Billy says, since that’s a valid question and all, considering actually the way big majority of the people he’s seen eat were human and Lynn is actually not, so actually that might not be helpful anyway. Superman’s diet would be way more useful to know about. But the problem there is–“But like, I don’t ever really know if he really needs to be eating or if he’s just doing it to be polite? ‘Cuz I do that sometimes, definitely. But also sometimes it’s just ‘cuz something looks good? So yeah, I dunno. I’ll have to ask him when I get a chance, maybe I can catch him after the next League meeting. Or I guess I could email him, I guess that’s a thing . . .” 

He doesn’t really use his League email or messaging accounts or anything like that, like, basically ever, but Batman did give them the phones and all, so he’s not gonna have to go to the library to do it anymore, sooooo . . . 

Lynn doesn’t say anything; just keeps his eyes down and on the plates he’s still holding. Billy tries not to frown. Lynn doesn’t talk much or make eye contact all that much, so far, so it’s not like it’s new. Just–he doesn’t know, really. He’s still got this weird feeling like something’s wrong, all of a sudden. 

[astrobiscuits]

Astro observations part 6

🪻Individuals with Sun in Taurus degrees (2,14,26) are always thinking about money - how they can earn more money, what to spend it on. If it's in Scorpio or conjuncts Pluto, they'll often lie about how much money they actually have just to profit off of you. You'll often hear them say "I don't have any money" but secretly have stash of money hidden in their house

🪻Not only do Aquarius Suns have a lot of friends, they also befriend the shy/awkward/forgotten kid (me). I haven't noticed this with other Sun signs

🪻People with Venus in Leo/Leo degrees (5,17,29) often get complimented on their thick hair

🪻Asteroid Fraga (1105) conjuncting any of your planets/angles/nodes indicates your love for strawberries lol

🪻 Check your Moon in Webb (3041) Persona chart. It gives you more insight on the type of content you like to consume on the internet. You can also take into consideration the degree of your Moon

Aries 🌙 - *watches sports matches live*; *laughs at stupid, childish memes *

Taurus 🌙 - the one who always searches for tutorials; "how to bake lava cake", "how to remove a stripped screw"; hmm, maybe i should move *searches houses for sale*;

Gemini 🌙 - *watches memes*, doesn't care what kind of meme it is as long as it's a meme; *scrolls endlessly on r/todayilearned*

Cancer 🌙 - *watches baby videos*; the type that reads family drama posted on reddit, but also regularly checks what their own relatives post on social media

Leo 🌙 - the newest tea on their fav celebrities; they're the first to know what Zendaya ate this morning, where Tom Hanks went on vacation yesterday and if Kylie Jenner is pregnant again; awww a kitty *ends up in an endless loophole of cat videos*

Virgo 🌙 - "declutter with me" videos, "clean with me" videos; *checks their fav blog every day*; *watches workout videos while working out*; *checks e-mails 20 times a day*; ugh, i need to take a break *watches pet videos*

Libra 🌙 - "get ready with me for..." videos, "OOTD" videos, make-up tutorials; their pinterest is full of outfit inspo and aesthetic house decor; "red/green flags in a guy/girl" videos, "first date do's and don'ts" videos

Scorpio 🌙 - *watches every true crime documentary out there*; "Michael Jackson spirit box session"; time to do the deed *watches p8rn*

Sagittarius 🌙 - *saves bible verses all the time*; searches "how to manifest everything you want", obsessed with Neville Goddard content (i'm so sorry, i'm guilty of this); *decides to go on a spontaneous trip, so they end up watching travel videos*

Capricorn 🌙 - the type that doesn't use the internet for entertainment much; actually, you'd be surprised by how little they use their phone compared to the average person; probably has a daily time limit set on their phones, *reads memoirs and biographies*,

Aquarius 🌙 - twitch is their life basically; if they're not watching someone play a video game, then they're playing a video game; *follows LGBTQ+ content during pride month*

Pisces 🌙 - they're listening to music 24/7, has a playlist for every mood they're going through, *watches tangled for the 7th time in a row*; actually, they're always watching a tv series if not for a disney movie

🪻I noticed that most film directors (Hitchcock, Kubrick, Tarantino) have got Neptune in Gemini or Neptune in Gemini degrees (3,15,27). Besides Hitchcock, they also don’t have any aspect between Neptune and Mercury

[nr1chaedickrider]

In my imagination, you're waiting lying on your side - it seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye.

In many ways, our memories shape who we are. They make up our internal biographies—the stories we tell ourselves about what we've done with our lives. They tell us who we're connected to, who we've touched during our lives, and who has touched us. They provide important details of who we are and who we would like to be.

for @namojoon.

The process of healing wounds is long, painful and exhausting.

Sometimes it hurts even more than what has happened.

At least that's how you would describe your healing process.

You look through the window of your small but pleasant house.

After Momo died - or rather, was murdered - you decided to stop serving as a knight for your kingdom for the time being.

Of course, you promised Tzuyu that she could always come to you in an emergency, that you would forever be a knight serving her kingdom without hesitation.

Letting go was difficult, sometimes you even had the feeling that Momo was still standing in front of you, laughing, crying and doing everything with you.

Maybe you still haven't let go completely, maybe you never will, you just know (or at least hope) that things have gotten better.

You still wonder what happened to Sana.

Even if you partly don't want to know, a part of your body -

a tiny part of your body -

worries about her.

And you hate yourself for it.

You walk through the kingdom, making a, well, daily detour by her grave.

You kneel down in front of the grave, brush down a leaf.

Every time you are there, you make sure that it stays clean, that there is no damage.

Somehow you have the feeling that you have to do it, but you don't mind.

"I love you" you whisper, your hand slowly stroking the engraved words.

You've partly gotten into the habit of not reading what's written on it, maybe it's a sign of ignorance.

But you just feel better if you don't have to read the words every time.

You don't always have to be reminded.

'Hirai Momo, a fighter, a person full of love'

You hate reading it every time.

You sigh softly and get up.

One last look at her grave - even though you know you'll be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and so on.

You wipe away the tear that runs down your cheek.

The path to the village is quiet, the birds are chirping, the wind is almost non-existent.

You greet the people who walk past you and realize that they still treat you differently.

Their eyes are full of concern.

The only thing people think of when they see you is -

"Poor her. I wonder how she's doing"

And you don't know whether you should think it's good or bad that that's all they think about.

"Y/n!" someone shouts, you turn around and see Chaeyoung walking towards you.

"I've been looking for you for the last few days, can you come with me?" she asks.

You're confused, but nod. She takes you by the wrist and pulls you along as you both walk to her house.

She sits you down on a chair in her living room as she walks around.

You know she often has a lot of energy - but this much?

She comes back with a small bottle, the contents liquid and yellow in color.

She looks at you after placing the bottle on the table in front of you.

"Okay. You have to listen to me, let me finish, because it's going to sound weird at first," she says, and you nod.

"Have you ever heard of the theory of the multiverse?" she asks.

You shake your head - you've never been interested in all the theories, you've always preferred to think about what's happening in the present, what "makes sense" to you.

"Okay..." she starts to say, thinking before continuing,

"So, basically, the theory is the idea that the observable universe, the universe we're in right now, is only a part of the whole reality, and there's supposed to be a multiverse that contains numerous possible universes," she explains, and you look at her, slightly confused.

Chaeyoung takes a breath and tries to say it as simply as possible.

"It may be that you can travel through universes to see other situations and worlds, do you get the idea?" she asks.

"I think... but why are you telling me this? and why the bottle?" you reply.

"How can I say this..." she mumbles.

"Since... Since Momo is gone, I've been working on something, and I think... I think you can travel through the multiverse with this potion," Chaeyoung replies.

You look at her and feel your mood change completely when she mentions Momo.

"But... But why are you telling me exactly?" you ask.

"Because I need someone to try it out... and I think you deserve it the most. Because if it really works, you can see Momo in other universes.

In ones where she's not dead," she says.

In which ones where she's not dead?

You swallow as you look down at the floor, then back up at Chaeyoung.

"How likely is it that it will really work?"

"Pretty much," she replies.

"I'll do it," you say.

"Really? Are you sure? It could be dangerous"

"I have nothing to lose anyway"

Chaeyoung nods.

"No one can see you while you're traveling, which means you can go anywhere you want. But after a certain time, you may end up in another universe"

"Okay"

"Drink it, and when you feel dizzy, it will start to work" she says.

"I'll stay here and make sure everything goes well"

You nod and pick up the bottle.

"Okay" you say, but somehow you say it more to yourself.

You pull the cork out of the bottle and the pungent smell immediately hits your nose before you drink it.

You put the bottle back down and take a deep breath.

In and out.

In -

And out.

But before you can concentrate more on your breathing, you feel a stinging sensation in your head.

Chaeyoung is standing next to you, paying attention to how you're feeling.

"I think-"

You can't finish your sentence as your eyes suddenly close and it feels like you're being thrown around.

Your eyes open as you see lights everywhere, some colorful and some so dark you can't even call them lights anymore.

Your body floats and you try to look around, but your head won't move.

You try to reach somewhere, but you fall to the ground before you can do it.

The first thing you feel is grass under your fingertips.

You slowly open your eyes and look around, but the only thing you see are trees.

You stand up, pacing back and forth before you hear voices.

You walk through the bushes to see who's talking,

And even though you expected it, it's still so strange.

In front of you is Momo, holding a sword.

Opposite her - it's you.

It's like the first time you saw her.

"You shouldn't be here," says your other self.

"Says who?" asks Momo.

You run towards her and attack her, but Momo quickly moves out of the way.

This is a universe where you and Momo are enemies.

Just like at the beginning.

You continue to watch as the two of you fight each other.

Blades clashing, the tension high and thick.

"What are you doing here?" your other self asks through clenched teeth.

"What are you thinking? Hm?" Momo asks teasingly.

It looks like you've had enough, because you push her away -

and thrust the tip of the sword into her throat.

You are startled when you see it, Momo falls to the ground with a stupid grin on her face.

"That-...that was a mistake...," she says, choking on her own blood and your other self pulls out the sword.

The sight of Momo hurts your heart.

It reminds you too much of the night she died in your universe.

The fact that this is another universe though, calms you a little.

Your other self leaves Momo alone and walks away.

So you go to her, even though she can't see or feel you.

Her gasping for breath worries you as you kneel before her.

"Momo..." you whisper, even though you know she can't hear you.

You're actually just talking to yourself.

It's as if she's looking at you - and a part of you hopes so, so much that she'll somehow realize that you're there, that she'll somehow feel you.

You sigh softly, but not a disappointed sigh.

Momo stops breathing - stares into the distance without any emotion on her face.

The sight could make you cry.

But before you can look at her any longer, you feel something strange in your body.

The effects of the potion kick in again.

You stand up and look down at Momo one last time.

Your eyes close as the lights start to flicker again.

And again it feels like you're being thrown around.

You land on your knees on a floor, a stone floor to be precise.

Your eyes open and try to adjust to the light.

As you look around, you realize that you are in a church.

Upon closer inspection, you realize that it is the church in Tzuyu's kingdom.

You stand up and look around.

It is empty - except for two voices that break the silence.

You walk towards it - and see a confessional.

And then you see yourself, on your knees.

Your head is bowed as a priest comes to you.

"Why are you here, my child?" he asks in a calm voice.

"I have come to confess my sins, Father. I'm afraid I've done something bad." you reply, your voice has a hint of fear in it.

"What have you done?" he asks.

Your other self takes a breath and then starts talking.

"I was seduced by a woman. It's as if she stole my heart and took it as her own. I can't think of anything but her.

And I don't know what to do, father."

When you hear your words, you don't know how to react.

You wouldn't claim to be a religious person, but seeing you ask a priest for help somehow hurts your heart.

In this universe, you can't accept that you love Momo.

In this universe, you are afraid.

And this feeling is a little too familiar.

"My child, don't be afraid," the priest begins to say,

"It's good that you've come here to confess your sins to the Lord,

And he will forgive you for loving a woman. Pray for him every night,

and he will help you to stop,

and your heart will be yours again."

You bite your lower lip, not knowing how to react.

You'd like to tell your other self that you should do what you want.

That it's completely stupid to listen to the priest.

That you should keep loving Momo.

As long as you have the chance.

But your other self nods, thanks the priest for his help and leaves the church.

You run after her, wondering where she's going.

"Y/n!" Momo shouts, running to you with a smile.

In this universe, you two are not knights.

"What were you doing in church?" she asks.

You're just two friends.

You shake your head and say that it was nothing important.

Momo doesn't ask any more questions, but takes your hand and says that she has to show you something.

She pulls the other you away and you are now standing alone in the village.

You look around and see Tzuyu walking around smiling.

It somehow makes you happier to see that she's doing well.

But you notice something -

She's holding a man's hand?

You look confused, and then it occurs to you.

Not in every universe is she with Dahyun.

And you think that's why Dahyun looks so sad as she walks alongside Tzuyu.

It somehow looks weird - seeing Dahyun and Tzuyu not linked together and giggling like teenagers in love.

Your confusion disappears pretty fast as the man gets distracted and Tzuyu shoots a smile at Dahyun.

Her cheeks flushed when she smiles back, her hand on Tzuyu's for a second until she pulls back to not raise awarness on them.

Dahyun is not a queen in this universe, but just a normal girl.

A normal girl who is hopelessly in love with her friend.

And somehow it reminds you a little of your situation.

You sigh slightly.

You walk in the direction Momo pulled your other self towards, but you fall to the ground and can't walk any further.

The effects of the potion are already kicking in again.

"So fast...?" you ask yourself as your eyes close.

The same thing happens again -

Your body is thrown back and forth, the lights flicker and after a certain amount of time you land on the ground.

The first thing you hear Momo's voice.

Then yours.

And finally -

Sana's.

Sana's voice?

Hearing her talk, so happy, without a care in the world, makes you angry.

And how you wish she could see you, because if she could, you'd kill her with your bare hands.

Without hesitation.

You get up and walk towards the voices.

The closer you get, the more you can hear what they are talking about.

You hear laughter -

and moaning?

Moaning?

And when you stand in front of them, you are more shocked than you have probably ever been.

Momo's hand is in your pants, Sana's mouth is on your neck.

In this universe, all is well between the three of you.

No hate, no sadness, no one betraying the other.

You keep staring at them - it's like you can't take your eyes off them.

Somehow this is a dream.

Maybe even the universe you would prefer to live in?

"I love you," Sana says, leaving kisses all over your body.

"I love you," says Momo as she pushes her fingers in and out of you.

"I love you too," you moan.

Sana loves you?

Momo loves you?

You love them both?

It's as if all your negative thoughts about Sana are gone - you just want to jump into her arms.

The sight brings tears to your eyes, seeing how this is your dream universe.

And somehow you are glad that you can feel yourself getting dizzy and that the potion is starting to work again.

Your eyes close.

When they open again, the sun blinds you.

You get up and look around you.

A small river, a meadow with beautiful, colorful flowers.

There are no houses nearby and you wonder where exactly you are.

You walk around a bit and realize how this place resembles the tales of paradise.

"Where am I..." you mumble.

Several meters further on, however, you finally see people.

Two people, to be precise.

And as you get closer, you see it.

Mina and Sana?

"Mina," says Sana, as if she had been looking for her for ages.

"Sana," Mina replies, with a smile.

While Sana is dressed fairly normally, Mina is wearing a white dress.

The fabric looks quite thin, fine patterns are depicted on the dress.

She looks like an angel.

"I've missed you so much" says Sana, her expression so... soft?

"I missed you too Sana" Mina says and comes closer, her arms open and Sana almost runs towards her.

They hug, and you even think you hear a sob from Sana.

The two slowly let go, Sana looking at nothing but Mina.

"I'm so sorry. I wish you were still here..." Sana says, wiping a tear away from her cheek.

"Don't be sorry Sana," Mina starts to say.

You question whether you're even in a universe right now, or whether you've landed here on a spiritual level,

However, this is Sana's last farewell to Mina.

You are here in a place where the dead can communicate with the living.

"It's not your fault Sana,

or anyone else's," she says.

Sana nods a little, the tears still streaming down her cheeks.

"I love you," says Mina.

"I love you too. Forever and ever." Sana replies.

As you listen to them, it all starts to make sense.

Sana didn't love you, or Momo, or anyone else.

She loved Mina, and she died.

That's why Sana was so angry with Momo.

"I will never forget you, I will never stop honoring you, until my last breath I will think of you." Sana says and Mina takes Sana's hand in hers.

Mina has a reassuring smile on her lips.

"Thank you for being here," says Mina.

"I wish you could stay here longer, but your time in paradise is slowly coming to an end Sana" she says, her thumb stroking Sana's hand.

"I know," she sighs slightly, but then smiles at Mina again.

"So this is our final goodbye?" asks Sana, Mina nods.

"I'll always be with you" says Mina.

Sana nods.

"I love you." she says again, and before Mina can say it back, Sana slowly dissolves and disappears.

Mina looks down at the floor and repeats Sana's words to herself.

When she looks up again, she looks you in the eye.

You look left and right to see if anyone else is standing there, but no.

She's looking at you, no one else.

She walks over to you and stops right in front of you.

"You're Y/n, aren't you?" asks Mina.

"Y-yes. You can see me?" you reply, and she nods,

"Have you been listening to us?" she asks.

"Yes,

I didn't know you and Sana had such a relationship" you say, Mina smiles a little.

"She doesn't like to talk about it. But yes, I was her lover" is Mina's answer.

You nod a little, trying to understand everything that has just happened.

Trying to understand how you can talk to a dead person.

"Momo told me about you," she says, breaking the silence.

"She told you about me? You talked to Momo?" you ask.

"Yes. I was watching when... when the accident happened" she answers.

"She told me that if she could, she would do anything to see you again," says Mina, raising her hand.

"Your potion is slowly losing its effect" Mina puts her hand on your forehead and you wonder what exactly is going to happen now.

But before you can ask anything, your eyes close.

As they open, you are blinded by a bright white light.

You stand up slowly and look around, but see nothing.

Everything is white, the floor is straight without any bumps or curves, and nothing is in sight.

This place looks like it does in dreams, when you try to escape but can't.

The more you walk around you realize that it makes no sense, everywhere is white and you are completely alone here.

"Y/n" you hear a voice behind you calling after you.

You don't move, don't breathe, don't even dare to blink.

"Y/n" the voice repeats.

You slowly realize that this moment is not a dream.

It is real.

You slowly turn around and look her in the eye.

Momo is standing in front of you.

Her clothes match the white surroundings, and you hate it.

She's dressed like Mina, like an angel.

You stare at her, trying to breathe evenly.

"Momo?" you say, but it comes out more like a question.

"It's real," she replies.

It is real.

You slowly calm down, or rather try to.

In some way it feels like the first time you saw her -

You unsheathe your sword and slowly walk towards the noise. Peering through the bushes, you see a knight.

Or rather, a female knight.

Her rather long black hair is tied up in a ponytail. Her forehead is covered by a fringe. You only see her side profile, but it's like she was gifted by Aphrodite. While she breathes, her plump, pink-ish lips slightly part. Her sword is stuck in the grass next to her. She sits on a bigger stone, her armor less than yours. Her chest and stomach are protected, a helmet in her left hand, but you can see her well-trained arms. A few veins peek out on her hands, probably because of the heat.

But wait a minute. She is a knight. A stranger in your kingdom, which you are supposed to protect.

You got too distracted and she used that.

Flashbacks of the first meeting come into your head, your mind full of them.

You walk slowly towards her, as if she were dangerous, as if she were an enemy you should be afraid of.

"I never thought you could be so emotional," says Momo, turning her head in your direction, which is now partially submerged.

"Me neither," you admit.

"It's strange. Being here, in the water. With you." you say and look at her too.

"We're enemies," she replies and laughs a little.

Unfortunately.

You think, but it scares you to say it.

You're standing right in front of her.

She's standing in front of you.

No imagination, not those stupid dreams you've always had since she left.

She's really standing in front of you.

"I feel like we've just met for the first time," you say, Momo laughs a little.

"I feel the same way," she replies.

You feel the tears coming.

Before you regret it, you move closer.

You kiss Momo on her lips, your hands on her hips, the grip so strong that someone could think you're afraid she'll suddenly just disappear.

And that's exactly your fear right now.

She kisses you back.

You kiss Momo.

Memories of your first kiss come flooding back.

You close the distance between the two of you, her soft lips on yours as she dares not move.

This time it's different.

It's not a stupid dream you're having because you're confused about your feelings for Momo.

It's all more real.

And you want it, so, so much.

You slowly pull back, Momo smiles at you.

"I- I missed you so much," you say as tears run down your cheek.

"I missed you too, believe me," she replies, wiping away your tears.

"I think about you every day, and... and I always visit your grave and and-" you start sobbing, completely overwhelmed by the situation.

Momo interrupts you.

"Shh... I know, trust me"

"I was there when you visited my grave, when you were talking.

I'm sorry I couldn't answer your questions," she says.

"Why not in this one?" you ask.

"Why couldn't you just find me in this universe?" you ask.

"I wish so much that I could have found you in this universe. So much." she says.

"You're so strong for handling it so well"

"But that's the thing. I don't handle it well,

Every time I just want to sleep, I dream about you." you reply, feeling the tears growing.

"Either I dream about you smiling at me. With that stupid grin that I miss so much..." you take a deep breath,

"Or I dream of your face covered in blood"

Momo looks at you,

and suddenly her face is covered in blood.

Sana's sword is suddenly stuck in her head before she pulls it out.

She topples over, onto the dirty ground, onto the grass.

She doesn't move, just lies there.

Not a single breath, no stupid grin, nothing.

"I dream so often about that one night..." you say quietly, your voice cracking while you try to hold back your tears.

"I know," Momo replies.

"I'm so sorry you had to watch it happen like that."

"I love you," you say.

"I love you too, so much," she replies.

You look at her, slightly startled, confused, surprised.

It's the first time Momo has ever said that she loves you.

The first and the last time.

"You have to go slowly," says Momo.

"The effect is wearing off"

You nod slowly.

"So this is our final goodbye?" you ask, Momo nods.

"I'll be with you forever" Momo says and hugs you tightly.

This time she is the one who is afraid that the other will dissolve.

"I will think of you and love you forever," you say.

You feel yourself getting dizzy again.

Momo sobs quietly, her nails dig into your body.

"It's okay," you say, even though you're still crying, but you try to calm her down.

"It's okay," you repeat.

It all feels so light as your eyes close.

You can't feel any arms on your body.

Momo no longer feels the body she was hugging.

Your eyes open rapidly and you look around.

Chaeyoung stands up from her chair and looks at you.

You look at her and wipe a tear away from your cheek.

"You made it," she says.

You nod.

"The potion worked..." she says and picks up something to write down, probably something about this experiment.

You get up slowly and walk to the front door,

"Before you go," Chaeyoung says -

"The idea for the multiverse, and for this potion,

actually came from Momo"

You look at her and smile,

You close the door behind you and leave her house.

In this Universe, you live without Momo, and you're starting to accept it.

Because deep in your heart, you know that she is always with you.

So when you hold out your hand while walking home,

you know that she is holding it.